A/N: Here we go. LotR begins to emerge from the horror of school exams, now that Harry's got it through his thick head what's going on... the next chapter will, if all goes well (which it may not, you know), be the last one that takes place in Harry's world for a while.... (Also, be warned: this chapter is REALLY LONG! I don't know how it got this long, I didn't intend it to be. Sorry.)
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Chapter Four: Ron's 15 Minutes (of Stupidity)

Harry gasped. It was nearly four in the morning, or so the faintly glowing clock on the wall said. He had just woken up from a nightmare that was already slipping away... no! He wouldn't let it go! He had to hold onto it... it was important...

He dove out of bed and ripped open the drawers of his bedside table in search of parchment, ink and quill. He cursed the day he had learned he was a wizard, because if he were a Muggle he'd only have to bother with a pen and notebook rather than all the trouble of blotting paper and feathers and... and... finally he came up with what he needed, and caught the last fringes of the dream before it slipped away.

one ring to rule them all, he scribbled. Gollum. land of mordor where shadows lie. Then, as an inspired afterthought, he added, lord of the rings. Dudley's shelf 1st year.

He leaned back against the side of his bed and took a deep breath. Now that he knew what he was dealing with -- and he didn't doubt it for a second, that shadow had been all the convincing he needed -- he felt the next step was telling someone. Ron. Had to find Ron.

He took a few deep breaths to make his heart stop pounding, and crept to the side of Ron's four-poster. He drew back the curtains, but the bed was empty, and the covers were still made. So he had probably never come up. Harry stood still a moment longer, forcing himself to calm down, then padded barefoot down the spiral stairs (fully visible) to the common room.

His guess had been right. Ron had fallen asleep in front of the fire. He was currently snoring loud enough to wake the dead (metaphorically speaking). Harry went over and shook him.

Ron grunted and refused to wake up for several minutes, but Harry finally roused him by going back upstairs and getting the water pitcher from the windowsill in the dorm room, and drizzling a constant stream of icy water on Ron's head (he didn't want to get the furniture too wet because Filch would be after his blood).

Harry was forced to clap a hand over Ron's mouth when he finally woke up in order to keep the Weasley boy from rousing the whole castle with his shout. Ron relaxed when he saw that it was just Harry.

I think I know what happened this afternoon. Harry brandished his parchment at Ron, who looked blank.

What're you talking bout, Harry? he asked, blurry from sleep still. He wiped a drip of cold water off his forehead.

The ring, said Harry. It's evil.

What else is new? Ron replied sarcastically.

No, Ron, I mean it -- it's pure evil. There's a series of books, by this guy named Tolkien, called The Lord of the Rings -- it's all about the history of the ring, and the final destruction of the ring. But I don't think the ring was destroyed. I think it may have survived, and Krum may have sent it to Hermione.

Ron perked up. I knew we couldn't trust him, he said smugly. So when did all this happen? I mean, I've never heard of it in History of Magic class. Then again I was asleep through most of that... he muttered to himself.

Harry hesitated, struggling to think of a way to make his case sound believable. Well -- er -- it's not -- the ring wasn't in our world. Tolkien was a Muggle. The books are fantasy novels, he finished lamely.

Ron looked at Harry disbelievingly. Harry, you're going nutters. I think you need some sleep, maybe you won't be delusional in the morning...

Ron, I'm serious! You're not listening to me! Harry was desperate. He knew this was true. Ash nazg... no wizard would use a Muggle-invented phrase in such an elaborate joke, if it were even a joke, which it couldn't be because it had knocked Lupin out cold and it certainly wasn't funny. And that was just one reason out of hundreds.

Ron, just give me five minutes, all right? Ron could tell Harry was desperate, so he nodded. It's like this, continued Harry in a rushed voice. In these books, Lord of the Rings, there's a place called Middle-earth, and a dark lord -- like Voldemort sort of, but a hundred thousand times worse -- named Sauron. There are a whole lot of things called Rings of Power -- three rings for the elven-kings under the sky; seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone; nine for mortal men doomed to die, that's how a verse goes in it -- that the immortal elves forged when the world was new. But Sauron, right, he forged one ring for himself, the Ruling Ring, that was supposed to take all the other rings under its power and bend them to its will, which was total evil. Sauron wanted to conquer and destroy Middle-earth. But then this prince guy, Isildur, helps lead a huge battle against Sauron and cuts off his hand, Ring and all. Isildur keeps the Ring as an heirloom for his family to prove he defeated the dark lord, but the Ring has a mind of its own and betrays him later on, and gets lost for thousands of years, until this creature called Gollum finds it and takes it into his caves under some mountains or other. That's where a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins finds it --

Hang on, slow down. A what named who?

A hobbit. They're just small people, really. Big hairy feet, about three feet tall, but otherwise just like people. Humans, I mean. Men, Elves, dwarves and hobbits are the four main races in Middle-earth. They all look relatively human, but dwarves are short and stocky, and elves are really tall and thin and have pointy ears.

Anyway, Bilbo finds the Ring and doesn't realize what it is. He keeps it for almost 60 years until he has to give it to his nephew Frodo Baggins. Sauron didn't die when Isildur fought him because the Ring wasn't destroyed, and Sauron and the Ring are actually one being since Sauron put so much of himself into the Ring when it was forged. I mean literally put himself in it. He mixed his blood with the molten gold and everything. Ron was listening intently, so Harry was encouraged to go on.

Sauron woke up and was really ticked, so he started massing an army to restart the battle he'd lost all those years before. Meanwhile Frodo's got the Ring, and after a while Bilbo's old friend the wizard Gandalf turns up some old papers written by Isildur himself that prove that Frodo's ring is actually the One Ring. Frodo sets out from his little homeland of the Shire to Rivendell, one of the last places the Elves live. That's where he finds out that he's the Ringbearer and has to take the Ring to Mordor, Sauron's country, and throw the Ring in the fires where it was forged, because that's the only place it can be destroyed. The books are really all about Frodo's journey to Mordor and the destruction of the Ring... but I -- I don't know how, but I think that Hermione's ring is the One Ring.

Ron still looked skeptical. Prove it.

Well, I looked at the Ring after Dumbledore came up this afternoon and there was writing on it -- looked like it was written in fire, really flowing letters and all that -- it was identical to the inscription in the books. It said the same thing and everything.

Ron nodded when Harry paused for emphasis. Go on, prompted Ron. I haven't read the books or seen the ring up close. You need something better than that.

Harry sighed and thought. The ring made Hermione go invisible. That's a given fact from the books -- the ring always makes its wearer invisible unless Sauron himself is wearing it.

We don't know it was that ring as did that -- might have been Sirius.

It was the ring, damn it, Ron, weren't you even listening? That string of Sirius's ought to have turned Hermione visible again but it didn't, and when Lupin ordered the magic to show its true nature that shadow passed over. I'd say that if this were really the One Ring, then Lupin's spell worked. It did reveal its true nature. You haven't been able to get warm again since then, have you? It's because the ring is evil, I swear it. Harry was pacing now and growing increasingly frustrated.

Ron hesitated as if doubtful. But he shook his head after a moment and said, Something else.

That shadow this afternoon. It was whispering things, and I caught two words of it, ash nazg. Did you hear any of it?

Yeah, ash-something, durba-something. That's all, though.

Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul...

Even as Harry said the words, the final glowing embers of the fire went out completely and the room went cold. The shadow came searching, echoing Harry's words, until it passed a minute later and left Ron frozen stiff in his seat.

Harry felt tiny. That's what the inscription on the Ring means, he said in a small voice. It's in Elvish on the Ring itself. In English it means One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them; One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.'

Ron didn't seem to hear. He was shivering again.

Finally he stood up, stiffly, as if he were waking from a dream. All right, Harry, he said tonelessly. I think I may believe you. But what're we supposed to do about it?

I guess... destroy the Ring? Again? Harry was the doubtful one now.

We find out how it got here first, said Ron. There's got to be a reason. And how do you propose we go to this mountain of Sauron's to destroy the ring if it's in a country that doesn't exist? In a world that doesn't exist?

Maybe the world does exist, said Harry. ....I just don't know how.

I dunno, Harry. I can't think this late at night. Ron seemed to be coming back to his senses and was turning back into his old self quite quickly. I need some sleep. But we have to talk to Hermione tomorrow.

And Dumbledore, added Harry. I read the books, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to fight Sauron alone if it comes to that, or if that's even a possibility.

Ron nodded gamely. Lupin, too. He's the one who did that spell on the Ring, so he's the one who should have heard the straightforward answer -- I've heard of those types of spells before. Everyone else only hears an echo of what the spellcaster hears. If he's woken up maybe he'll know something more about that shadow than we do.

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Harry couldn't sleep any more that night. With Ron's snores next door sounding louder than usual and the pale grey light of morning steadily growing in the windows, he only dozed off briefly around 4:30, but woke up again at 5:15.

Feeling awful for lack of rest, he got up, dressed, and went downstairs long before anyone else in the castle was even awake. The ashes of the common room fire were still cold and black. The house-elves hadn't been around yet, then.

He went on down to the Great Hall, careless of Filch catching him. The Hall was darker than the rest of the castle, with the only windows being small and near the ceiling. Harry felt too open and uncomfortable there, so he went out through the eastern door with the hospital wing vaguely in mind.

He ought to have his Invisibility Cloak on, he thought mildly. Oh well.

He came to the hospital wing door and found it unlocked. Opening it a tiny crack, he peered into the darkness inside. Shutters were closed over the windows, blocking out the little sunlight there was outside, and it was hard to see anything in the total gloom. But as his eyes adjusted, he could make out the shapes of beds and cabinets through the dimness; the curtains were drawn around two of the beds. Harry opened the door wider and tiptoed inside, careful not to make the slightest sound.

He went over to one of the two beds and pulled aside the curtains a fraction. Hermione was there, looking much calmer in sleep. He hoped she'd be as calm when she woke up.

Shutting the curtains again he went to the other bed, where he thought Lupin would be asleep -- but the professor didn't look very much like he was resting. When Harry looked behind the curtain he saw that Lupin was lying with his eyes wide open and unseeing. His mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out; Harry couldn't make any of it out from lip-reading because it seemed Lupin was speaking some other language. Hoping it wasn't permanent, Harry shut the curtains again and went out into the hall.

He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. This was very weird. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his theory sounded. He stood and rationalized to himself every single way that it was impossible -- which was quite a lot of ways. Not the least thought in his mind was If you're so smart and it is the ring, then how'd it get here?'

He wandered back across the castle to Gryffindor tower. He needed to find those books and have a good look at them. He vaguely thought he remembered bringing them with him to Hogwarts.

Harry had first come across the books when he moved into Dudley's second bedroom in the summer before his first year at Hogwarts. Dudley's second bedroom was basically his storage room for all the old toys he had broken or destroyed. Everything in the room was unusable; and the only thing in the whole place that had never been touched was a shelf full of books. The first thing Harry had done was look over all the books, seeing as there was nothing else to do -- most of them were from when Dudley was little and his relatives had given him all kinds of My First So-and-so' books. Harry ignored those. Tucked away among the stupid toddler things were a few others -- some of which had been all right, but most of which had been awful. They were all about mundane things like school and evil little children treating their parents badly and such.

The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings had been in a very expensive-looking hardcover boxed set. Harry expected someone had only gotten it for Dudley because it looked nice and had cost a lot rather than the fact that it was a book. If Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken the time to look at the books and see what they were about, they certainly wouldn't have let them in the house.

The books were brand-new and their fancy box still had the shrink-wrap plastic around it and everything. Harry had gotten the plastic off with some difficulty, because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wouldn't allow any sort of pointy or sharp object within four hundred yards of Harry, and he had been in the habit of chewing his fingernails off at the time, so he couldn't use those. Finally he managed to get it open and discovered that the books were really good -- although once he had found out he was a wizard he pretty much forgot about them, and when he did remember them, it was with a small amount of scorn, because he knew then that the magic in the books was all wrong.

In fifth year he had absentmindedly packed the books in his trunk along with everything else, thinking he might reread them at some point to try and take his mind off Voldemort. It was the only reading for pleasure he'd done in his life to speak of, and it felt rather odd for him to be packing books along with his broom and Invisibility Cloak. But Voldemort had become too large a problem to ignore, and he hadn't done much reading at all that year unless it was studying up on advanced curses.

Harry opened the door to the seventh years' room and went over to his trunk. Lifting the lid, he grimaced at the horrifying jumble of junk in it. Hermione would probably have a fit if she saw this. He hurriedly emptied out the first layer of stuff and dug through all Uncle Vernon's old socks to the bottom.

Cursing at hitting his knuckle against the sock that still held his old Pocket Sneakoscope, he finally found what he was looking for. Unwedging the box from the corner where it rested under the weight of his Broom Servicing Kit, he threw everything else back in haphazardly and closed the lid. He took the books downstairs to the common room, sat in a chair by the empty fireplace, and shook them out of the box onto his lap.

He set The Hobbit aside -- a good read but not pertinent to what he needed to know. Instead he picked up the first book, The Fellowship of the Ring, and flipped through it quickly until he came to the bit where Gandalf came to Hobbiton to tell Frodo that he had the One Ring.

It was just at this time that Gandalf reappeared from his long absence, Harry read. For three years after the Party he had been away. Then he paid Frodo a brief visit... He wasn't quite there yet. Harry flipped the page.

Then suddenly his visits had ceased. It was over nine years since Frodo...

Next page.

In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds...

Next page.

How long have you know all this? asked Frodo again.

Two more pages, and --

Hah. There it was. The inscription on the Ring... it was exactly like the words Harry had seen written on Hermione's ring yesterday, flowing Elvish script and everything. Underneath the illustration read the verse that the books had made famous in the Muggle world:

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for mortal men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,
In the Land of Mordor where Shadows lie.

Harry let out a long breath and looked into the cold ashes of the fireplace, then continued flipping through the pages, recognizing all the symptoms as he scanned over them. The words, ash nazg and the rest, were in the chapter concerning the Council of Elrond in Rivendell. As Gandalf spoke the words on the page, there was the description of the shadow... the sun's light dimming, the emptiness pressing down. The words echoed again through Harry's mind. If he was right, they weren't going to be able to fight this.

They needed to take the Ring back to Middle-earth, if that was possible. How, though? Well, he was a wizard, in a castle full of other wizards and witches, a lot of whom were very smart and very powerful. They'd figure it out eventually. Harry glanced out the window. It had to be possible. Nothing else had been impossible around here before -- I mean, look at Voldemort, he thought. Everyone said Voldemort would be impossible to defeat, but we defeated him. By a long shot.

An hour passed before he knew it, he was so caught up in scanning over his books. He realized as the first few second-year girls started stumbling down the stairs and out the portrait hole to breakfast that he was starving. His stomach gave an almighty rumble right then as if to emphasize the point. He dashed upstairs and threw the books on his bed, then went down to the Great Hall along with everyone else.

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I think it's hospital wing time, said Ron to Harry after lunch. The redhead hadn't forgotten their middle-of-the-night talk, which Harry was thankful for -- sometimes Ron could be very good at that selective-memory thing.

Harry nodded. They had agreed to wait and see Hermione and Lupin in the early afternoon because that was when Madam Pomfrey was usually the least frazzled and the most hospitable (no pun intended).

They walked quickly up stairs, through hidden passageways, and down an endless abundance of corridors until they came to the hospital wing. Really, Harry thought, they ought to make it easier to get from one end of the castle to the other. That's where that whole hour went this morning, I'd bet money. It was just wandering around the halls.

Madam Pomfrey looked disapprovingly at them as they came in, but didn't voice her opinion about visitors, which was just as well. Instead she said, Miss Granger is awake. I'm afraid you can't see Professor Lupin for a while.

By for a while,' Harry thought Madam Pomfrey looked like she meant something more along the lines of, until he wakes up, which might be never at this rate, so you ought not even bother coming in here, *hint.*'

Hermione had heard Madam Pomfrey's remark. Ron? Harry? she said from her bed. There was some rustling and her covers were drawn back. She looked perfectly fine now, though very tired. Her voice was small.

Harry and Ron took seats by her bed, preparing for a very long explanation. Ron shot a defiant glance at Madam Pomfrey.

After maybe half an hour, during which Hermione listened without a word of interruption or any sort of reaction at all, Harry came to a halt in his talking. He'd gone into a bit more detail about the history of the ring this time, so Ron hadn't broken in with much commentary. When he finished all she did was nod.

asked Ron of Hermione momentarily.

Well what? she replied, looking unblinkingly at him with tired eyes. He shifted in his seat and pretended to be very occupied with Harry's reaction.

Well, what do you say? said Harry. I mean, it's not the most believable of theories, but I thought it fits pretty well, and --

I believe you, said Hermione in the same quiet voice, interrupting him.



There was a bit of a pause.

Then Ron said, What the hell are we talking about? We are the strangest group of people I have ever known, I swear.

Harry grinned and Hermione burst into giggles. said Ron indignantly. Well, we are. I'll bet you ten Sickles there's not another person in this entire castle who'll think we're even vaguely sane after they hear this bit of rubbish. Despite his words, Harry could tell Ron didn't really think the explanation was rubbish.

You're on, said Harry, fighting laughter. Then, sobering up suddenly, he added, I think... I think Professor Lupin will believe us. If he ever wakes up.

The grins vanished instantly from Ron's and Hermione's faces.

D'you think we could just have a look at him? said Hermione worriedly. I know he's not awake and he can't talk, but --

I came by really early this morning, said Harry. You were asleep still, but... he, er... wasn't. I don't know what's up. It looked like a... trance or something.

Ron lurched to his feet at Harry's words and silently slipped over to Lupin's bedside, taking cover behind the curtains just as Madam Pomfrey turned around; she just missed seeing him. Harry half-turned in his chair and mouthed to Ron, asking what he was doing.

Ron gestured at Harry to give him a minute, then found the divide in Lupin's curtains and peered in at the incapacitated professor.

A moment later, Harry saw Ron pull his wand out and bring his wand-hand up inside the curtains along with his head, well-hidden from Madam Pomfrey. Harry was startled and, without thinking, stood up and dashed over to Ron. What do you think you're doing? he asked in a vehement hissing whisper.

Ron glared at him and brushed him off. This one's bad. I think I can get him out of it.

What the --? Ron, at least get permission, or, or something -- what --? Harry broke off from his unintentional Hermione imitation to stare at Ron's strange doings.

Ron pulled Lupin's covers down enough that his chest was exposed. Then, as if he were standing a toothpick on end or balancing the final card on a game of Exploding Snap, he set his wand in mid-air, pointing straight at Lupin's heart. He lightly shoved Harry to make him get back, never once losing his painfully concentrated expression. It looked as though his mind hurt just from the sheer will of doing magic without a wand to channel it.

He muttered a phrase Harry couldn't hear, then whetted the index and middle fingers of each hand with his tongue and bent over Lupin, carefully avoiding the wand, which was starting to spin slowly in midair.

Harry stared, completely caught by surprise at this sudden, unexpected show of extremely advanced magical skills.

Ron placed his fingertips slowly on Lupin's temples -- though it wasn't a careful sort of slowness, it was more as if his fingers and Lupin's head were repelling magnets. A drop of sweat fell off the end of Ron's nose onto Lupin's cheek, and the Weasley boy had his tongue stuck out between his teeth, biting hard in concentration.

Then the fingers made contact with the skin of Lupin's forehead....

...and Harry fell backwards into Hermione with the force of the blow that followed. Hermione had apparently gotten out of bed and had been standing behind Harry, watching, but they both toppled to the floor in a heap when the shock wave came. Whatever Ron had done, it was really hard and dangerous magic, and Madam Pomfrey came running, along with just about everyone else in the castle -- or at least everyone else on that floor.

To Harry's immense surprise, when the shock had passed, both Ron and Lupin were still in their same positions. For a moment Harry thought Ron's spell hadn't worked; but then he realized that, even if it wasn't what he had expected, something was happening. Lupin, Ron, and the air for six feet around them was filled with static. Harry imagined that if there were carpet here and you shuffled across it in your socks, the shock touching any sort of doorknob would give you would be fatal. Ron's hair was standing on end and his woolen sweater fairly sparked with electricity. Harry fancied he could see blue miniatures of his trademark lightning-bolt dancing all over the maroon material.

Then Ron opened his mouth and spoke, but his voice was so crackly through the multitude of sparks his breath was exchanging with the air that Harry couldn't really make out what he was saying.

However, it seemed to awaken Lupin somehow in that he suddenly started shouting something that was rather muffled by the heavy magic at work, but was still recognizable as words -- though what words, Harry couldn't say, because it seemed to be in some other language. An evil language, much like the one Harry had spoken in when he uttered the words ash nazg...

How long the muffled shouting went on was hard to tell; maybe a quarter of an hour, maybe only 5 minutes or so. But Harry was certainly relieved when it ended.

Madam Pomfrey stood outside the area of the static and looked the most absolutely furious Harry had ever seen her. Several people had gathered in the doorway to see what it was all about, and Harry and Hermione had picked themselves up and were standing watching incredulously as Ron endured the strongest spell he had ever performed, at least as far as Harry knew of -- and Harry thought he'd probably know if Ron had ever done anything stronger: the whole castle would have been knocked down, or worse.

Still, for all Madam Pomfrey's expression, she didn't say a word; neither did anyone else except Lupin, who just went on shouting hoarsely, his voice as crackly as Ron's through the static magic. No one wanted to risk breaking Ron's concentration.

Harry began to wonder why Ron was doing this. Did he feel he had to prove himself for some reason Harry couldn't fathom? Harry knew Ron well enough to know that even though Ron showed a repeating trait of bad judgment, he wasn't dumb enough to try something that he knew was this big and dangerous without even asking permission, or letting someone more capable do it. And Madam Pomfrey had made no indication that she was going to even attempt to do anything about Lupin's condition for at least a while, except wait and watch and see if he recovered. Ron had to know better than this... didn't he?

Harry's train of thought broke off when Lupin stopped shouting; his voice fading and tapered off into silence, and Ron said something more -- apparently an incantation to cease the spell.

The cloud of free-floating electricity around them made a bang as it suddenly went out in all directions in a huge, wide circle. Looks kinda like an atom bomb going off, Harry thought vaguely, as he was knocked back into Hermione again. Only without the mushroom cap. Lupin had given a final, perfectly audible scream as all the battling powers left him at last.

Then it was all over. As the magic dissipated, people picked themselves up and stared in wonder and shock and, mostly, anger at Ron and Lupin. Several were also glaring at Harry and Hermione, as if they had put their friend up to it. Sirius had fought his way to the front of the crowd and stood just inside the doorway, unable to do anything but stare with wide eyes that held such an odd jumble of emotions that Harry couldn't have told what his thoughts were even if he had wanted to. Madam Pomfrey was positively purple with rage, and growing angrier by the second, if that was even possible; she looked like she might start steaming at the ears, or explode, at any moment.

Giddy with power, Ron grinned stupidly at all of them and muttered, Then he fainted.

People started coming back to their senses as Madam Pomfrey walked forward, stepped over Ron, and examined Lupin. After checking his pulse and opening his eyelids to peer at the dilation, she turned again, glared at Harry and Hermione with fresh fury, and said in such a sinister voice that the two knew they'd be having absolutely no more free time for the rest of their stay at Hogwarts (which they were suddenly glad, for the first time, was almost over), Your friend has cured him. I hope you're happy.

After that she left Ron lying in the floor (though she did point at an empty bed with a pudgy, menacing finger to indicate that they should move him there) and went back into her workroom. They heard the loud clang as she set a cauldron upright for use, taking her anger out on her equipment; and they both winced and jumped.

Sirius and Lupin woke up at the exact same moment. Sirius shook his head, clearing his mind: he looked at the room again and decided that he was still hallucinating things, so he rubbed his eyes instead. At the same time Lupin stirred and groaned, putting a heavy hand to his forehead where Ron had touched him. He tried to sit up, and quickly came to the conclusion that only someone who wanted to go straight back into a coma would try sitting up, so he laid back down.

Sirius, apparently deciding he wasn't having some strange, twisted dream after all, went over to Lupin's bedside while Harry and Hermione struggled to pick up their soundly snoring friend, whose hair looked like it had just come out of a lightning storm within an inch of its life. When they'd gotten him laid out on an empty bed, Hermione tried to pat it down, but it simply would not cooperate with her. She gave up. She could hear a fire crackling in Madam Pomfrey's workroom, and something frothing violently. With several worried, slightly guilty glances around her, Hermione tiptoed back to her own bed and laid down as innocently as she could.

Harry was already back at Lupin's bedside with Sirius. Lupin himself was just staring at the ceiling, apparently trying to work out what had happened in his slightly fried mind. Sirius was looking over him worriedly, checking everything from the bandages on the gash on his head to the frizzled hair that suddenly seemed to have quite a bit more gray in it. Harry couldn't bring himself to tap Sirius on the shoulder or get his attention in any way, but rather just stood there behind his godfather and looked at Lupin with an expression that clearly said he'd really like to be interested, but that his mind was currently filled to overflowing and what he was really trying to do was to dam some of it up. He stole occasional glances over at Ron's bed instead, wondering more than ever what had gotten into his friend.

As people were beginning to filter out of the room, Sirius finally noticed that someone was standing behind him. He turned around and saw Harry with his face screwed up slightly, trying to reason out the events of the past two days.

Harry noticed Sirius' look, and gave his godfather a return expression that said, Don't look at me. I don't know what got into Ron, Harry said in a low voice. I didn't tell him to do that -- it seemed like he knew what he was doing.

Sirius opened his mouth with an expression of mixed annoyance and relief, but was cut off by a tired rasp from the bed. He was right, said Lupin hoarsely, coughing slightly to clear his throat. That was the only spell applicable. Whatever had hold of me was degenerative -- I wouldn't have woken up otherwise. Madam Pomfrey must not have realized. He coughed again.

What was it? asked Sirius, puzzled. I came to see you yesterday afternoon, he added quickly, and it looked like a possession to me, not serious.

A possession had nothing to do with demons, as Muggles would think -- in wizards' terms, a possession occurred when a spell or the effects of a spell overpowered the spellcaster's mind and temporarily rendered them, to all outward appearances, retarded or incapacitated in some way. This only happened with really big magicks: it was more of a side effect than an individual affliction.

Lupin shook his head with some difficulty. If it were a possession I would have come out of it within fourteen hours or so. They don't last that long, he said, losing his voice momentarily; it came out as a whisper. After coughing again he said in a more normal tone, A holding spell is the same. It's used by captors mainly and has to be renewed every twelve hours. The only other spell with the possibility of similar effects is the one I performed.

Well, I wasn't there, what did you do? Sirius was becoming vaguely frustrated by Remus' ineffably cryptive way of speaking.

Lupin hesitated, then said simply, Revalium Incantatem. He gave Sirius a look that Harry couldn't decipher. Harry looked from one to the other, curious and confused.

The slight pink tinge of anger flushed through Sirius' cheeks and he sputtered before coming up with something suitably scathing to say.

Why -- you -- you -- idiot! You bloody idiot! I thought -- after -- you'd have more sense --

Lupin waited for Sirius to run out of steam, expressionless.

It was just invisibility! Sirius finished. You could have done something a little more... innocent... than -- that.

Lupin closed his eyes. I don't know why it came to me, Padfoot. Perhaps I had a feeling that nothing more innocent' would do the job. I don't know why I suspected anything more than a petty invisibility spell, but there you have it. Intuition or some such.

Sirius was silent for a moment. he said finally, putting some obvious effort into sounding reasonable, I felt that... that darkness pass as plain as anyone else did. I suppose you're right. Still, I wish you'd thought a little harder before you did it again so casually. What happened this time?

Harry longed to know the history behind this exchange, but he held his tongue and impatience in check and listened instead, though he only half-understood the conversation.

--ot sure, Lupin was saying.

What d'you mean, you're not sure what happened? You were so positive it wasn't a possession a minute ago, and you said perfectly clearly that it was progressive. I thought women were supposed to have great intuitions like that, not werewolves. You can't tell me you just knew it somehow.' Sirius had given up trying to sound at all calm. Apparently whatever Revalium Incantatem was, he was had a serious grudge against it.

said Lupin, looking a mixture of apprehensive and deflated. Well -- I did -- just know it. Somehow.

Sirius glared, and chose that moment to sit down heavily in the only chair next to Lupin's bed. Deprived of his cover behind Sirius's back, Harry found himself standing right in front of Lupin, who looked at him as if he hadn't noticed he was there before.

Harry fidgeted and tried to pretend he hadn't been listening.

Hello, Harry, said Lupin smoothly; Is Ron all right?

Er -- yes, said Harry, as always left stranded by Lupin's behavior.

I'm glad to hear that, Lupin said with feeling, and his face did in fact seem to relax somewhat. He put his hands to his face and took a deep breath, then decided it was finally time to sit up. He levered himself up gently and straightened his pillows behind his back before sinking back into them.

Sirius didn't look up. You shouldn't do that, he said wearily, as if from years of experience.

Keeps the blood from going to my head, said Lupin matter-of-factly, folding his hands behind the nape of his neck and stretching it until Harry heard the faint crackling of a bone. I feel I need to have a talk with Dumbledore, and soon. I expect what we're dealing with is some remnant from Voldemort's bag of tricks, and I'd like to know what's been going on while I was out of it.

said Sirius, muffled, as he had just put his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. Nothing's been going on. Dumbledore's got the ring hidden away somewhere and I don't know --

repeated Lupin, puzzled.

Hermione's ring. Some present from Krum. It's possessed by demons or something, Dumbledore was being vague when I asked him.

Lupin opened his mouth to say something, and Harry was preparing to clear his throat for their attention so he could tell them his theory, when Madam Pomfrey came out of her workroom carrying two steaming goblets and a vial. She clunked one of the cups down on Lupin's bedside table and told him to drink up. Then she walked over to Ron, unstoppered the vial and waved it under his nose.

His face twitched once with one breath, but on the second inhalation Madam Pomfrey was forced to withdraw fast else she be knocked over by the suddenly wide-awake Weasley. He sat bolt upright, his hair hardly settled at all, and his hand shot out to clutch at the thing nearest to him -- the bedside table. Upon whacking his knuckles on the innocent oak boards, he seemed to come to his senses and focused on the nurse standing in front of him rather than some distant point in space that no one else could see. He squinted, blinked several times, and shook his head.

I don't feel so good, he muttered, putting his head in his hands. Harry could imagine how he felt -- he'd been knocked out by magic overload quite often over the past two or three years. It tended to feel like your head had somehow turned into jelly molded in your image. Your brain was the consistency of runny oatmeal and you always wondered why it didn't start leaking out of your ears at any moment; but then you'd remember your eardrums holding it in, and that thought was usually accompanied by the sudden inexplicable feeling that there was something like runny oatmeal pressing up against the inside of the membrane.

Ron put a hand to his ear at that moment, proving Harry's thought.

Drink it all, said Madam Pomfrey harshly, apparently not willing to forgive the boy just yet, and no complaints. I don't want to hear a word out of you until you're well, and hopefully not after, either.

Ron looked nervously at her glowering face at nodded.

Harry thought she was done, but instead she went over and tapped Hermione on the shoulder, making the girl jump. Pomfrey looked her over briefly, and declared that she was fine. Hermione was ushered out of bed again and the nurse pulled the curtains shut, saving the changing of sheets for the house-elves.

Walking back to her office, she pointed severely to Ron's untouched goblet and said, Drink it, in a voice that no sane man would ever try and deny. Ron gave her another nervous glance and quickly picked up the goblet and sniffed its contents.

When Madam Pomfrey was safely out of earshot in her office, Ron made a gagging noise and put the goblet down again. I'd rather go on like this than put that in me, he muttered, shaking his head.

Do what she says, Ron, said Lupin from across the room. And be thankful you don't have the experience every month.

Ron looked up, startled, and grinned. he said exuberantly, then put his head down again because it hurt. It worked, he added, somewhat muffled.

Hermione, standing by Ron's bed, put the goblet back in hands and slapped him on the back of the head. He jerked and looked at her, annoyed: Well, it did! And I reckon no one else would have thought of it!

Probably not, but it was dangerous and you could have gotten yourself killed, said Hermione roughly.

What was it, anyway? said Harry, who barely understood any of what everyone was talking about today.

A spell of release, said Hermione, ignoring Ron, who had opened his mouth with a proud expression, most likely about to tell some elaborate tale about how he'd learned it from the Department of Mysteries or something. He looked daggers at Hermione. It breaks a spell's hold like you'd break the fingers of a grindylow. It's for use on really strong spells for conjuring progressive or terminal diseases, or for breaking particularly strong possessions... it's like a stronger version of Finite Incantatem.

Lupin was smiling wryly. Very good, Hermione. Right again. James could perform a release spell by fourth year, though I have to say he never had to do one of this magnitude.

Y'know, I really wish someone would start making some sense today, said Harry, Lupin's last statement being the final straw for the 17-year-old. Okay, so Ron did a release thing or whatever -- on what? And how'd you know how to do one -- here Harry glared at Ron, -- and why'd you try it first thing? Answer those for starters. Harry was not in the best of moods.

I thought you already knew what had him! Ron was struggling to sit up straighter, taking offense to Harry's tone. I actually believed you this time, which I thought you'd be glad to hear, and you did say it was too big for us to fight! So I thought I'd just start with the biggest spell, and if that didn't work then we could go on to Dumbledore.

Why didn't you go straight to Dumbledore? began Hermione angrily, but Sirius interrupted the building argument with a loud and clear order of,

Hermione, Harry and Ron shut up.

All right -- what's this about Harry knowing something, first of all, and then we can get on to sorting out the details. Harry? said Sirius, his eyes gone somewhat deadened again, as they usually did when he got in a bad mood. Harry could tell that Revalium Incantatem was still fresh in his mind, and he didn't like to listen to other people bicker at the same time. Ron pretended to be very interested in his goblet of potion, wincing as he gulped it down, and Hermione fidgeted.

Harry would have liked to be very interested in his feet, but as Lupin and Sirius were both looking at him, he was forced to take a deep breath and go over his whole tale again. By this time it was seeming a bit ridiculous even to him. It must have been a side effect of repeating the story too often.

Sirius's expression was that of utter disbelief, but Lupin, as usual, was harder to read. He watched Harry intently, still fingering his empty goblet and making the boy nervous.

When he'd finished, Lupin cut off Sirius's most likely condescending statement with a calm, Interesting theory, Harry. But Hermione is right, I'm afraid; you really should have gone straight to Dumbledore. You have been in something of a habit of keeping all your rule-breaking activities of the last six years a secret from the staff, but you ought to start breaking that habit now.

Harry couldn't think of a reply quick enough, and Sirius gave Lupin a look of annoyance and disbelief. You're not going to go believing all this now, are you?

I believe I have a bit more authority in the matter than you, Sirius, who have not been under the influence of the -- ring's -- power for the past day, snapped Lupin. Harry started at the tone. Maybe this Revalium Incantatem business was a bit too much for those two... Harry really wished he could think of a way to separate them until Sirius could cool down...

Seems to me James shouldn't have taken that mistrust spell off us in fourth year, said Sirius icily, standing up. It wouldn't have made much difference, as apparently I can't trust you anyway. And we always thought you were the sensible one, he finished contemptuously, and strode out of the hospital wing, closing the door rather loudly and making everyone but Lupin jump.

There was silence for a long moment. It was a bit of a mixed blessing to Harry that his wish had been granted without his having to do anything.

Finally, Lupin said, Well, then. You never could trust his temper. Harry, perhaps you should go on to Dumbledore? He looked pointedly at Harry.

Er-- all right. Er. Hermione? Harry wanted very much to get away. From his expression, Ron did too, but Harry looked at him apologetically and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Ron glared briefly, gave up, shrugged, and laid down as quietly as possible.

Lupin did not watch Harry and Hermione leave; he was too enveloped in his own thoughts. When they got into the hall and the door was safely shut behind them, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned immediately down the hall towards Gryffindor tower.

Hermione noticed this. She had been turning to go the other direction, towards a fork in the corridor, the left-hand side of which would eventually take them to Dumbledore's office. she called, turning and looking at him, perplexed.

He glanced over his shoulder. I'm going to go to Dumbledore, he said by way of reassurance, just not this second.

Well, where are you going? she said, jogging to catch up with him. She was frowning, not an uncommon expression for her.

I'm going to find Sirius, said Harry firmly, and see what that was all about.
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