"Ron, get your lazy ass out of bed!"
A pillow being hurled at his head hurled the sleeping redhead from his slumber. With a loud groan, he grabbed at the pillow and slung it back over his shoulder at the original thrower. With no words, he also showed the offender how angry he was by raising a single finger into the air without even opening his eyes.
"Get up!" This time another voice joined the other one. "Man, you're gonna miss breakfast!"
Ron was about to tell both people who were talking to him, he was too tired at the moment to distinguish the voices, to promptly fuck off. A grumble in his stomach, though, stopped him.
Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He saw Dean and Seamus staring at him expectantly, Dean holding the pillow that had been hurled across the room. "What time is it?" he asked groggily.
"8:46. You better hurry up if you want breakfast," Seamus said with a quick glance at the clock.
At that moment, the door from the bathroom opened, and Harry entered the room, his hair very wet, obviously having just emerged from the shower. "You're up," he said with a glance at Ron.
"How bloody observant," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.
Harry, not commenting on the sarcasm, crossed the room to his bed and pulled a clean uniform out of the stack of freshly laundered clothes beside his bed. "I was wondering if you were sick or something," he said, separating the clothes and laying them out flat to try and smooth some of the wrinkles from them.
Ron yawned and shook his head. "I'm fine," he muttered sleepily as he made his way to the bathroom and took a quick shower.
Minutes later, when he returned to the dormitory, Harry was the only roommate in sight. The others had obviously chosen not to wait on him and went on to the Great Hall. Harry, now dressed in his school clothes, was packing his bag and looked up when Ron reentered the room. "What happened with Hermione last night?" Harry asked the question before Ron had even made it to his own pile of clothes.
Ron looked up at him strangely. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, Dean told me about the whole article thing... Is she okay?"
So, that's what he was referring to. "Oh! Yeah, she's fine." He said this with a quick shrug before dropping beside his bed and grabbing at some clothes of his own.
"Well, when you guys came back up last night, she looked like she'd been crying," Harry said, looking up from his bag, an unmistakable look of concern on his face.
Ron thought back on the previous night and couldn't help but feel uncomfortable even now as he remembered everything that had went on and everything that Hermione had told him. He didn't think it would be fair at all to Hermione to indulge Harry with all the secrets she'd revealed to him, especially since many of the secrets had been in reference to or about Harry. He settled on saying, "Yeah, she cried, but she's fine now."
Harry was silent for a moment, and Ron quickly busied himself with getting dressed instead of commenting further. For a minute, it looked as if Harry might drop the whole issue, but Ron knew he wasn't that lucky. "So, how did you calm her down?"
Ron buckled the belt of his trousers and sighed. "I just told her not to pay attention to Pansy Parkinson or any of those other bitches that talk about her, and I told her that Viktor Krum was an idiot." He hoped this would put an end to the subject.
Harry nodded silently, then screwed up his face a bit and said, "So, did anything else happen?" Actually, Harry wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hear the answer to the question. However, he did have money riding on this...
Ron just stared at him. He willed himself not to blush as he said, "What else would have happened?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know. Just other stuff." He was not about to say, 'So, Ron, did you manage to snog Hermione?' There was just no way that was about to happen.
Ron looked down quickly and busied himself with pulling his socks on in a motion much slower than necessary. "Uh, well..." he couldn't quite make himself tell Harry, yet.
Harry's stomach dropped. Something had happened! Oh, he was sure he was going to be sick...
"I asked her to the Halloween Ball."
There. Ron had said it. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his arms slowly, buttoning the buttons carefully one at a time. He definitely did not look up to catch Harry's reaction.
Harry's mouth dropped open. Ron Weasley had asked Hermione Granger to the Halloween Ball... There was something almost... sacrilegious about it. Okay, so maybe sacrilegious was a strong word choice, but still... It was definitely vomit material.
"You asked Hermione to the Halloween Ball?" Harry accented her name as though to make sure he had heard right.
Ron, still buttoning his shirt at a snail's pace nodded without looking up.
"Hermione Granger?" Harry just couldn't quite believe that it was true.
"No, Hermione Appleton." Ron rolled his eyes and finally looked up at his best friend, the white school shirt not yet completely buttoned.
"But why?" Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Yes, he'd suspected long ago that Ron definitely had feelings for Hermione different from his own, but being faced with that fact head on was still shocking.
Ron suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Why not?" He wasn't using an angry and offended tone; he was using one of uncertainty, as though he were waiting for Harry to give him a good enough reason to un-ask her to the dance.
"Because..." Harry trailed and frowned. "I don't know why not."
"Harry, did you notice that Hermione changed?" Ron was still looking like he would rather be serving detention with Snape than be having this conversation, but it was clear to both of them that this conversation was definitely one that needed to be had.
Of course, he noticed that she had changed. You would have to blind not to notice that Hermione had suddenly turned into what could possibly be the prettiest girl in the school. And he told Ron as much. "I do have eyes, you know. Granted they might not be very good, but they still work." He pushed the glasses on his face up unconsciously.
"She's a girl now, Harry," Ron said in what was an unmistakably helpless sort of voice.
Harry snorted. "She's always been a girl."
But Ron just shook his head. "No, I mean, she's a real girl now. Like a real one."
"Versus a fake one?" Harry raised his eyebrows, not sure if he was following closely enough.
Ron rolled his eyes and went back to buttoning his shirt. "Just forget about it."
Harry would have liked very much to forget about it. However, he knew Ron better than he knew himself, and he correctly predicted Ron's huffiness. He knew that if he didn't prod for further information, Ron would spend the entire day pretending as though Harry didn't even exist. "No," he said, sighing. "I just don't understand what you're talking about."
Ron sighed and reached for the red and gold tie hanging from the corner of his bedpost. "I don't understand, either, Harry. Really. Just forget it."
"You like her, don't you?"
Harry could have gasped in surprise himself at the sudden outright question he had posed. He quickly looked down at his bed and avoided Ron's eyes.
It was a good thing, too, because the look that Ron cast Harry's way was enough to petrify someone.
"Have you bloody lost your mind?!" Ron said in a voice much louder than he'd used previously.
Harry picked at the corner of his blanket. "Er... I just meant..." He was helpless; he had no excuse whatsoever.
It didn't matter, though, because Ron went into a tirade. "No, I don't like her! She's my best friend for God's sake! Just because I asked her to a stupid dance does not mean that I... like Hermione Granger!"
"Okay!" Harry said quickly.
It did no good.
"I only asked her because I didn't have a date, and she was free! And because I felt sorry for her, and I didn't want all those Slytherin girls to see her show up to the dance alone! I was being a good friend, Harry! It does not mean that I like her!"
"Okay!!!" Harry said much more loudly this time. Ron shut up abruptly and stared at the bespectacled boy across the room. "I get the picture, Ron. Jesus!"
Ron rolled his eyes and jerked himself off of the bed, grabbing his robe and slinging it on. "Think before you start throwing around crazy accusations next time."
Harry got up, and with a roll of his own eyes, he pulled his robe on, too. "Fine," he said haughtily. "You don't like Hermione. I get it. Let's just forget about it."
Ron picked up his bag and walked toward the door. "Fine," he said, making his way down the hall toward the stairs, Harry close behind him.
**********************************************************
Harry sat in Transfiguration later that morning watching Ron and Hermione out of the corner of his eye. They were so bloody obvious; it was almost sickening. He'd spent an hour watching as Ron's eyes would fall on Hermione's profile until she would turn his head, and he would quickly jerk his head straight and pretend as if he hadn't been looking at all. And, much to Harry's dismay, Hermione pulled the same little stunt.
Pulling a spare piece of parchment from his book, Harry took his quill and quickly scribbled a note. Anything to break up the annoying little scene happening to his right.
' 'Mione,' the note read, 'What's the answer to number fourteen? I can't remember what McGonagall said.'
He folded it carefully and slid it past Ron to Hermione, never taking his eyes off of McGonagall's desk to make sure she didn't look up and catch him passing notes.
He watched as Hermione opened the note, glanced his way, and quickly wrote a response before sliding it back to him.
'I'm not giving you the answer, Harold. Work it out for yourself.'
He rolled his eyes quickly and glanced over at her; she was now bent over her own book, working diligently on the assignment they'd been given.
'I already told you that Harold's not even my name. It doesn't work on me like it does on Ronald. And anyway, I can't work it out for myself! It was in the lecture, and I don't remember what she said! Please.'
He slid it back down the table, catching the way Ron was eyeing the exchange curiously.
A minute later, he had his response.
'And I already told you that your name very well could be Harold. Have you ever seen your birth certificate? And I'm sorry if you don't remember what McGonagall said, but this will teach you to take notes in the future.'
Giving up, he shot her a contemptuous look before writing a new message underneath hers.
'Ron, have you done fourteen, yet? Hermione won't give me the answer, and I don't remember it.'
He elbowed the parchment just a bit until it rested in front of Ron. Ron read it and wrote an answer.
'I don't know it, either. I tried to look off her paper, but you know she blocks it with her arm. But seriously, have you ever seen your birth certificate?'
Harry groaned. "My name's not Harold!" he blurted out loud.
The sudden break in the silence of the room drew the stares of his classmates, and Harry felt himself blush slightly at the sudden attention. Professor McGonagall stood up behind her desk and peered at him over her glasses.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" she asked coolly.
Harry heard Ron snicker beside him, but he just shook his head and muttered a quick, "No, ma'am," before ducking his head and returning to his work.
He was well-aware of the fact that it took several seconds for everyone's gazes to leave him, but he forced himself not to look up. He could still hear Ron fighting down giggles, so he reached for the note and quickly scribbled, 'Shut up,' before sliding it roughly at his best friend.
He could still hear Ron laughing as he watched him write a response. It read:
'Sorry, mate, but you really need to learn to control these sudden outbursts. They could get you into trouble one of these days.'
Harry furiously scripted a reply.
'Yeah, and if you keep laughing, you're going to get yourself into trouble. And not from McGonagall, either. I'm about to deck you.'
This caused even more laughter, and Harry got the reply quickly.
'Yeah, right. I could kick your ass, and you know it'
He answered with, 'Just keep laughing and see.'
After Ron read the answer and snickered even more, Harry saw Hermione reach for the letter. She read all of it quickly and wrote her own addition to it.
'You both better be quiet and stop passing notes, or you're going to land yourselves in detention. And really, Harry, how do you know your name's not Harold?'
She pushed the note towards Ron who glanced at it and added a, 'Yeah, how do you know?' before sliding it on down to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley, I need to see all of you at my desk. And please bring whatever paper you three seem to be finding so entrancing, so I may have a look and be just as amused."
McGonagall's voice shot through the otherwise silent room sharply, causing all three heads to jerk up and survey the teacher immediately. Harry could hear Ron groan from his right and wanted to echo the sound. Silently, though, he stood up with his two best friends and walked to the front of the room, taking notice of the stares from their classmates the entire distance. When they reached the desk, they stood facing the teacher silently, none of them stupid enough to launch into a defense.
"The parchment, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said as she held her hand out expectantly.
Harry reluctantly handed over the note and waited while the professor read it. He chanced a glance at his friends and saw that Ron was looking very sullen and that Hermione looked as though she was about to cry.
Once McGonagall had finished reading the note, she looked up at the trio sternly. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, though, the bell sounded, and she was forced to address the class. "Please leave your work on the corner of my desk. Read chapters six and seven for homework." She turned back to the three students at her desk. "You three will stay after. Please return to your seat to get your assignments and turn them in with the others."
They all nodded and turned around to walk back to the table they shared at the back of the room. Ron glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the teacher was busy watching as all the other students turned in their work. "This should be wonderful," he said sarcastically.
Harry rolled his eyes. "This makes two detentions in one week for me. That's got to be a record or something."
"No," Ron said, picking up his things, "Fred and George once got two detentions in an hour."
Harry snickered a bit and glanced over at Hermione to see if she was humored as well.
She wasn't.
Together, they walked back up to the desk and placed their own papers into the stack. When the class filtered out completely, McGonagall started the lecture.
"Let's go through this lovely little note, shall we?" She held up the parchment and read out loud, " 'Mione, what's the answer to number fourteen? I can't remember what McGonagall said." She lowered the paper and looked directly at Harry.
"I do not tolerate cheating in my classroom, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "And I do not appreciate being referred to by my surname only, either. It is most disrespectful."
Harry looked down at his feet, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful." He would never refer to her by simply McGonagall to her face; he had more respect than that. But she was never supposed to see the note.
The teacher looked back down at the note. "And while I am pleased that you did not worsen the situation by giving him the answer, Miss Granger, I see that you, too, assume that it is alright to call a professor by their surname."
Hermione turned very red, and she attempted an apology. "I'm sorry, Professor."
The irony of the apology was almost laughable.
Almost.
"And Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall looked at the tall redhead in the center, "I see that you, too, attempted to cheat on this exercise. However, you did not even request permission from Miss Granger; you simply tried to look at her paper." She did not allow Ron a chance to apologize. "And then further down the list, I see all these threats of violence. Are you aware," she looked between Ron and Harry, "that threats like these, no matter how playfully-natured, can be used to incriminate you in the future?"
What? She couldn't possibly think that there would ever be a time when she would get to whip out this note and use it against them. It was a joke!
"And how good of you to judge that this little note would land you all in detention, Miss Granger," she finished sarcastically.
Hermione looked away and started chewing on her lower lip.
She shook her head disappointedly at them. "I do not find note-passing amusing. It is disruptive and disrespectful. I would expect this from twelve year olds, but I would like to think that Fifth Years had moved out of the note-passing stage. You will all serve detention tonight with Mr. Filch. I will tell him to expect you all promptly at 8:00, and it would be to your very best interest to not be tardy, either. I am very, very disappointed in all of you."
They all looked at her, silently nodding.
"And you two," she looked at Ron and Harry, "will receive zeroes for this assignment. I absolutely do not tolerate cheating under any circumstances." She looked at Hermione, "And it would be in your very best interest, Miss Granger, to keep this in mind if anyone ever asks you for your work in the future. If you allow someone to copy your work, you are just as much to blame as they are."
Harry wanted to scream. He couldn't believe that his mark was going to be affected by this! He hadn't even really needed help on number fourteen! He remembered the lecture; he was just trying to distract Ron and Hermione from each other.
This was bloody unfair!
He said absolutely nothing, though.
Professor McGonagall continued. "I don't know if the three of you fully realize the importance that you hold on this school at the moment or not, but it is paining me to no end to see you getting into seemingly more trouble than ever before. I believe this is the second time I've dealt with each of you on very serious issues this year, and I must stress the importance that you do not spend your time causing trouble. It is imperative that you be alert at all times. Very imperative," she almost looked sympathetically at them. "Please be aware of the fact that there are much more important things than getting into trouble at the moment." She eyed each one of them separately before finishing. "Especially for the three of you."
Harry wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about. He knew, of course, that she was telling them to be alert and not take the situation with Voldemort lightly, but he wasn't sure why she was making that big of a deal out of it. He glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw that they, too, were bewildered.
Finally, Professor McGonagall told them they were dismissed. As they turned to leave, though, she said, "And just so you know..."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned to look at her expectantly.
"Your name is just plain Harry, Mr. Potter."
Harry couldn't be sure, but he had an inkling that the look on McGonagall's face might have been her idea of a smile. He grinned at her and nodded before exiting the classroom with his friends.
"I told you," he muttered before they walked out into the corridor.
"That old hag!" Ron said as soon as they heard the door to the classroom shut behind them. "I can't believe we have to serve with Filch and get zeroes on that assignment! If my grade drops, my mum'll kill me!"
"I knew we were going to get in trouble for passing notes!" Hermione said accusingly. "I tried to warn you, but you just couldn't stop, could you?" She glared at the boys.
"You warned us in the last sentence, Hermione," Ron said with a roll of the eyes. "And anyway, it's not like your precious mark is going to be affected."
"No, but I still have to spend my night with Filch doing God knows what, don't I?" she said bitingly.
But Harry wasn't really paying attention to the two of them. "What do you think she was on about there at the end?" he asked absently.
Ron shrugged. "Probably just telling us to watch out for You-Know-Who."
"No, I think it was more than that," Harry said fleetingly. "She said it like there was something we needed to figure out but that she couldn't help us with."
Hermione nodded. "I sort of thought that, too," she admitted, the anger now gone from her voice. "But what do you think it is?"
"I'm not sure, but it probably has to do with Voldemort," Harry drummed his fingers down the corridor wall as they walked.
Ron groaned. "Don't say the name! And anyway, she could have meant anything. I think you're jumping the gun a bit."
Harry shrugged. Maybe he was. Maybe it hadn't meant anything at all.
Either way, though, a sick feeling was settling in his stomach at the thought of if.
**************************************************
A pillow being hurled at his head hurled the sleeping redhead from his slumber. With a loud groan, he grabbed at the pillow and slung it back over his shoulder at the original thrower. With no words, he also showed the offender how angry he was by raising a single finger into the air without even opening his eyes.
"Get up!" This time another voice joined the other one. "Man, you're gonna miss breakfast!"
Ron was about to tell both people who were talking to him, he was too tired at the moment to distinguish the voices, to promptly fuck off. A grumble in his stomach, though, stopped him.
Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He saw Dean and Seamus staring at him expectantly, Dean holding the pillow that had been hurled across the room. "What time is it?" he asked groggily.
"8:46. You better hurry up if you want breakfast," Seamus said with a quick glance at the clock.
At that moment, the door from the bathroom opened, and Harry entered the room, his hair very wet, obviously having just emerged from the shower. "You're up," he said with a glance at Ron.
"How bloody observant," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.
Harry, not commenting on the sarcasm, crossed the room to his bed and pulled a clean uniform out of the stack of freshly laundered clothes beside his bed. "I was wondering if you were sick or something," he said, separating the clothes and laying them out flat to try and smooth some of the wrinkles from them.
Ron yawned and shook his head. "I'm fine," he muttered sleepily as he made his way to the bathroom and took a quick shower.
Minutes later, when he returned to the dormitory, Harry was the only roommate in sight. The others had obviously chosen not to wait on him and went on to the Great Hall. Harry, now dressed in his school clothes, was packing his bag and looked up when Ron reentered the room. "What happened with Hermione last night?" Harry asked the question before Ron had even made it to his own pile of clothes.
Ron looked up at him strangely. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, Dean told me about the whole article thing... Is she okay?"
So, that's what he was referring to. "Oh! Yeah, she's fine." He said this with a quick shrug before dropping beside his bed and grabbing at some clothes of his own.
"Well, when you guys came back up last night, she looked like she'd been crying," Harry said, looking up from his bag, an unmistakable look of concern on his face.
Ron thought back on the previous night and couldn't help but feel uncomfortable even now as he remembered everything that had went on and everything that Hermione had told him. He didn't think it would be fair at all to Hermione to indulge Harry with all the secrets she'd revealed to him, especially since many of the secrets had been in reference to or about Harry. He settled on saying, "Yeah, she cried, but she's fine now."
Harry was silent for a moment, and Ron quickly busied himself with getting dressed instead of commenting further. For a minute, it looked as if Harry might drop the whole issue, but Ron knew he wasn't that lucky. "So, how did you calm her down?"
Ron buckled the belt of his trousers and sighed. "I just told her not to pay attention to Pansy Parkinson or any of those other bitches that talk about her, and I told her that Viktor Krum was an idiot." He hoped this would put an end to the subject.
Harry nodded silently, then screwed up his face a bit and said, "So, did anything else happen?" Actually, Harry wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hear the answer to the question. However, he did have money riding on this...
Ron just stared at him. He willed himself not to blush as he said, "What else would have happened?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know. Just other stuff." He was not about to say, 'So, Ron, did you manage to snog Hermione?' There was just no way that was about to happen.
Ron looked down quickly and busied himself with pulling his socks on in a motion much slower than necessary. "Uh, well..." he couldn't quite make himself tell Harry, yet.
Harry's stomach dropped. Something had happened! Oh, he was sure he was going to be sick...
"I asked her to the Halloween Ball."
There. Ron had said it. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his arms slowly, buttoning the buttons carefully one at a time. He definitely did not look up to catch Harry's reaction.
Harry's mouth dropped open. Ron Weasley had asked Hermione Granger to the Halloween Ball... There was something almost... sacrilegious about it. Okay, so maybe sacrilegious was a strong word choice, but still... It was definitely vomit material.
"You asked Hermione to the Halloween Ball?" Harry accented her name as though to make sure he had heard right.
Ron, still buttoning his shirt at a snail's pace nodded without looking up.
"Hermione Granger?" Harry just couldn't quite believe that it was true.
"No, Hermione Appleton." Ron rolled his eyes and finally looked up at his best friend, the white school shirt not yet completely buttoned.
"But why?" Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Yes, he'd suspected long ago that Ron definitely had feelings for Hermione different from his own, but being faced with that fact head on was still shocking.
Ron suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Why not?" He wasn't using an angry and offended tone; he was using one of uncertainty, as though he were waiting for Harry to give him a good enough reason to un-ask her to the dance.
"Because..." Harry trailed and frowned. "I don't know why not."
"Harry, did you notice that Hermione changed?" Ron was still looking like he would rather be serving detention with Snape than be having this conversation, but it was clear to both of them that this conversation was definitely one that needed to be had.
Of course, he noticed that she had changed. You would have to blind not to notice that Hermione had suddenly turned into what could possibly be the prettiest girl in the school. And he told Ron as much. "I do have eyes, you know. Granted they might not be very good, but they still work." He pushed the glasses on his face up unconsciously.
"She's a girl now, Harry," Ron said in what was an unmistakably helpless sort of voice.
Harry snorted. "She's always been a girl."
But Ron just shook his head. "No, I mean, she's a real girl now. Like a real one."
"Versus a fake one?" Harry raised his eyebrows, not sure if he was following closely enough.
Ron rolled his eyes and went back to buttoning his shirt. "Just forget about it."
Harry would have liked very much to forget about it. However, he knew Ron better than he knew himself, and he correctly predicted Ron's huffiness. He knew that if he didn't prod for further information, Ron would spend the entire day pretending as though Harry didn't even exist. "No," he said, sighing. "I just don't understand what you're talking about."
Ron sighed and reached for the red and gold tie hanging from the corner of his bedpost. "I don't understand, either, Harry. Really. Just forget it."
"You like her, don't you?"
Harry could have gasped in surprise himself at the sudden outright question he had posed. He quickly looked down at his bed and avoided Ron's eyes.
It was a good thing, too, because the look that Ron cast Harry's way was enough to petrify someone.
"Have you bloody lost your mind?!" Ron said in a voice much louder than he'd used previously.
Harry picked at the corner of his blanket. "Er... I just meant..." He was helpless; he had no excuse whatsoever.
It didn't matter, though, because Ron went into a tirade. "No, I don't like her! She's my best friend for God's sake! Just because I asked her to a stupid dance does not mean that I... like Hermione Granger!"
"Okay!" Harry said quickly.
It did no good.
"I only asked her because I didn't have a date, and she was free! And because I felt sorry for her, and I didn't want all those Slytherin girls to see her show up to the dance alone! I was being a good friend, Harry! It does not mean that I like her!"
"Okay!!!" Harry said much more loudly this time. Ron shut up abruptly and stared at the bespectacled boy across the room. "I get the picture, Ron. Jesus!"
Ron rolled his eyes and jerked himself off of the bed, grabbing his robe and slinging it on. "Think before you start throwing around crazy accusations next time."
Harry got up, and with a roll of his own eyes, he pulled his robe on, too. "Fine," he said haughtily. "You don't like Hermione. I get it. Let's just forget about it."
Ron picked up his bag and walked toward the door. "Fine," he said, making his way down the hall toward the stairs, Harry close behind him.
**********************************************************
Harry sat in Transfiguration later that morning watching Ron and Hermione out of the corner of his eye. They were so bloody obvious; it was almost sickening. He'd spent an hour watching as Ron's eyes would fall on Hermione's profile until she would turn his head, and he would quickly jerk his head straight and pretend as if he hadn't been looking at all. And, much to Harry's dismay, Hermione pulled the same little stunt.
Pulling a spare piece of parchment from his book, Harry took his quill and quickly scribbled a note. Anything to break up the annoying little scene happening to his right.
' 'Mione,' the note read, 'What's the answer to number fourteen? I can't remember what McGonagall said.'
He folded it carefully and slid it past Ron to Hermione, never taking his eyes off of McGonagall's desk to make sure she didn't look up and catch him passing notes.
He watched as Hermione opened the note, glanced his way, and quickly wrote a response before sliding it back to him.
'I'm not giving you the answer, Harold. Work it out for yourself.'
He rolled his eyes quickly and glanced over at her; she was now bent over her own book, working diligently on the assignment they'd been given.
'I already told you that Harold's not even my name. It doesn't work on me like it does on Ronald. And anyway, I can't work it out for myself! It was in the lecture, and I don't remember what she said! Please.'
He slid it back down the table, catching the way Ron was eyeing the exchange curiously.
A minute later, he had his response.
'And I already told you that your name very well could be Harold. Have you ever seen your birth certificate? And I'm sorry if you don't remember what McGonagall said, but this will teach you to take notes in the future.'
Giving up, he shot her a contemptuous look before writing a new message underneath hers.
'Ron, have you done fourteen, yet? Hermione won't give me the answer, and I don't remember it.'
He elbowed the parchment just a bit until it rested in front of Ron. Ron read it and wrote an answer.
'I don't know it, either. I tried to look off her paper, but you know she blocks it with her arm. But seriously, have you ever seen your birth certificate?'
Harry groaned. "My name's not Harold!" he blurted out loud.
The sudden break in the silence of the room drew the stares of his classmates, and Harry felt himself blush slightly at the sudden attention. Professor McGonagall stood up behind her desk and peered at him over her glasses.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" she asked coolly.
Harry heard Ron snicker beside him, but he just shook his head and muttered a quick, "No, ma'am," before ducking his head and returning to his work.
He was well-aware of the fact that it took several seconds for everyone's gazes to leave him, but he forced himself not to look up. He could still hear Ron fighting down giggles, so he reached for the note and quickly scribbled, 'Shut up,' before sliding it roughly at his best friend.
He could still hear Ron laughing as he watched him write a response. It read:
'Sorry, mate, but you really need to learn to control these sudden outbursts. They could get you into trouble one of these days.'
Harry furiously scripted a reply.
'Yeah, and if you keep laughing, you're going to get yourself into trouble. And not from McGonagall, either. I'm about to deck you.'
This caused even more laughter, and Harry got the reply quickly.
'Yeah, right. I could kick your ass, and you know it'
He answered with, 'Just keep laughing and see.'
After Ron read the answer and snickered even more, Harry saw Hermione reach for the letter. She read all of it quickly and wrote her own addition to it.
'You both better be quiet and stop passing notes, or you're going to land yourselves in detention. And really, Harry, how do you know your name's not Harold?'
She pushed the note towards Ron who glanced at it and added a, 'Yeah, how do you know?' before sliding it on down to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley, I need to see all of you at my desk. And please bring whatever paper you three seem to be finding so entrancing, so I may have a look and be just as amused."
McGonagall's voice shot through the otherwise silent room sharply, causing all three heads to jerk up and survey the teacher immediately. Harry could hear Ron groan from his right and wanted to echo the sound. Silently, though, he stood up with his two best friends and walked to the front of the room, taking notice of the stares from their classmates the entire distance. When they reached the desk, they stood facing the teacher silently, none of them stupid enough to launch into a defense.
"The parchment, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said as she held her hand out expectantly.
Harry reluctantly handed over the note and waited while the professor read it. He chanced a glance at his friends and saw that Ron was looking very sullen and that Hermione looked as though she was about to cry.
Once McGonagall had finished reading the note, she looked up at the trio sternly. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, though, the bell sounded, and she was forced to address the class. "Please leave your work on the corner of my desk. Read chapters six and seven for homework." She turned back to the three students at her desk. "You three will stay after. Please return to your seat to get your assignments and turn them in with the others."
They all nodded and turned around to walk back to the table they shared at the back of the room. Ron glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the teacher was busy watching as all the other students turned in their work. "This should be wonderful," he said sarcastically.
Harry rolled his eyes. "This makes two detentions in one week for me. That's got to be a record or something."
"No," Ron said, picking up his things, "Fred and George once got two detentions in an hour."
Harry snickered a bit and glanced over at Hermione to see if she was humored as well.
She wasn't.
Together, they walked back up to the desk and placed their own papers into the stack. When the class filtered out completely, McGonagall started the lecture.
"Let's go through this lovely little note, shall we?" She held up the parchment and read out loud, " 'Mione, what's the answer to number fourteen? I can't remember what McGonagall said." She lowered the paper and looked directly at Harry.
"I do not tolerate cheating in my classroom, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "And I do not appreciate being referred to by my surname only, either. It is most disrespectful."
Harry looked down at his feet, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful." He would never refer to her by simply McGonagall to her face; he had more respect than that. But she was never supposed to see the note.
The teacher looked back down at the note. "And while I am pleased that you did not worsen the situation by giving him the answer, Miss Granger, I see that you, too, assume that it is alright to call a professor by their surname."
Hermione turned very red, and she attempted an apology. "I'm sorry, Professor."
The irony of the apology was almost laughable.
Almost.
"And Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall looked at the tall redhead in the center, "I see that you, too, attempted to cheat on this exercise. However, you did not even request permission from Miss Granger; you simply tried to look at her paper." She did not allow Ron a chance to apologize. "And then further down the list, I see all these threats of violence. Are you aware," she looked between Ron and Harry, "that threats like these, no matter how playfully-natured, can be used to incriminate you in the future?"
What? She couldn't possibly think that there would ever be a time when she would get to whip out this note and use it against them. It was a joke!
"And how good of you to judge that this little note would land you all in detention, Miss Granger," she finished sarcastically.
Hermione looked away and started chewing on her lower lip.
She shook her head disappointedly at them. "I do not find note-passing amusing. It is disruptive and disrespectful. I would expect this from twelve year olds, but I would like to think that Fifth Years had moved out of the note-passing stage. You will all serve detention tonight with Mr. Filch. I will tell him to expect you all promptly at 8:00, and it would be to your very best interest to not be tardy, either. I am very, very disappointed in all of you."
They all looked at her, silently nodding.
"And you two," she looked at Ron and Harry, "will receive zeroes for this assignment. I absolutely do not tolerate cheating under any circumstances." She looked at Hermione, "And it would be in your very best interest, Miss Granger, to keep this in mind if anyone ever asks you for your work in the future. If you allow someone to copy your work, you are just as much to blame as they are."
Harry wanted to scream. He couldn't believe that his mark was going to be affected by this! He hadn't even really needed help on number fourteen! He remembered the lecture; he was just trying to distract Ron and Hermione from each other.
This was bloody unfair!
He said absolutely nothing, though.
Professor McGonagall continued. "I don't know if the three of you fully realize the importance that you hold on this school at the moment or not, but it is paining me to no end to see you getting into seemingly more trouble than ever before. I believe this is the second time I've dealt with each of you on very serious issues this year, and I must stress the importance that you do not spend your time causing trouble. It is imperative that you be alert at all times. Very imperative," she almost looked sympathetically at them. "Please be aware of the fact that there are much more important things than getting into trouble at the moment." She eyed each one of them separately before finishing. "Especially for the three of you."
Harry wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about. He knew, of course, that she was telling them to be alert and not take the situation with Voldemort lightly, but he wasn't sure why she was making that big of a deal out of it. He glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw that they, too, were bewildered.
Finally, Professor McGonagall told them they were dismissed. As they turned to leave, though, she said, "And just so you know..."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned to look at her expectantly.
"Your name is just plain Harry, Mr. Potter."
Harry couldn't be sure, but he had an inkling that the look on McGonagall's face might have been her idea of a smile. He grinned at her and nodded before exiting the classroom with his friends.
"I told you," he muttered before they walked out into the corridor.
"That old hag!" Ron said as soon as they heard the door to the classroom shut behind them. "I can't believe we have to serve with Filch and get zeroes on that assignment! If my grade drops, my mum'll kill me!"
"I knew we were going to get in trouble for passing notes!" Hermione said accusingly. "I tried to warn you, but you just couldn't stop, could you?" She glared at the boys.
"You warned us in the last sentence, Hermione," Ron said with a roll of the eyes. "And anyway, it's not like your precious mark is going to be affected."
"No, but I still have to spend my night with Filch doing God knows what, don't I?" she said bitingly.
But Harry wasn't really paying attention to the two of them. "What do you think she was on about there at the end?" he asked absently.
Ron shrugged. "Probably just telling us to watch out for You-Know-Who."
"No, I think it was more than that," Harry said fleetingly. "She said it like there was something we needed to figure out but that she couldn't help us with."
Hermione nodded. "I sort of thought that, too," she admitted, the anger now gone from her voice. "But what do you think it is?"
"I'm not sure, but it probably has to do with Voldemort," Harry drummed his fingers down the corridor wall as they walked.
Ron groaned. "Don't say the name! And anyway, she could have meant anything. I think you're jumping the gun a bit."
Harry shrugged. Maybe he was. Maybe it hadn't meant anything at all.
Either way, though, a sick feeling was settling in his stomach at the thought of if.
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