Chapter II
Blackness, a sea of eternal deepness and emptiness surrounded Harry, smothering him. He flailed his arms to find a way out, and felt sharp metal pierce his right side. He couldn't worry about a cut now, though. He felt iron bars, he was caged in like an animal. A sense of claustraphobia closed in on Harry, and though he had not the faintest idea where he was, he knew he had to get out. Panic raced through his veins, and pumped furiously from his racing heart as he tore at the bars. Then, the bars grew thorns, and cut at his fingers. He didn't care. He HAD to get out. Then, just as suddenly, a small beam of blue light broke through the darkness. The bars were gone. There was a strange sort of blue light that seemed to float all around Harry, swirling over his skin and into his heart, lifting his troubles, and it seemed to carry him upwards along a river of light. Music from faraway beckoned him with sweet harmonic voices, as the scent of honeysuckle cascaded over his body, intoxicating him. Harry lifted his hand, he wanted to reach the voices echoing down to him. He streched out his arm and it all fell away. He had broken the wonderful ending to the dream, and he almost didn't want to come back to the real world. His room back at the Dursleys came into view, and the sharp pain in his side that woke him, began to throb violently. Startled, Harry dropped his outstreched arm and clutched his aching side to find every movement was excruciatingly painful. He forced himself to sit up, and he noticed a large slotch of blood on his sheet. He pulled it away to reveal a deep slash on his side, and splinters and cuts on his fingers. There were rings of blood around his fingernails, which felt as if they could fall off any second. It couldn't have been real though, he was thinking when he heard a scream from the kitchen.
Harry threw on his bath robe to cover the dried blood caked on his side, and limped towards the door. His muscles screamed in protest, but he knew that whatever had just happened in the kitchen, wasn't anything Aunt Petunia would normally scream about. Harry had only heard a similar horrified scream, when Dudley's tongue had become the size of a sack of potatoes. He reached the foot of the steps to find claw marks all over the floral wallpaper. Harry could hear Uncle Vernon's booming voice coming from inside the kitchen along with Aunt Petunia's muffled sobs. Had someone tried to break in? Were they after Harry? Harry had had strange dreams before when someone was trying to kill Harry. Was that what had happened now? He couldn't remember the dream, but he knew the panicking fear, and the soothing calm still hung in his heart. He started to feel that panic return a bit when he entered the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was crying vehemently into Uncle Vernon's chest, and Uncle Vernon was yelling into the telephone.
"Yes, breaking and entering, possibly a murder." Vernon noticed Harry in the doorway, and gave a look as if there should've been a murder: Harry's. Vernon motioned threateningly for Harry to leave. "No, I don't think they've stolen anything. I don't bloody know! You're the police officer, you tell me!"
Harry started towards the door when a gleaming knife on the floor caught his eye. It was lying in a ring of blood. Drips were all over the floor and counter as if there was some sort of struggle. The windowsill above the sink was the worst though; claw marks everywhere, and blood. Harry was starting to become sick with the sight of blood, and decided to leave the room thinking how happy he would be if he never had to see it again. That's when he caught another site of it on his hand, and he again began to realize the pain draining his body. He would return to his bed, in hopes that it would all go away by tonight. Tonight! Tonight the Weasleys were coming to pick him up and Harry could escape from everything back at the Dursley's. Harry finally reached his bed after what had seemed like climbing Mount Everest, and plopped onto the soft mattress, longing for his friends at the burrow. He just lay there thinking, and staring at the clock near his bed.
Harry had just finished cleaning out his wounds when he heard a knock downstairs at the front door. Harry flung the towel he was using back on the rack, and stumbled down the stairs as fast as he could. His bags were already at the foot of the steps by the door, and Harry waited anxiously by them for Uncle Vernon to open the door. Aunt Petunia had said she needed to go to the grocer's (even though she had just went yesterday) and said she was taking Dudley with her, who, if the Weasley's weren't coming today, would have noisily objected. Under the circumstances, however, Dudley was very eager to be far from the house when the wizards arrived. Uncle Vernon gave a stern look to Harry.
"Get your bags, and I want you out of the house as soon as I open this bloody door, understand?" Harry nodded. "Good." The door swung open, to reveal the bright face of Mr. Weasley. Harry quickly began to roll his suitcase out the door.
"Hello, Harry. What are you in such a hurry for?" Harry gave Mr. Weasley a look that told him not to ask. "Oh... well" he said to Uncle Vernon who seemed to be ignoring his presence altogether. "I guess we had better be going. We have to make good time; quite a drive, you know. " Harry could see Uncle Vernon glance at the long black car parked in the middle of the street in front of the Dursley's house. "Well, nice seeing you again, Mr. Dursley." Mr. Weasley tipped his hat, and followed Harry to the car. They loaded their things up and started off.
Harry was seated in between Fred and Ron. "So, how was the Chudley Cannons game?" Harry grinned as Ron went into a whole commentary of it, interrupted of course, by Fred and George, and occasionally Ginny. "Unbeleiveable, Harry! They were diving and swooping and making shots like you wouldn't dream! And-" "It's a shame it was only for two days, I would have loved to see more!" "He's lying, they reeked! Nothing like us, right Harry? That cup's ours this year!" Harry could see Fred and George were still interested in playing Quddicth. The conversation went on like that for quite some time, then-"Look! We're here!" Harry smiled, looking at the oh, so memorable garden of Mrs. Weasley, and-was that a gnome? Ron grabbed one of Harry's suitcases, while Harry lugged the other one. They entered the kitchen to see Mrs. Weasley already starting on supper. "Harry, dear! How lovely to see you! Percy's at work right now, but he should be home soon. My, how you've grown!" Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a quick, tight hug and Ron, pink-faced, suggested very quickly that they head upstairs to his room. Willingly, Harry agreed.
They went down to the kitchen that night, and ate the most wonderful cooking Harry had ever tasted. He didn't join in any of the conversation, for two reasons: 1. He was starving and loved the food, and 2. Percy arrived and was talking about the new Head of Magical Cooperation, taking Mr. Crouch's job. Harry was actually quite interested in it. "Oh, he's wonderful all right, but he could never measure up to what Mr. Crouch was. I still can't beleive he retired and is living in Brazil! I will miss him, though." Laughing, Harry sat there and ate, and ate and ate, until he was full. He had had fourth helpings of everything, and he felt he would explode. They helped Mrs. Weasley clear off the table and went upstairs. Filled to the bursting point with delicious food and extremely warm and content, Harry fell asleep almost instantly.
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Harry was in a strange room, surrounded by people in masks. There were many of them, too many to fight of. He tried using all of his hexes and counter-curses, but none of them were effecient. He seemed to have lost his touch over the Holidays. He threw on his Invisbility Cloak and carefully ran away from them He slowed to a walking pace, and found Cedric. He was trying to say something to him, but couldn't get the message out. He pointed behind Harry. He turned around and saw Voldemort, staring him in the face. He grinned and raised his wand, but started changing. He had red hair and freckles.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Harry snapped awake. Ginny was standing there in the Weasley's kitchen, holding a glass of water. Harry had his hand on the doorknob. "Are you leaving?"
"No, I was ...sleepwalking ... I guess. Better go back to bed," Harry said. He trudged up the steps and fell onto Ron's other bed. He fell back asleep and when he woke in the morning, he didn't remember a thing
During breakfast, Ginny kept throwing Harry worried looks. Seeing this, Ron said,
"Ginny, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry, completely clueless, wondered what this was all about. There was a muffled conversation between the two and then they came back. Ron kept looking at Harry. He couldn't take much more of it.
"Ron, I'm finished. How about we go up to your room or something?" Startled, Ron looked up.
"Huh? Oh yeah, sure." As soon as they got there, Ron slammed the door shut behind them. Harry winced.
"Sorry about that. Harry, what's up with you lately?" Harry pulled his shirt up a bit to show Ron his injuries. Ron's eyes widened. "Harry...you didn't do this, did you? I mean, you've always been a bit wild, but this..." Harry caught on.
"What? NO! Of course not Ron. I'm not that thick!" Ron glanced at it again. It was a nasty cut, and was starting to develop a bruise around it.
"Then who-?"
"I don't know who, but I know when and how. There was a break-in at the Dursley's the night before I left. They found a knife on the floor after I found my injuries." Ron's eyes widened.
"You don't think You-Know-Who could've-?" Harry shook his head.
"Nah, he would've used a wand." Ron touched it gingerly. Harry winced. Ron quickly withdrew his hand. "But who?" Harry just shrugged his shoulders.
"What about you sleep-walking, eh?" Harry put his shirt back down.
"I don't know, I've only done it a few times." Ron made a move towards the door.
"We've got to tell my parents, or at least my dad." Harry stopped him. "No way! They would be worried sick about me! Your mum would collapse if she saw it!" Ron stopped. "You're right. But then, what do we do? -Write to Dumbledore?".
"No" Harry quickly interjected. "He's got enough on his hands with Voldemort, and banding forces together to stop him. He doesn't need to worry about me."
"But do you remember what happened the last time when you should have wrote to him about your scar hurting?" Ron shouted.
"C'mon, Ron. I was probably just sleepwalking when I knocked some things off of the counter." Harry ventured.
"And you didn't wake up when that knife convientely butchered your side?" Ron gave Harry a sarcastic frown and flinched a bit. "At least write to Sirius." Harry rolled his eyes and continued exasperatedly.
"I can't. Last time I wrote him when my scar hurt he came all the way to Hogsmeade. I can't endanger him like that again." Ron was looking at Harry as if he was so stupid to be making the same mistake another time. "Ron, look, I sleepwalk. Big deal! Tons of other kids do it. This one kid down on Privet Drive was wandering out in the middle of the street a couple of years ago in the dead of night. My Aunt Petunia had gossiped with plenty of her friends about how he was out vandalizing the area. Later the kid's mum came up to her and told her off." Ron sniggered. "The woman said that he had sleptwalk for almost as long as she could remember, and he had managed to get out of the house. At least I haven't gotten that far." Harry gave Ron a serious and almost intimidating look. "This isn't serious, and I really don't need Malfoy teasing me about this when we get back at school, okay?" Ron nodded.
"But if it gets worse," there was a look of deep concern in Ron's eyes, "I mean if something serious happens, tell someone. Please?" Harry agreed.
"Okay, I wasn't sure if I should tell you this, with everything going on, but Hermione sent us an owl earlier." Ron handed it to Harry. A faint smell of vanilla and poppies escaped from the envelope when Harry opened it. It read:
Dear Harry & Ron,
I just got back from Bulgaria the day before yesterday, and I got your owl about Harry staying for summer break. It' s so beautiful in Bulgaria. Victor said he would like to visit during Christmas break, but we're not sure yet. I'm off work tommorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to come and visit for the day. I realized that we've all been to Ron's, but I've never invited you to my house! So I was hoping you could come over at about 8:30, I can give you a tour of my house, and where I work, and then we could go over to Alton Towers since it opens at 11:00. Ron, do you think you your dad could hook us up to the floo powder network by tommorrow? Write back.
~Hermione
"Alton Towers?" Harry gave Ron a suspicious look. "What's that?"
"I asked my dad, and he said he hadn't heard of it either. Probably some muggle thing." Harry knew if it did have something to do with muggles, the Weasleys would be the last to hear of it. They weren't exactly the most knowledgeable people about things outside of the wizarding world.
"Probably a library, knowing Hermione." joked Harry.
"I hope not" said Ron, "I'm already having a time keeping up with all of our Hogwarts homework besides taking a class about some muggle things from Hermione! Could you imagine her as a teacher?" Harry thought that Hermione would make a pretty good teacher. Strict, nonetheless, but her students would really learn something, unlike in Divination.
"Wait a tick," Harry was looking at the letter again. "Hermione has a job?" Harry looked surprised.
"I guess so. She didn't write anything to me about it before though." Ron looked to Harry.
"She didn't say anything to me either." Harry looked at the clock where Arthur Weasley's hand was still on "work". "Do you think we'll be able to get a hold of your dad at work before it's too late?"
"Oh, I told him to hook Hermione's house up before he went to work. I didn't really think we would be going or anything..." He trailed off, and Harry knew Ron was going to bring it up again. "Will you talk to Hermione about it at least? I mean she is one of your best friends, and you know she'll end up finding out. If you didn't tell her right away, she'd feel hurt. Like... like you felt you couldn't trust her." Harry sensed something in Ron's voice.
"You don't feel like that, do you Ron?" Ron looked at the floor.
"Well, you just tend to keep alot of secrets, and Hermione and I seem to be left in the dark..." Harry cut him off.
"I'm sorry if it makes you feel like that. I really had no idea. I just wanted to figure things out first, so you and Hermione don't end up getting hurt. Maybe... maybe I just don't trust myself. Like you and Hermione might end up like, like..."
"Cedric?" Ron finished. Harry nodded. "Don't beat yourself up about it. I mean -well -uh... no pun intended." Ron was looking nervously at the cuts on Harry's hands. Harry laughed. "There wasn't anything you could have done to save him." Harry choked back the lump forming in his throat. As much as Harry knew this to be true, he still felt this nagging feeling that if he had only grabbed that trophy one second before Cedric, he would still be alive.
Ron broke the awkward silence again, "So Hermione was in Bulgaria, with ... him?"
"Victor." Harry said.
"Yeah, yeah. Are they an "item" now or something?" Harry wasn't quite sure how to answer. "How come Hermione didn't tell us when she was going?" Harry shrugged his shoulders. "What's she thinking anyways; going all the way up in Bulgaria? He's too old for her, and she barely knows him and- " Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Are you her friend, or her father?" Harry laughed, and Ron threw Harry a sideways glance.
"I'm just saying that for the smartest person to go through Hogwart's, she couldn't have been so bright to go running off with that hoodlum."
"Ahh, but a hoodlum with an action figure." Harry smirked at the reference to the same action figure Ron owned just last year. "Maybe when you really like someone you don't quite think as clearly." Harry made a muffled cough that sounded distinctly like 'Fleur'. Ron began to look angry so Harry changed the subject. "So do you want to have a go on the Firebolt?" A wide grin spread across Ron's face.
"Would I?!" The boys grabbed the broomstick and ran outside.
Blackness, a sea of eternal deepness and emptiness surrounded Harry, smothering him. He flailed his arms to find a way out, and felt sharp metal pierce his right side. He couldn't worry about a cut now, though. He felt iron bars, he was caged in like an animal. A sense of claustraphobia closed in on Harry, and though he had not the faintest idea where he was, he knew he had to get out. Panic raced through his veins, and pumped furiously from his racing heart as he tore at the bars. Then, the bars grew thorns, and cut at his fingers. He didn't care. He HAD to get out. Then, just as suddenly, a small beam of blue light broke through the darkness. The bars were gone. There was a strange sort of blue light that seemed to float all around Harry, swirling over his skin and into his heart, lifting his troubles, and it seemed to carry him upwards along a river of light. Music from faraway beckoned him with sweet harmonic voices, as the scent of honeysuckle cascaded over his body, intoxicating him. Harry lifted his hand, he wanted to reach the voices echoing down to him. He streched out his arm and it all fell away. He had broken the wonderful ending to the dream, and he almost didn't want to come back to the real world. His room back at the Dursleys came into view, and the sharp pain in his side that woke him, began to throb violently. Startled, Harry dropped his outstreched arm and clutched his aching side to find every movement was excruciatingly painful. He forced himself to sit up, and he noticed a large slotch of blood on his sheet. He pulled it away to reveal a deep slash on his side, and splinters and cuts on his fingers. There were rings of blood around his fingernails, which felt as if they could fall off any second. It couldn't have been real though, he was thinking when he heard a scream from the kitchen.
Harry threw on his bath robe to cover the dried blood caked on his side, and limped towards the door. His muscles screamed in protest, but he knew that whatever had just happened in the kitchen, wasn't anything Aunt Petunia would normally scream about. Harry had only heard a similar horrified scream, when Dudley's tongue had become the size of a sack of potatoes. He reached the foot of the steps to find claw marks all over the floral wallpaper. Harry could hear Uncle Vernon's booming voice coming from inside the kitchen along with Aunt Petunia's muffled sobs. Had someone tried to break in? Were they after Harry? Harry had had strange dreams before when someone was trying to kill Harry. Was that what had happened now? He couldn't remember the dream, but he knew the panicking fear, and the soothing calm still hung in his heart. He started to feel that panic return a bit when he entered the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was crying vehemently into Uncle Vernon's chest, and Uncle Vernon was yelling into the telephone.
"Yes, breaking and entering, possibly a murder." Vernon noticed Harry in the doorway, and gave a look as if there should've been a murder: Harry's. Vernon motioned threateningly for Harry to leave. "No, I don't think they've stolen anything. I don't bloody know! You're the police officer, you tell me!"
Harry started towards the door when a gleaming knife on the floor caught his eye. It was lying in a ring of blood. Drips were all over the floor and counter as if there was some sort of struggle. The windowsill above the sink was the worst though; claw marks everywhere, and blood. Harry was starting to become sick with the sight of blood, and decided to leave the room thinking how happy he would be if he never had to see it again. That's when he caught another site of it on his hand, and he again began to realize the pain draining his body. He would return to his bed, in hopes that it would all go away by tonight. Tonight! Tonight the Weasleys were coming to pick him up and Harry could escape from everything back at the Dursley's. Harry finally reached his bed after what had seemed like climbing Mount Everest, and plopped onto the soft mattress, longing for his friends at the burrow. He just lay there thinking, and staring at the clock near his bed.
Harry had just finished cleaning out his wounds when he heard a knock downstairs at the front door. Harry flung the towel he was using back on the rack, and stumbled down the stairs as fast as he could. His bags were already at the foot of the steps by the door, and Harry waited anxiously by them for Uncle Vernon to open the door. Aunt Petunia had said she needed to go to the grocer's (even though she had just went yesterday) and said she was taking Dudley with her, who, if the Weasley's weren't coming today, would have noisily objected. Under the circumstances, however, Dudley was very eager to be far from the house when the wizards arrived. Uncle Vernon gave a stern look to Harry.
"Get your bags, and I want you out of the house as soon as I open this bloody door, understand?" Harry nodded. "Good." The door swung open, to reveal the bright face of Mr. Weasley. Harry quickly began to roll his suitcase out the door.
"Hello, Harry. What are you in such a hurry for?" Harry gave Mr. Weasley a look that told him not to ask. "Oh... well" he said to Uncle Vernon who seemed to be ignoring his presence altogether. "I guess we had better be going. We have to make good time; quite a drive, you know. " Harry could see Uncle Vernon glance at the long black car parked in the middle of the street in front of the Dursley's house. "Well, nice seeing you again, Mr. Dursley." Mr. Weasley tipped his hat, and followed Harry to the car. They loaded their things up and started off.
Harry was seated in between Fred and Ron. "So, how was the Chudley Cannons game?" Harry grinned as Ron went into a whole commentary of it, interrupted of course, by Fred and George, and occasionally Ginny. "Unbeleiveable, Harry! They were diving and swooping and making shots like you wouldn't dream! And-" "It's a shame it was only for two days, I would have loved to see more!" "He's lying, they reeked! Nothing like us, right Harry? That cup's ours this year!" Harry could see Fred and George were still interested in playing Quddicth. The conversation went on like that for quite some time, then-"Look! We're here!" Harry smiled, looking at the oh, so memorable garden of Mrs. Weasley, and-was that a gnome? Ron grabbed one of Harry's suitcases, while Harry lugged the other one. They entered the kitchen to see Mrs. Weasley already starting on supper. "Harry, dear! How lovely to see you! Percy's at work right now, but he should be home soon. My, how you've grown!" Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a quick, tight hug and Ron, pink-faced, suggested very quickly that they head upstairs to his room. Willingly, Harry agreed.
They went down to the kitchen that night, and ate the most wonderful cooking Harry had ever tasted. He didn't join in any of the conversation, for two reasons: 1. He was starving and loved the food, and 2. Percy arrived and was talking about the new Head of Magical Cooperation, taking Mr. Crouch's job. Harry was actually quite interested in it. "Oh, he's wonderful all right, but he could never measure up to what Mr. Crouch was. I still can't beleive he retired and is living in Brazil! I will miss him, though." Laughing, Harry sat there and ate, and ate and ate, until he was full. He had had fourth helpings of everything, and he felt he would explode. They helped Mrs. Weasley clear off the table and went upstairs. Filled to the bursting point with delicious food and extremely warm and content, Harry fell asleep almost instantly.
*******************************************************
Harry was in a strange room, surrounded by people in masks. There were many of them, too many to fight of. He tried using all of his hexes and counter-curses, but none of them were effecient. He seemed to have lost his touch over the Holidays. He threw on his Invisbility Cloak and carefully ran away from them He slowed to a walking pace, and found Cedric. He was trying to say something to him, but couldn't get the message out. He pointed behind Harry. He turned around and saw Voldemort, staring him in the face. He grinned and raised his wand, but started changing. He had red hair and freckles.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Harry snapped awake. Ginny was standing there in the Weasley's kitchen, holding a glass of water. Harry had his hand on the doorknob. "Are you leaving?"
"No, I was ...sleepwalking ... I guess. Better go back to bed," Harry said. He trudged up the steps and fell onto Ron's other bed. He fell back asleep and when he woke in the morning, he didn't remember a thing
During breakfast, Ginny kept throwing Harry worried looks. Seeing this, Ron said,
"Ginny, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry, completely clueless, wondered what this was all about. There was a muffled conversation between the two and then they came back. Ron kept looking at Harry. He couldn't take much more of it.
"Ron, I'm finished. How about we go up to your room or something?" Startled, Ron looked up.
"Huh? Oh yeah, sure." As soon as they got there, Ron slammed the door shut behind them. Harry winced.
"Sorry about that. Harry, what's up with you lately?" Harry pulled his shirt up a bit to show Ron his injuries. Ron's eyes widened. "Harry...you didn't do this, did you? I mean, you've always been a bit wild, but this..." Harry caught on.
"What? NO! Of course not Ron. I'm not that thick!" Ron glanced at it again. It was a nasty cut, and was starting to develop a bruise around it.
"Then who-?"
"I don't know who, but I know when and how. There was a break-in at the Dursley's the night before I left. They found a knife on the floor after I found my injuries." Ron's eyes widened.
"You don't think You-Know-Who could've-?" Harry shook his head.
"Nah, he would've used a wand." Ron touched it gingerly. Harry winced. Ron quickly withdrew his hand. "But who?" Harry just shrugged his shoulders.
"What about you sleep-walking, eh?" Harry put his shirt back down.
"I don't know, I've only done it a few times." Ron made a move towards the door.
"We've got to tell my parents, or at least my dad." Harry stopped him. "No way! They would be worried sick about me! Your mum would collapse if she saw it!" Ron stopped. "You're right. But then, what do we do? -Write to Dumbledore?".
"No" Harry quickly interjected. "He's got enough on his hands with Voldemort, and banding forces together to stop him. He doesn't need to worry about me."
"But do you remember what happened the last time when you should have wrote to him about your scar hurting?" Ron shouted.
"C'mon, Ron. I was probably just sleepwalking when I knocked some things off of the counter." Harry ventured.
"And you didn't wake up when that knife convientely butchered your side?" Ron gave Harry a sarcastic frown and flinched a bit. "At least write to Sirius." Harry rolled his eyes and continued exasperatedly.
"I can't. Last time I wrote him when my scar hurt he came all the way to Hogsmeade. I can't endanger him like that again." Ron was looking at Harry as if he was so stupid to be making the same mistake another time. "Ron, look, I sleepwalk. Big deal! Tons of other kids do it. This one kid down on Privet Drive was wandering out in the middle of the street a couple of years ago in the dead of night. My Aunt Petunia had gossiped with plenty of her friends about how he was out vandalizing the area. Later the kid's mum came up to her and told her off." Ron sniggered. "The woman said that he had sleptwalk for almost as long as she could remember, and he had managed to get out of the house. At least I haven't gotten that far." Harry gave Ron a serious and almost intimidating look. "This isn't serious, and I really don't need Malfoy teasing me about this when we get back at school, okay?" Ron nodded.
"But if it gets worse," there was a look of deep concern in Ron's eyes, "I mean if something serious happens, tell someone. Please?" Harry agreed.
"Okay, I wasn't sure if I should tell you this, with everything going on, but Hermione sent us an owl earlier." Ron handed it to Harry. A faint smell of vanilla and poppies escaped from the envelope when Harry opened it. It read:
Dear Harry & Ron,
I just got back from Bulgaria the day before yesterday, and I got your owl about Harry staying for summer break. It' s so beautiful in Bulgaria. Victor said he would like to visit during Christmas break, but we're not sure yet. I'm off work tommorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to come and visit for the day. I realized that we've all been to Ron's, but I've never invited you to my house! So I was hoping you could come over at about 8:30, I can give you a tour of my house, and where I work, and then we could go over to Alton Towers since it opens at 11:00. Ron, do you think you your dad could hook us up to the floo powder network by tommorrow? Write back.
~Hermione
"Alton Towers?" Harry gave Ron a suspicious look. "What's that?"
"I asked my dad, and he said he hadn't heard of it either. Probably some muggle thing." Harry knew if it did have something to do with muggles, the Weasleys would be the last to hear of it. They weren't exactly the most knowledgeable people about things outside of the wizarding world.
"Probably a library, knowing Hermione." joked Harry.
"I hope not" said Ron, "I'm already having a time keeping up with all of our Hogwarts homework besides taking a class about some muggle things from Hermione! Could you imagine her as a teacher?" Harry thought that Hermione would make a pretty good teacher. Strict, nonetheless, but her students would really learn something, unlike in Divination.
"Wait a tick," Harry was looking at the letter again. "Hermione has a job?" Harry looked surprised.
"I guess so. She didn't write anything to me about it before though." Ron looked to Harry.
"She didn't say anything to me either." Harry looked at the clock where Arthur Weasley's hand was still on "work". "Do you think we'll be able to get a hold of your dad at work before it's too late?"
"Oh, I told him to hook Hermione's house up before he went to work. I didn't really think we would be going or anything..." He trailed off, and Harry knew Ron was going to bring it up again. "Will you talk to Hermione about it at least? I mean she is one of your best friends, and you know she'll end up finding out. If you didn't tell her right away, she'd feel hurt. Like... like you felt you couldn't trust her." Harry sensed something in Ron's voice.
"You don't feel like that, do you Ron?" Ron looked at the floor.
"Well, you just tend to keep alot of secrets, and Hermione and I seem to be left in the dark..." Harry cut him off.
"I'm sorry if it makes you feel like that. I really had no idea. I just wanted to figure things out first, so you and Hermione don't end up getting hurt. Maybe... maybe I just don't trust myself. Like you and Hermione might end up like, like..."
"Cedric?" Ron finished. Harry nodded. "Don't beat yourself up about it. I mean -well -uh... no pun intended." Ron was looking nervously at the cuts on Harry's hands. Harry laughed. "There wasn't anything you could have done to save him." Harry choked back the lump forming in his throat. As much as Harry knew this to be true, he still felt this nagging feeling that if he had only grabbed that trophy one second before Cedric, he would still be alive.
Ron broke the awkward silence again, "So Hermione was in Bulgaria, with ... him?"
"Victor." Harry said.
"Yeah, yeah. Are they an "item" now or something?" Harry wasn't quite sure how to answer. "How come Hermione didn't tell us when she was going?" Harry shrugged his shoulders. "What's she thinking anyways; going all the way up in Bulgaria? He's too old for her, and she barely knows him and- " Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Are you her friend, or her father?" Harry laughed, and Ron threw Harry a sideways glance.
"I'm just saying that for the smartest person to go through Hogwart's, she couldn't have been so bright to go running off with that hoodlum."
"Ahh, but a hoodlum with an action figure." Harry smirked at the reference to the same action figure Ron owned just last year. "Maybe when you really like someone you don't quite think as clearly." Harry made a muffled cough that sounded distinctly like 'Fleur'. Ron began to look angry so Harry changed the subject. "So do you want to have a go on the Firebolt?" A wide grin spread across Ron's face.
"Would I?!" The boys grabbed the broomstick and ran outside.
