Author's Note: Grateful thanks to those who reviewed Chapter 4: Ashley Potter,
sew2100, Occamy, kateydidnt, Michelle Birkby and sbys.
And to anyone who hasn't already figured out what is in the mysterious package, that question is about to be answered. This is your last chance! Prod your brains one last time, then read on. (And no peeking!)
***
Upon leaving Hogsmeade, Ron did not go back to Gryffindor Tower. Instead he made directly for the Whomping Willow. He dodged indifferently between the branches, which, being unaware of his presence (he was still wearing the Invisibility Cloak), remained quiescent. Not until he was safely through the hidden passage did he remove the Cloak and fling it carelessly over his shoulder.
The tunnel seemed more cramped than he remembered. In fact, Ron was a good sight taller now than when last he had trod this passageway nearly three years ago. Lighting his wand, he traversed the tunnel swiftly until he arrived at his destination.
The Shrieking Shack.
Mounting to the second floor, he entered a familiar room. His gaze fell on a great four-poster bed, the very one upon which he had lain with a broken leg in that far-away time. A small cauldron sat on the bed now, placed there by Ron himself the night before. He dropped the bag of potion ingredients into it, dumping his school bag alongside. He then turned his attention to the small, mysterious package.
He opened it slowly, a touch of fear racing along his spine. With shaking hands he drew out a small hourglass, darkly tarnished, scratched and dented.
A pained smile crossed his lips. Harry and Hermione had, of course, told him all about their adventure with her Time-Turner on that fateful night, swearing him to a secrecy he had kept faithfully even unto this moment. It seemed fitting that he should stand here now, almost three years to the day, to embark upon a path so like, yet so unlike, the one his friends had trod.
Ron felt his resolve weakening. He tilted his head back, a mournful sigh escaping his lips. How grand Harry and Hermione had made it sound then -- going back in time, changing what was into what would never be. And how he, Ron, had boasted what great things he could have done were he given such a chance!
But now, to hold an Honest-to-Merlin Time-Turner in his hand -- and more, to actually contemplate using it --
No. Not contemplate. The time for self-doubt was past. It was time to act! Slowly, almost reverently, he gathered up the long chain, balled it up in his fist.
He had gone over his plan many times, fine-tuning every detail hour by hour through a sleepless night and into the following day. It was now Tuesday evening. Hermione had been killed on Saturday afternoon, more than three days ago. But Ron needed more than those three days to undo what had happened. The potion required a full three weeks to prepare -- and he dared not muck it up, for he knew he would get no second chance.
Expelling a deep sigh, Ron relaxed his tense shoulders. He loosened his vice-like fingers and shook out the fine chain. He raised the hourglass, taking great care not to invert it, and squinted in the nebulous half-light. Clucking his tongue, he produced some candles with his wand, trusting that the boarded-up windows would protect him from the prying eyes of Hogsmeade.
On the base of the hourglass was a dial inscribed with tiny markings. Close scrutiny revealed each mark to be distinct.
The first mark, to which the glass was now set, was a tiny hourglass. In this setting, one flip of the Time-Turner would transport the bearer one hour into the past.
The second mark was a tiny circle with rays emanating from it: a sun. This clearly represented one day.
The third mark was a tiny crescent moon.
One month!
Fingers somewhat a-tremble, Ron set the dial to this mark, which proved difficult due to the corrosion of who knew how many years. Second hand, George had said? 'No joke there,' Ron thought as the dial finally clicked into place.
Ron held the now-primed artifact in his palm and stared at it blankly. What thoughts should he be thinking at a time like this? Were there any rational thoughts that applied to something so insane as that which Ron was about to undertake?
Ron did the only thing he could think to do. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. This done, he mechanically looped the chain about his neck.
Walking to the bed, he slung his book bag over his shoulder, stuffing the Invisibiity Cloak in before closing the flap. He picked up the cauldron full of ingredients and tucked it under his arm.
And swiftly, before his resolution could falter, he turned the hourglass over!
The room blurred, vanished. He felt like a leaf in a storm, as if he were flying without benefit of a broomstick. A wave of dizziness passed over him.
The next thing he knew he was lying on his back. Everything around him was murky. He tried several times to focus his eyes, but failed. He let his eyelids fall. His eyes having deserted him, he turned to his other senses. It was only then that he realized what should have been apparent from the first. The surface upon which he lay was not the hard floor of the Shrieking Shack. It was soft, cool. Damp. Grass?
Ron sat bolt upright, shaking off the dizziness this inspired. Throwing his eyes open, Ron saw the broad expanse of the Hogwarts grounds, now dulled by the blanket of night.
Thank Merlin for the darkness! And Merlin curse him for a fool!
He had forgotten a crucial detail of Hermione's account of her escapade with Harry. Traveling in time also meant traveling in space! Hermione explained that the seemingly stationary Earth was, in fact, spinning on its axis at roughly one thousand miles an hour. Nominally, to go back in time an hour was to shift one's position by a thousand miles. Magic compensated for this scientific bugbear, but not to an absolute degree. When Harry and Hermione had gone back three hours, they had shifted not three thousand miles, but merely the distance between the hospital wing and the entrance hall of the castle.
Ron placed a hand to his forehead, encountering cold sweat. He had gone back in time twenty-eight days! Where in Merlin's name was he?
It was with tremendous relief that, with the adjusting of his eyes to the darkness, Ron began to make out familiar shapes. He jumped noticably when he saw that the Forbidden Forest lay less than ten feet to his left. What if he had materialized inside the Forest? Ron suddenly remembered Aragog and his legion of children, and the thought chilled him to the bone despite the warmth of the June night.
His head clear now, Ron scrambled up, casting about for his cauldron and school bag. They lay only a few feet away, and he fairly leaped upon them to check for damage. He breathed an audible sigh to find his school bag still secure and the bag of potion ingredients undamaged, the string about its neck lashed fast.
Somewhere nearby a dog barked. Fang! Hagrid's cabin was somewhere nearby, then. It was with genuine relief that he spied the candlelit rectangle of Hagrid's window. His position now certain, Ron pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and dived under it gratefully. Tucking his school bag under one arm and the cauldron under the other, Ron loped as quickly as he dared toward the Whomping Willow, the sound of Fang's barking fading until only the delicate noises of the Scottish night remained.
And the hammering of his heart against his ribs.
***
Author's Note: Okay, that's ONE mystery solved. The next question is: What potion is Ron brewing? You have until next post to think about it. (And no Time-Turners allowed!)
And to anyone who hasn't already figured out what is in the mysterious package, that question is about to be answered. This is your last chance! Prod your brains one last time, then read on. (And no peeking!)
Upon leaving Hogsmeade, Ron did not go back to Gryffindor Tower. Instead he made directly for the Whomping Willow. He dodged indifferently between the branches, which, being unaware of his presence (he was still wearing the Invisibility Cloak), remained quiescent. Not until he was safely through the hidden passage did he remove the Cloak and fling it carelessly over his shoulder.
The tunnel seemed more cramped than he remembered. In fact, Ron was a good sight taller now than when last he had trod this passageway nearly three years ago. Lighting his wand, he traversed the tunnel swiftly until he arrived at his destination.
The Shrieking Shack.
Mounting to the second floor, he entered a familiar room. His gaze fell on a great four-poster bed, the very one upon which he had lain with a broken leg in that far-away time. A small cauldron sat on the bed now, placed there by Ron himself the night before. He dropped the bag of potion ingredients into it, dumping his school bag alongside. He then turned his attention to the small, mysterious package.
He opened it slowly, a touch of fear racing along his spine. With shaking hands he drew out a small hourglass, darkly tarnished, scratched and dented.
A pained smile crossed his lips. Harry and Hermione had, of course, told him all about their adventure with her Time-Turner on that fateful night, swearing him to a secrecy he had kept faithfully even unto this moment. It seemed fitting that he should stand here now, almost three years to the day, to embark upon a path so like, yet so unlike, the one his friends had trod.
Ron felt his resolve weakening. He tilted his head back, a mournful sigh escaping his lips. How grand Harry and Hermione had made it sound then -- going back in time, changing what was into what would never be. And how he, Ron, had boasted what great things he could have done were he given such a chance!
But now, to hold an Honest-to-Merlin Time-Turner in his hand -- and more, to actually contemplate using it --
No. Not contemplate. The time for self-doubt was past. It was time to act! Slowly, almost reverently, he gathered up the long chain, balled it up in his fist.
He had gone over his plan many times, fine-tuning every detail hour by hour through a sleepless night and into the following day. It was now Tuesday evening. Hermione had been killed on Saturday afternoon, more than three days ago. But Ron needed more than those three days to undo what had happened. The potion required a full three weeks to prepare -- and he dared not muck it up, for he knew he would get no second chance.
Expelling a deep sigh, Ron relaxed his tense shoulders. He loosened his vice-like fingers and shook out the fine chain. He raised the hourglass, taking great care not to invert it, and squinted in the nebulous half-light. Clucking his tongue, he produced some candles with his wand, trusting that the boarded-up windows would protect him from the prying eyes of Hogsmeade.
On the base of the hourglass was a dial inscribed with tiny markings. Close scrutiny revealed each mark to be distinct.
The first mark, to which the glass was now set, was a tiny hourglass. In this setting, one flip of the Time-Turner would transport the bearer one hour into the past.
The second mark was a tiny circle with rays emanating from it: a sun. This clearly represented one day.
The third mark was a tiny crescent moon.
One month!
Fingers somewhat a-tremble, Ron set the dial to this mark, which proved difficult due to the corrosion of who knew how many years. Second hand, George had said? 'No joke there,' Ron thought as the dial finally clicked into place.
Ron held the now-primed artifact in his palm and stared at it blankly. What thoughts should he be thinking at a time like this? Were there any rational thoughts that applied to something so insane as that which Ron was about to undertake?
Ron did the only thing he could think to do. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. This done, he mechanically looped the chain about his neck.
Walking to the bed, he slung his book bag over his shoulder, stuffing the Invisibiity Cloak in before closing the flap. He picked up the cauldron full of ingredients and tucked it under his arm.
And swiftly, before his resolution could falter, he turned the hourglass over!
The room blurred, vanished. He felt like a leaf in a storm, as if he were flying without benefit of a broomstick. A wave of dizziness passed over him.
The next thing he knew he was lying on his back. Everything around him was murky. He tried several times to focus his eyes, but failed. He let his eyelids fall. His eyes having deserted him, he turned to his other senses. It was only then that he realized what should have been apparent from the first. The surface upon which he lay was not the hard floor of the Shrieking Shack. It was soft, cool. Damp. Grass?
Ron sat bolt upright, shaking off the dizziness this inspired. Throwing his eyes open, Ron saw the broad expanse of the Hogwarts grounds, now dulled by the blanket of night.
Thank Merlin for the darkness! And Merlin curse him for a fool!
He had forgotten a crucial detail of Hermione's account of her escapade with Harry. Traveling in time also meant traveling in space! Hermione explained that the seemingly stationary Earth was, in fact, spinning on its axis at roughly one thousand miles an hour. Nominally, to go back in time an hour was to shift one's position by a thousand miles. Magic compensated for this scientific bugbear, but not to an absolute degree. When Harry and Hermione had gone back three hours, they had shifted not three thousand miles, but merely the distance between the hospital wing and the entrance hall of the castle.
Ron placed a hand to his forehead, encountering cold sweat. He had gone back in time twenty-eight days! Where in Merlin's name was he?
It was with tremendous relief that, with the adjusting of his eyes to the darkness, Ron began to make out familiar shapes. He jumped noticably when he saw that the Forbidden Forest lay less than ten feet to his left. What if he had materialized inside the Forest? Ron suddenly remembered Aragog and his legion of children, and the thought chilled him to the bone despite the warmth of the June night.
His head clear now, Ron scrambled up, casting about for his cauldron and school bag. They lay only a few feet away, and he fairly leaped upon them to check for damage. He breathed an audible sigh to find his school bag still secure and the bag of potion ingredients undamaged, the string about its neck lashed fast.
Somewhere nearby a dog barked. Fang! Hagrid's cabin was somewhere nearby, then. It was with genuine relief that he spied the candlelit rectangle of Hagrid's window. His position now certain, Ron pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and dived under it gratefully. Tucking his school bag under one arm and the cauldron under the other, Ron loped as quickly as he dared toward the Whomping Willow, the sound of Fang's barking fading until only the delicate noises of the Scottish night remained.
And the hammering of his heart against his ribs.
Author's Note: Okay, that's ONE mystery solved. The next question is: What potion is Ron brewing? You have until next post to think about it. (And no Time-Turners allowed!)