Chapter 3
Hermione was just about to finish her work in the library when Ron marched urgently in.
"What's the matter?" she asked with concern, noticing his ruffled hair and his loose laces. Not that it was so incredibly unusual for them to be untied. "Has Harry said something to you?"
"No," he gasped in between breaths. He'd obviously run half the way there. "The flat. It's complete havoc. I walked in and Harry wasn't there, but there was an awful mess all over the place. Straw and water. Everywhere."
"Straw and water?" Hermione repeated. "Straw and water? Do you have any idea where Harry went?"
"Not a clue. He wasn't anywhere to be seen."
Hermione and Ron replaced the stationery and other work back into their bags and trudged up to Ron's apartment.
"What are we going to do about Harry?" Ron said. It was a matter that neither Ron nor Hermione could resolve. There was little hope he would tell them anything, and at present he could be anywhere.
Hermione shook her head in wonder. Even Tickleswitch's cleverest student was stumped.
* * *
Harry began to think he was lost. He was thankful he had got out of the University for some half-decent time alone. He knew that Ron and Hermione were sure to follow him if he had stayed in his flat, and they'd wonder at the mess. It had been created half-unintentionally but the idea of mess seemed to be a good one. He began to make more and more, taking out his anger, pulling paper from the cabinets, scattering clothes on the floor, and attempting to rip the paintings off the wall. What's more, he had thought, it'll hold up Ron and Hermione. They'll have to tidy it up before they come looking for me. At least, that was the plan.
Finally, Harry began to recognise his surroundings. His eyes searched the University campus grounds. It was hidden from Muggle eyes of course. To them it looked like an empty field of grass and daisies. It wasn't as big as Diagon Alley - Diagon Alley was the biggest non-Muggle place in the world. The building had been made to look bigger than it really was, there were lots of the old outbuildings scattered around the field so in fact it was not one very large construction, but lots of small ones. If it had not been for the distribution of the building then it would have been the biggest non-Muggle site ever.
There was little sense of purpose for Harry's walk other than to think. He wanted to get away from it. He didn't like it. He never had, from the moment he saw it and the first word that was spoken.
He dreaded the sight of its beady little blinking eyes staring him full in the face, reading his thoughts, and deciphering his every move. Harry could see the cogs clicking into place in its flattened head, he had realised it could see into his mind, it would creep closer to him every time he thought of what it was doing.
How Harry hated it! He despised it completely and utterly, and it could tell he thought that because it was inside his head all the time.
Harry cursed out loud. Several nearby witches and wizards looked up at him; they hadn't realised he had been there until he spoke. They carried on their daily businesses - going to the library to finish assignments; going to meet friends, to discuss what was happening at the weekend; going to their apartments to spend some quality time alone.
Harry couldn't do any of those, for various reasons. He was The Boy Who Lived. He was too restless to do any work, he had to be alone, he needed to find some space in the company of no one but himself, but no one would let him. There'd always be the one person who stared him in the face for several minutes and then jump up and exclaim, "Look everybody! It's Harry Potter!" Then they would rush toward him admiring his scar, asking for autographs, taking pictures. Harry needed to stop all that. He needed a way to find some time to himself. He had to get away from them. And most of all he had to get away from It.
* * *
"Any luck?" Hermione asked, entering the flat for the fifth time in an hour.
"None at all," Ron responded, kicking a ball of straw across the floor. "I even asked what seemed like the whole damn school, but no one's seen even a glimpse of him. I think they all thought I was another spectator eager to meet him."
Ron felt his face twist awkwardly. He wished that he had become famous as well. How come Harry had all the luck? He was fortunate to have so many admirers and people who adored him. Who would travel a mile to see his face for themselves. Instead, Ron was just like the rest of them. He loved Harry too. He was another admirer. It just wasn't fair.
Hermione saw him scowl. "What's wrong Ron?" she inquired curiously. Something was obviously going through his mind.
"I was just -" Ron stopped and reminded himself to be careful. "Remember the first time we met you?"
Hermione smiled faintly. "Yes," she replied distantly. "You needed to wash your face. And I needed to get a life." She looked down at her feet.
"Hermione?" Ron said, moving closer.
"I'm such a nobody. All I wanted to do at Hogwart's was get good grades, like there was nothing more important in life. As if that was all I cared about. Myself, and my reputation."
Ron held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You are the least selfish person I have ever met. It's because of you that we're all together. It was you who got us out of trouble after the Troll incident. If you hadn't told them it was your fault then we'd have been in big trouble."
Hermione's eyes watered but she blinked her tears away. She stared Ron back in the eyes, as if considering something of importance. She shrugged his hands away from her shoulders.
"That was only after you saved my life first," she replied. She opened the door and walked away.
Ron could only watch after her.
He dedicated the rest of the day to cleaning up the room: it was the only useful thing he could bring himself to do. He scrubbed the floor, and swept up the straw, and sprayed air freshener to get rid of the reek of animals. It smelled just like Scabbers' old cage, he thought.
When he'd tidied up as best he could he gave himself a glass of pumpkin juice, sat down at the settee and stared at the French women spinning their umbrellas in the rain.
Harry did not return until 10 o' clock.
Hermione was just about to finish her work in the library when Ron marched urgently in.
"What's the matter?" she asked with concern, noticing his ruffled hair and his loose laces. Not that it was so incredibly unusual for them to be untied. "Has Harry said something to you?"
"No," he gasped in between breaths. He'd obviously run half the way there. "The flat. It's complete havoc. I walked in and Harry wasn't there, but there was an awful mess all over the place. Straw and water. Everywhere."
"Straw and water?" Hermione repeated. "Straw and water? Do you have any idea where Harry went?"
"Not a clue. He wasn't anywhere to be seen."
Hermione and Ron replaced the stationery and other work back into their bags and trudged up to Ron's apartment.
"What are we going to do about Harry?" Ron said. It was a matter that neither Ron nor Hermione could resolve. There was little hope he would tell them anything, and at present he could be anywhere.
Hermione shook her head in wonder. Even Tickleswitch's cleverest student was stumped.
* * *
Harry began to think he was lost. He was thankful he had got out of the University for some half-decent time alone. He knew that Ron and Hermione were sure to follow him if he had stayed in his flat, and they'd wonder at the mess. It had been created half-unintentionally but the idea of mess seemed to be a good one. He began to make more and more, taking out his anger, pulling paper from the cabinets, scattering clothes on the floor, and attempting to rip the paintings off the wall. What's more, he had thought, it'll hold up Ron and Hermione. They'll have to tidy it up before they come looking for me. At least, that was the plan.
Finally, Harry began to recognise his surroundings. His eyes searched the University campus grounds. It was hidden from Muggle eyes of course. To them it looked like an empty field of grass and daisies. It wasn't as big as Diagon Alley - Diagon Alley was the biggest non-Muggle place in the world. The building had been made to look bigger than it really was, there were lots of the old outbuildings scattered around the field so in fact it was not one very large construction, but lots of small ones. If it had not been for the distribution of the building then it would have been the biggest non-Muggle site ever.
There was little sense of purpose for Harry's walk other than to think. He wanted to get away from it. He didn't like it. He never had, from the moment he saw it and the first word that was spoken.
He dreaded the sight of its beady little blinking eyes staring him full in the face, reading his thoughts, and deciphering his every move. Harry could see the cogs clicking into place in its flattened head, he had realised it could see into his mind, it would creep closer to him every time he thought of what it was doing.
How Harry hated it! He despised it completely and utterly, and it could tell he thought that because it was inside his head all the time.
Harry cursed out loud. Several nearby witches and wizards looked up at him; they hadn't realised he had been there until he spoke. They carried on their daily businesses - going to the library to finish assignments; going to meet friends, to discuss what was happening at the weekend; going to their apartments to spend some quality time alone.
Harry couldn't do any of those, for various reasons. He was The Boy Who Lived. He was too restless to do any work, he had to be alone, he needed to find some space in the company of no one but himself, but no one would let him. There'd always be the one person who stared him in the face for several minutes and then jump up and exclaim, "Look everybody! It's Harry Potter!" Then they would rush toward him admiring his scar, asking for autographs, taking pictures. Harry needed to stop all that. He needed a way to find some time to himself. He had to get away from them. And most of all he had to get away from It.
* * *
"Any luck?" Hermione asked, entering the flat for the fifth time in an hour.
"None at all," Ron responded, kicking a ball of straw across the floor. "I even asked what seemed like the whole damn school, but no one's seen even a glimpse of him. I think they all thought I was another spectator eager to meet him."
Ron felt his face twist awkwardly. He wished that he had become famous as well. How come Harry had all the luck? He was fortunate to have so many admirers and people who adored him. Who would travel a mile to see his face for themselves. Instead, Ron was just like the rest of them. He loved Harry too. He was another admirer. It just wasn't fair.
Hermione saw him scowl. "What's wrong Ron?" she inquired curiously. Something was obviously going through his mind.
"I was just -" Ron stopped and reminded himself to be careful. "Remember the first time we met you?"
Hermione smiled faintly. "Yes," she replied distantly. "You needed to wash your face. And I needed to get a life." She looked down at her feet.
"Hermione?" Ron said, moving closer.
"I'm such a nobody. All I wanted to do at Hogwart's was get good grades, like there was nothing more important in life. As if that was all I cared about. Myself, and my reputation."
Ron held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You are the least selfish person I have ever met. It's because of you that we're all together. It was you who got us out of trouble after the Troll incident. If you hadn't told them it was your fault then we'd have been in big trouble."
Hermione's eyes watered but she blinked her tears away. She stared Ron back in the eyes, as if considering something of importance. She shrugged his hands away from her shoulders.
"That was only after you saved my life first," she replied. She opened the door and walked away.
Ron could only watch after her.
He dedicated the rest of the day to cleaning up the room: it was the only useful thing he could bring himself to do. He scrubbed the floor, and swept up the straw, and sprayed air freshener to get rid of the reek of animals. It smelled just like Scabbers' old cage, he thought.
When he'd tidied up as best he could he gave himself a glass of pumpkin juice, sat down at the settee and stared at the French women spinning their umbrellas in the rain.
Harry did not return until 10 o' clock.