Disclaimer: It's all J.K. Rowling's.

A Note From The Author: As always, thank you to all of you wonderful people who review. I was unsure about how that last chapter turned out, so I especially loved reading your thoughts on it. Thanks a million times, and here's Chapter Six:

Aftermath and Awakenings
Part VI
A Harry Potter Fanfic by Aira

***

"So, why'd you get off Potions, anyway?" Ron grumbled to Harry before Transfiguration.

Harry gave a look that Ron had seen too often. His face was a startling combination of unwillingness, fear, and resignation. He was now staring at his desk as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world, and he was nervously twiddling with his fingers. He refused to speak for several minutes afterwards. Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance over his shoulder.

It wasn't until McGonagall had started the lesson that he spoke. "Hermione," he blurted suddenly in a whisper. "What d'you know about-about blood magic?"

Hermione, who was actually paying attention to the lesson, seemed startled by the sudden question. "I know a bit," she answered slowly. "I did a bit of research after-anyway, there are all sorts of blood magic. It can be used for evil as well as good, and all of it is very powerful. So powerful that none of it can be broken. A lot of the spells used for the Light Side are for protection and such…why? Is that what Dumbledore's doing?"

Harry confirmed her suspicions by nodding. Ron noticed him gripping his left arm rather hard. He wondered for a moment whether *Harry's* blood was being used for some sort of spell. If that were the case, then that would explain why he appeared so shaken.

Ron's musings about his best friend were soon interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who then barked the familiar "You may want to try paying attention, Weasley!"

There was an odd quiver to McGonagall's voice that Ron had never hard before. She seemed almost pained. But why would she? Shaking off his instincts, Ron tried to focus on the Professor's explanation on how to turn a coffee cup into a pigeon, even though he privately thought that no one in their right mind would ever want to turn a coffee cup into an irritating bird.

Just as she raised her wand to demonstrate, however, the wand slipped from her quivering fingers and her tall frame, shaking, hit the floor with a dull thud. She had fainted.

The entire class gasped their astonishment as they gathered around her fallen body. Stern, controlled Professor McGonagall actually *fainting*? In *class*? Many students were looking like Snape had just given points to Gryffindor. Hermione was, naturally, the first to recover from the initial astound. "Well, why are you all just standing here?" she said, somewhat huffily. "*I* am going to Madam Pomfrey!"

With that, she marched out of the door. Ron couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips in spite of the circumstances. 'Is it totally stupid to think she's great when she gets all bossy?'

Whether such a thought was stupid or not, Hermione arrived in a few minutes, accompanied by a grim-looking Madam Pomfrey. The nurse began to examine the unconscious teacher, whose lips had turned strangely blue, and whose skin was now an almost translucent white. She sighed, and conjured up a stretcher for her patient. Whilst levitating Professor McGonagall with her wand, she looked sternly on the class and informed them that they had the rest of the period off, but could *not* run amok, under any circumstances.

Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and walked out wordlessly with her and Harry, trying to ignore this feeling he got that something wrong was going on.

*

After a half hour in the common room in which Ron played Hermione at chess (and annihilated her to the point that she accused him of foul play) and Harry watched, the three still had to go to the day's final lesson: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Gee, I wonder what fascinating facts we're going to learn today!" Ron said sarcastically on the way to the lesson. "The date of the first documented execution of the Impedimenta curse? The origin of 'stupefy'? I can hardly contain myself with excitement!"

Ron saw Hermione struggling not to smile, while Harry laughed outright. Professor Dorson's classes were becoming notoriously boring, so much that even Hermione seemed to dread them, which, as Ron pointed out, was nothing short of miraculous. However, most were quick to relish the fact that Dorson was quite lax in terms of discipline. She did not at all mind her students doing activities other than studying during her class, whether that be applying nail polish or experimenting with explosives. The former was a favorite activity of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, while Fred and George much preferred the latter.

Today, however, the Professor had a practical activity planned for the fifth years. "Professor Dumbledore would like all of the pupils to participate in the protection of Hogwarts," she said in her soft voice.

This caught the attention of most of, if not all of, the students, and all other activities quickly came to a halt. Harry in particular looked focused on the Professor-even more so than Hermione.

"This spell does not require an extraordinary amount of skill or focus. It does, however, require you to think."

At this point a gulp came from the direction of Neville Longbottom, evidently torn between relief that the spell wasn't very difficult and fright as to what sort of thought it required. Professor Dorson then gave him an extremely unreadable look that may have been tinged with sympathy.

"Not the sort of thought," the Professor continued-her tone rather flat for the words she spoke, "that you are used to utilizing for your lessons. I need you to think of a single important possession that holds personal meaning for you. Please do not consider fancy broomsticks and the like. This object must be truly significant to you to work."

At this point, Neville rose a trembling hand into the air. "Wh-what kind of object?"

Again, she fixed her piercing gaze onto Neville. "That is for you to decide. Most people find meaning in special photographs, letters, or other such mementos. But you may choose what you like."

At the word 'letters', Ron immediately knew what he would choose. But the letter Hermione had sent him over the summer was so valued that he was greatly averse to bringing such a personal item to class, no matter what the purpose. He raised his hand quickly. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Er, what are we going to do with the object, exactly?"

"Good question. They will be placed in an enchanted casket. The power of your meaningful objects-provided you make a good selection-will help protect the school from any dark threats. Please choose an item with real personal meaning, since how strong the protection is will depend on how much your objects really mean to you. The Headmaster expects this protection to be necessary for only a few months. Your objects will return to you damage-free then. You have until the next lesson to select one. I ask you to bring it in then."

'How can she talk about everything so matter-of-factly?' Ron thought irritably, but any thoughts about Professor Dorson's lack of emotion was set aside by his own overflowing of it. He knew that no other item he possessed would work so effectively as the much-cherished letter from Hermione than confessed her feelings. He decided, with great air of self-sacrifice, that parting with that beautiful letter for a few months was worth helping to protect Hogwarts.

Ron then turned to his best friends. Hermione squeezed his hand, and somehow Ron knew that she was thinking of the letter he himself had sent her. Harry's eyes, however, remained quiet and thoughtful. He obviously had a certain object in mind, but whatever it was he would not say.

Curiously, Ron looked around at his other classmates. Parvati and Lavender were excitedly chatting. ('Probably thinking of some article from Glamour! It's Magic! Magazine or something,' thought Ron.) Seamus and Dean were also talking, although Ron couldn't imagine what memento they were considering. Neville's expression, however, was surprising. He seemed to already have an object in mind and appeared unusually confident.

After that startling announcement, Professor Dorson had immediately launched into a lecture about the origin of the Stunning spell.

*

At dinner that night, the objects people were choosing for the protection spell was a great topic of conversation. Apparently all of the students, even those in the first year, were taking part. "What are you choosing, Harry?"

"A picture of my parents," he answered softly.

Ron immediately felt sorry for asking. He should have known that that's what Harry would choose, of course, what else would be meaningful for him? Hermione shot Ron a dirty look, but merely said to Harry that she was sure that such a meaningful object would help the charm a good deal.

"What are you two choosing, then?" Harry asked hastily, evidently wanting to turn the conversation away from himself.

At this point, both Ron and Hermione became unusually evasive, answering only "a letter" in vague tones of voice. Harry grinned, and Ron was sure that he knew perfectly well who the authors of those letters were, and what they said.

Ron's eyes fell on the staff table for a moment, and he noted surprisingly that Dumbledore was not there. This was quite unusual; despite his age, Dumbledore was hardly ever ill and always attended meals. Hermione followed his gaze. "I guess he's busy," she suggested.

"That's not what *I* heard," said Parvati, who was sitting a few seats over. Parvati was rather fond of gossip and had a bad habit of listening in on other people's conversations. "Lydia Jenkins told me that when she went to the infirmary to get her eyebrows fixed-she accidentally cursed them off-- she saw Dumbledore unconscious in bed, just like McGonagall."

"And of course if Lydia Jenkins says it, then it must be true!" snorted Ginny, who was also sitting nearby.

Ron stole a glance towards his sister and noticed that she looked concerned in spite of her sarcastic words. Parvati may have been an awful gossip, but she did have an uncanny knack of finding out things before anyone else did. Could there be truth to her words?

Ron only frowned.

*

There was little time to muse about Dumbledore's whereabouts, however. That night marked his first Quidditch practice. Ron swelled with pride at the thought, though he couldn't stop a few nasty thoughts creeping their way into his brain. This was it. This was what he always wanted. A chance to be known as just 'Ron Weasley', not simply as 'one of the Weasley brothers.' A chance to be his own person…what if he totally blew it?

Ron tried very hard to shake these thoughts aside as he bid farewell temporarily to Hermione. She seemed to sense these thoughts, and squeezed his hand whilst planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "Good luck," she whispered.

Ron felt his cheeks burn as he said a clumsy goodbye and followed an amused Harry to the field, broomstick slung over his shoulder. That was another point of agony. Ron really wished he had a better broom than Charlie's practically antique Shooting Star. But he knew too well that buying a new broomstick was out of the question, so he didn't even bother asking his parents for one. Ron sighed. He would just have to make the best out of what he had.

When he and Harry reached the pitch, the rest of the team was already there. To Ron's great relief, Angelina greeted him warmly, but didn't make a fuss over the fact that he was new to the team. Even Fred and George, both of whom Ron was sure were ready to crack on him like no tomorrow, managed to keep their brotherly teasing to a minimum. And as he left for the air, Ron let out a wide grin. This was what he always wanted. Time to enjoy it.

*

When Ron reached Charms the next day, however, there was little to enjoy. He entered the classroom-quite cheekily, as he was hand-in-hand with Hermione-to find tiny Professor Flitwick sprawled across his chair, not moving a muscle. Like McGonagall, his eyes were closed, his lips chapped, and his skin deadly pale. It was quite a state for the usually energetic Professor.

"I'll…I'll just go get Madam Pomfrey then," Hermione said, looking shaken.

Ron could only nod. Whatever was going on at Hogwarts, he didn't like it.

***