Chapter 21 – Rumours.

Harry had spent almost an hour relating to Ginny in whispered snatches what had gone on in the Slytherin common room. The lesson droned on around them and there were moments when they knew they had to do their best to appear dedicated, hard working students, but whenever they thought they could get away with it, they were deep in muted conversation.

Hermione and Ron, by contrast, were silent.

They sat very close to one another, with their eyes trained on the page of the textbook they were meant to be engrossed in, but neither one of them was concentrating. There was only the occasional glance and squeeze of the hand that gave away the fact that they were miles away from the classroom.

"Oh, Merlin – look at him, he looks absolutely devastated," Ginny murmured, her quill busy in order to distract attention from her whispering.

"Of course he is," Harry whispered back. "He's just been accused of being everything he's scared he might be – everything he's scared other people think he is."

She threw him a surprised look before carrying on writing.

"What?! I know Ron really well; he's been my best friend for what, seven years? And I had a really interesting glimpse into his psyche last year. Besides, I'm not a complete insensitive prat! Even I could've picked up on that!"

She chuckled softly. "Okay, point taken. It's just that living with a family of teenage boys, you tend to have low expectations when it comes to blokes and… emotional stuff."

"You know, Hermione once accused Ron of having the emotional range of a teaspoon…" He felt his lips curl at the memory.

Ginny's cheeks lifted, but she didn't smile fully.

"Well, I'm not sure I agree with that, these days," she whispered, watching him from the corner of her eye.

Harry watched as Ron dragged a hand over his face, revealing a pale and anxious expression.

"No, I don't think she would, either."

It wasn't long before the class was dismissed, and Ginny planted a quick kiss on Harry's cheek, standing on her tiptoes.

"I need to run – my next class is on the other side of the other side of the castle. I'll see you at lunch." She turned and disappeared in a flurry of robes, red hair and sweet freesia scent.

He took his time packing away his belongings and waited for Ron and Hermione by the door.

They were the last people to leave, and Harry joined them as they moved down the corridor towards the common room, through crowds of younger students.

Apart from Ron and Hermione holding hands, Harry thought, it was just like the old days – including the stares and whispers of passers-by.

Ron's face was grave. He walked with his head down, his brow furrowed, determined to ignore the throng on either side of him.

"I didn't do it, Harry."

His voice was quiet, almost inaudible, and strangulated with emotion.

"I know that, you idiot. Of course you didn't." He tried to make his reaction light, offhand, but it didn't come out that way.

"But it looks like I did."

"There isn't anyone to back you up?" he asked.

"No. I was in bed all night. Didn't even get up to go to the loo. The other guys were asleep and as far as I know, they didn't get up at any point either. No witnesses."

Harry had been waiting for the panic and anxiety to come through in his speech, but instead, Ron just sounded depressed – utterly ground down by the whole thing. If not panic, he had been expecting anger – outrage or disgust.

A group of what Harry presumed were first years walked towards them, stopping talking as they came within hearing distance. Just as they passed by, they immediately broke into frenzied whispers.

"Do you think they know, already? They're talking about me, I can tell," he muttered.

"Yes, Ron, they probably are," came Hermione's gentle voice. "But probably because you're Ron Weasley, and you're walking alongside Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World! It's no different to the way they've been talking about you since we got back. I highly doubt anything has got around the school yet."

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

She didn't respond straight away, and when she did, she changed the subject. "McGonagall seemed to believe you, didn't she?"

"Yeah. That's one thing, at least. D'you know what the worst thing is? Mum's going to hear about this. You know what she's like – she's practically omnipresent, nothing gets past her. And she's going to be so upset. She really doesn't need this."

"None of you do," Hermione murmured soothingly.

"Yeah, but… I got myself into this mess! Me! I was a stupid, rash idiot yesterday, and if I'd had the sense to keep my mouth shut, I wouldn't be looking like the most obvious suspect! Bloody hell, even I can't blame them for looking at me for this – in any other situation, I'd be saying the same!"

"Will you behave, Ron? You're starting to sound like Harry, with all that ridiculous self-blame rubbish!"

"Er, thanks, Hermione!" Harry said, in a quiet mock-outrage.

Ron shook his head and stopped dead in his tracks. "Look, I'm not really in the mood for this," he said shortly. "I'm going for a walk or something."

He turned in the opposite direction.

"Do you want me to come with you?" his girlfriend asked quickly.

"I'd rather be on my own, if it's all the same to you…"

"Are you sure that's wise, Ron?" Hermione's looked a little nervous.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, bemused, before a look of dawning realization washed over him. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe you should come with me. Don't want to be accused of anything else, do I? Better sort myself out with an alibi in advance."

For the first time, he sounded bitter about the whole situation.

He stalked off, back the way they'd come, with Hermione trailing after him, leaving Harry to walk back to the common room alone.

He had been out of his mind, imagining that this year could actually be peaceful and uneventful, he mused as he walked.

He had expected old prejudices to run deep when he came back to Hogwarts, but not in this way. If anything, he had steeled himself for Slytherin pupils to be even more obnoxious than he remembered, imagining that they would be deeply unhappy and frustrated with the outcome of the war and ready and willing to take it out on everyone else.

He hadn't really contemplated the idea that the very people he had fought alongside would be the ones to let hate and anger overtake them.

Ludicrous, really.

Fighting for "right" side didn't make you superhuman or perfect. It didn't erase the pain of loss or the need for payback. He'd been naïve to ever think it did. Maybe it was too much to ask of people, this magnanimous strength, in the face of so much loss.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, he was aware of conversations fading away into silence.

What a coincidence, he thought, I walk in and everyone shuts up – just like old times!

He kept his eyes down, determined not to draw any more attention to himself, and admitted grudgingly to himself that news of the Slytherin attack had made its way quickly through the school and to his own house. He could only imagine what they had been saying, and whom they had been saying it about, and he felt a perverse relief that he hadn't heard any of it. He knew he would have flown to Ron's defense, regardless of who was talking about the accusations, and more likely than not, good things would not have come of it.

He slid into a chair and started piling books and parchment onto the table in front of him, doggedly determined to keep his thoughts on the Potions chapters he was expected to read by the next class, and not on the pulsing, pointed silence around him.

His next lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry felt a sense of dread creep into him as the time to leave for class approached. The thought of Harper's smug expression still bothered him, and he anticipated that that same expression would still be there today, with added vengefulness and spite.

And he was right.

As he walked into the class, the first thing he was that irritating, self-satisfied sneer as Harper draped himself over a seat, angled towards the door so he could watch everyone arrive.

Harry's spirits lifted a modicum as he saw some purple and red bruising around the bridge of his nose, and he almost allowed himself a small smile before he realized it was all part of his plan. Harper could have easily healed it, or at the very least concealed it, but by leaving it as it was, flaunting it, almost, he was reminding everyone of what Ron had done – adding weight to the rumours that it was Ron who was responsible for the common room attack.

Very manipulative. Must've taken some lessons from Malfoy, back in the day, he thought.

He was the first to arrive at the desk he shared with the others, and as much as he wanted to turn in his seat to watch for them coming in, he couldn't bare the thought of catching Harper's eye. He fidgeted in his seat until Hermione arrived, looking distracted and harassed.

"I see Harper's bruises have done little to spoil his good looks. Oh – that's right – he didn't have any to start with!" she muttered as she emptied her bag. "Do you know I've already had a girl from Slytherin tell me how inappropriate it is for the Head Girl to be dating someone responsible for such a horrible attack? How I didn't hex her there and then is beyond me! Then Harper grinned at me as I walked in and I nearly lost my temper again…"

"I thought you'd be waiting for Ron?" Harry asked.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I did try to, but apparently waiting outside the boy's loo's for him is taking things a bit far. I won't use his exact words, but he intimated I'd be better off waiting in here."

"He probably wants to walk in on his own, that's all. You know, show people he can still hold his head up high without the Head Girl holding his hand."

"It's not like that!" she said, sounding hurt. "I don't think he needs me to hold his hand! I just want to show solidarity, that's all, and give him some support."

"I know that, but you know what Ron's like – too proud for his own good, sometimes. It's a Weasley thing. He'll come round, don't worry, you just need to give him a chance to show people that he's got nothing to be ashamed of," he soothed.

Hermione just looked at him, half astonished, half impressed.

Exasperated, he laughed. "What?! Why do you girls keep looking at me like that whenever I say something right?"

She gave a wry smile. "Nothing. I just forget sometimes how much you've grown up, Harry."

"Oh, shut up!" he teased, good naturedly. "You sound like a proud mum or something!"

"Proud big sister, maybe! Someone had to look after you all these years, you know!" She gave him a playful nudge.

"You make it sound like I got into mischief quite a lot!"

"Mmm, just a bit!"

For a few seconds, the tension had almost lifted as they chuckled to themselves. But the all-too-brief spell was broken as Ginny stormed down the centre of the class and crashed her way into her seat, face like thunder.

"Can you believe the nerve of that disgusting little creep?! He winked at me! He actually winked at me as I walked past him!" Her voice was low, but her face was scarlet with temper. "The arrogant, loathsome, trouble-making … Do you know what, if so much as looks at me again I'm going to go one better than Ron and ram my wand up his – well, lets just say he'll be able to taste it by the time I've finished with him! How dare he?! After all he's said and done, how dare he just sit there, as if butter wouldn't melt! "She let out a furious sigh that sent tendrils of her hair flying around her face. "Where's Ron?"

As she spoke, the room fell silent.

Ron appeared at the doorway, face set into some kind of stony nonchalance, bag slung over one shoulder in a carefree manner. Harry almost would have bought the illusion, if he hadn't seen his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. He walked at a leisurely pace, not looking from side to side but concentrating on a point in the mid distance.

As he approached Harper, the Slytherin boy curled one corner of his mouth into an ugly sneer and gave a soft snort of derision.

Ron stopped and turned to him slowly, with a look of practiced contempt which was pure Molly Weasley.

Silence.

Harper's expression wavered under Ron's glare, but he didn't look away. For a long moment, they held one another's gaze, before Ron turned back to the class and went to take his seat.

Harry's blood began to flow a little easier as Ron sat down with a feigned air of relaxation, but there was no mistaking what had just happened.

No one had spoken a word, no wands had been drawn, no blood shed, but the battle lines had been clearly and irrevocably drawn. Neither boy was willing to let this go.

"Are you alright?" Ginny murmured as Ron organized his desk.

"Fine," came the stiff reply.

There was no chance of following up Ron's terse answer as Bill entered the room, considerably earlier than he had had at the last lesson, obviously planning to keep tensions and possible altercations to a minimum.

He carried nothing but his wand, and wore a similar expression of determined focus as the one Ron had on his entry. "I trust I haven't missed anything today?" he said, with a cool smile, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, good, I do hate to be left out!"

There were one or two muffled sniggers, and the class was silent again.

"Right, let's jump straight into it today. We're going to be looking at the use of non-verbal spells in defensive magic and practicing their basic application. Before we begin, I want to make it perfectly clear that this will NOT be a chance for angry little boys and girls to get rid of any latent, pent-up aggression. You will be assigned partners for the practice session of the class, and just in case anyone was planning on any inter-house rivalry or cheap point scoring, your partner will be from your own house. Is that clear?" He spoke briskly, with such an air of confident authority that all the class could do in response was mutter a subdued 'Yes, sir' and stare at their desks.

"Wonderful. Now, who can name an advantage of non-verbal magic in a defensive situation?"

Hermione's hand shot up, right on cue.

"Miss Granger?"

"The element of surprise. Your opponent is unable to know what spell you are planning to use or the exact moment of which you plan to use it, and therefore will find it more difficult to dodge or deflect its effects." She didn't sound as confident as she normally did, and her voice had a slight tremble to it, making Harry ache a little.

This was Hermione's arena – her place of comfort where she excelled without ever needing to try – to hear her so tense and unsure of herself made him feel even worse than he already did. The stress of the situation was beginning to get to them all.

"Word perfect, well done. Can anyone describe a disadvantage of the technique?"

A Gryffindor girl from Ginny's year raised her hand to answer. "It's a lot harder to be accurate. Non-verbal spells are hard enough in normal every-day situations but when you're scared and under pressure, they can go wrong really easily."

Bill shrugged. "That WAS the answer I was looking for, but it's not always true, is it? Some people find the added pressure helps them to focus on the task at hand – clears their mind of all other distractions. You find some extra strength from within you that you never knew existed, because you just HAVE to. I mean, if I had spoken to this class eighteen months ago, would you have believed yourselves capable of battling and defeating Death Eaters who have years of experience in the Dark Arts?"

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"It's like Neville, isn't it?" the same girls asked. "We used to despair of him in the DA when it first started sometimes, even though we all knew he was trying his best, but when it came down to it, he was incredible! Like a different person! He ended up actually running the DA, standing up to Riddle, killing that snake… He was a hero!"

Harry could feel Ginny grinning and nodding next to him, filled with pride at the mention of Neville's achievements.

"Exactly, Laura! The pressure that can make these spells go all awry is the same pressure that can generate some truly powerful magic when we will it. If you turn to page 12 of the textbook you'll find some good tips on keeping your focus when using non-verbal magic…"

The class filled with the rustling of pages as everyone looked for the passage.

"Clever. Very clever," Hermione muttered as she leafed through the book.

"What do you mean?" Harry whispered.

"Bill. He knew this could have ended up being a very volatile lesson, what with everything that's happened, so he's used talk of the Battle and our own achievements to keep us focused on positive things. It's a way of raising morale."

Harry risked a glance at Harper, who was all but snarling in the back of the room. "It doesn't seem to be doing a lot for Harper's morale. In fact, it's just making him angrier."

"Maybe. But 98% of the students in here are now thinking of how strong we all are, how we came through something no one expected us to – not about the Slytherin attack. Given the nature of this lesson, this could easily have turned into a brawl. Bill's averted that without anyone even noticing!"

"Except us," said Ron, not looking up.

"And Harper," Harry added.

Ginny gave a nervous smile. "No one important, then."

That evening, they sat together in the common room with various books and homework around them, all being steadfastly ignored. All four were exhausted. The day had been filled with unspoken comments and snide glances from pupils of all houses, all taking superhuman effort to ignore.

Ron's silent despair had been draining. He'd shown no hint of anger or any other emotion since he had come face-to-face with Harper, and had sat like stone through all meals and lessons. Try as she might, Hermione could elicit no response from him that didn't come in a monotone, and she had eventually admitted defeat, simply leaning her head against his shoulder and stroking his hand.

It was still early when he stood wearily. "I'm going to bed," he announced, placing a chaste kiss on Hermione's cheek before trudging away towards the boy's dormitory.

For a moment or two, Hermione looked around her, lost and worried, before brushing her hands over her face, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Right then, what are we going to do?"

Harry and Ginny looked at her, unsure of what to say.

"Come on! We have to do something!" Her eyes searched theirs, their concern betraying her business-like demeanor. "Ron is crushed! Someone is responsible for this terrible thing, and we all know it isn't him. Every piece of logic points towards his guilt, everyone assumes it's him, and they'll carry on doing so until we find out the truth!"

Ginny nodded. "You're right. We've solved bigger mysteries than this in the past, this should be easy. Right, Harry?" He nodded enthusiastically. "One small question, though – do you have ANY idea how we're going to start?"

Hermione coloured slightly. "Well, no. Not yet. But I know somewhere that never fails to inspire me…" she said, rising.

"The library?" they asked in unison.

"However did you guess?" she grinned, and she disappeared in a flurry of hair and robes.

Harry and Ginny were left alone, too tired to talk, to preoccupied to want to be alone. After a while, Harry remembered the badge in his pocket.

He fished it out and held it in his open palm, nudging her.

"McGonagall asked me to pass this along to you this morning. Something you want to tell me, Miss Weasley?" he teased.

"Oh. Yes. I forgot about that. I'm Quidditch captain this year," she said, without much enthusiasm.

"No, really(!) Why didn't you tell me, Gin? We could have celebrated! Merlin knows, there's never enough to celebrate these days!"

She shrugged disinterestedly.

"Ginny! Come one! This is great news!"

"Suppose so."

He tilted her face towards him. "Yes. It is. So why the silence? Why the long face?"

She looked away and shrugged again. "I just… felt bad. It should have been you."

Harry shook his head, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"You're back now – this should be your job, not mine. You're the best player we have. I felt awful that you didn't get it. You ended up being browbeaten into the Head Boy thing and I ended up with the only badge you cared about or wanted! It seems so unfair."

"That's rubbish! Did you really think I'd hold it against you? I'm thrilled for you! You're going to do a brilliant, and it's not as if I won't get to play, is it? In fact, you'll do a far better job than me – no hoards of curious nosy parkers trying to get on the team just because of who's in charge, no detentions keeping you from vital matches…" He nudged her again and grinned.

She fidgeted slightly and looked at him from under her lashes. "You really don't mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, that's fantastic!" she cried, sitting up. "I've been dying to tell you, Harry – really! I've been so excited, and then so ashamed and guilty for being so excited, and nervous and full of ideas! I've been bursting to talk to someone about it!"

He laughed at her sudden enthusiasm. "Well, here I am. Like I said, we don't get enough good news so feel free to ramble away unchecked!"

"Believe me, I will! This is so important for me, Harry! For once, I won't be another poor Weasley, or someone's sister, or Harry Potter's girlfriend – not that I mind being any of those things! But for once, I'll just be Ginny Weasley – good at something in her own right!"

He grinned, and stroked her face. "You deserve it. Enjoy it. You'll be brilliant."

She giggled back at him. "Enough with the flattery, Potter! You'll have to try out, same as all the others, on Saturday! No preferential treatment from me, no matter what you try!"

He gave a mock-sulk. "Really? Not anything?" He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Not even this?"

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. "Well, it's worth a try…" she breathed.