Harry felt like a stringless puppet, even though he ate with energy. The din of the Great Hall was lost on him like the incessant buzzing of a million flies. He hardly heard a word anyone said until Hermione spoke up again, and this time with results.
"I hear Hagrid'll be back next week."
Harry's head snapped up. He hadn't seen Hagrid for months and missed the half-giant sorely. "Is he?" he said. "I hope he managed to talk to the giants."
"Mm," was all Ron muttered.
Hermione pursed her lips and stared at Ron for a moment. "All right!" she said, jumping sharply to her feet and grabbing Ron's arm. "Up!"
"Hey!" protested Ron as Hermione dragged him out of his seat. "I...I...I haven't finished...!"
"You haven't eaten a thing," snapped Hermione and added in her bossiest voice, "We're going to talk."
"I don't bloody think so," started Ron, but Hermione had already pulled him halfway down the Gryffindor table. Harry stared after them, still disoriented, before grasping the situation and (while grabbing a turkey leg) running after them.
Between the two of them they managed to force a half-resisting Ron outside onto the grounds. By the time they had gotten to the lake the tall redhead was simply walking quietly between Harry and Hermione, eyes downcast and hands in his pockets.
Hermione sat down. Harry followed suit and after a moment so did Ron. For a while they simply stared out over the lake, watching a gigantic, dripping tentacle breach the surface once or twice. When the image of the Beaubaxtons carriage rising from the deep and the memory of untying Ron from a wooden post guarded by merfolk grew too much for Harry to bear, he broke the silence.
"What happened, Ron?"
Ron closed his eyes. Hermione was looking at him worriedly. "What do you mean?"
"You bloody well..." Harry stopped at Hermione's warning glance. He took a breath. "Rysk--or Harrison--her detention. What happened?"
"Oh," said Ron lifelessly. "That."
They waited.
"Why'd you get back so late?" prompted Harry.
"Were you up?"
"I heard you come in."
Hermione shifted agitatedly.
You see..." Ron trailed off and sighed heavily, staring at the neatly-trimmed grass. He didn't look embarrassed or angry, simply tired, more tired than Harry had ever seen him. Ron began pulling up blades of grass, one at a time. "See, she...well, you know she's a lunatic."
"Ron! I thought you said she wasn't that bad."
"She isn't. For a lunatic." The blades of grass were turning into fingerfuls. "She just told me I shouldn't attack people unnecessarily. Stuff McGonagall would say. Then she got out the Daily Prophet to read until it was time for me to go and saw Dad's name in there. Moment she found out we were related she started grilling me like a prisoner of war. Looked like she was going to pound something. Me."
"She didn't..." began Harry.
"No," said Ron, shaking his head sharply. "She didn't touch me."
The day was pleasant. Birds chirped in the air and the lake was serene; Hermione had disposed of her black robes because of the heat. But Ron's words were turning everything bleak. "Anyway, she kept asking questions until I let slip about Percy."
"Percy?" said Harry, startled. Hermione nodded grimly.
"I thought so," she said quietly.
Ron threw her a sidelong glance but continued. "Yeah. See..." He ran his hands over his face and through his red hair. "See, the Ministry's split. Fudge is being an asshole..."
Hermione said nothing.
"...and he's basically made it either him or Dumbledore. He refuses to believe that...that You-Know-Who is back."
"And Percy's taken his side. Against your family," said Hermione softly.
"Fudge this and Fudge that and You-Know-Who? Impossible!" spat Ron bitterly. "He's become so much of a prat with his head stuck up his ass he refuses to see that anything's gone wrong. Getting rid of Crouch just made him fall in love with Fudge." He took an unsteady breath. "You should have seen him and Dad go at each other at home," he said with a humorless laugh. Harry started as Ron viciously ripped an entire fistful of grass, roots and all, from the ground. "He's tearing our family apart," finished Ron tiredly.
Harry was staring at Ron in shock. Of course! It had been so obvious; he might have guessed. Hermione apparently had. She was looking at her knees with a sad, grim set to her lips.
"Ron. Why didn't you ever say anything? You never let on." Harry searched his memory for any clue that something was amiss at The Burrow. None of Ron's letters over the summer had hinted at such a thing, and Ginny and the twins had been acting normally, as well. "Neither did Fred or George," he added with a furrowed brow.
"We don't talk about him," said Ron harshly. Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and he bit his lip. "I--I figured it'd be better not to say anything. I don't want to be the one who tells the entire school. Malfoy'll do that," he said gloomily. "And besides. You have enough troubles of your own, after last year. Didn't want to..."
"No!" exclaimed Harry with force. "No, Ron, nothing like some stupid Voldemort is going to make me too busy to listen to you!"
Both Ron and Hermione flinched, but the former seemed pleasantly surprised by the conviction in Harry's voice.
"You stupid git," laughed Harry, "don't ever think that again!"
****
It was a considerably more light-hearted Ron who walked back into the castle with them fifteen minutes later. "Let's go down to the kitchens," he said, grabbing Hermione's arm in front of the marble staircase. "I'm starving."
They laughed.
Harry cheerfully followed Ron to visit with the house-elves. Dobby was ecstatic to see him. ("Harry Potter! Harry Potter is come!") S.P.E.W was not brought up once. Or perhaps only twice. Their arms were heavy with treats when they took the way through the dungeons back, and all was right with the world.
If only it were so.
"Oh, it's Snape!" hissed Hermione, whipping back around the corner and pressing herself against the wall. She was walking ahead and had the lightest load. Ron and Harry froze.
At that moment came a lost first year, searching for the Ravenclaw common room. The poor boy with brown hair had forgotten about the trick step that had trapped Harry inches from disaster and discovery last year. Harry cringed as the first year's foot fell right through the stair. Then he swore under his breath when he saw that the small waif of a thing had dropped all the way to his waist and was desperately clinging on with his fingers.
The Ravenclaw boy gave a mighty yell as he grappled with the slick carpet and slipped. Snape's head snapped up, alarmed.
"Wingardium leviosa!"
The boy jerked in midair, wavered, and floated. His eyes were wide in fear. Snape started to gently let him down when Professor 'Harrison' appeared from a side corridor.
Both Harry and Snape saw her at once. A sizzle of pain bolted up Harry's scar. "Ah!" His hand flew up to his forehead, but before his fingers touched skin the sharp stab had disappeared.
Snape, on the other hand, suffered worse effects. For the second time that day the Potions master clutched at his wrist, lips turning white, and swore through gritted teeth. His wand dropped from his hand. The Ravenclaw boy let out a shriek as he began to plummet to the ground.
"What the--windgardium leviosa!"
The first year, flailing wildly, jerked to a stop two feet above the hard stone tiles. Taking a breath, her eyes never wavering, Rysk slowly lowered the boy to the ground.
Snape took no notice. His eyes were closed as his fingers tightened even more around the Dark Mark, as though trying to crush bone.
The young Ravenclaw took one look at the two teachers and immediately spun on his heel and ran, his footsteps echoing through the corridors.
"What happened?" Rysk demanded of Snape, who was clutching his wrist to his stomach by now. "What's wrong?"
Professor Snape's head snapped up and his eyes opened in a sudden, swift movement as his black gaze locked with Rysk's grey one. Rysk's face was cold and unreadable as she stared at him. It seemed to Harry that an incredible, silent battle of wills was taking place. Snape's eyes narrowed and a look of great concentration passed over his face, as though he was trying to wrap his mind around something.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione held their breaths.
As Rysk slowly tucked her wand away, an expression of disoriented pain distorted Snape's features, the same one that had driven him from the High Table the first day. He held his fingers to his temples, trying to straighten up. Rysk continued to watch him without saying a word.
The Potions master spun on his heel and walked swiftly back to the dungeons, still holding his head.
Rysk watched him go silently. Her grey eyes gleamed in an odd way, a knowing, grim way. Her head turned toward Harry and others.
"Run," hissed Hermione, shoving Ron and Harry with her shoulder, "run!"
