Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball
by Hannah
Chapter Seven ~ Love and War
The snow was piling around Harry and Alice in deep drifts. Harry had drifted off to sleep in the middle of the small path that etched its way like a black river through the darkened woods of terror.
Harry wasn't dreaming about anything in particular. Meanwhile, Alice was shivering against the tree trunk, her mind overflowing with the wonders and horrors of life from its first moment to those yet to come. She too was sleeping, but not as peacefully.
As the moon rose beyond the gnarled maze of trees that enclosed the dozing duo, Harry found himself awakened by a hand upon his shoulder.
At first, he was too startled to move.
"Harry." It was urgently whispering his name. "Harry."
He played dead. Maybe whoever, or whatever, it was would leave.
"Harry, wake up."
He lay still.
"Harry, dammit, wake up! This is urgent." The voice sounded panicked. There was a note of hysteria in the deep masculine voice.
"Okay, okay," Harry replied sleepily. He slowly blinked open his eyes, and found himself staring into the fearful eyes of none other than . . .
Ron.
Harry sat up very quickly, and realized at that moment how cold it truly was. "God, it's freezing . . ."
"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you sit outside in the snow for an hour," Ron replied. He glanced nervously around.
"What's up? You look like you've seen a . . . okay, forget that one. We've seen our fair share of those. Anyhow, what's got you so uptight?"
"Harry . . . I don't think this is the place to talk about it. I also want to talk with Alice." He glanced over at the shivering form of the woman. "Anyway . . . let's get back to the castle, and then we can discuss it in your room, or her room . . . whatever we do: hurry!"
"Okay, okay." Harry made an attempt to pull himself off of the ground. He fell back down.
"Give me a hand, will you?"
"Sure." Ron offered a gloved hand. Harry put his frozen hand into it and Ron yanked him from the ground.
"Let's awaken Alice, shall we?"
"It would be a pity." Ron looked at her again. "Let's put her under some sort of sleeping spell and take her back to the castle."
"Too late."
They turned to see Alice stretching behind them. "Well? Let's head for Hogwarts."
"All right." Ron looked a little taken aback, but he tried not to show it. He swirled his cape about him. "Let's go!"
"Wait . . ." Alice deftly flourished her hand in the air and two capes were draped over her arm. She tossed one to Harry. "It's cold."
"Thanks," he said.
The three of them headed briskly towards the turrets of Hogwarts.
Harry took off his snow-splattered cloak. The red material had turned a dark burgundy where the damp had set in. Alice took off her black cloak, which was, of course, accented with golden embroidery. She pointed at the fireplace in Harry's room; it burst into flames.
Ron stood in the corner, glancing around at his surroundings. Harry felt slightly embarrassed; his room was quite shabby. Maybe he should let Alice fix it up, just a bit . . .
"So," Harry prompted, "what's going on?"
Still looking edgy, Ron cleared his throat. "Well . . . there's been wind of some foul play."
"What kind of . . . foul play?"
"That's just it. Nobody seems to have any idea of what has been happening. The Ministry just found out about it. Supposedly . . . Voldemort is on the rise again."
Harry looked not only stunned, but also incredulous and unbelieving. "Voldemort? Who . . . who told you? How do you know? What, exactly, happened?"
"That's all very sketchy. Sirius was the one who informed me of it. Anyway . . . apparently there was some sort of inexplicable death in southern France. And then another in Germany—they were killed the same way. It's gruesome. I don't know if—"
He looked at Alice.
She smiled at him. "You forget, at times, that I've already seen it."
"Ah, yes . . ." Ron sounded rather distant.
Harry was worried. This wasn't the light, cheerful Ron from Hogwarts. This was . . . someone else. Someone far more serious and brooding. Had Ron truly grown up? Or had something forced him to quickly accept reality?
"Well, I was wondering if, by any chance, you could help us, Alice. Give us any more information, or something like that. Please." Ron looked pleading.
"I can help you to a certain extent," she said, looking like she was hating every moment of this, "but beyond that—"
"Anything." Ron looked so desperate.
"Yes." She gazed into his eyes with such strong sympathy that Harry almost quailed. Quietly, she stood. "I'll go to my room for now. Call me when you need me."
"Fine."
Alice left the room, closing the squeaking door behind her.
"Well . . ."
"Ron." Harry was scrutinizing his friend. "There's something you're not telling me."
"Harry . . ." Ron's eyes were pleading.
"What is it?"
Harry walked over to his friend and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Ron, please. Tell me. What is it?"
"Harry . . . there have been other victims. Here, in England. They're not dead, but—"
"Do I . . . know any of them?" Harry's eyes plainly showed his fear.
"Well . . . Harry—" Ron's voice broke and his eyes became misty. "Hermione," he managed to whisper.
"Good God," Harry muttered. "You mean—"
Ron nodded solemnly. "Yes, she's once again fallen victim to Tom Riddle. You don't know the others, but still, it's tragic."
"Yes." Harry fumbled blindly for a chair, and somehow managed to seat himself in one. "Hermione. Oh dear Lord."
"Harry, it's deeper than that."
"What?" Harry raised his head, which he had buried in his hands. He couldn't imagine the whole situation being much worse.
"Well, Hermione and I—" His voice cracked. "Hermione and I . . ."
"Jumping dragons, the two of you . . ."
Ron nodded his head in utmost desolation. Tears were finally brimming over his eyes and were falling down his pallid cheeks.
"Oh no," Harry muttered miserably. It had gotten worse. Much worse.
"Harry."
"Yes?"
"What . . . what am I going to do?" Ron sobbed, relinquishing all dignity to his sorrow. He threw his pride to the four winds as he groped for Harry's hand.
Harry grasped his friend's hand and pulled him close. "It's okay. We'll get through this. We will, Ron." Harry said all this with a determination he did not feel. At the moment, he felt very empty and hollow. "How bad—how did—what's wrong with her?"
"We don't know, Harry. It's like someone's got complete control over her. I didn't get to see her. Sirius wouldn't let me. He knew about . . . us. But he said that she was in a trance. She just walked around not seeing or recognizing anything. Harry, I was about to ask her to marry me! What's to become of her? Of me?" He shook his head in complete and utter disbelief.
"I don't know, Ron, I just don't know. We'll find a way to pull through. Don't worry about it. Please, don't."
"I don't have a job, I don't have Hermione . . . oh Harry. The world's just falling apart."
"You've got me, Ron. Together, we'll make it."
"I hope so. I do hope so."
"Now you just make yourself comfortable here. I'll find somewhere to sleep." Harry stood and began to walk to the door.
"No, I can't possibly take your room," Ron objected.
"Ron, you will. You must. Where else could you go? I'll find somewhere to sleep. Don't worry about it. Until you're back up on your feet."
"Okay."
Harry walked toward the door. He was almost there when Ron interrupted.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you." Harry could sense the relief in his friend's voice.
"It's nothing, Ron. What are friends for? Just relax. Sleep. We'll clear everything up in the morning."
Harry closed the door behind him and headed for Frank's room, dreading the thought of tomorrow. He tried to push the thought from his head. A good night's sleep, he told himself. That's all I need. Maybe this is just some awful dream. He yawned. Maybe he could sleep on Frank's sofa or something.
Harry was awoken the next morning by a tap on the door. He stretched; the sofa wasn't nearly long enough for his tall frame and his feet were dangling over the armrest.
He looked toward the bed to see if Frank was going to get the door, but he wasn't there. Harry stood and mumbled, "Coming, coming," as he headed toward the door.
Warily, he looked through a magical keyhole that could only be seen from his side of the room. He saw Alice, Frank, and Ron standing on the other side of the door.
Swinging it open resolutely, Harry greeting them with a sleepy "good morning to you." Alice smiled, Frank winked, and Ron just seemed to acknowledge it with those gloomy green eyes.
"Hello, Harry," Frank said in a cheerful voice. "Late sleeper, are we? Exactly half an hour before classes, you know."
"Oh dear." Harry's eyes bulged a bit as he turned and looked for a clock somewhere in the room.
"Eight thirty," Alice prompted with an amused grin.
"Urgh." Harry looked around the room. "Frank, can I borrow a robe?"
"Yeah, sure. Better borrow a brush, too." Frank was trying all too hard to hide his laughter. Harry's hair was sticking out all over his head like a bolt of lightning had hit him.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Should we wait for you? We've already eaten our breakfast." Alice said.
"Yeah, sure, you ate breakfast. Like, a bite of toast?"
Alice's purple eyes leapt with fire.
"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered apologetically. He picked a robe from the tidy chest of drawers in the corner and threw it over his head. Damn the old robe; it was much too long. The gray garment bagged around his knees like the skin of an elephant.
Ron half-heartedly handed him a hairbrush.
"Thank you," Harry muttered as he ran it through his thick, unruly black hair once or twice.
"Okay, cool to go."
"Yeah, well, you want breakfast?"
"Nah, I can survive without it." Harry's stomach let out a huge rumble that he hoped no one else heard.
"Okay." Alice was examining him. She didn't look pleased. "Here . . ."
She took the wand out of her pocket, mumbled something, and the robes fit!
"Damn, she's good," Ron grumbled under his breath.
"Sorry, Frank. I'll fix them up at the end of the day."
"Fine, fine." Frank was smiling at her.
"God," Harry mumbled to himself. Was it just him, or was Frank practically tripping over himself whenever he talked to Alice?
Harry shook his head in disbelief. I can't believe I'm jealous of him, he told himself. What the hell is going on?
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ron looked so desolate that Harry felt like jumping at his every command.
"Yeah, yeah, just a second," he grumbled rather crossly. He had to admit that sleeping on a couch was not the most comfortable or relaxing way to spend one's night.
Alice pushed open the door and stepped into its frame. "Y'all comin'?"
Frank stepped eagerly out behind her, followed by a droopy-armed Ron, and lastly Harry, who shut the door behind them all. They stood in a dark hallway; Frank's doorway was cleverly concealed behind a statue of a very tall, slender witch with flowing bronze hair and a stunning silver robe draped over a well-cast body.
Harry took a moment to admire the statue. There was something about it. He couldn't put his finger on it . . .
"Harry? You there, bud?" Frank startled Harry out of his trance. His face was creased with worry as Harry turned to face him.
"Yeah, just thinking . . ."
"Okay, well, let's think somewhere else, all right? Come on," Frank directed as he led them down the unfamiliar passage and into the more commonly used hallways near the Great Hall.
But they continued past the large doors that entered into the dining and social area and began to take twisting paths down and around and all over the place. Hidden stairways that not even Harry had known about were revealed as Alice led them on a journey through the castle. Harry was about to exasperatedly ask where they were going when Alice stopped right before a very worn rug on the floor.
"What are we doing here?" Ron asked in confusion. The corridor ended abruptly in a blank wall.
Alice glanced around in a furtive manner. "We just came here for fun," she said dryly.
"What's really going on?" Frank questioned in a candid way.
"There's a staff meeting. Here."
"Surely not . . . here?" Harry was looking at her as though she had no sanity at all.
"Yes, here," she replied. "Here." She tapped the rug with her black- slippered foot.
"Oh," Ron whispered in new understanding.
Frank was already stooping to tug the carpet away from the secret entrance to the room that they were headed for.
Slowly and painstakingly, the four of them managed to pull the heavy rug from the entrance. A small trapdoor became visible.
Alice muttered something and the small door sprang up, hitting the floor with a resonant thud. The small hole in the floor was filled with an eerie green light.
"They're here already, I think," she stated, as though this was an everyday way of entering a room.
She lowered herself lithely into the hole, followed by Frank, then Harry, and finally Ron.
"Close the trap door," a voice whispered. It sounded like Lupin, but Harry wasn't sure. His eyes weren't yet used to the dim lighting.
Alice closed it with magic before Harry could reach it. He also heard the carpet being dragged across the floor.
Slumping into a nearby chair, Alice sighed and quietly prompted, "So? What to do about the Voldemort scare . . ."
"We were hoping you would tell us that," McGonagall admitted rather sheepishly.
"I'm afraid that I cannot . . . just little bits and pieces . . ."
Harry's eyes had adjusted to the room by then. He saw that the whole staff was in the small underground chamber. Most were standing, but more important and prominent people, such as Dumbledore and Alice, were sitting. Someone offered Harry a chair. Shaking his head, Harry turned to face Frank, who was speaking.
"Really, we shouldn't take this so seriously. As of yet, we know nothing of the nature of the attacks –"
"Nothing?" Hagrid roared. "Course we know summat 'bout it! Four dead now and six in trances! What d' yeh call that, Frank?"
"I think he's saying," Harry interjected, "that we don't honestly know who, or what, is behind all of this. We need to take things a bit slower and not jump to conclusions."
"Oughtn't we?"
Every person in the crowed dungeon turned to gape at Alice. Her eyes seemed full of anger and pain.
"Oughtn't we? What, exactly, are we accomplishing through squabbling? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! Stop this childishness. It's an outrage. For God's sake, men and women are dying at the wrath of the Dark Lord! And who is to stop it? Who, may I ask? There are only two qualified souls in all the wizarding world . . ."
"You and Harry," McGonagall muttered in sudden realization.
"Precisely. But then comes the next question: what is to be done?"
"You tell us, Alice." Dumbledore looked almost amused. Harry thought that that was absolutely sick. What could be at all humorous in a situation like this?
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I—can't. I wish I could, but . . . I can't. I'm sorry."
"We understand," McGonagall reassured her. Even so, it didn't sound like she was being completely truthful. Harry had to admit it: Alice could be exasperating at times.
Ron's face suddenly lit up. He brushed his flaming orange hair out of his eyes and said in a commanding tone, "Listen up! Here's the plan . . ."
"And that is how—"
BRIIING!
The students of Harry's class filed out the door, not even waiting for their professor to excuse them.
"Hang on! Your homework is . . . oh, never mind." Harry looked very lost when he heard someone tap on his door.
"Come in," he said rather shortly.
"So grumpy?" Emily Rightsee swiveled into the room with a seductive smile on her face.
His face lit up slightly (not much) when he saw her. At least someone was considerate enough to drop in after such an excruciatingly trying day at work. His classroom was cluttered with balled up pieces of paper, little paper airplanes (probably with notes written all over them), and little tidbits of junk that people had forgotten to take from the class.
"Hello, Emily," he grumbled rather darkly. Maybe if she felt sorry for me . . .
"Hey, Harry," she chirped back. "Maybe you wanna go to Hogsmeade? I think Frank and Alice are going . . ."
Harry's heart sank a bit. What are you doing? he asked himself. The most wonderful woman in the whole school is practically asking you out on a date, and what's running through your head?
He realized that she'd been talking to him. Her tan face was fixed with a skeptical look.
"What?" he mumbled.
"I said, are you going?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sure."
"Okay then, you'd better get ready to go. We're leaving in a half hour, and I think we're going to La Mariposa."
"Really? Isn't that very expensive?"
"Yeah, but Alice wanted to treat us all. She probably didn't even earn the money . . ."
Harry perked up slightly at this groaning response. What does she hold against Alice? "Yeah, well . . . better go get ready . . ." Harry jumped up from his chair, hitting his knee on his desk in the process.
"God," he yelped as he clutched at it. "Half an hour, you say?"
"Yeah, you'd better go . . ."
"Yup." Harry limped out of the room, shouting over his shoulder, "Close the door, will you?"
"Of course."
Now that Harry was gone, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Really, if he wasn't famous and all, I don't think that I'd bother . . ."
Swaying on her high heels, she tottered over to the door and walked out, slamming it behind her.
Harry stood outside La Mariposa, the fanciest wizarding restaurant in all of England. He tugged at the bow tie on his tux before nodding to a black-robed servant standing just outside the door. The man smiled politely and bowed as he gracefully swept the gold-embossed oak door open. Harry nervously made his way inside.
The people and the intricate structure stunned him. All the male diners were wearing tuxes; the women were dressed in all manner of fine gowns, dripping with rubies, diamonds, and pearls.
The building itself was even grander than Hogwarts. The room was plastered in gold leaf, and the only lighting came from the candelabras on the tables and the giant crystal chandelier over the dance floor. The floors were polished oak; the tables were clothed in black lace.
A waiter walked up to Harry. "May I help you, sir?"
"Uh—yes, I'm with another party . . . maybe the name Oak? Or perhaps . . . Alice? I really don't know." Harry looked lost.
Luckily, he wasn't for long.
"Harry!"
He recognized Alice's voice immediately. "Alice, how nice to see you. Thank God, I didn't know what name you used."
"Follow me, sir," the waiter courteously mumbled.
"Yes, certainly." Harry hooked Alice's arm on the way to the table where Frank and Emily sat. She smiled at him, and some chilling feeling ran down his spine. I'm not going to think like this . . . not tonight . . .
"Hello," Emily oozed cordially.
"Harry!" Frank cried, jumping to his feet to greet him.
"Emily, Frank," he said, inclining his head to each in turn.
He sat by Emily, who immediately took his hand in hers. Jumping Dragons, he thought to himself.
"So . . ." Alice looked somewhat far away tonight, like she wasn't completely there. There was a pinched, pained look on her face.
"Let's dance," Frank suggested.
"Um . . . okay." She stood and straightened her usual silk skirt. Tonight she also wore a gold evening shawl around her shoulders and a black and gold tiara in her hair. It was all very becoming upon her. And, Harry didn't know how, but she had changed the color of the swirling mists in her crystal ball to be gold and black.
"Come on, Harry," Emily said, tugging on his hand.
She, too, was dressed extravagantly. Her dress was green satin, with small blue bows adorning it. Its neckline was far too low, it hardly went halfway down her thighs, and she had caked makeup on her face until you would hardly think that a person was hidden under it all.
"Okay . . ."
A reluctant Harry was dragged out onto the dance floor. Once on the dance floor, she placed his hands on her hips and began to sway to the music. Harry tried to keep a distance from her, but she pulled him closer.
"Harry," she whispered in his ear, "I'm so happy right now . . ."
It was then that he realized how miserable he was with her. She wasn't the one for him. Not at all. She was so . . . different. He really wanted—
"Harry," Frank mumbled as they brushed by each other. "Wanna chance with Alice? I'll take Emily."
Harry was all too eager. "Yes, of course." He looked at Emily, who was glaring at him.
"Harry . . . no, I don't want to . . . Harry—"
Despite the protests, Harry handed her off to Frank, who in turn passed him Alice. She was smiling as she lightly placed a thin white hand on his shoulder. Her nails were not their typical red, but black swirled into gold.
Harry smiled in return as he encircled her waist with his arms. They danced to the slow number, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat.
He glanced over his shoulder across the dim room and glimpsed Frank and Emily out of the corner of his eye. Biting back a laugh, he turned back to Alice. Emily was holding Frank as far from her as possible, and he looked fairly miserable himself.
He broke the silence between them by whispering in her ear, "So, you and Frank, are you . . ."
She took a deep breath, and replied, "No. You and Emily . . .?"
"Nah," he said almost too quickly.
"I see."
All that could be heard was the music and the clicking of high-heeled shoes on the wooden dance floor. Far off, the slight buzz of dinner chatter could be heard.
Rather hesitantly, Harry pulled Alice a little closer. She seemed to seize up a bit, but she didn't pull away. Nor did she object. Harry had to smile a bit in spite of himself.
The two slowly twirled across the dance floor until the number ended. As Harry reluctantly drew away from her, he caught a glimmer of a smile on her face. He led her back to their seats hand in hand.
The dinner flew past for Harry. Everything was a blur, somewhat. He remembered ordering some sort of crab dinner, and drinking the most heavenly champagne, but most of all, he remembered Alice's furtive smiles.
Emily kept trying to gain his attention, but to no avail. Harry was hopelessly lost in his own little dream world. What had he ever seen in Emily? Sure, she was good looking. And she could be nice. But still . . .
Harry apparated back into his room at Hogwarts. As he undressed for bed, his mind was awhirl with a jumble of thoughts.
Crawling into bed, Harry let out a deep sigh. He pulled the blue cotton sheets up to his chin and smiled as he succumbed to sleep.
Harry was in love.
by Hannah
Chapter Seven ~ Love and War
The snow was piling around Harry and Alice in deep drifts. Harry had drifted off to sleep in the middle of the small path that etched its way like a black river through the darkened woods of terror.
Harry wasn't dreaming about anything in particular. Meanwhile, Alice was shivering against the tree trunk, her mind overflowing with the wonders and horrors of life from its first moment to those yet to come. She too was sleeping, but not as peacefully.
As the moon rose beyond the gnarled maze of trees that enclosed the dozing duo, Harry found himself awakened by a hand upon his shoulder.
At first, he was too startled to move.
"Harry." It was urgently whispering his name. "Harry."
He played dead. Maybe whoever, or whatever, it was would leave.
"Harry, wake up."
He lay still.
"Harry, dammit, wake up! This is urgent." The voice sounded panicked. There was a note of hysteria in the deep masculine voice.
"Okay, okay," Harry replied sleepily. He slowly blinked open his eyes, and found himself staring into the fearful eyes of none other than . . .
Ron.
Harry sat up very quickly, and realized at that moment how cold it truly was. "God, it's freezing . . ."
"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you sit outside in the snow for an hour," Ron replied. He glanced nervously around.
"What's up? You look like you've seen a . . . okay, forget that one. We've seen our fair share of those. Anyhow, what's got you so uptight?"
"Harry . . . I don't think this is the place to talk about it. I also want to talk with Alice." He glanced over at the shivering form of the woman. "Anyway . . . let's get back to the castle, and then we can discuss it in your room, or her room . . . whatever we do: hurry!"
"Okay, okay." Harry made an attempt to pull himself off of the ground. He fell back down.
"Give me a hand, will you?"
"Sure." Ron offered a gloved hand. Harry put his frozen hand into it and Ron yanked him from the ground.
"Let's awaken Alice, shall we?"
"It would be a pity." Ron looked at her again. "Let's put her under some sort of sleeping spell and take her back to the castle."
"Too late."
They turned to see Alice stretching behind them. "Well? Let's head for Hogwarts."
"All right." Ron looked a little taken aback, but he tried not to show it. He swirled his cape about him. "Let's go!"
"Wait . . ." Alice deftly flourished her hand in the air and two capes were draped over her arm. She tossed one to Harry. "It's cold."
"Thanks," he said.
The three of them headed briskly towards the turrets of Hogwarts.
Harry took off his snow-splattered cloak. The red material had turned a dark burgundy where the damp had set in. Alice took off her black cloak, which was, of course, accented with golden embroidery. She pointed at the fireplace in Harry's room; it burst into flames.
Ron stood in the corner, glancing around at his surroundings. Harry felt slightly embarrassed; his room was quite shabby. Maybe he should let Alice fix it up, just a bit . . .
"So," Harry prompted, "what's going on?"
Still looking edgy, Ron cleared his throat. "Well . . . there's been wind of some foul play."
"What kind of . . . foul play?"
"That's just it. Nobody seems to have any idea of what has been happening. The Ministry just found out about it. Supposedly . . . Voldemort is on the rise again."
Harry looked not only stunned, but also incredulous and unbelieving. "Voldemort? Who . . . who told you? How do you know? What, exactly, happened?"
"That's all very sketchy. Sirius was the one who informed me of it. Anyway . . . apparently there was some sort of inexplicable death in southern France. And then another in Germany—they were killed the same way. It's gruesome. I don't know if—"
He looked at Alice.
She smiled at him. "You forget, at times, that I've already seen it."
"Ah, yes . . ." Ron sounded rather distant.
Harry was worried. This wasn't the light, cheerful Ron from Hogwarts. This was . . . someone else. Someone far more serious and brooding. Had Ron truly grown up? Or had something forced him to quickly accept reality?
"Well, I was wondering if, by any chance, you could help us, Alice. Give us any more information, or something like that. Please." Ron looked pleading.
"I can help you to a certain extent," she said, looking like she was hating every moment of this, "but beyond that—"
"Anything." Ron looked so desperate.
"Yes." She gazed into his eyes with such strong sympathy that Harry almost quailed. Quietly, she stood. "I'll go to my room for now. Call me when you need me."
"Fine."
Alice left the room, closing the squeaking door behind her.
"Well . . ."
"Ron." Harry was scrutinizing his friend. "There's something you're not telling me."
"Harry . . ." Ron's eyes were pleading.
"What is it?"
Harry walked over to his friend and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Ron, please. Tell me. What is it?"
"Harry . . . there have been other victims. Here, in England. They're not dead, but—"
"Do I . . . know any of them?" Harry's eyes plainly showed his fear.
"Well . . . Harry—" Ron's voice broke and his eyes became misty. "Hermione," he managed to whisper.
"Good God," Harry muttered. "You mean—"
Ron nodded solemnly. "Yes, she's once again fallen victim to Tom Riddle. You don't know the others, but still, it's tragic."
"Yes." Harry fumbled blindly for a chair, and somehow managed to seat himself in one. "Hermione. Oh dear Lord."
"Harry, it's deeper than that."
"What?" Harry raised his head, which he had buried in his hands. He couldn't imagine the whole situation being much worse.
"Well, Hermione and I—" His voice cracked. "Hermione and I . . ."
"Jumping dragons, the two of you . . ."
Ron nodded his head in utmost desolation. Tears were finally brimming over his eyes and were falling down his pallid cheeks.
"Oh no," Harry muttered miserably. It had gotten worse. Much worse.
"Harry."
"Yes?"
"What . . . what am I going to do?" Ron sobbed, relinquishing all dignity to his sorrow. He threw his pride to the four winds as he groped for Harry's hand.
Harry grasped his friend's hand and pulled him close. "It's okay. We'll get through this. We will, Ron." Harry said all this with a determination he did not feel. At the moment, he felt very empty and hollow. "How bad—how did—what's wrong with her?"
"We don't know, Harry. It's like someone's got complete control over her. I didn't get to see her. Sirius wouldn't let me. He knew about . . . us. But he said that she was in a trance. She just walked around not seeing or recognizing anything. Harry, I was about to ask her to marry me! What's to become of her? Of me?" He shook his head in complete and utter disbelief.
"I don't know, Ron, I just don't know. We'll find a way to pull through. Don't worry about it. Please, don't."
"I don't have a job, I don't have Hermione . . . oh Harry. The world's just falling apart."
"You've got me, Ron. Together, we'll make it."
"I hope so. I do hope so."
"Now you just make yourself comfortable here. I'll find somewhere to sleep." Harry stood and began to walk to the door.
"No, I can't possibly take your room," Ron objected.
"Ron, you will. You must. Where else could you go? I'll find somewhere to sleep. Don't worry about it. Until you're back up on your feet."
"Okay."
Harry walked toward the door. He was almost there when Ron interrupted.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you." Harry could sense the relief in his friend's voice.
"It's nothing, Ron. What are friends for? Just relax. Sleep. We'll clear everything up in the morning."
Harry closed the door behind him and headed for Frank's room, dreading the thought of tomorrow. He tried to push the thought from his head. A good night's sleep, he told himself. That's all I need. Maybe this is just some awful dream. He yawned. Maybe he could sleep on Frank's sofa or something.
Harry was awoken the next morning by a tap on the door. He stretched; the sofa wasn't nearly long enough for his tall frame and his feet were dangling over the armrest.
He looked toward the bed to see if Frank was going to get the door, but he wasn't there. Harry stood and mumbled, "Coming, coming," as he headed toward the door.
Warily, he looked through a magical keyhole that could only be seen from his side of the room. He saw Alice, Frank, and Ron standing on the other side of the door.
Swinging it open resolutely, Harry greeting them with a sleepy "good morning to you." Alice smiled, Frank winked, and Ron just seemed to acknowledge it with those gloomy green eyes.
"Hello, Harry," Frank said in a cheerful voice. "Late sleeper, are we? Exactly half an hour before classes, you know."
"Oh dear." Harry's eyes bulged a bit as he turned and looked for a clock somewhere in the room.
"Eight thirty," Alice prompted with an amused grin.
"Urgh." Harry looked around the room. "Frank, can I borrow a robe?"
"Yeah, sure. Better borrow a brush, too." Frank was trying all too hard to hide his laughter. Harry's hair was sticking out all over his head like a bolt of lightning had hit him.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Should we wait for you? We've already eaten our breakfast." Alice said.
"Yeah, sure, you ate breakfast. Like, a bite of toast?"
Alice's purple eyes leapt with fire.
"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered apologetically. He picked a robe from the tidy chest of drawers in the corner and threw it over his head. Damn the old robe; it was much too long. The gray garment bagged around his knees like the skin of an elephant.
Ron half-heartedly handed him a hairbrush.
"Thank you," Harry muttered as he ran it through his thick, unruly black hair once or twice.
"Okay, cool to go."
"Yeah, well, you want breakfast?"
"Nah, I can survive without it." Harry's stomach let out a huge rumble that he hoped no one else heard.
"Okay." Alice was examining him. She didn't look pleased. "Here . . ."
She took the wand out of her pocket, mumbled something, and the robes fit!
"Damn, she's good," Ron grumbled under his breath.
"Sorry, Frank. I'll fix them up at the end of the day."
"Fine, fine." Frank was smiling at her.
"God," Harry mumbled to himself. Was it just him, or was Frank practically tripping over himself whenever he talked to Alice?
Harry shook his head in disbelief. I can't believe I'm jealous of him, he told himself. What the hell is going on?
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ron looked so desolate that Harry felt like jumping at his every command.
"Yeah, yeah, just a second," he grumbled rather crossly. He had to admit that sleeping on a couch was not the most comfortable or relaxing way to spend one's night.
Alice pushed open the door and stepped into its frame. "Y'all comin'?"
Frank stepped eagerly out behind her, followed by a droopy-armed Ron, and lastly Harry, who shut the door behind them all. They stood in a dark hallway; Frank's doorway was cleverly concealed behind a statue of a very tall, slender witch with flowing bronze hair and a stunning silver robe draped over a well-cast body.
Harry took a moment to admire the statue. There was something about it. He couldn't put his finger on it . . .
"Harry? You there, bud?" Frank startled Harry out of his trance. His face was creased with worry as Harry turned to face him.
"Yeah, just thinking . . ."
"Okay, well, let's think somewhere else, all right? Come on," Frank directed as he led them down the unfamiliar passage and into the more commonly used hallways near the Great Hall.
But they continued past the large doors that entered into the dining and social area and began to take twisting paths down and around and all over the place. Hidden stairways that not even Harry had known about were revealed as Alice led them on a journey through the castle. Harry was about to exasperatedly ask where they were going when Alice stopped right before a very worn rug on the floor.
"What are we doing here?" Ron asked in confusion. The corridor ended abruptly in a blank wall.
Alice glanced around in a furtive manner. "We just came here for fun," she said dryly.
"What's really going on?" Frank questioned in a candid way.
"There's a staff meeting. Here."
"Surely not . . . here?" Harry was looking at her as though she had no sanity at all.
"Yes, here," she replied. "Here." She tapped the rug with her black- slippered foot.
"Oh," Ron whispered in new understanding.
Frank was already stooping to tug the carpet away from the secret entrance to the room that they were headed for.
Slowly and painstakingly, the four of them managed to pull the heavy rug from the entrance. A small trapdoor became visible.
Alice muttered something and the small door sprang up, hitting the floor with a resonant thud. The small hole in the floor was filled with an eerie green light.
"They're here already, I think," she stated, as though this was an everyday way of entering a room.
She lowered herself lithely into the hole, followed by Frank, then Harry, and finally Ron.
"Close the trap door," a voice whispered. It sounded like Lupin, but Harry wasn't sure. His eyes weren't yet used to the dim lighting.
Alice closed it with magic before Harry could reach it. He also heard the carpet being dragged across the floor.
Slumping into a nearby chair, Alice sighed and quietly prompted, "So? What to do about the Voldemort scare . . ."
"We were hoping you would tell us that," McGonagall admitted rather sheepishly.
"I'm afraid that I cannot . . . just little bits and pieces . . ."
Harry's eyes had adjusted to the room by then. He saw that the whole staff was in the small underground chamber. Most were standing, but more important and prominent people, such as Dumbledore and Alice, were sitting. Someone offered Harry a chair. Shaking his head, Harry turned to face Frank, who was speaking.
"Really, we shouldn't take this so seriously. As of yet, we know nothing of the nature of the attacks –"
"Nothing?" Hagrid roared. "Course we know summat 'bout it! Four dead now and six in trances! What d' yeh call that, Frank?"
"I think he's saying," Harry interjected, "that we don't honestly know who, or what, is behind all of this. We need to take things a bit slower and not jump to conclusions."
"Oughtn't we?"
Every person in the crowed dungeon turned to gape at Alice. Her eyes seemed full of anger and pain.
"Oughtn't we? What, exactly, are we accomplishing through squabbling? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! Stop this childishness. It's an outrage. For God's sake, men and women are dying at the wrath of the Dark Lord! And who is to stop it? Who, may I ask? There are only two qualified souls in all the wizarding world . . ."
"You and Harry," McGonagall muttered in sudden realization.
"Precisely. But then comes the next question: what is to be done?"
"You tell us, Alice." Dumbledore looked almost amused. Harry thought that that was absolutely sick. What could be at all humorous in a situation like this?
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I—can't. I wish I could, but . . . I can't. I'm sorry."
"We understand," McGonagall reassured her. Even so, it didn't sound like she was being completely truthful. Harry had to admit it: Alice could be exasperating at times.
Ron's face suddenly lit up. He brushed his flaming orange hair out of his eyes and said in a commanding tone, "Listen up! Here's the plan . . ."
"And that is how—"
BRIIING!
The students of Harry's class filed out the door, not even waiting for their professor to excuse them.
"Hang on! Your homework is . . . oh, never mind." Harry looked very lost when he heard someone tap on his door.
"Come in," he said rather shortly.
"So grumpy?" Emily Rightsee swiveled into the room with a seductive smile on her face.
His face lit up slightly (not much) when he saw her. At least someone was considerate enough to drop in after such an excruciatingly trying day at work. His classroom was cluttered with balled up pieces of paper, little paper airplanes (probably with notes written all over them), and little tidbits of junk that people had forgotten to take from the class.
"Hello, Emily," he grumbled rather darkly. Maybe if she felt sorry for me . . .
"Hey, Harry," she chirped back. "Maybe you wanna go to Hogsmeade? I think Frank and Alice are going . . ."
Harry's heart sank a bit. What are you doing? he asked himself. The most wonderful woman in the whole school is practically asking you out on a date, and what's running through your head?
He realized that she'd been talking to him. Her tan face was fixed with a skeptical look.
"What?" he mumbled.
"I said, are you going?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sure."
"Okay then, you'd better get ready to go. We're leaving in a half hour, and I think we're going to La Mariposa."
"Really? Isn't that very expensive?"
"Yeah, but Alice wanted to treat us all. She probably didn't even earn the money . . ."
Harry perked up slightly at this groaning response. What does she hold against Alice? "Yeah, well . . . better go get ready . . ." Harry jumped up from his chair, hitting his knee on his desk in the process.
"God," he yelped as he clutched at it. "Half an hour, you say?"
"Yeah, you'd better go . . ."
"Yup." Harry limped out of the room, shouting over his shoulder, "Close the door, will you?"
"Of course."
Now that Harry was gone, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Really, if he wasn't famous and all, I don't think that I'd bother . . ."
Swaying on her high heels, she tottered over to the door and walked out, slamming it behind her.
Harry stood outside La Mariposa, the fanciest wizarding restaurant in all of England. He tugged at the bow tie on his tux before nodding to a black-robed servant standing just outside the door. The man smiled politely and bowed as he gracefully swept the gold-embossed oak door open. Harry nervously made his way inside.
The people and the intricate structure stunned him. All the male diners were wearing tuxes; the women were dressed in all manner of fine gowns, dripping with rubies, diamonds, and pearls.
The building itself was even grander than Hogwarts. The room was plastered in gold leaf, and the only lighting came from the candelabras on the tables and the giant crystal chandelier over the dance floor. The floors were polished oak; the tables were clothed in black lace.
A waiter walked up to Harry. "May I help you, sir?"
"Uh—yes, I'm with another party . . . maybe the name Oak? Or perhaps . . . Alice? I really don't know." Harry looked lost.
Luckily, he wasn't for long.
"Harry!"
He recognized Alice's voice immediately. "Alice, how nice to see you. Thank God, I didn't know what name you used."
"Follow me, sir," the waiter courteously mumbled.
"Yes, certainly." Harry hooked Alice's arm on the way to the table where Frank and Emily sat. She smiled at him, and some chilling feeling ran down his spine. I'm not going to think like this . . . not tonight . . .
"Hello," Emily oozed cordially.
"Harry!" Frank cried, jumping to his feet to greet him.
"Emily, Frank," he said, inclining his head to each in turn.
He sat by Emily, who immediately took his hand in hers. Jumping Dragons, he thought to himself.
"So . . ." Alice looked somewhat far away tonight, like she wasn't completely there. There was a pinched, pained look on her face.
"Let's dance," Frank suggested.
"Um . . . okay." She stood and straightened her usual silk skirt. Tonight she also wore a gold evening shawl around her shoulders and a black and gold tiara in her hair. It was all very becoming upon her. And, Harry didn't know how, but she had changed the color of the swirling mists in her crystal ball to be gold and black.
"Come on, Harry," Emily said, tugging on his hand.
She, too, was dressed extravagantly. Her dress was green satin, with small blue bows adorning it. Its neckline was far too low, it hardly went halfway down her thighs, and she had caked makeup on her face until you would hardly think that a person was hidden under it all.
"Okay . . ."
A reluctant Harry was dragged out onto the dance floor. Once on the dance floor, she placed his hands on her hips and began to sway to the music. Harry tried to keep a distance from her, but she pulled him closer.
"Harry," she whispered in his ear, "I'm so happy right now . . ."
It was then that he realized how miserable he was with her. She wasn't the one for him. Not at all. She was so . . . different. He really wanted—
"Harry," Frank mumbled as they brushed by each other. "Wanna chance with Alice? I'll take Emily."
Harry was all too eager. "Yes, of course." He looked at Emily, who was glaring at him.
"Harry . . . no, I don't want to . . . Harry—"
Despite the protests, Harry handed her off to Frank, who in turn passed him Alice. She was smiling as she lightly placed a thin white hand on his shoulder. Her nails were not their typical red, but black swirled into gold.
Harry smiled in return as he encircled her waist with his arms. They danced to the slow number, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat.
He glanced over his shoulder across the dim room and glimpsed Frank and Emily out of the corner of his eye. Biting back a laugh, he turned back to Alice. Emily was holding Frank as far from her as possible, and he looked fairly miserable himself.
He broke the silence between them by whispering in her ear, "So, you and Frank, are you . . ."
She took a deep breath, and replied, "No. You and Emily . . .?"
"Nah," he said almost too quickly.
"I see."
All that could be heard was the music and the clicking of high-heeled shoes on the wooden dance floor. Far off, the slight buzz of dinner chatter could be heard.
Rather hesitantly, Harry pulled Alice a little closer. She seemed to seize up a bit, but she didn't pull away. Nor did she object. Harry had to smile a bit in spite of himself.
The two slowly twirled across the dance floor until the number ended. As Harry reluctantly drew away from her, he caught a glimmer of a smile on her face. He led her back to their seats hand in hand.
The dinner flew past for Harry. Everything was a blur, somewhat. He remembered ordering some sort of crab dinner, and drinking the most heavenly champagne, but most of all, he remembered Alice's furtive smiles.
Emily kept trying to gain his attention, but to no avail. Harry was hopelessly lost in his own little dream world. What had he ever seen in Emily? Sure, she was good looking. And she could be nice. But still . . .
Harry apparated back into his room at Hogwarts. As he undressed for bed, his mind was awhirl with a jumble of thoughts.
Crawling into bed, Harry let out a deep sigh. He pulled the blue cotton sheets up to his chin and smiled as he succumbed to sleep.
Harry was in love.