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Chapter 5: Not In The Stars . . .

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Harry and Ron were hunched over tables in the library, poring over books. For once Hermione had not come along. Of course, that was because it was technically during their Divination class, and she had Arithmancy at that time, so she could hardly be expected to be there. Especially as she didn't know that they were currently not flopped in soporific poufs writing nonsense about the future. Probably even if she could have, she might not have come anyway, given the current tension between herself and Ron.

Harry sighed. He closed his book loudly, and pushed his chair back. Madam Pince glared at him, but he pretended that he couldn't see her.

"I can't figure this out, Ron." He let out an exasperated breath and gestured at the parchment in front of him. "Look, you do the calculations. Because I keep getting the same answer every time and I know it's wrong."

Ron looked at him. "You get an answer? Well, you're one up on me then. I'm not even getting that. I end up with a bunch of incoherent rubbish. I can't make heads or tails of it. Maybe we should have gone to class. Couldn't be worse than this." He shook his head. "Never mind. It's Trelawney. It could." He leaned on his hands and stared down at the book in front of him. "What're you getting anyway? Maybe it'll be a start."

"See—I figured this out—the yew tree represents death in Druid belief, so the scroll should be associated with that. On their calendar that's . . ." Harry squinted and tried to read his own writing. "Samhain. But on our calendar, that translates into Halloween." He paused. "But that can't be right. Halloween was last night. We'd have heard if anything happened."

"You'd think so." Ron scrunched his forehead in thought. "That's strange, isn't it? I'd try to go over it and correct it, but you know I'm hopeless with that stuff. It's almost like those blasted charts we do in—wait a second!" Suddenly he reached across the table, nicked Harry's quill and parchment and started scribbling furiously. He looked freakishly like Hermione at that moment.  Harry stared at this weird incarnation of his best friend. What had just happened?

Ron's mouth dropped open in astonishment as he stared at what he'd written. "Harry, you're right. It's right."

"Look, I can't be right. Halloween was yesterday. I've got to be wrong. Something's wrong with this stupid calculation. I always screw them up." Harry was reaching his breaking point. There were few things he hated more than having to do calculations, and there were few calculations that he hated to do more than those that somehow had bearing on incredibly awful possibilities. God, where was Hermione when you needed her Arithmancy skills?

"No, Harry," Ron was still objecting. "You've got the right answer."

"Ron. Halloween. Yesterday. Did you just miss that?"

"Right, but—"

"Oh good, there's a but. There's always a 'but,' isn't there?" Harry threw up his hands. He was almost shouting. Madam Pince really glared at him then, but at that moment he could have cared less. "Dammit, Ron, why can't this just be straightforward?"

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Can I at least explain before you get into all of that "I'm the Boy Who Lived" angst?"

Harry folded his arms and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "All right. Let's hear it."

"Well, see, Halloween was sort of yesterday." Ron chewed on the end of his quill thoughtfully. He immediately made a face. "Bleh. Why can't they make sugar quills that actually write? I'd be in heaven." Harry drummed his fingers on the table.

" 'Sort of.' You need to keep going here, Ron." Harry tried to get his friend back on task. "If I can't take a second to gripe, your soliloquies on food have to wait, too." 

"Okay," Ron turned his swiped piece of parchment so Harry could see, too. "The thing is the Gregorian calendar—that's our calendar, Harry, the one we use—is just a bit off when it comes to calculating an astronomical year. And the astronomical—the solar—to be specific—calendar is what's important for this parchment. I don't know why, but it is—that's what the stuff Hermione read was saying." He ran his fingers through his hair as he talked, and made it stand on end. "That's how come we've got leap years. So it's off just this tiny bit, and what that means is that the calendar runs a few hours fast. In this case we're talking about something that happened in a leap year—so the calendar was 'on' at that point and now we're in the year before a leap year. That means that we're actually missing—erm," and Ron furrowed his brow for a second—"approximately 20 hours, so—"

Harry caught on. "So we add that on to what I've got and then we—Ron. That means tonight. It's going to happen tonight."

"Of course it means tonight. Haven't you figured out that we will automatically get stuck with the least convenient time for incredibly dangerous things to happen?" Ron sighed and closed the book. "I'm going to start calling this 'Harry's Law' . . ."

"Not funny." Harry shot Ron a look. Ron laughed. "Hey, how did you know? About the date change, that is."

"Oh, you owe me for this." Ron grimaced. "You should have known this."

"Why should I have known it?"

"We just studied it in Divination."

"How do you remember anything from Divination? You haven't actually done work for that class since we've had it . . ."

"You know all those blasted notes Hermione gave me?"

"Yeah."

"I told you I'd read them."

"You didn't."

"I did."

Harry snorted.

"Oh, shut up. I'm not a complete idiot. Look, let's just get Hermione." The two boys stood up and before Madam Pince could say anything about the state they had left their table in, they were gone.

They left the library at such a clip that when they ran into Madam Pomfrey as they hurriedly turned a corner, they did so literally. Ron nearly knocked her over, as he had several inches and a couple of stone on the nurse now.

"Sorry," he hastily apologised and prepared to beat a hasty retreat, but she fixed him with a steely gaze.

"Mr Weasley. I'm glad to see that you're completely back to normal. However, I encourage you to be more careful of others, lest they end up in the situation you were in not too long ago." Ron nodded meekly and backed away. A confrontation with Madam Pomfrey was hardly high on anyone's list of priorities, and they were in a bit of a time-crunch. "You need to take care of yourself, young man. I don't want to see any more of you this term." Ron and Harry both nodded earnestly and started back down the hall, but Madam Pomfrey was too quick. She tapped Harry's shoulder and he turned. Ron followed reluctantly.

"And you two be sure to tell your friend Miss Granger as well that the less I see of her this term, the better. Getting Petrified, turned into a cat, beaten up by the Whomping Willow . . .sick all third year from that Time-Turner nonsense. And then her teeth. This year, up all hours of the night, getting detentions. I don't understand you students doing nothing but getting yourselves hurt. I'm tired of it. And that goes doubly for you, Mr Potter. I'm not even going to bother listing the amount of things that you've been in for."

She eyed him meaningfully. Harry squirmed a little under her gaze. It wasn't like they tried to end up in the infirmary—it simply happened that they had to spend a good portion of time there, particularly Harry. He quickly jumped in with a question to avoid the, well, sore, subject of his numerous injuries and mishaps.

"Hermione got another detention? She just had one with Filch—um, that is, Mr Filch."

"No, dear." Madam Pomfrey looked at him oddly. "She had detention up with me. Wandering about at four in the morning, honestly. Still, I can't say I don't understand why." "Yeah," Ron said. "All that homework would make me need some fresh air, too, rules or not. She's absolutely barking, doing that much."

"I suppose so." The nurse raised her eyebrows quizzically and continued on down the hall, in the opposite direction from them. They could hear her talking to herself as she walked. "Children these days . . . practically have to draw them a picture."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shook their heads. Sometimes it just wasn't worth it to try and understand what the staff at Hogwarts meant. However, it would probably be best to stay out of Madam Pomfrey's way for a bit.

They resumed their search for Hermione. A familiar and pretty girl passed them. Ron looked sideways at Harry, but Harry's expression didn't change. They kept walking, while the girl opened the door and went outside. The wind came in after her, whistling along the hallway, ruffling Harry's permanently untidy hair.

Ron yanked at the entrance to the Great Hall, and the two boys went in. Hopefully Hermione was getting lunch, and if not, they might as well eat something to keep their strength up for that night.

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Harry dropped his impossibly full tray onto the table, thanking whatever power might be out there again for making him a wizard so that he could load entirely too much of everything onto his plates without risking a spill, and slid onto the bench. Ron put his equally overstuffed tray down across from him and sat down. Hermione and Ginny were sitting slightly down from them, apparently unaware of their presence. Harry was about to interrupt them to say hello, when he started to overhear their conversation. He kept his mouth shut.

"Oh, no, you don't have feelings for him. Not at all." Ginny was teasing. "You, Miss Hermione Granger, Prefect, top student, simply went out and got detention because of him, and you expect me to believe that you could care less. And that box of sweets . . ."

"Ginny! Shush! People might hear you!" Hermione looked scandalised and blushed bright red. She was also right. Besides Harry and Ron, Fred Weasley was listening in. He turned around from his position down the table and waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh? Someone new on the horizon, Hermione? Who is he?"

Hermione buried her head in her arms. Ginny, for her part, looked properly guilty, but was quick enough to pelt her brother with a dinner roll.

"Not your business, Fred. If we're going to start poking around with gossip, I'd be happy to mention what I heard about you and Angeli—"

"Right! Of course, not my business," Fred said hurriedly, as his gaping twin simultaneously leaped in with

"What? Fred? You told me that—"

"NEVER MIND." And Fred stuffed half of the once-flying roll into George's mouth. George looked irritated but could only emit a stifled "Hrmsnpht!!" to finish whatever eminently interesting sentence he was uttering. Ginny cracked up. Ron did not appear quite as amused.

"Oh. So you got caught sneaking out to meet someone. And that's why you got detention. Huh." His mouth was set in a thin line as he began to eat. Harry groaned to himself. Great. He decided to start having Hedwig bring him his meals in the dormitory. It would be less volatile. Ron went on "Then I just looked like a right idiot in front of Madam Pomfrey"—here Ron looked Hermione straight in the eyes— "and all . . .you know, telling her you did it for your schoolwork."

 Hermione closed her eyes. "Stop it."

"I just want to know why you'd deliberately lie to your best friends."

"I didn't lie; I just accidentally said Filch instead of Pomfrey. As if you've never said the wrong thing when you meant something else. I'm sorry you're angry about that." Hermione took a determined bite out of her meal. "Even if I did, it wouldn't have been your damned business anyway why I got it or who I had it with. It wasn't your detention." Ginny's eyes widened. She and Harry exchanged a glance. Hermione never swore.

Ron turned red.

"Like you have a bloody right to talk to me like that."

"Shut up, Ron."

After that, lunch went approximately as well as could be imagined. Harry excused himself hurriedly, wistfully leaving his mostly full tray, in favour of a more comfortable environment. He wandered down through the corridors, not feeling like returning to Gryffindor Tower, but not really having motivation to do anything else.

Why did those two always have to get into it? Harry couldn't understand why they wouldn't leave each other alone, particularly at a time like this. He sighed and opened the main doors, letting himself out into the nasty weather. He figured that now was as good a time as any for what he was going to do, particularly since he doubted that his mood could be ruined if it didn't go well. And then he'd catch Hermione after she and Ron had finished the out-and-out fighting or their meals, whichever took longer, and he could fill her in on what was going on.

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Harry didn't exactly know why he was taking Hermione's advice. He supposed it was because he didn't have any other ideas or things to do, and that was why he was outside on an abnormally cold November day, looking for Cho Chang and hoping that she was alone. He tried to force his thoughts away from whatever was going to happen tonight. He had to focus—he didn't even know what the hell he was going to say to Cho. As he tried to puzzle something out in his mind, he saw her.

She was sitting on a rock by the edge of the lake, staring out at the water.

Harry's mouth was dry, but he swallowed and went on. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

"Hi, Cho." She turned at the unexpected sound.

"Harry? Hello." She didn't sound overly friendly, but she didn't sound hostile either. He sat down on a nearby rock and kept on.

"Pondering secret Seeker ploys there?"

Her eyes were veiled, but she replied lightly. "Possibly. What are you doing, spying on me?"

"Well, you know us Gryffindors. We're known for our cunning and ruthless ambition."

Cho smiled. "Really. The Sorting Hat's a bit confused, then, eh?"

"It is over 1000 years old. I hear magical artefacts don't show age well."

"Or so Professor Binns would say."

"Not that age has done much to improve him." It wasn't the wittiest thing he'd ever said, but she laughed anyway.

"Really, what are you doing out here, Harry? Most people aren't spending such a miserable afternoon hiding out by the lake alone."

He thought that he could say the same to her, but he thought he knew why she was there. Harry had a feeling Cho knew why he was there, too. Still, he hesitated. How could he say he'd been looking for her? Glibly, he said the first thing that came into his mind.

"Divination homework—have to write an essay about the effects of scrying in pools of water rather than crystal balls. Figured nobody would be at the lake right now, so I'd get it over with."

"That class is a load of rubbish." She snorted. "Last year, Trelawney told me that I would be blessed with an incredibly fortunate term and it would end in some joyous victory for something or other. After—well, after the Tournament, it made me wish that I hadn't bit my tongue every time I wanted to say something nasty in her class."

Harry's heart went out to her and he found that his stomach wasn't lurching the way it usually did. Something was changing, giving way. "She's a loon."

Cho smiled "Personally, I make most of my homework up."

"That's not very Ravenclaw of you."

"Didn't you just say that the Sorting Hat was getting a bit doddery in its old age?" He grinned in reply. She shook her head and smiled again. They were quiet then. The pause in the conversation was awkward. Cho broke it first.

Her voice changed. "Harry—"

He looked up from the lake and faced her, bracing himself for the inevitable question.

"If—if I asked you about Cedric and what really happened, would you be angry with me?"

(It's still a Hogwarts victory)

He looked away again.

"No." It was true. "But I wouldn't tell you."

"I thought as much." Cho clenched her hands in her lap. "I suppose I wouldn't either if I were you." She paused before she went on. "He liked you, you know. Really thought you got a raw deal out of the whole Tournament mess."

"Yeah." They were silent again. Harry stood up. "Look, I think I'm going to give up on trying to do Divination. It's too cold out, and I'm not freezing myself for that class. D'you want company to walk back to the castle?"

"All right." She got up too. " And if you ever need help making something up for that fraud, feel free to ask me. I've come up with more strange fake predictions than I need for my assignments."

"Thanks. I think I'm all right for now, but thanks." He grinned warmly at her. "Would you mind if I send my friend Ron Weasley your way, though? His inventions are getting entirely out of hand."

She smiled again. "Sure. Anything to keep people from doing work for that fraud."

They walked back, frosted grass crunching under their feet. It wasn't entirely comfortable to walk with her, but it wasn't awful.

He supposed new friendships were always a bit odd at first.

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Harry held the door for Cho as they went back into the castle. She squeezed his arm.

"Thanks, Harry." He nodded.

"Any time."

She went up the main stairs just as Ron and Hermione came in, probably from lunch. They were still yelling at each other, but Harry couldn't even make out the words. Each had apparently had started to try and scream over the other rather than wait for the other one to take a breath.

He sighed. Some things he was just not equipped to deal with. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and aimed it at the ceiling. He'd seen this trick before in a Muggle Western film.

"IGNIS!"

With a loud bang, sparks erupted out of his wand and bounced off the ceiling, raining down over the three of them. Hermione and Ron stood there, mouths open, but silent. Harry took his chance.

"All right. Look. No more. Okay?" He looked at Hermione. "Remember the paper—the date? It's tonight." She looked at him incredulously. "It is. Ron and I—we figured it out. So we don't have time for this. At least I don't." He looked from one to the other. "If you two want to bicker instead of do this, fine, but I'm not waiting around. So if you're still going to do this and I know neither of you will let me do this alone, then call a truce. Or don't go, because you know we can't afford the fighting." He paused expectantly. "Do we have a deal? Truce?"

Ron shrugged irritably. Well, at least it wasn't a flat "no." It'd do for now. Harry turned to his other best friend. "Hermione?"

There was a reluctant expression on her face and instead of answering, she asked him "How do you know it's tonight?"

"Well, Ron and I were in the library this morning before lunch," Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Harry continued quickly. "Erm, between classes, of course. But that's not the point. The point is that we realised that in order to calculate the date we had to use what you'd given us and then—look, it's easier if you just read this—I can't explain it well."

He pulled the paper out of his pocket, where he'd unceremoniously stuffed it and held it out to her. She took it, examining it closely. She gasped. "Oh! That's so clever! Harry, that's really great—your calculation's perfect." She grinned. "You really are doing well. And then this part at the end, that's absolutely brilliant!"

"Actually, um, Ron figured the last bit of it out. It was something about calculating in the leap year and the calendar being off." Harry really hoped that this wasn't going to set off another row. Time was getting short . . . and if he had to, he would leave them. He honestly didn't want to do that.

Hermione looked sideways at Ron. His ears were pink and he muttered "Look, it wasn't anything, all right. It was just in those stupid notes and—"

"You read the notes?"

Ron didn't say anything. He crossed his arms and looked defiantly elsewhere.

Hermione let out a long breath and that unreadable expression crossed her face. "All right, Harry. Truce. Let's go."

Ron nodded silently, still not looking at Hermione.

She turned to Harry. "You should bring the Invisibility Cloak, Harry. We'll be in trouble if we're caught out this late."

"Oh, you just don't want another detention." Ron said bitterly.

"So?" Hermione eyed Ron balefully. "Anyway it's practical—what if it's something dangerous again out there, right Harry?"

"You know what?" Harry said. "I'm just going to get the cloak. My role is strictly to own the cloak and bring it along." He looked from one to the other. "I'm not getting in the middle of this. Because there's nothing to get in the middle of right now, remember?"

 He went upstairs and into his room. His Invisibility Cloak was folded in the very bottom of his bureau, under his socks and boxers where hopefully no one would look. He pulled out the silky material and tucked it under his arm. When he came down the stairs, he noticed that although Ron and Hermione were standing in a furious silence, they also hadn't started fighting in his absence.

The three of them climbed under the cloak and set off. Harry thought that it had gone rather well, considering.