Barry Potter - Chapter 7
There was, naturally, quite a clamor as more copies of the Daily Prophet were received. Many students, mainly Slytherins, watched and laughed quietly as Silvia was led from the room by Dean and Kayla, Alden and Dumbledore in tow, speaking softly. The Ravenclaw students all chatted together in bewilderment. How could it have been Silvia? She was such a nice girl, never bothered anyone. Silvia? A murderer?
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. Both shook their heads, as utterly confused as he was. He mused over his porridge, watching the owls flying overhead. One caught his eye. A snowy white owl flew down to him and hooted.
"Hedwig!" Harry smiled, stroking his companion's soft feathers. She gently nipped his fingers, then held out her leg. Harry took the scrap of parchment. Hedwig took a sip of his porridge and spread her wings. With another hoot, she was gone.
Harry unrolled the letter and immediately recognized Sirius' handwriting:
Harry-
How are you, lad? Hedwig managed to find me, clever bird. I can't tell you much, except that Remus and I are both fine. We've been moving around some, staying active. I really can't say much else. No need to send a reply. Hedwig found me once, but where I'm going now, she won't be able to again. I'm glad to hear that the young Dumbledore girl is at your school. It warms my heart, knowing that you're safe. Please, if anything happens this year, lay off the heroics. Times are dangerous and I don't want you getting yourself killed. What would your father say if he found out that I had let his son leap into foolhardy action and get himself killed? And your mother? For god's sake and your parent's sake, keep safe this year. Give my and Remus' regards to Ron and Hermione.
-Sirius
Harry tossed the letter over to Ron and Hermione. They read it quickly, as concerned for Sirius as Harry was. When Ron was done, he opened his mouth to say something. But at that exact moment a ball of feather hit him in the back of the head.
"PIG!" Ron grabbed the offending bird and angrily sat it down on the table. But it wasn't Pig, it was Pharaon. The little hawk squawked angrily, nipping Ron's finger. Ron gulped and tossed her some bacon as a sign of peace. Pharaon studied Ron with one beady eye, then turned and studied the bacon. In the end, hunger beat anger, and she gobbled the treat up. Then Pharaon looked around the little group inquisitively.
"Alden isn't here." Hermione told the bird. Pharaon clicked her beak in understanding and, stealing another piece of Ron's bacon, flew off again. Ron rubbed the back of his head, muttering something about birds and the back of his head.
As everyone was finishing up, Dumbledore reentered the room. Behind him came Alden and Kayla, talking rapidly in whisper. Then came Dean and Silvia, walking slowly side by side, not saying a word. Harry studied them all critically. Dumbledore looked tired, tired and old. Kayla looked troubled and Alden was smoldering. Yet what struck Harry was Dean and Silvia. Silvia was pale and terrified, cheeks stained with tears. Dean was walking solidly beside her, like some sort of sentinel. But as Harry watched, Dean gently took Silvia's quivering hand in his own strong one. She glanced down at the hands, then up at Dean. He wasn't looking at her, but he squeezed her hand gently. Silvia gave him a small, grateful smile, and they continued walking. Harry grinned sadly.
Dumbledore mounted the podium while the others sat down at the Ravenclaw table. A few girls came closer, gently patting Silvia and Kayla on the backs, but most of the students edged away a little. Harry glanced back up at the stage, where Dumbledore was getting ready to speak.
"Students," he said, "I would like to inform you of something I myself have just learned. It seems that the Daily Prophet has printed an article alluding to one of our guests in an unflattering light. However," Dumbledore said sharply, quieting the murmur that had begun, "I have information that this young lady is innocent, a victim of imperfect laws. She is not dangerous, nor has she committed any infamous acts. I ask you, then, to treat her not with hatred and fear but with trust and pity. I'd like to think I have an idea of what Hogwarts students are made of. I believe that you will all do what is right. You are dismissed."
There was a pause, then the familiar shuffling of robes as books were gathered and students headed off to class. More girls went over to Silvia, speaking in soft soothing voices. She arose, surrounded by a thick barrier of kindness. Kayla smiled, putting her hand gently on her sister's back as the group began to move toward the door. Dean started to follow, but felt a hand grip his shoulder. It was Alden's. With a quick, sad smile, she led him over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"She'll be fine. Don't worry." Alden smiled again, squeezed Dean's shoulder, and with a nod to the others disappeared. The friends looked at each other before starting off to class. Each wanted to think.
After the news of Viktor's death and Silvia's framing, the weeks slipped by without event. During the days, they all put on brave faces and talked and laughed with the other students. Because Alden was always off taking care of school security, the little group began spending time with the Moone sisters. Harry noticed that Dean seemed happiest when he was around them. In fact, the girls were like a soothing medicine to all of them, keeping them up despite the troubles of their own.
One of the best distractions, Harry found, was Quidditch. He had always loved flying, but now it felt even better. He loved being able to fly up into the air, soaring above his troubles into a cool sky of blue or grey. Many had been worried that Quidditch would be canceled, Harry and Ron included. Their hearts had leapt with joy when they learned there would be games starting the second month of the term. The first game scheduled was Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff, so Harry, Ron, and the rest of the team headed down to the pitch almost every day. No one cared whether it was Quidditch season or not: everyone felt better with a game to look forward to.
The highlight of the practices was one cold, dreary day toward the end of the month. Shivering, the Gryffindor team had trudged out to the pitch. Standing in the middle, grinning broadly, was Alden. She held a broomstick at her side, and waved when she saw them coming. Harry, the team captain since Fred had left, strode out to meet her. As he approached, he heard her singing softly to herself, "Redrum, erif, gniyd, gnireffus..."
"What are you doing here?" he asked, half glaring at her in suspicion. He still didn't trust her entirely.
"Uncle gave me the afternoon off," Alden explained, eyes sparkling, "So I decided to come and watch practice. I hear you're the best."
"We are!" Ron put in, shifting the weight of his broomstick off of his shoulder. Alden looked over the team with an experienced eye.
She frowned. "How can you? You haven't got any girls."
"We don't need any girls!" piped up Terry Wrigg, the small second year who played Beater. Alden raised her eyebrow. Terry gulped as she glanced at him, and shuddered from more than just the cold.
"We'll see about that." Alden replied simply. Harry shuddered as he watched, just for a second, an evil grin cross her face. It reminded him of the twins' smiles, but also, a bit, of Voldemort's.
"I challenge the Gryffindor team to a match," she said, "You 7 against me."
Harry laughed. "Come off it!"
"Really."
Harry stopped laughing. "You don't stand a chance. We're the best."
"We'll see..." Alden grinned again, picking up a spare Beater's club, mounted her broom, and pushed off into the air. She circled them tauntingly, yelling down, "Well? Are you afraid?"
"That's it!" Harry snapped, leaping onto his broomstick. He shot up after her, the rest of the team following suit. Ron carried with him a Bludger, Terry brought the other, and Dean clutched the tiny Snitch and the Quaffle. Alden was smiling, her eyes bright as they danced over the Gryffindor team. Harry took the Quaffle and tossed it to her. "Here. You start with it."
Alden tossed it back, shaking her head. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair."
"Go on," Harry threw it back, "Ladies first."
She shrugged her shoulders, simply saying, "You asked for it."
The Chasers got into formation before Alden while Dean swept over to the goal post. Ron and Terry rose up above them, feeling for firmer grips on their clubs. Harry paused at Ron's side, saying, "10 Galleons says she only has it for 5 seconds tops."
Ron shook his head. "I dunno, Harry. I'd say 10 Galleons says our Chasers don't see the Quaffle again until she makes a goal."
Harry laughed. "You're on!" Then he urged his broom up. He slowly circled, watching the game as it began below when the Snitch and Bludgers were released. His lips curved up in a confident. This would be an easy game to win. Granite Hohensea, Michael Drud, and James Hingle, the team's Chasers, were undefeatable. Ron and Terry were almost as good as the twins had been, and Dean surpassed Oliver Wood. And, Harry noted smugly, he always caught the Snitch. Always.
Then his jaw dropped.
Alden swept right through the Chasers, blowing the stunned Beaters out of the way. They all shot after her, but it was a fruitless endeavor. She aimed her broom straight at Dean's. He faced her, unflinching. Harry gulped. She was going to crash into him.
At the last possible moment, she dropped her broom a fraction of a centimeter and swung down. Flying upside-down, her broomstick and legs just grazed Dean. She swung lightly up again and threw the Quaffle into the goal. With a laugh, she tossed it to a stunned Michael. Eyes still twinkling, she called, "Ten to zero, Gryffindor ball."
Harry watched the Chasers swing into action. They had made it half way down the field when Alden stripped them of the Quaffle and went barreling back toward the Gryffindor goal. Ron hit a Bludger at her, hurling it with all the force he could muster. Glancing back, Alden saw it. Spinning around to face it, she hit it back toward the frantic Chasers before turning to zoom on toward the goal. The Keeper flew back and forth, uncertain of what to do. Alden suddenly shot straight up in the air and threw the Quaffle over Dean's head. He stretched up to catch it in vain. Alden again tossed the ball back to the Chasers, calling, "Twenty to zero, Gryffindor ball."
Harry scowled down as Alden continued to pummel his team single-handedly. Yet he felt a deep sense of calm watching her. Alden and her broomstick were like one being, a great bird of pray swooping among robed figures on brooms. She moved gracefully, twisting and turning as though underwater. This, Harry decided, was her element. She belonged on a broom, soaring through the skies. Deep inside, he again felt happy that she was there. Then he saw the Snitch. It was glimmering right before the opposite goal post.
He urged his broom forward. Suddenly, he heard a whoosh, and saw Alden streaking past him, Quaffle still firmly under her arm and the rest of the team in tow. Enraged, Harry pushed his broom, willing it to go faster. He almost drew even with her and stretched his arm out. She tried to pull ahead more, but Harry wouldn't let her. She stretched her own arm out, leaning over the end of her broom stick as they sped toward the glittering ball of gold. Harry stretched his fingers out further, imagining the feel of the Snitch in his fingers. He saw it, it was right there, just beyond his grasp, in a moment...
It was gone. Harry blinked, then swerved sharply to stop himself from running headlong into the goal. He turned around and saw Alden clutching the Snitch triumphantly above her head. The rest of the team was laughing, enjoying themselves as they slowly sunk down toward the ground. Angrily, Harry swooped down as well. They packed up the balls and clubs, still laughing. Harry kicked a clod of dirt moodily. He had lost. Life was so unfair.
Everyone shook Alden's hand, admitting honorable defeat. She was a gracious winner, pointing out everyone else's strong points and small victories during the game. Last she shook Harry's hand. He stumbled over what to say, finally coming up with, "You're pretty good."
Alden winked. "Three years in the World Cup can do that to you."
Harry froze. "You've played at the World Cup?"
"Yeah, where were you the last three year?" Alden asked, rolling her eyes. "Didn't you notice the short one on the American team?"
Harry blushed and, grabbing his broom, stormed up to the castle. The rest of the team followed, chatting. Harry didn't seem to notice them as he marched up to the Tower, deposited his things in the dormitory, and sunk onto a couch in the common room, fuming. Hermione put a hand gently on Harry's arm. "Tough practice?"
Harry scowled. "Yeah. We played Alden."
"What do you mean?"
"He means," Ron said as the rest of the team trudged into the room, "That we played against Alden and she creamed us."
"It was brilliant!" Dean said, all smiles. Alden shrugged the compliment off and they all walked off to get changed. Harry glared at Alden's back as she mounted the stairs. Hermione's hand found his and gave it a little squeeze. He looked down at it. It was soft and fragile, very small and warm in his hands. He then looked up into Hermione's eyes. She was smiling at him, a playful grin in her eyes. Suddenly, Harry found himself overwhelmed with emotion. He leaned forward, putting a hand on her arm. Her breath came in sharply as she froze, unsure of what to do. Harry leaned forward further, moving his hand to her cheek. Slowly, they both leaned closer... closer...
"Hey, Hermione!"
They both jumped into the air, flying to opposite end of the couch. Hermione turned toward the voice. Alden had just clunked down the stairs, holding a few robes over her arm. Her face was friendly and innocent: she hadn't seen them.
"Hermione, I'm going to bring these down to the laundry room. Want me to bring yours as well?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Thanks!" Hermione replied quickly. Alden nodded and climbed the stairs again, humming to herself the song she had been singing at the Quidditch pitch. Harry furrowed his brow when he heard it.
"Hermione, have you ever heard that tune before?" Hermione shook her head, still a bit flushed. She rose, eyes turned away from Harry.
"I'll... I'll see you at dinner..." she said quietly. Casting one swift glance at Harry, she hurried up the stairs. Harry sat, gazing into the fire. What was getting into him?
Far away, in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy sat huddled on the floor before a formidable figure. He clutched his arm, which was limp and pale at his side. Blood trickled down the side of his face as he trembled, managing to whisper, "For-... Forgive me, my lord. I will not fail you this time."
"If you do," the figure said softly, "You'll get off worse than ever before." With a rustle, it disappeared. Draco sighed with relief, leaning his back against the cold stone wall. Gingerly, he moved his arm a bit, wincing in pain. He gently lifted himself from the floor and with slow, fumbling steps headed toward the Slytherin common room.
There was, naturally, quite a clamor as more copies of the Daily Prophet were received. Many students, mainly Slytherins, watched and laughed quietly as Silvia was led from the room by Dean and Kayla, Alden and Dumbledore in tow, speaking softly. The Ravenclaw students all chatted together in bewilderment. How could it have been Silvia? She was such a nice girl, never bothered anyone. Silvia? A murderer?
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. Both shook their heads, as utterly confused as he was. He mused over his porridge, watching the owls flying overhead. One caught his eye. A snowy white owl flew down to him and hooted.
"Hedwig!" Harry smiled, stroking his companion's soft feathers. She gently nipped his fingers, then held out her leg. Harry took the scrap of parchment. Hedwig took a sip of his porridge and spread her wings. With another hoot, she was gone.
Harry unrolled the letter and immediately recognized Sirius' handwriting:
Harry-
How are you, lad? Hedwig managed to find me, clever bird. I can't tell you much, except that Remus and I are both fine. We've been moving around some, staying active. I really can't say much else. No need to send a reply. Hedwig found me once, but where I'm going now, she won't be able to again. I'm glad to hear that the young Dumbledore girl is at your school. It warms my heart, knowing that you're safe. Please, if anything happens this year, lay off the heroics. Times are dangerous and I don't want you getting yourself killed. What would your father say if he found out that I had let his son leap into foolhardy action and get himself killed? And your mother? For god's sake and your parent's sake, keep safe this year. Give my and Remus' regards to Ron and Hermione.
-Sirius
Harry tossed the letter over to Ron and Hermione. They read it quickly, as concerned for Sirius as Harry was. When Ron was done, he opened his mouth to say something. But at that exact moment a ball of feather hit him in the back of the head.
"PIG!" Ron grabbed the offending bird and angrily sat it down on the table. But it wasn't Pig, it was Pharaon. The little hawk squawked angrily, nipping Ron's finger. Ron gulped and tossed her some bacon as a sign of peace. Pharaon studied Ron with one beady eye, then turned and studied the bacon. In the end, hunger beat anger, and she gobbled the treat up. Then Pharaon looked around the little group inquisitively.
"Alden isn't here." Hermione told the bird. Pharaon clicked her beak in understanding and, stealing another piece of Ron's bacon, flew off again. Ron rubbed the back of his head, muttering something about birds and the back of his head.
As everyone was finishing up, Dumbledore reentered the room. Behind him came Alden and Kayla, talking rapidly in whisper. Then came Dean and Silvia, walking slowly side by side, not saying a word. Harry studied them all critically. Dumbledore looked tired, tired and old. Kayla looked troubled and Alden was smoldering. Yet what struck Harry was Dean and Silvia. Silvia was pale and terrified, cheeks stained with tears. Dean was walking solidly beside her, like some sort of sentinel. But as Harry watched, Dean gently took Silvia's quivering hand in his own strong one. She glanced down at the hands, then up at Dean. He wasn't looking at her, but he squeezed her hand gently. Silvia gave him a small, grateful smile, and they continued walking. Harry grinned sadly.
Dumbledore mounted the podium while the others sat down at the Ravenclaw table. A few girls came closer, gently patting Silvia and Kayla on the backs, but most of the students edged away a little. Harry glanced back up at the stage, where Dumbledore was getting ready to speak.
"Students," he said, "I would like to inform you of something I myself have just learned. It seems that the Daily Prophet has printed an article alluding to one of our guests in an unflattering light. However," Dumbledore said sharply, quieting the murmur that had begun, "I have information that this young lady is innocent, a victim of imperfect laws. She is not dangerous, nor has she committed any infamous acts. I ask you, then, to treat her not with hatred and fear but with trust and pity. I'd like to think I have an idea of what Hogwarts students are made of. I believe that you will all do what is right. You are dismissed."
There was a pause, then the familiar shuffling of robes as books were gathered and students headed off to class. More girls went over to Silvia, speaking in soft soothing voices. She arose, surrounded by a thick barrier of kindness. Kayla smiled, putting her hand gently on her sister's back as the group began to move toward the door. Dean started to follow, but felt a hand grip his shoulder. It was Alden's. With a quick, sad smile, she led him over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"She'll be fine. Don't worry." Alden smiled again, squeezed Dean's shoulder, and with a nod to the others disappeared. The friends looked at each other before starting off to class. Each wanted to think.
After the news of Viktor's death and Silvia's framing, the weeks slipped by without event. During the days, they all put on brave faces and talked and laughed with the other students. Because Alden was always off taking care of school security, the little group began spending time with the Moone sisters. Harry noticed that Dean seemed happiest when he was around them. In fact, the girls were like a soothing medicine to all of them, keeping them up despite the troubles of their own.
One of the best distractions, Harry found, was Quidditch. He had always loved flying, but now it felt even better. He loved being able to fly up into the air, soaring above his troubles into a cool sky of blue or grey. Many had been worried that Quidditch would be canceled, Harry and Ron included. Their hearts had leapt with joy when they learned there would be games starting the second month of the term. The first game scheduled was Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff, so Harry, Ron, and the rest of the team headed down to the pitch almost every day. No one cared whether it was Quidditch season or not: everyone felt better with a game to look forward to.
The highlight of the practices was one cold, dreary day toward the end of the month. Shivering, the Gryffindor team had trudged out to the pitch. Standing in the middle, grinning broadly, was Alden. She held a broomstick at her side, and waved when she saw them coming. Harry, the team captain since Fred had left, strode out to meet her. As he approached, he heard her singing softly to herself, "Redrum, erif, gniyd, gnireffus..."
"What are you doing here?" he asked, half glaring at her in suspicion. He still didn't trust her entirely.
"Uncle gave me the afternoon off," Alden explained, eyes sparkling, "So I decided to come and watch practice. I hear you're the best."
"We are!" Ron put in, shifting the weight of his broomstick off of his shoulder. Alden looked over the team with an experienced eye.
She frowned. "How can you? You haven't got any girls."
"We don't need any girls!" piped up Terry Wrigg, the small second year who played Beater. Alden raised her eyebrow. Terry gulped as she glanced at him, and shuddered from more than just the cold.
"We'll see about that." Alden replied simply. Harry shuddered as he watched, just for a second, an evil grin cross her face. It reminded him of the twins' smiles, but also, a bit, of Voldemort's.
"I challenge the Gryffindor team to a match," she said, "You 7 against me."
Harry laughed. "Come off it!"
"Really."
Harry stopped laughing. "You don't stand a chance. We're the best."
"We'll see..." Alden grinned again, picking up a spare Beater's club, mounted her broom, and pushed off into the air. She circled them tauntingly, yelling down, "Well? Are you afraid?"
"That's it!" Harry snapped, leaping onto his broomstick. He shot up after her, the rest of the team following suit. Ron carried with him a Bludger, Terry brought the other, and Dean clutched the tiny Snitch and the Quaffle. Alden was smiling, her eyes bright as they danced over the Gryffindor team. Harry took the Quaffle and tossed it to her. "Here. You start with it."
Alden tossed it back, shaking her head. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair."
"Go on," Harry threw it back, "Ladies first."
She shrugged her shoulders, simply saying, "You asked for it."
The Chasers got into formation before Alden while Dean swept over to the goal post. Ron and Terry rose up above them, feeling for firmer grips on their clubs. Harry paused at Ron's side, saying, "10 Galleons says she only has it for 5 seconds tops."
Ron shook his head. "I dunno, Harry. I'd say 10 Galleons says our Chasers don't see the Quaffle again until she makes a goal."
Harry laughed. "You're on!" Then he urged his broom up. He slowly circled, watching the game as it began below when the Snitch and Bludgers were released. His lips curved up in a confident. This would be an easy game to win. Granite Hohensea, Michael Drud, and James Hingle, the team's Chasers, were undefeatable. Ron and Terry were almost as good as the twins had been, and Dean surpassed Oliver Wood. And, Harry noted smugly, he always caught the Snitch. Always.
Then his jaw dropped.
Alden swept right through the Chasers, blowing the stunned Beaters out of the way. They all shot after her, but it was a fruitless endeavor. She aimed her broom straight at Dean's. He faced her, unflinching. Harry gulped. She was going to crash into him.
At the last possible moment, she dropped her broom a fraction of a centimeter and swung down. Flying upside-down, her broomstick and legs just grazed Dean. She swung lightly up again and threw the Quaffle into the goal. With a laugh, she tossed it to a stunned Michael. Eyes still twinkling, she called, "Ten to zero, Gryffindor ball."
Harry watched the Chasers swing into action. They had made it half way down the field when Alden stripped them of the Quaffle and went barreling back toward the Gryffindor goal. Ron hit a Bludger at her, hurling it with all the force he could muster. Glancing back, Alden saw it. Spinning around to face it, she hit it back toward the frantic Chasers before turning to zoom on toward the goal. The Keeper flew back and forth, uncertain of what to do. Alden suddenly shot straight up in the air and threw the Quaffle over Dean's head. He stretched up to catch it in vain. Alden again tossed the ball back to the Chasers, calling, "Twenty to zero, Gryffindor ball."
Harry scowled down as Alden continued to pummel his team single-handedly. Yet he felt a deep sense of calm watching her. Alden and her broomstick were like one being, a great bird of pray swooping among robed figures on brooms. She moved gracefully, twisting and turning as though underwater. This, Harry decided, was her element. She belonged on a broom, soaring through the skies. Deep inside, he again felt happy that she was there. Then he saw the Snitch. It was glimmering right before the opposite goal post.
He urged his broom forward. Suddenly, he heard a whoosh, and saw Alden streaking past him, Quaffle still firmly under her arm and the rest of the team in tow. Enraged, Harry pushed his broom, willing it to go faster. He almost drew even with her and stretched his arm out. She tried to pull ahead more, but Harry wouldn't let her. She stretched her own arm out, leaning over the end of her broom stick as they sped toward the glittering ball of gold. Harry stretched his fingers out further, imagining the feel of the Snitch in his fingers. He saw it, it was right there, just beyond his grasp, in a moment...
It was gone. Harry blinked, then swerved sharply to stop himself from running headlong into the goal. He turned around and saw Alden clutching the Snitch triumphantly above her head. The rest of the team was laughing, enjoying themselves as they slowly sunk down toward the ground. Angrily, Harry swooped down as well. They packed up the balls and clubs, still laughing. Harry kicked a clod of dirt moodily. He had lost. Life was so unfair.
Everyone shook Alden's hand, admitting honorable defeat. She was a gracious winner, pointing out everyone else's strong points and small victories during the game. Last she shook Harry's hand. He stumbled over what to say, finally coming up with, "You're pretty good."
Alden winked. "Three years in the World Cup can do that to you."
Harry froze. "You've played at the World Cup?"
"Yeah, where were you the last three year?" Alden asked, rolling her eyes. "Didn't you notice the short one on the American team?"
Harry blushed and, grabbing his broom, stormed up to the castle. The rest of the team followed, chatting. Harry didn't seem to notice them as he marched up to the Tower, deposited his things in the dormitory, and sunk onto a couch in the common room, fuming. Hermione put a hand gently on Harry's arm. "Tough practice?"
Harry scowled. "Yeah. We played Alden."
"What do you mean?"
"He means," Ron said as the rest of the team trudged into the room, "That we played against Alden and she creamed us."
"It was brilliant!" Dean said, all smiles. Alden shrugged the compliment off and they all walked off to get changed. Harry glared at Alden's back as she mounted the stairs. Hermione's hand found his and gave it a little squeeze. He looked down at it. It was soft and fragile, very small and warm in his hands. He then looked up into Hermione's eyes. She was smiling at him, a playful grin in her eyes. Suddenly, Harry found himself overwhelmed with emotion. He leaned forward, putting a hand on her arm. Her breath came in sharply as she froze, unsure of what to do. Harry leaned forward further, moving his hand to her cheek. Slowly, they both leaned closer... closer...
"Hey, Hermione!"
They both jumped into the air, flying to opposite end of the couch. Hermione turned toward the voice. Alden had just clunked down the stairs, holding a few robes over her arm. Her face was friendly and innocent: she hadn't seen them.
"Hermione, I'm going to bring these down to the laundry room. Want me to bring yours as well?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Thanks!" Hermione replied quickly. Alden nodded and climbed the stairs again, humming to herself the song she had been singing at the Quidditch pitch. Harry furrowed his brow when he heard it.
"Hermione, have you ever heard that tune before?" Hermione shook her head, still a bit flushed. She rose, eyes turned away from Harry.
"I'll... I'll see you at dinner..." she said quietly. Casting one swift glance at Harry, she hurried up the stairs. Harry sat, gazing into the fire. What was getting into him?
Far away, in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy sat huddled on the floor before a formidable figure. He clutched his arm, which was limp and pale at his side. Blood trickled down the side of his face as he trembled, managing to whisper, "For-... Forgive me, my lord. I will not fail you this time."
"If you do," the figure said softly, "You'll get off worse than ever before." With a rustle, it disappeared. Draco sighed with relief, leaning his back against the cold stone wall. Gingerly, he moved his arm a bit, wincing in pain. He gently lifted himself from the floor and with slow, fumbling steps headed toward the Slytherin common room.
