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So far... The reborn Hermione launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now at Hogwarts, the young girl formed CREST from the trusted members of the old D.A. After an exciting first year, the youngsters are back at school – but Ron has become totally unnoticeable except to one girl, Olive Hornby, who is similarly affected due to a potion. Now read on...
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Chapter 54
The Dome Of Thorns
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The Unlikely Pair
Neville and Luna were not the only couple to visit the Forbidden Forest. Once the snows cleared in the New Year, Ron and Olive themselves took to wandering within the trees. They were an unlikely pair driven into an even more surprising location by a thirst to escape the castle and to explore the extent of their limited domain.
"No, I never wanted to come in here alone," Olive replied to a question from Ron.
"Why? Nothing can harm us."
Nevertheless, as ever, they clung to each other almost continuously, particularly Olive to Ron because of the decades she had endured in isolation.
They discovered Thestrals far off amongst the trees quite early in their walks. Olive caught her breath and pointed, "Can you see them?"
Ron nodded.
"You can?"
"Those black horses with wings?"
"They're Thestrals. The book I read said you can only see them when someone you know dies, and it affected you strongly."
Ron shook his head. "My great-uncle was killed in a nasty incident with some wild horses. It upset my mum but... perhaps that rubbed off on me?"
"Did you see the body? I found poor Myrtle and I was nearly sick with fright."
"No. Mind you, he needed two coffins at the funeral; does that count?"
It was midday when they were startled by several centaurs that thundered by so closely that both Ron and Olive cried out in alarm. They watched the creatures disappear amongst the trees, then the two of them continued on their way unharmed.
They became almost fearless after that encounter and, although they'd planned to turn back at noon so as to avoid walking in the cold and dark, now such considerations seemed irrelevant.
"We're indestructible!" gloated Ron. Prancing around in a circle with Olive still clutching his sleeve.
She punched him playfully on the arm. "Not if I bash you hard enough."
He stared at her face long and hard. "Olive, you're smiling!"
She felt her jaw. "Am I? I wondered what that strange sensation was."
Deeper they went, finding variations in the trees and foliage. Ron had a glimpse of a unicorn and Olive was disappointed to have missed the experience.
"Oh, drat! To have come this far and missed such a beautiful creature!" she pouted.
Ron said, "Olive, we can come back as many times as we want. Or we can stay here as long as we like and watch out for the unicorns."
She brightened up after that.
They came across a pretty stream and, since it wound its way through the trees roughly in the direction they were travelling, they followed it for most of the afternoon. The secluded pool that it tumbled into was fun. They swam but could not easily sink. They dived but could not drown. They emerged yet were not wet. The couple heard each other laugh for the first time.
It was dusk when they finally rested on the soft moss at the water's edge, gazing at their reflections and soaking up the delight of being able to interact.
Ron talked about his family and how he wished he'd kept more in touch with his older brothers. Olive said she'd also had an older brother but he'd died only a few years earlier.
"His death was mentioned only briefly in the Daily Prophet. I never really knew his wife – she'll be about seventy now if she's still alive. I can't even remember her name."
"Daggard..." murmured Ron to himself.
"What?"
"Oh, I was just thinking. Someone I knew. When she died, her picture was in the Prophet – I mean they actually showed her dead body. It shook me up a bit because it was rather gruesome. I wonder if that's why I can see Thestrals. I mean, I did know her when she was alive a few weeks before."
"Could be..."
They lapsed into their own thoughts for a while, unmoving, contemplative, and... content. The only sound was the gurgling of the stream as it surrendered to the pool. In the final light of day, a unicorn quietly approached the far bank. The stallion sniffed the air, snorted, then kept watch as his mare led their foal to drink. Ron and Olive watched transfixed for most of an hour until the creatures finally slipped back into the trees once more and darkness enfolded the Forest.
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The Odd Roll Call
A formal roll call was now needed in Hermione's potions classes. Despite Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students begging to join, their timetables differed from the Gryffindors' so they were still obliged to be taught by Snape. However, the full complement of the Gryffindors from Snape's second-year class were now in attendance at her lessons so she dutifully sang out their names at the commencement. Somehow she never noticed the final name on the list, nor the extra dog-eared Tutomee still lodged in her beaded bag.
Her students cheerfully paired up and began brewing: Seamus and Dean, Parvati and Lavender, Fay and Sally-Anne, Neville and Luna, Harry with Ginny. Once this activity was underway, Hermione could relax a little. The children had their Tutomees for guidance if needed, as well as first being primed by Hermione and a comprehensive set of instructions remaining on the blackboard.
She leaned back in her chair watching out for anyone that might appear to need help. For some reason, the number eleven was nagging her brain but she could not think why. A glance at the day's page in her organiser did not help. The list of ingredients in the standard textbook agreed with her own, and none of them totalled eleven. What then?
Her eyes fell on the roll call she'd left out on her desk and she idly picked it up to store away in her bag:
Total: 11
She frowned. Surely she'd not included her own name in the list? A quick count confirmed there were only ten names and a glance over her class showed five pairs. With a sigh she reached for her Eraser-quill but hesitated. How on Earth could she have made such an elementary mistake? And anyway, the names were each neatly numbered one to... eleven!
Annoyed with the conflict, she covered the names with another sheet of parchment and scanned down the digits on the left: 11. She looked up: five pairs. Her throat growled with irritation.
Down the list of names she went once more, rigorously reading out each one in her head then looking up to confirm the person was there. Ten! How could there be ten when there were eleven lines with digits and names?
"Excuse me, Hermione?" Sally-Anne had raised her hand. "How finely should we cut the giblet wafers?"
Hermione glanced at the blackboard. "What does the Tutomee say?" Her hand dug into her bag, skidded off the extra Tutomee, and found her own copy which she opened as she walked over to Sally-Anne. As she did so, she became aware that Professor McGonagall was stood at the back of the classroom observing, as she occasionally did; they nodded to each other.
"The giblets have to be shaved," Hermione told the book, and Sally-Anne and Fay saw the instructions appearing in their own Tutomee.
Harry and Ginny groaned. "We've already sliced them!"
"Sorry, everyone. The standard textbook is wrong and I spell-copied it to the blackboard. Mrs Lovegood would have used it when preparing the Tutomees as well. If you've already sliced, just use the shaving charm on the slices and they'll be fine. Careful with that spell, mind."
Once again Hermione took her seat at the head of the class, trying to recall what she'd been doing before the interruption. Frowning, she shuffled papers and books about, slightly embarrassed that McGonagall was approaching.
"Even after all my years of teaching," the professor said kindly, "hardly a week goes by without an error cropping up – sometimes my own. What's the trouble here?"
Hermione's hand had fallen on the roll call parchment. "Ah! Yes, I have a discrepancy in the total attendance."
"Someone missing?"
"I don't... no, there can't be." Hermione pushed the sheet over to McGonagall. "You know all these students by sight. Could you double-check this for me?"
The professor did so. Then, brow furrowed, she repeated the operation several times. "Someone has jinxed this," she finally said. "They've probably added a false number and a..."
Confidently, she cast her wand over the roll call, then looked puzzled when it revealed no magic had tampered with the list. Down went the tip of her finger firmly on the last name. "Ron Weasley..." she murmured, and looked around somewhat bemused.
Hermione stood up. Where was Ron?
McGonagall said, "Everyone on your list seems to be present. Good work, Miss Granger."
Still troubled, Hermione watched her leave, then she shrugged her shoulders, packed away her roll-call parchment, and began her normal patrol of the class to see if anyone needed her help.
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New Growth
For more days than they counted, Ron and Olive moved deeper and deeper through the woodland, carefree and forgetful of the seriousness of their condition. The invisible, timeless state of their existence, which had conflicted so terribly with normal everyday life amongst people, blended almost perfectly with nature. Only the changing season suggested to them that spring was not far off.
"New leaves!" cried Olive, clapping her hands. "We'll be able to chew Alihotsy if we can find some."
"Percy warned me they make you hysterical. Fred was trying to slip some in with my cabbage once."
"Not the newest leaves! And not to us! I found some near Hagrid's hut, oh... years ago. They have different sweet flavours and they make you... uuh... happy! Look for the treetops – they sort of lean over like the head of a hyena."
Unable to be injured by any fall, Ron took to climbing the tallest trees he could find.
Olive, slightly more cautious of heights, called up to him. "Can you see any?"
"No, but the Forest goes on forever in every direction so we'll keep heading east and with a bit of luck we'll find some." He jumped down with a "Wheee!" evoking a shriek from Olive.
"The trees do go on forever actually," she said.
"What?"
"Well, not forever but, according to Hogwarts: A History, the Forest is bigger inside than outside."
Ron was about to blurt out, 'Impossible!' but stopped himself as he recalled the thousands of Galleons that Hermione's bag had held. The gold seemed like useless metal to him now.
Olive continued, "It's said you can walk around the perimeter wall in a day or two, but we've been walking almost due east for... how long?"
Ron thought for a few moments. "Weeks, I guess. I've lost track. What would happen if you started at the other side and headed west?"
"Same thing I suppose – but nobody can get past the wards that protect the walls, not even on a broomstick."
Ron stopped walking. "Blimey, I never thought to try a broomstick. Wonder if they'd work for us?"
She shook her head. "We could sit on a broom someone else is flying but it wouldn't respond to us at all. Anyway, I'm not really a broomstick person."
Ron laughed as they resumed their trek. "Olive, you've read everything in Hogwarts ten times over I should think. I'd have thought you'd have studied broomstick flying even if–"
"–Not everything. Only the things that interested me or subjects that might have been of use."
"Like broomsticks," grinned Ron.
"No, like counter-Potions."
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Written Off
As the month of April grew nearer, the results of Hermione Granger's Potions tuition were better than ever. She estimated her eleven students were way ahead of Snape's and had a more thorough grounding in the principles – they understood what they were doing. The girl leaned back in her chair watching out for anyone that might need assistance. For some reason, the total number of students was nagging her brain but she could not think why. Perhaps it was because an odd number meant they could not all form pairs. And yet... they had. She could see the usual five pairs right in front of her.
Curious, she took out her roll call list. This was all very familiar as she scanned down the list, mentally pairing up the names in her head. But right at the end there was an unpaired name at No.11. For a long while she never thought to focus on it as she re-read all the other names, but finally common sense forced her: the name was Ron Weasley.
"Ginny, where's your brother today?"
"Uuh... no idea." She giggled. "How would I know Percy's timetable?"
"No, I mean Ron."
"Uumm... isn't he here? Oh, Harry! Stir it the other way!"
Hermione frowned and pulled out her planner. There'd been an entry somewhere...
She found it back on the eighteenth of October. Why had she entered Ron's name there? Somehow it felt important, especially since he...
A great struggle to concentrate took place in her head. Had something happened to Ron that she needed to consider?
Hermione made a new entry in her planner, putting down in brief anything about Ron that might be relevant in his second year at Hogwarts: Ford Anglia. Rescue. Whomping Willow. Chamber of Secrets. Lockhart's memory wipe. Ron's award for...
A chill went through Hermione. She'd put down nothing about Ron from her current life. Someone's tampered with my memory! She knew the signs of course, having often cast them on others herself. Hermione well knew the difficulties of recalling hidden memories. Such tussles within the mind rarely succeeded without outside reminders such as a written record.
On she wrote, her quill furiously moving back and forth. It seemed to help when she dwelt on the memories of Ron from her former life – they were clearly intact. What about this life? His Sorting nearly a couple of years ago? Yes. Then there was his improved studies with–
She pulled out the extra Tutomee from her bag and stared at the inside page. There was Ron's name. There was another book much further down and she clawed it out. It was History and it was Ron's! Hermione turned to the first illustration of Witch Hazel.
"Hazel, where's Ron?"
"Erm... isn't he with you?"
"When was the last time he used this book?"
"Who?"
Things were getting really bad if even a magical illustration couldn't remember! That's impossible, Hermione realised. Magical pictures consist almost entirely of interactive memories!
What then?
She continued recalling memories of Ron from her new life. Vanishing into Non-being – every memory appeared to be there but they were vague, transient, and it was hard to keep her mind on the task. The Galleons investments from Harry, Neville, herself, and...
Hermione slapped her own face, unaware that her students were now staring at her. Pay attention! To what? said a little voice in her head. Seizing her planner she forced it into a more upright angle before her so if her mind wandered she could hardly overlook her own notes right in her face. RON! RON! RON! Now it was a real battle of wills. He had regularly written to Ginny while she was in France.
"GINNY!"
Ginny eeked and leapt to her feet. "What?"
"Ron really missed you when you were at Beauxbatons!"
"He did? At Beauxbatons? Who did you say?"
A mighty groan erupted up from Hermione's midriff and exploded out of her mouth. "RON! RON! RON! WHERE IS HE!"
"He's not in this class, is he?" said Fay.
Hermione pointed at her. "Right! Right! Have you ever actually met him?"
"Who?"
"Do you mean Seamus?" Luna said, quite brightly, pointing at the boy. "He's right here."
Mock sobs shook Hermione. She wanted to bang her head on the wall. After a while she wondered why.
Get a grip, Hermione! She stared at what she'd written in her organiser. Ron. Okay. Ron. Chamber of Secrets. Ford Anglia. Okay. Got it. Confundus? Possibly. But on everyone? Not likely. So... memory curse on Ron that stops everyone remembering him? Impossible. DISILLUSIONMENT! No... Unnoticeable?
Hermione stopped right there. If someone had cast a powerful Notice-me-not charm on Ron then he could be right in this room! She stood up, carrying her organiser in front of her like a dowsing rod.
"Ron! Are you there? Speak if you can! Or make some sign. Knock something over! Write on the blackboard!"
Harry stood up beside Ginny, looking very worried. Others were getting to their feet too. "Hermione, are you alright? Who are you talking to?"
"Hush..." She put a finger to her lips and gazed around.
Nothing.
He might be anywhere! But if he's wandering about unnoticed, obscured from everyone's attention, surely he would have already given us some indication? A message?
What could have caused this? Hermione considered many spells but had to keep breaking off to read her planner when she forgot why. What kind of magic could be this powerful? To virtually write someone out of history. Must be a curse by a very powerful wizard, she concluded, but why?
Where are you, Ron?
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The Blue Light
Ron growled at himself. He'd been foolish to climb one of the tallest trees in the forest this late in the evening. It had been a tough, time-consuming ascent and now the skyline to the east was almost lost in the gloom. Stars were becoming visible but there was no moon. Looking back the way they'd come, the horizon remained a faint glow but that would not last long as the sun had set almost an hour ago.
Olive's voice called up from the darkness below, "Anything?"
He shook his head, more in annoyance with himself than anything. "Can't see much at all now," he cried, gazing around one last time. Certainly the softness of night's approach was beautiful but...
A faint glimmer, a bluish hue, caught his attention, far off in the northeast. What is that? he wondered. Ron squinted and stared but... had he imagined it?
Ron shrugged his shoulders and leapt from his branch. "Look out below! I'm coming down!"
"I hate it when you're up there," said Olive as he alighted, unhurt, beside her. "I hate having no proper..." She tried to think of the best way of describing her interaction with Ron.
"...contact," he finished for her. "I know. It's best to be occupied – keep your mind off it. Standing around is worse than being a ghost for us."
"Let's walk on then," she said, taking his hand and squeezing it for reassurance, "It's nice walking by starlight, and we can't hurt ourselves even if we walk into a tree."
"I can't see anything," grumbled Ron, pulling on her hand to hold her back.
"Did you look west to where the sun went down? Your eyes need to adjust."
"Yeah, but it wasn't bright. Which reminds me, I thought I saw a light in the forest, not strong but it was... maybe I imagined it."
"Which way? How far?"
"The way we've being going, only more northeast. It was miles and miles away. Couple of days walk at the speed we're moving, I'd guess. It was a bluish light – really weird."
"Maybe we'll come across it then. If you're interested, that is."
Ron shrugged in the dark but she felt it. He said, "I'll climb up tomorrow when we're a bit nearer. If it's still there then we might, I suppose."
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The Returning Owl
Hermione was in a real dilemma. Ron was missing, possibly undetectable, and he could be anywhere – even still in France! Where to start searching, and what to search for?
"Harry..." she said tentatively, as the five friends worked on their Charms homework together early one evening in the common room, "if someone – let's say a Gryffindor boy – went missing, where would you start looking?" Hermione, still clinging to her organiser, stared at it regularly to keep her focus on Ron.
"Well, I'd uumm... tell the teachers?"
"But if they couldn't help?"
"Send him an owl?" said Neville. "Send a message asking him where he is?"
"Brilliant!" Hermione scribbled a note then headed for the Portrait hole. "Watch my stuff for me, would you, Harry?"
"You mean there really is a boy missing?" said Harry.
"Yes," Hermione called back.
"Ignore the direction!" cried Neville. "Owls won't usually head straight off on a direct bearing." He scrambled to his feet. "Hold on, I'll come with you."
Luna jumped up too and followed him. "This is exciting!"
When they reached the owlery, Hermione called for Farrimond who winged over to her immediately. "Farri, this is really, really important. Fly direct if you can so I can see where you're headed, okay? He's probably inside the castle so I'm going outside to see which window you go to."
Farrimond hooted as Hermione tied her note to his leg, then flew to the window where he stopped to perch, his head swivelling left and right.
"Who is it that's missing, Hermione?" said Neville.
"Uuh... missing?"
"Yes, you said someone's missing."
"Ah! She glanced down at her personal planner to refresh her memory. "Yes, it's Ron Weasley."
Luna and Neville exchanged puzzled glances.
Farrimond flew outside and Hermione rushed to see where he would go. She was disappointed when she saw him circling around before heading back to the owlery looking rather disappointed.
Hermione sighed. "It's alright, Farrimond. Nobody can even think about him, let alone figure out where he could be."
"Who?" said Neville.
As they walked back to the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione said, "Luna, when we saw you on the first day, didn't you say that Ginny had gone to the kitchens?"
"Yes. I still had to be sorted."
"But how would Ginny know where the kitchens are?"
"Oh, that's easy..." Her voice faltered and a puzzled frown creased her brow. "I think someone showed her."
Hermione nodded eagerly. "It was her brother. I'm almost sure you said they'd both gone."
"There was someone with us... I think," said Luna. "Mr and Mrs Weasley had already left after speaking to the Headmaster. Fred and George had gone to have dinner before then. We were in Professor McGonagall's office."
"We?"
"Ginny and me."
"And...?"
"Uumm..."
"That's alright. It confirms that Ron came back from France with you and arrived here at the castle."
"Who?" said Neville.
But Hermione, still with one eye on her planner, continued, "And if Ginny went with him to the kitchens then she could see him up to that time..." She wrote in the organiser then looked up. "What then?"
"Ginny was in the common room when we got there," said Neville, "eating a pasty, remember?
"That's right, so where...?" Hermione's face cleared. "He might have nipped up to his dorm to check his trunk had arrived from France okay, or to fetch something..."
Hermione ran to the door of the owlery. "Come on! Ron's in difficulties! We have to check his dorm!"
"Who's dorm?" Neville panted at Luna as they ran after Hermione.
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Up a Gum Tree
The same evening that Hermione decided to search in Ron's dormitory for clues about his whereabouts, Ron himself was literally up a gum drop tree in the Forest. Its many stout branches made it relatively easy to climb and it was the tallest tree he'd found so far. Furthermore, its tacky, slippery sap could neither gum him up nor cause him to slither off and drop.
However, he did not answer Olive's call, so distracted was he by what he could see. Down he came – falling intentionally but harmlessly as usual.
"The Forest looks different ahead – the trees are really thick and... strange; I can't make them out," he muttered to her. "I don't like it."
"Did you see the blue light?"
Ron shivered, but it wasn't because of the cool air – the memory of the curious illumination was somehow disturbing. "Yes, it's quite strong in one place then fainter beyond that. And another thing, I think I could see the farthest edge of the Forest near the horizon."
"The wall? You saw the outer wall of Hogwarts?"
"Well, no, the trees are in the way, but it looks like no treetops beyond that line, and I saw a hazy light in the sky. I think there's a big Muggle town that way."
"Do we go on?"
"Worth a look, I suppose," said Ron. "I mean, nothing can hurt us, right?"
They looked worriedly at each other.
"Nothing," replied Olive, but not very positively.
They hadn't walked far – not more than fifteen minutes – when they came across a small cluster of thorn trees which they skirted around – not for fear of being pricked but because the trees were so closely-packed. Within fifty paces, another such tree stood before them, then another, but, as they proceeded, few of these viciously-barbed obstacles were single; almost all were clumped tightly together in groups, as if they had grown out from each other – and perhaps they had. None had branches that Ron could grasp, and here and there upon their spiky boles were tangled knotty outgrowths of sharp foliage which came away in his hands when he tried to pull himself up.
As they continued their journey, the thorn trees began to dominate. The two children were zigzagging to find ways forward through what had become a spiky labyrinth. Their path was darker too, although stars were still visible overhead, yet, now they knew the nature of this area of the Forest could not trouble them, they lost their former concerns.
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Pants
Gasping for breath after running all the way from the owlery, Hermione stopped partway up the stair to the boys' dormitories, unsure of herself. Why had she been rushing up here? She looked back down and could just glimpse Neville and Luna resuming their seats beside Harry in the common room. He looked up at Hermione in concern as they spoke to him. Slowly, she began to descend...
If in doubt, consult your organiser, whispered a little voice in her head.
She did so.
Ron! Of course! Turning around once more she resumed her ascent.
Within the dormitory, she looked around in confusion; there were only four beds! So? she asked herself. Harry, Neville, Seamus, and Dean...
"What's going on, Hermione?" It was Harry, standing in the doorway, and staring at her with some concern.
"Uumm..." She consulted her planner again. "Ah! Right. Harry, where's–?" A fifth bed – Ron's bed – was right there where it had always been, just as she remembered it in her former life. A fourposter with curtains apart and bedclothes as neat as when the house elves had last noticed it at the end of summer. She sat down upon its edge and grasped the pillow. "Harry, whose bed am I sitting on?"
"Erm..." Harry struggled within himself to remember, as if someone had pointed out an insignificant blade of grass in a large lawn. His eyes had passed over it everyday but without interest. "Ron's, isn't it?"
"Exactly. And where is he?"
Harry appeared puzzled by the question. "Who?"
Hermione released a long sigh and looked around. Ron's wardrobe was open! She stood up and went to examine it. His robes and cloak and shirts were hanging there! Spare shoes thrown in at the bottom of the cabinet and underthings shoved untidily onto the side shelves as if... her eyes turned to the trunk at the foot of Ron's bed; it was open!
"Hermione...?" Harry sounded worried. "You're starting to freak me out!"
But Hermione was staring down inside Ron's travel chest. The container was mostly empty but there were a few books and potions equipment remaining at the bottom: standard spell books, his cauldron, a mortar with a couple of pestles and a few boxed flasks. He must have been in a hurry if he'd not put those away yet – perhaps they'd been there since the end of the previous school year.
Harry heard Hermione's gasp of horror and rushed to her. "What is it?"
"That lesson with Snape! When we brewed Stultitia, remember?"
Harry frowned, trying to puzzle out what she meant, then alarm spread across has face. "But you never drank any of it! Anyway, it was harmless wasn't it?"
Hermione drew out her wand and with a rapid swish and flick, one of Ron's pestles hovered up out of his trunk – the wooden pestle. She studied it closely. Fine particles still adhered to its surface. "He never cleaned it. Ron used his ceramic pestle to finish the concoction to avoid contamination."
At a complete loss to understand her, Harry sank onto his own bed, unable to follow what Hermione was saying at all. "Who do you mean?" But she was thinking out loud now and frequently consulting her personal organiser and making notes:
"Likely he held the handle when he put it away after the lesson. ... But what if he carelessly grabbed it weeks later in his hurry after returning from France? ... What were those ingredients? And could they be absorbed through the skin?"
SNAPE! He was the key! What was it he'd said? 'I don't expect you dunderheads will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering fumes and the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...'
Carefully wrapping the pestle in one of Ron's underpants, she tucked it away inside her beaded bag. Harry stared at her in disbelief. Hermione reassured him, "Don't worry about it. Let's get on with our Charms homework."
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The Mysterious Gates
Just as the thickening maze of thorns was at its darkest, a hazy blue illumination directly ahead revealed the way through for Ron and Olive. The pair were enlivened by their exploration, almost skipping along as the light grew brighter nearer its source. The experiences in the Forest had driven away the lack of purpose and interaction that was their lot in the castle.
"It's getting warmer too!" cried Ron, holding up his hands before him as they proceeded. "The light looks cool but you can feel it like sunshine on your skin."
They wound their way more comfortably now they could see the gaps between the thorny growths, and, in a short time, they emerged into a spiky glade blocked at its far end by a wall of thorns with, at its centre, tall, majestic gates of wrought bronze which gleamed in the rich indigo luminescence pouring out through them.
"No lock or latch that I can see..." Ron's eyes lifted upwards, trying to see the top of the gates, but it arched away from them. "It's a gigantic dome of thorns – look. This wall is the front of the dome and the gate leads into it. I don't see how we can get in."
She nodded. "But someone built this – I mean, obviously they grew these thorns and made these gates. Surely they'll open them now and again?"
"It's really ancient," said Ron. "And look at those gates. Must be a hundred foot high. Nobody's made anything like that in thousands of years, not even Hogwarts."
"Perhaps there's a..." She did not finish; they both knew they would be unable to turn a handle or ring a bell even if one had been evident. Shouting for attention would be pointless too.
Ron had walked forward and was pressing against the gates. The metal wasn't cold at all, though, as expected, the barrier held firm. He could push his arms through the metalwork, yet so deep was the bronze lattice that only his wrists and hands poked out the other side. His fingers tingled warmly in the blue glow. "Feels funny, but kind of nice," he said, pulling away.
"There's something... runic lettering I think." She pointed higher up the gates to where the metal had been worked into strange shapes that might be words. Olive shook her head. "No idea what it says though; it's no runes I've ever seen."
But Ron was still staring through one of the gate. "Can't see any thorns – no trees really, just lumpy dark blue wet clay stuff. I think that's where the glow comes from."
"The ground is glowing? How can it be dark blue?"
"No, it's not glowing. It's more like dark blue inky erm... something. But the light come up from it – well, I can't see where else the light comes from but the ground. I wonder what there is further inside? It's just a murky glow, funny really."
Olive joined Ron in looking through the elaborate struts of the gate. "Bit spooky, don't you think?"
Ron grinned. "I think we're the ones who are bit spooky, don't you? Come on, it's just an old ruin. Let's walk back to the castle a different route. Maybe we'll find something more interesting on the way."
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
I mentioned somewhere (probably in Chapter 1) that my purpose in lumping all the books in one fic was to gain length and thereby more readers. On fanfiction dot net, there are over 18,000 pages (don't know if page size varies) of Harry Potter fics filtered in English language and 'Followers', and many in the first few pages are epics. I kind of had an initial main target of getting in the first 100 off those 18,000. I was pleased to find last week when I looked, that my story was at page 79 with 758 followers. Actual number of readers (who have read most of the way so far) is nearer 900 to 1000. So, thank each and every one of you who are following this story! Can we make the top 50? Top 10? Those are pages, of course, not stories and I think there's about 20 or 25 fics on a page.
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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