A/N: I resubmitted Ch. 11 after fixing a few problems I hadn't noticed, but when I reread it, I found to be glaring. You don't have to reread, because you probably won't even notice my changes. To make it easy on you, when Harry appeared in Pomfrey's room, she healed his arm after contacting McGonagall and before Dumbledore showed up. (Thank you, Mrs-Osborne's-class!)
A/N: Okay, I know the last chapter wasn't the most exciting I've ever written, but it wasn't meant to be. I kind of saw at it as a look around the castle. And don't worry, none of it was fluff (even the Ron/Hermione bit). Everything is necessary. Now, ready for a little drama?
Huge, HUGE chapter (well, 17 pages) I just could not bear to break up. Lucky you!
"So Ron, did you get up last night after we went to bed?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah." He tugged his sock onto his foot and looked around for his shoe, avoiding Dean's curious look. "I heard something downstairs and went to check it out."
"Oh. What was it?" he asked, sliding his robes on.
"Nothing." Ron kept his head down as he answered, knowing his ears were probably pink at the idea of what had happened just a few hours ago. He and Hermione had kissed, and it had felt perfectly normal. And it was normal. Odd, he wasn't weirded out by it, even after he laid awake for several minutes this morning before climbing out of bed, think about what had happened. It was- well, it was nice. That is, so long as Hermione thought it was. Otherwise, it was a mistake. Obviously.
Ron hesitated in the Common Room, wondering if Hermione had gone to breakfast yet. His eyes lingered on the couch, then to the base of the stairs heading toward the girls' dormitory, his face flushing again as the memory returned again. Standing here, knowing that last night had not been a dream, a realization washed over him. He had kissed Hermione! Suddenly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to see her yet. Maybe it was a mistake! Maybe- maybe she was embarrassed and wouldn't want to see him!
"Coming Ron?" Seamus called as they headed out the portal to the hallway.
"Yeah," he answered, butterflies dancing in his stomach. The walk to the Great Hall was just too short, no matter how slowly he walked. Finally, they entered the Hall and its five great tables for students and staff. His eyes swept over the Gryffindor table and he quickly located Hermione whispering animatedly with Ginny. Ron swallowed, willing himself to act casually, and walked toward his sister and friend. He was only a few meters from them when they suddenly darted up from the table, and without a glance in his direction, practically ran around the Hufflepuff table to sit down at the end of the Ravenclaw table with a girl he did not recognize.
Cheeks burning, Ron sat down quickly next to Neville, who was luckily, sitting near where he was standing. Neville dove directly into a one-sided conversation about the Herbology homework. Ron listened half-heartedly, nodding in the appropriate places and shoving toast into his mouth, and trying hard not to turn around in his seat to look for Ginny and Hermione.
He was about to give in to the urge, when he felt a sharp poke in his side and spun angrily.
"Ron, you done eating?" Ginny asked urgently.
"Why?"
"Ron! Don't be an idiot! Are you done or not?"
"No, I'm not." He shoved another piece of toast in his mouth to prove his point. "Whereshermynee?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent through the half-chewed food in his mouth.
"That's so disgusting."
"I said, where's Hermione?" he repeated after swallowing the toast.
"Waiting for you outside. Come to the north pier on the lake. And hurry up!" She glanced around and hurried from the Great Hall. Ron watched her leave, feeling more than confused. Why did he have to go all the way to the pier to talk to her? Was she too embarrassed to talk to him where people might hear? And why was Ginny going to be there? He glanced up the table to where the twins had been sitting before Ginny had come over, but they were gone. Only Jordan sat across from Angelina and Katie, the remnants of two empty breakfast plates the only evidence that George or Fred had even been there.
Ron stood, wiping the crumbs from his fingers, and strode out of the Great Hall and Hogwarts Castle. It took a few minutes before the pier came into view, but there were people there already. He looked around for Ginny or Hermione to tell him to meet somewhere else, suddenly annoyed by the games they were playing. Okay, so Hermione wasn't happy about what had happened last night, but that was no reason to act so immaturely! He was on no mood for games.
But as he drew nearer, he discovered that three of the people on the pier had red hair, and recognized them instantly as Fred, George, and Ginny. Ginny was waving for him to hurry up, so he jogged the last hundred meters or so before walking up the pier to where his siblings, Hermione, and the Ravenclaw girl were now sitting in a circle on the wood planks.
"Well, Ronniekins is finally here," Fred announced, leaning back on his elbows. "Wanna tell us why you interrupted breakfast, Ginny?"
"Actually-." Ginny began uncomfortably, before Hermione interjected.
"I interrupted your breakfast," Hermione told them. "I thought this would be the best place to meet, because we could see anyone who came toward us."
"What's with the secrecy, Miss Prefect?" George asked.
"There's been a story," Hermione told him, "about Harry. It just came out this morning." Her eyes paused on each of their faces, but avoided Ron's. He kept his eyes trained on her, daring her to look up at him.
"It's about time!" George exclaimed. "I'm surprised it took anyone so bloody long."
"You called us all the way out here, during breakfast, to tell us that the Daily Prophet finally wrote a story about Harry?" Fred huffed irritably.
"It's not about his death," the Ravenclaw said calmly. All eyes fell on her.
"Who are you?" Fred asked, eyeing the girl with straggly waist-length blonde hair.
"This is Luna Lovegood," Ginny explained. "She's a Ravenclaw in my year. She's the one who told me about the article."
"So what's the article about, if it's not about his death?" Ron asked Luna, though his eyes remained on Hermione. She still had not looked at him.
Luna produced a slender magazine from her bag and flipped a few pages, looking for the article. Hermione was studying her hands with what seemed to be the utmost interest, until Luna found the page and folded the magazine open. She handed it to Ron. The headline read: The Disappearance of Harry Potter.
"This is old news," Ron said, dropping the magazine into his lap.
"Read it, Ron," Hermione told him grimly, looking at him for the first time. Fred snatched the magazine from Ron's lap and began skimming the article, grumbling as he went.
"'Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and Thereby Vanquished You-Know-Who, seems to have disappeared from the magical community.' Blah blah blah. 'Formerly living with his Muggle relatives'… blah blah… 'should be attending his fifth year at Hogwarts.'" He fell silent as he read further. Finally, his mouth fell open. "'On the evening of September 1st, Potter was reportedly discovered in a Muggle hospital by St. Mungo's healer, Anya Saluria. She contacted the Ministry (and thereby, Minister Fudge) to have the Boy-Who-Lived transported to St. Mungo's for continued treatment of injuries sustained in an unknown manner. The extent of his injuries are currently unknown as less than twenty-four hours later, Healer Saluria was found dead in her home. In the same evening, Dr. Edward Thompson, a Muggle doctor whom Saluria had visited the previous day, was murdered in his own office. Fellow employees of St. Luke's Hospital report that a young man who matches the description of Harry Potter disappeared that same night from his room on the third floor. All medical records relating to the young man are also missing. This disappearance, reported to authorities as a possible kidnapping, was accompanied by eyewitness accounts by fellow patients on the floor of groups of men in black dresses, apparently robes, wearing masks and carrying sticks (wands).'"
No one said a word as Fred fell silent, his eyes still darting along the page until he again found information worth reading aloud.
"'Minister Fudge refuses to comment on Potter's disappearance, and denies allegations of a cover-up by the Ministry, as both the deceased were killed by what appears to be the most unforgivable of Unforgivables after long bouts of torture with the Cruciatus Curse. It has also been discovered that Potter's Muggle family, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley, were tortured and murdered last month in their home. Whether or not Potter's injuries were sustained in that attack is currently unknown, but highly likely.'"
More silent reading.
"'Numerous theories on the reason for the cover-up abound, but what is known is as follows. Minister Fudge learned of Potter's whereabouts the evening he was discovered in the Muggle hospital, but would not authorize a portkey to have the boy removed to a Magical facility. Less than a day later, Wizards described by Muggles as wearing clothing known to have once been worn by Death Eaters were seen in the hospital from which Potter disappeared. Potter's family and two doctors were murdered in such a way as to suggest Death Eater attacks.' There are a couple of other articles here too," Fred told them. "They go further into the theories on Harry's disappearance. Um, says that the Ministry was trying to shut him up about the whole You-Know-Who coming back thing. Wow, it even hints that Fudge may be in with the Death Eaters to get rid of Harry."
George and Ron were gaping at Fred when he finished. Ginny, Hermione, and Luna were much calmer, having apparently already read the article.
"There are some thing's in it that are obviously wrong," Hermione said quietly, "like the time of Harry's disappearance. We know he was missing in July. They think he disappeared in August."
"This whole thing is wrong," Ron told them. "Harry in a Muggle Hospital? Dad and Bill were checking hospitals. They would have found him."
"It wasn't a regular hospital," Luna announced airily.
"How would you know that?" George asked suspiciously.
"My father's the editor. St. Luke's is a Mental Hospital. Father just left that out because he hates the Minister and wanted the story to focus on the cover up.
"But wouldn't Harry being crazy sell more papers?" Ron spat nastily.
Luna regarded him quietly before answering.
"Yes, it would. But, my father believes Harry and Professor Dumbledore that You-Know-Who is back. If everyone thinks Harry is insane, they won't take You-Know-Who seriously. It would be irresponsible."
Ron grabbed the magazine back from Fred and flipped to the cover, then held it up for the others to see.
"The Quibbler? This was in The Quibbler? I- I can't believe you guys are taking this seriously. Honestly, Hermione, you at least I wouldn't expect to take this rubbish seriously. The Quibbler!" He threw the magazine onto the pier in disgust. "Harry's dead! We all heard the confession." He got to his feet and looked down at the looks of those still sitting. "You guys believe what you want," he said more quietly, "but don't expect me to join you in your denial. I can't do it." He turned and walked the length of the pier, the only sound was the boards creaking beneath his feet. No one was speaking behind him, and he guessed they were all just staring at his back as he walked away. He didn't care though. Dealing with Harry being dead had been hard enough, but insane? No. It was just a stupid sensationalized story written to sell a magazine. What did they care about Harry's memory?
"Ron! Ron, wait up!" He could hear Hermione running after him, but neither slowed his pace nor turned around. He did however, feel her grab his arm and pull him around to face her. "Where are you going?" she demanded, her face pink from the exercise.
"Where does it look like I'm going? Upstairs to do my homework. And you should go too." He began walking again. She cut him off.
"I don't understand. Do you want Harry to be dead?"
"Of course not! I'm disgusted that you would even think that!"
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Hermione, did you listen to anything Fred read to us? Did you consider the source? You, who do so much research, and you haven't thought about where the information is coming from."
"But there might-."
"No," he told her. "There isn't. None if it is true."
She stared at him for a long moment before lowering her eyes to the ground.
"Even if there's the smallest chance, I have to believe, Ron."
"Fine. Believe what you want. Take out a subscription so you can read up on all the Potter sightings from here to China. Start believing everything anyone tells you. Be the silly, gullible child who hides from the real world behind a hope for the impossible. But when the real world comes crashing down on you, please do try to cry more quietly so you don't wake me up again."
He walked past her, acutely aware that he had hurt her, but at this moment, he didn't care. He was too angry at all of them, and especially her, for being so damned gullible.
¤¤¤¤
Harry Potter stood in the middle of the room in which he had been installed just a few minutes ago, and looked around. It was a large room with a four poster bed with black curtains on one wall and a wardrobe on the opposite wall. This was to be his room, high up in this castle, and far away from the other inhabitants.
Thankfully, his head was still quiet. It was still a little odd for him to not hear the extra voice in the back of his mind, and he couldn't help wondering what had stopped it. He could still hear it once and a while, always sounding angry or annoyed, but for the most part, it was almost like it was filtered from his own thoughts. And his head still hurt sometimes, a white hot pain that flashed through his forehead with the voice, but the voice no longer accompanied it. The guy with the huge white beard had explained that it was the result of some tragedy when he was a kid, but wouldn't tell him what. He'd only said that he'd explain when it was time, and that he just wanted to reassure him that he wasn't crazy.
Now bathed and feeling more human, Harry ran his fingers through his now short hair, thanks to Madame Pomfrey, and wondered how he was supposed to spend his time all alone up here. He wasn't allowed to leave, and there was nothing in the room for him to do until the guy with the dark eyes, Snake, no, Snape, came to fetch him for some lesson he was supposed to teach him. He wasn't looking forward to it. Quite frankly, that guy scared the hell out of him. There was just something. There were some books on the table, but they looked like old textbooks. Probably not the most interesting read in the world. He picked one up entitled, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5.
Spells, huh? All of this still seemed wholly ridiculous to him, even after he had watched with blurry vision as- Remus- tapped a mug with a long stick and turned it into a pair of glasses for him. Not that he wasn't grateful. Now he could see more clearly who and what was around him, but he couldn't help feeling that the glasses must have been in his pocket all along.
He carried the book over to the window and dropped it on the ledge with a loud thud, and looked out. Because he was high up, he could see the grounds of the castle pretty well. Directly ahead of him was a large lawn bordered by a very ominous looking forest and what looked like a hut. If he leaned all the way to his left and looked out the opposite side of the window, he could see an enormous lake, with what appeared to be a town or lake on one end. He idly wondered if the people in that town had any idea that a bunch of nutters who thought they were witches were holed up in this castle.
His interest, however, was dominated by a group of people sitting on the pier on the lake. They looked much younger than the other people he had met here. In fact, they looked his own age, even from this distance. Hadn't Madame Pomfrey told him this was a school? Were those students? Did he know them once?
He shifted his position to get a better look, and noticed that one of them, a redhead, from the looks of it, got up and began walking back toward the castle. Soon after, another ran after, a girl, and began, it seemed, to argue with him. They had a short exchange and the boy walked away from her, back toward the castle. She didn't move for the longest time, until long after the boy had disappeared from Harry's view. She was shaking, it seemed, as she finally turned and walked back toward the pier.
Harry continued watching the group on the pier, feeling a distant connection to them, as they were the first people his age he had seen in this place. Even when more students began dotting the lawn, his eyes stayed on those on the pier. A little while later, two more in the group began to leave, again red-headed boys. When the last of the group, three girls, including the one he had seen earlier, headed toward the castle as well, Harry felt he was losing something, some connection he had made with these people he did not know. He reached his hand up to the latch on the window, planning to lean out and call to them, more desperate than he had originally realized for contact with people his own age, normal people. His fingers wrapped around the latch and he pushed it up, but it wouldn't budge. He tried with both hands, pressing his palms against the bottom and pushing with all his strength, but still, the window would not open. The girls passed out of sight.
Harry was alone again.
¤¤¤¤
Ron purposely chose a table in the farthest corner of the library to work on his homework. He had worked for some time on a Potions essay he didn't quite understand, and was sure he'd have to end up redoing it before next week was over. Feeling his dark mood might make Trelawney happy enough to give him a good grade, he began with Divination. Already, his Dream Chart was three days behind. He tapped his quill on his lip, hoping a great tragic dream would come to him, before he leaned over his parchment and scribbled out a few lines about a dream in which parsley was growing out of his ears. Short, comical, and according to The Dream Oracle, soon to mean he would lose his mind. Ron frowned, then crossed out the dream. Flying. A nice dream that he was flying amongst the clouds. Simple, tranquil, and according to The Dream Oracle, big changes ahead. Good. He could deal with that.
Next, he recorded a dream in which he was attacked by his books, all of which had grown sharp fangs and kept biting him, but he finally vanquished them with a bludger. Horrific, believable, and meant he was going to fail a test. Gee. That was news.
The last dream, he was nearly finished writing before he realized what it was. It was the dream Hermione had told him about. He frowned and began to angrily cross it out, then stopped, eyeing the library copy of The Dream Oracle he had just laid down. Curious, he began flipping through the pages, finding the major components of the dream. She had begun by being lost in a forest, which meant she would receive a puzzling message about an old wrong. The forest turned into evergreens… evergreens… ah, a sign of lasting friendship… where she saw Harry (Well that wasn't hard to figure out) writing on a blackboard, which means unhappy tidings of a friend, but that's if it's covered in white chalk. Hadn't she said it was blank? But what does that mean? He continued flipping through the book, but found no meaning to it. He was concentrating so hard on interpreting this dream that he didn't even notice that someone else was near him until a hand fell on his shoulder. He nearly fell out of his seat, and turned to find Ginny sitting in the seat next to him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Homework," he hissed back. "What's it look like?" He began to slide his parchment under the book.
"Look, I was just wondering what you said to Hermione."
"Why?"
"Because she was really upset about it."
"She didn't tell you?"
"Yes," she answered, "but I wanted to hear your side of it."
"Why?"
"Because boys tend to be idiots, especially my brothers, and I wanted to know if you were being an idiot or just plain mean."
"Gee, thanks." He began pushing his books into his bag, hoping she'd get the hint that he didn't want to talk.
"She told me what happened last night," she said quietly, watching him roll up the parchment that included his Dream Chart. Ron turned slowly to face her, but she just watched him without another word.
"What did she say about it?"
"Obviously, as her friend, I'm not privy to tell you the entire conversation, but as your sister… she wasn't unhappy about it."
Ron released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"…Until this morning. After your little conversation with her."
He abandoned packing his things and gave her his full attention.
"What do you mean, 'after my little conversation with her'? I didn't say anything to her about it."
"Did you make a comment to her about not waking you up anymore?"
"Yeah," he answered with a huff. "But it had nothing to do with that. It was about all this stuff with Harry."
"That's not how she took it."
"How did she take it?"
"Look," Ginny replied, looking a little uncomfortable. "Maybe you should just talk to her." She began to stand up but was held by Ron's grip on her arm, pulling her back into the seat.
"Ginny!"
"Shh!" Madame Pince had appeared around the stacks to chastise them for their voices.
"How did she take it?" he repeated in a whisper.
"Ron, look at it from her point of view. You heard her downstairs and went to comfort her after a bad dream about Harry. One thing led to another, the details of which I really don't want to know, and you two end up kissing. And then this morning, you show up all angry and pretty much tell Hermione not to wake you up in the middle to the night anymore."
Ron stared at her blankly, not quite making the connection.
"The kiss, Ron. She thought you were referring to that, not just her crying."
Very slowly, a light turned on in his head and he understood exactly what Hermione had heard, as much as the connection didn't make sense to him. After all, he didn't see the two events as being connected at all. Their kiss had had nothing to do with his comforting her. It was totally separate, as far as he was concerned.
Evidently, not.
Frustrated at his own stupidity, Ron lowered his head to the tabletop and began banging his forehead against it, causing a hollow thud thud to echo through the otherwise quiet library.
"Ron! Stop!" Ginny hissed, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to sit up. "Just talk to her. Tell her you were being an idiot." She glanced down at her watch. "She's probably on her way to the Great Hall by now."
"The Great Hall? We just ate."
"Ron," his sister said, looking at him with some pity, "it's almost six. You've been up here all day."
"Six? Augh!" He shoved the last of his things into his bag and stood.
"Where are you going?"
"I have a Prefect meeting and then I'm supposed to do duty patrolling the lower corridors with Ernie Macmillan, which means that unless I catch her at dinner, I won't have time to talk to her until late tonight or tomorrow."
"Why not talk to her at the meeting?"
"Miss Responsible?"
"Oh. Good point. Hurry up!"
Ron was dashing from the library before these last words even left Ginny's mouth.
¤¤¤¤
At seven on the dot, there was a knock on Harry's door. He opened it to find the tall severe woman standing in the corridor.
"Professor McGoganall?"
"McGonagall, dear. The 'n' goes before the 'g.' Are you ready for your lesson?"
"Er, yeah. But, I thought Snape-."
"Professor Snape will be meeting you in the dungeon. I will escort you down."
"This place has a dungeon?"
A pained expression passed quickly over the woman's face, but was displaced by a raised eyebrow and a half smile.
"Of course it does. It is a castle."
"Oh. So, will I need anything?" he asked, looking around his room. He didn't really have anything.
"No, not this time. Come along." She turned and Harry followed. "Stick close," she told him without turning toward him. "We're going to take some passages to avoid the crowds around the Great Hall."
"The Great Hall?"
"Dinner. All of the students would be gathered there or near there by now."
"Oh." Now Harry really wished he wasn't going to these lessons. He wanted to sneak down and see these students. Why were they keeping him away from them? Harry stopped suddenly and realized Professor McGoganall, no, McGonagall was gone, seeming to have vanished through a wall. He looked left and right, but didn't see her. Suddenly a tapestry directly in front of his shifted.
"Mr. Potter, are you coming?" She was standing in a passage behind the tapestry. Harry followed, wondering how many more passages like this were in the castle. Unfortunately, his excitement for sliding through these passages ended as soon as he found himself in the dungeon, which wasn't really a dungeon, but classrooms at the bottom of the school. And waiting for him within one of these rooms was Professor Snape, who, from the scowl on his face, was not looking forward to seeing him.
Professor McGonagall greeted him as 'Severus,' which Harry guessed was his first name, before leaving Harry on his own in the presence of a man he could not remember, but who obviously remembered him.
"Follow me, Potter."
The man turned and walked further down a corridor, then stopped, and taking a key from his pocket, unlocked a room. Harry stepped into what looked like an unused classroom with tables stacked against the far wall and a thick layer of dust on the floor.
"The Headmaster has requested that I teach you a very old form of magic known as Occlumency, which enables you to seal your mind against magical intrusion and influence."
"I'm- I'm sorry, but, what?"
"You will refer to me as 'Professor' or 'sir,' Potter," he snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Now please restate your question with more than one word. Or have you forgotten the fine art of speech?"
Harry bristled at this.
"Why do I have to learn Occumency, sir?"
"The voices in your head, Potter," the professor pronounced slowly. "In case you haven't noticed, they are not yours."
"Whose are they?" Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry quickly added, "sir?"
He seemed to debate the answer, and for the longest time, Harry thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he began to speak, both slowly and deliberately, as if thinking over each word that left his mouth.
"A dark wizard, to whom you have been bound magically. How or why, we do not know, but we know it has happened."
"'We' who, sir?"
"Do not concern yourself with that."
"Then why does this dark wizard want in my head, sir?"
"Potter, are you going to waste this entire evening asking questions, or can we continue with the lesson?" He spoke in an angry hiss, but something in his demeanor told Harry he wasn't angry, just avoiding his questions. "Now," he said, standing and facing Harry with his stick, no, wand in his hand, making Harry feel oddly unprotected. "I am going to attempt to break into your mind. Before you lost your memory, I am told, you were able to throw off curses where other's tried to control you, almost as second nature. Try to do the same. Throw it off, mentally." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Ready? Legilimens!"
Harry's skull felt like it was pressing painfully in on him as images, memories began flashing through his brain.
A blonde man with gray eyes was kneeling before him, kissing the hems of his robes.
Doctors peering down at him. Bright lights blinding him.
His head was throbbing.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Can you tell us your name?"
He was limping along a deserted country road in his pajamas, cold and in immense pain. Two lights came closer. Headlights. A car.
A short balding man held out a rolled piece of paper. His silver hand glinted in the fire light.
"You were screaming again last night, this- this Volemort. Do you know what it is?"
White hot pain.
"I can't help you if you refuse to speak to me."
Suddenly, the images stopped. Harry was on his hands and knees, panting, unable to catch his breath. Snape stood above him, offering no hand in help.
"You're not even trying, Potter."
"I am trying, but I don't know how. What am I supposed to do?"
"Block your thoughts. Empty your mind. That shouldn't be difficult."
Harry felt hatred course through him again as the man lifted him to his feet.
"Again," he said. "Prepare yourself…. on three." The anger was surging through Harry, though he wasn't sure why it was so strong. "One… two… three… Leglimens!"
"Severus? What news from Hogwarts?" The cloaked man before him lowered his head.
"The Potter boy is missing, My Lord, and has been since he left the school."
"Is that so?" Anticipation.
"Yes, My Lord."
"And what does that Muggle-loving fool think of this- situation?"
"He is out of his mind, My Lord, searching for the boy."
Harry knew this memory, but knowing the outcome, did not want to relive it again. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.
"I believe that Dumbledore believes it, My Lord."
"Well answered, Severus. However, the information you bring me is false."
No! NO! Not again! Please no!
The wand in his hand flicked.
"Crucio!"
NO! I didn't do it, I swear! It wasn't me! Stop! Please make it stop!
Screaming. Horrific, high pitched, torturous screaming. The man was on the ground now, his body frozen in convulsion. He felt satisfaction in the pain he inflicted.
"STOP!" Harry screamed, feeling the fingers in his brain shoved roughly away, followed by a loud crash. He opened his eyes to see that Snape was hunched over under a shelf of broken jars across the room, blinking up at him with a puzzled look on his face. Blood oozed from under his hair, down his forehead and neck. He touched a finger to the blood, looked at it, and returned his gaze to Harry.
"I'm-I'm sorry," Harry stammered, terrified he had hurt the man again, that he had seen the satisfaction, the enjoyment in inflicting pain on his body. "I didn't mean-." Unable to finish his apology, and fearing he could hurt the man further, Harry fled the room, not even looking back when he heard the shouts behind him.
¤¤¤¤
Ron trudged through the lower corridors of Hogwarts, hardly paying attention for wandering students who were to be in their Houses rather than making their way through the castle at this time of night. His mind was instead focused on his own frustration with the whole Hermione Situation. Unfortunately, she had not been at dinner as Ginny had predicted, and Ron only had enough time to scarf down some food quickly before he had to go to the Prefect meeting. Hermione was there, but ignored all of his attempts to speak to her, shushing his whispers and holding up an impatient hand when he turned to look at her. Obviously, she was angry; he could see that, even if he couldn't agree with it.
Undaunted, he tried to speak with her after the meeting, but she fled the room quickly, and Ron was pulled in the opposite direction by Ernie, with whom he was supposed to be patrolling, but who had made excuses to sneak off early to get some studying in.
"Our studies are just too important in this level of our education. O.W.L.s are less than ten months away!"
Ron wasn't exactly disappointed to be rid of him. At least he now had some peace to think in. Maybe he could formulate a plan to finally get Hermione to talk to him.
"Oy, you!" Ron called at a student sneaking down the corridor, whose squeaky shoes had drawn his attention.
"Yeah?"
"You're a Second Year, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"It's almost nine. You're not supposed to be out of your House after eight."
"But I was-."
"STOP!"
Ron and the younger student both froze as the scream drifted up the stairs from the dungeon. It echoed against the walls before disappearing totally, leaving Ron no doubt that he really had heard it. But- it sounded so familiar. Ron turned back toward the underclassman, who was also staring at the stairwell.
"Is- is that Professor Snape's detention?"
"Yeah," Ron answered quickly, drawing his wand from his robes reflexively. "You'd better get going before you get one too!"
A terrified look crossed the student's face as he scuttled down the hallway toward his House. Ron waited until he was out of sight, glanced around, then headed down the stairwell to find out who had screamed.
The dungeons were the darkest part of the school, lit only by torches hanging on the walls. Shadows danced on the walls eerily as Ron passed each flame. Silence enveloped him.
A cry of "Potter!" rang out, then faded.
Potter? POTTER? Harry? Ignoring his own discomfort, Ron ran down the last few steps and nearly ran straight into Professor Snape, who was just reaching the base of the stairs.
"Weasley! What are you doing here?" he demanded, though Ron could tell he wasn't interested in an answer. His eyes were sweeping the corridor and stairs.
"Prefect duties," he answered. "I'm patrolling." His eyes landed on a trickle of blood as it dripped down Snape's forehead, but averted his eyes when the Potions Master quickly looked at him. "Is everything all right, sir?"
"Fine," Snape snapped. "Go back to your tower."
"But I heard-."
"Mr. Weasley." Ron swung around and found himself looking up at Professor McGonagall, standing very composed, but looking concerned just a few steps above him. "Go back to Gryffindor Tower, please."
"But, Ma'am-."
"Now, Mr. Weasley."
Throwing one last glance down the darkened corridor, Ron turned and stomped his way up the steps, past Professor McGonagall, who, as soon as he was past her, seemed to let out a breath. Ron rounded the corner, then stopped, straining to hear the conversation below.
"Are you all right, Severus?"
"I'm fine, but he took off."
"What happened?"
"One of his memories-," was all Ron heard as the voices became farther away. They were walking away from the staircase, deeper into the dungeon. Ron remained where he was, straining to hear what he could.
"…dangerous for him to be out."
"I'm well aware… Minerva."
"Dumbledore… Potter…"
Ron had heard enough. He couldn't follow them. He'd already been told directly to go back to the tower by two Heads of House. But he had to know, had to see for himself.
Was it him? How?
Suddenly, Ron turned and raced back to the Tower, slowing only to turn corners without running into a wall. He screamed the password from down the hallway so the portrait would open without his having to stop as he dove into the Common Room, pausing only to glance Hermione sitting near the fire, reading. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the stairs, despite her protests.
"Ron! OW! Ron- Ronald Weasley!" He turned suddenly at her exclamation, not wasting time to see who else was in the room, but only to meet her eyes, gripping both her shoulders in his hands.
"Hermione, please, this is important."
"Nothing is this-."
"HERMIONE!" She closed her mouth, a scared look crossing her face as she looked up into his, quite possibly maniacal, face. "This is important. Just come upstairs with me."
She must have seen the desperation in his face and voice, because she followed after him, taking each step after his. Ron threw open the door to the fifth year dormitory, and without stopping, announced to anyone in the room that he needed a few private minutes and that they needed to leave.
"Why should I leave?" Seamus demanded.
"Fine! Stay if you want!" He turned and, gripping Hermione by the shoulders, planted a huge kiss on her lips.
"Eugh! God Ron, if that's all you wanted!" The door slammed and Seamus was gone.
"How dare you!" Hermione shrieked.
"Hermione, shut up!"
Her mouth clamped shut. Her eyes widened. Ron began pacing the room, running his fingers through his hair as he considered how to explain what he had seen. Finally, he turned to face her, and seeing the confusion, began with a very rushed apology.
"Hermione, I'msorry. Ishouldn'thaveyelledatyouandIshouldn'thavekissedyou, exceptthatIwantedtokiss you, butnotlikethat. Icouldn'tfindyouearliertoexplaineverythingandtoapologize,butthen-." He stopped, taking a deep breath and finding that none of this made sense to Hermione. "Look, just-," he waved his hand distractedly, "pretend that never happened."
"Ron, what is going on?"
Ron found himself gesturing wildly without the words to accompany his hands. He motioned for her to wait and knelt next to Harry's trunk. He opened it, and finding Harry's Invisiblility Cloak on top sat it next to him before tearing through the rest of the contents. He dropped books, and clothes, and notes onto the floor, ignoring Hermione's protests, until he found what he had been looking for. An ancient looking parchment at the very bottom. He unrolled it, waved his wand over the blank page, and announced, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The map of the castle appeared, accompanied by a great many dots.
"Ron, what are you doing?"
Ron scanned the parchment for the dot he knew had to be there, and turned to Hermione triumphantly.
"You were right. He's alive."
"What are you talking about?"
He walked over to her and held the parchment so she could see, then laid his finger next to the dot he had searched for. The dot labeled, 'Harry Potter.'
Hermione was silent for an excruciatingly long moment.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "Ron, how did you find out?"
"There was a commotion in the dungeons. Snape and McGonagall know."
"How could they know?" she whispered without taking her eyes from the parchment. "How could they not tell us?"
"I don't know," Ron answered. "But now, we know."
¤¤¤¤
Harry was ducking behind the tapestry Professor McGonagall had led him behind, desperately wishing he would never be found when he first heard the voice.
"Potter, come out from there."
It was Snape. He knew the voice even before he opened his eyes to see the man holding the tapestry to one side and gazing back at him. Harry shrank farther into the darkness.
"Harry, please come out." This was a woman's voice, sounding both fatigued and worried. Professor McGonagall. "We won't hurt you."
"Nor will you hurt us," Snape added in a partial growl, though it went straight to Harry's chest. That was exactly what he feared: hurting them just as he had hurt Snape before. But it wasn't him. I couldn't have been.
"You don't know that," he whispered back to them. "I already did it once."
Silence.
"Potter, even if you tried for a fortnight, you couldn't inflict that kind of pain on me."
"How do you know?"
"I know. That's enough." There was hushed whispering on the other end, followed by an exasperated, "Potter, I already explained to you about the voices in your head. It was the other man, the wizard who did it. Not you." More whispering, followed by a flat and unemotional, "I know you wouldn't hurt me."
"It wasn't me," he whimpered.
"We know, Harry," McGonagall answered. "Now come out of there so we can help you."
¤¤¤¤
Ron and Hermione sat watching with bated breath as Snape and McGonagall stood mere feet from Harry for several minutes. Their eyes did not move from the parchment while they waited from some movement from any of the three. Finally, Snape and McGonagall seemed to be leading Harry through the passage way, twisting their way around the castle without stepping foot into a public area. Finally, Snape broke away, making his way toward the dot labeled Dumbledore while McGonagall continued to lead Harry toward a room on the third floor. As soon as they saw McGonagall leave the room and they saw that Harry was alone, Ron shoved Harry's cloak into his bag and the pair headed down to the Common Room to wait, ignoring the whispers and curious stares until the room was empty. Unfortunately, they would have to wait until nearly midnight before the last students had wandered off to bed.
Ron removed the Marauder's Map from his pocket, checked to make sure Harry was alone and to double check his location. Then, he opened the cloak and wrapped it around both himself and Hermione. They were ready to find their friend. Without making a sound, they slipped out of the Common Room and made their way through the twisting corridors of the sleeping school. Twice, they had to freeze and slip out of the way of a passing professor, before they found themselves on the third floor. They checked their location on the map, and made their way toward Harry.
Finally, the door was before them. Harry's dot was alone on the other side. Ron reached out a hand and pushed on the door. It was locked.
"Alohomora!" Hermione whispered beside him, and with a click, the door unlocked. They pushed the door open and slipped inside.
Harry was staring wide-eyed at the door.
Ron and Hermione were frozen beneath the invisibility cloak.
Taking a deep breath, Ron pulled the cloak away and found himself face to face with his best friend for the first time in many months. He was staring into the eyes of a dead mate, trying to stop the tears sliding from his eyes. No one spoke for a span of minutes. They didn't seem able to register exactly what was happening.
It was Hermione who finally spoke, emitting a strangled, "Harry."
Harry blinked, his eyes moving between their faces.
"Harry, we were so worried!" she cried out, throwing her arms around his neck. "They said you were dead, everyone, but I knew you weren't! I knew you were still alive!"
With a motion that seemed unsure, Harry put his arms around Hermione, returning the embrace.
"Where have you been?" she demanded.
Ron heard no answer from Harry's lips, but when Harry looked up at him over Hermione's shoulder, something in the look froze him to the ground. Something was wrong, but what, he couldn't guess. This just wasn't right, for some reason. Harry was different. And- and if everything was all right, why was Harry being hidden away like this?
Suddenly, it hit him. His eyes. They were- blank.
"Ron?" Hermione had turned to him now, obviously wondering why he wasn't happier to have Harry back. Ron locked eyes with Harry.
"You don't know who we are, do you?" The words fell from his lips before he could grasp the full meaning of them, but as soon as they were out, as soon as he saw the emotion in Harry's face, he knew the answer.
Hermione disentangled herself from him and shrunk back, staring in horror at Harry's face.
"I- you- you're students here," he said, sounding unsure of every word. "I saw you down by the lake this morning."
"You saw us?" she whispered. "This morning? You saw us?"
He nodded.
"And you didn't- you don't know who we are?" Her voice cracked. At the moment, she was too shocked to cry, but Ron knew that wouldn't last long. Harry took a step toward them, and both Ron and Hermione instinctively took a step back.
"I'm sorry," Harry told them. "I don't remember you."
"How did this happen?" Hermione asked.
"I believe, Miss Granger, that you probably know the answer to that better than Harry does." Ron and Hermione spun around to find Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway, observing them. "And though I am surprised to find you here, I am equally surprised you did not find your way to him earlier." Anger rose in Ron.
"You knew about this!" he shouted. "You knew Harry was alive all along, and you never told us! You let us believe-!"
"Ron, no!" Hermione yelled, stepping between Ron and the Headmaster.
"It's all right, Hermione. Ron's complaint, however loudly or vehemently lodged, is a valid one, however flawed it may be." He made a motion with his wand and four overstuffed chairs appeared in the middle of the room. He motioned for them to sit down, and all did, except Ron. He merely stood behind his chair, seeming not to trust the man before him. Sighing, Dumbledore continued. "I did not know Harry was alive all along, as you believe. His whereabouts were only made known to us earlier this week. But since then, for that week, you are correct. I knew where Harry was, and neither I, nor any other member of the staff, informed you otherwise."
"So the whole staff knows?" Hermione asked.
"Indeed, as do Sirius and Remus, and your father, Ron."
"My dad? MY DAD?? My DAD knew Harry was ALIVE? And HE never told me?"
"I asked him not to, not until we could be sure of the extent of Harry's injuries."
"We've been with him five minutes, and we can tell you the extent of his injuries! Were you ever going to tell us?" Ron demanded.
"Ron, shh!" Hermione hissed, but seemed just as interested in the answer.
"Of course, Ron. It was my hope to inform you within a few days, as your presence, and yours, Hermione, may help in healing Harry."
"So what, exactly, Professor, is wrong with him?" Hermione's eyes shifted uncomfortably toward Harry who had been sitting uncharacteristically quiet, observing this conversation about him with avid interest. "What happened?"
Professor Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, as if deciding how to answer, then looked very seriously at his young students.
"I will answer your question, as it is a question Harry himself has asked me. However, both of you must take an oath that none of this will be repeated to any outside this room."
"Even to the professors?" Hermione asked.
"If you ask a member of the staff, they will no doubt look at you as if you'd grown an arm out of your head. They too are under strict orders on who they may share this information with."
"Why?" Ron asked, though not as angrily as his last question.
"Not everyone will be looking out for Harry's best interests," Dumbledore informed them very seriously. "Certainly after the Triwizard Tournament, you realize of what, or whom I speak."
Ron and Hermione nodded. Harry frowned.
"I have your promise then?"
"Yes, sir," they answered.
"Good. Now, I assume you knew of Harry's apparent death from your brothers' rather brilliant inventions? The Extendable Ears?"
They nodded.
"Just as I thought. Well then, perhaps we should begin by with a discussion about the drawbacks of Veritaserum…"
Ron and Hermione listened as Professor Dumbledore explained all he knew of Harry's reappearance in the world, as he explained how he was saved and committed and saved again. They asked questions of both Dumbledore and Harry about what he remembered and what he would remember and how to help him, and at the end of nearly two hours, they were sent off to bed, both having promised to help Harry in any way they could and to speak not a word of what they had seen or heard. But, as they walked back to the Tower under the safety of the Cloak, both began to feel unsure of what they had heard. It had just all seemed… impossible. Fear, anger, sadness were all swimming about in their brains, that they clasped hands to feel the nearness of another in their private thoughts. No words were spoken. None could be spoken. Finally, they knew the truth.
Harry was alive.