Harry stood motionless by the hospital bed of his friend, emerald eyes staring not at the battered form but past it. The three Weasley kids stood in a loose semicircle around the end of the bed, with Hermione resided on his other side. She was holding Ron's left hand carefully, avoiding the wrist, where the wire had bit deeply into the youth's flesh.

The other hand had the sword in it. No one had been able to pry the blade from the right hand of the unconscious boy's hand and so it had been left there. It seemed right.

The only sounds in the room were Ron's rattling breath and Madam Pomfrey bustling about. She had already bandaged his broken ribs and was currently working on his lacerations, which were visibly healing before everyone's eyes.

As the nurse was doing that, Harry's gaze slipped to the sword. Both he and Dumbledore had recognized it as the blade he had used a couple of years ago in the Chamber of Secrets. How it had found its way into Ron's hand, the youth couldn't fathom. Dumbledore obviously had, though and had gone to his office the moment he was sure Ron was going to be fine. There was something of great importance of his friend's possession of the sword.

The youth chose that moment to stir. Smiling at his friends and family, he went into a real sleep almost instantly, the first time in months. Quietly, the elated visitors crept out of the Hospital Wing.



* * *



Harry walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom halfway through the period, light hearted for the first time in two months. Hermione beside him seemed to feel much the same way, a spring returning to her step that Harry had only now realized was missing. Who wouldn't be relieved? Their best friend was awake and alert as of a few minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey had determined that he would be fine with only a week spent in her care. On top of that, the two had gotten to miss their first Potions lesson of the year.

"I'm glad you two decided to join us."

A cold voice broke through Harry's euphoria as the new professor's slate grey eyes stared penetratingly at the two tardy students. As they moved from Hermione toHarry, they seemed to expand with surprise before narrowing and becoming colder than before.

"Mr. Potter, Miss..."

"Hermione Granger, Professor Hanrahan."

"Miss Granger, if you will take a seat, we will continue the lesson you so rudely interrupted. Please see me after class."

Harry gaped at the unfairness of it, speaking out in protest before he could stop himself.

"B-but-"

"There are no buts in this matter, young man. Take a seat."

The two sat down abruptly in the nearest seats. As soon as they had done so, the winsome professor began her lecture, picking up where she had left off.

"Many groups have been formed over the ages to fight the Dark Arts, as I was saying before. They were usually bound by a combination of magic, comradeship, and trust. Sometimes the members were chosen by mortal me, and sometimes they are picked by magical artifacts. The Goblet of Fire is a prime example. Upon entering the names of the entrants into the Goblet, it chooses those most suitable to the task at hand. I know it is your first day, but I will be assigning a project to you today. However, it will not be due until three weeks from today, which should give you plenty of time to research your topic. Four feet of parchment are required. Please come forward and choose your topic."

Harry groaned inwardly, but beside him, Hermione brightened and dashed forward, the first in line. The boy followed at a more sedate place and chose the most vague topic on the list, something called the Prophecy of the Chosen. Hermione brightly told him as he returned to his seat all about her topic, the Order of Merlin, despite the fact that she hadn't even researched it yet.

"I've read all about it Harry, since I knew Professor Dumbledore had the Order of Merlin, First Class. It's not only an award, you know. Merlin was a great wizard around a thousand years ago. In fact he was the one who trained the four founders, did you know that? I found that out in Before Hogwarts, written by one of the first students. Merlin was the one who united the four. He helped invent the spell that formed the sword, you know. Anyways, I'm sure I'll find more about him as I research. What did you get?"

The youth jerked back to reality, having tuned out his companion's speech. Looking at the paper where he had written down the topic, he read it off to the girl. She frowned.

"You know, you should have chosen something more specific."

"I'll be ok, Hermione. Besides, Ron is going to have to do this too, and he might choose something more to your liking."

"Well, true. I-"

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, please come up to my desk. The rest of class is dismissed."

The two warily made their way up to the young professor, unsure of how to speak to her.

"Do you have a reason for your tardiness?"

Harry began to explain.

"This morning, in the Great Hall, you know the-the-the um..."

The woman glared at him.

"Miss Granger, perhaps you can explain your thoughts a bit more coherently than Harry."

It seemed to the boy that she almost spat out his name, but not quite. It was a bit unfair over all. She seemed to be holding a grudge against him, and he had no idea why.

"Yes, Professor Hanrahan. The boy who was pulled through the Door this morning, tied to the chair is our best friend. Dumbledore excused us from class in order to make sure he'd be ok."

At the mention of the Headmaster, her sterling silver eyes grew full of respect and she nodded reluctantly, giving a warmer glance to the femme. Another glance was aimed at Harry, but it not only had considerably less warmth, but was simmering with resentment.

"Very well then. Please take news of my assignment to your friend - Ronald Weasley, is it? And he is ok?"

"He will be, Professor."

"Good. I should like to speak to him about his experiences. You may go now."

The companions left quickly, relieved to be let off the hook, even if it wasn't fair that they had been in trouble in the first place.

"Hermione, was it just me, or did she seem to....Oh, I don't know...Resent me, I guess."

Hermione pursed her lips, thinking a bit. Slowly, and a bit reluctantly, she nodded her bushy curls.

"It did seem so. But why, Harry?"

"I wish I knew."





(Author's Note: This fic WILL be finished, if only so I know what happened. Yes, it might take a while, but I have been working on it a bit more lately so hopefully the chapters should start coming out a bit quicker. But not yet though, because May is the busiest month of the year for me. Don't expect another chapter until June, and you might be pleasantly surprised. Oh yes, and I know the length of the chapters are short, but its all I can manage before I get stuck)