Hmm, perhaps we need to work on what "one shot" means. Oh well, I loved all your comments anyway! In fact, because of them, here's another part to "Magician's Hat". I hadn't originally intended to write this, but, heck, people asked, and I need a little more time to mull before doing more "Aevum" (which everyone should read, by the way ;). I had to reread the story to get a "feel" for it again, and it made me realize that there are a ton of mistakes I should tackle, particularly in the opening paragraph. Aa…another time, perhaps. This is another short installment, but that's how I write 'em…short and sweet.
A quick fact to ponder for everyone: I've read that JK Rowling stated that Harry's father, James Potter, played a Chaser position on the Griffindor Quidditch team (). However, in OotP, we see him playing with a snitch. *shrugs* Just thinking.
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Ron couldn't think. He saw his friend's body rushing to the ground, eyes closed in bliss. Tears ran down Ron's cheek, as he thrust his arm into his robes, scrambling for his wand. No, Harry! his mind cried, I can't let you do this. I won't let you give up.
Waving his wand through the air, Ron screamed out the first spell he could think of. "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he rasped, watching Harry's descending body hopefully. His mind panicked as nothing happened, and he screamed it again, "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!!"
Harry's body jerked to a stop, just a few feet from the ground. Harry let out a strangled gasp, at the sudden force of his stop. At that moment, Ron was flooded with relief. He'd done it. He stopped his best friend from making a huge mistake. He hoped that maybe Harry had realized this as well, but as he looked down at Harry's face, his heart sank, and a cold surge radiated throughout his body.
Harry was crying. His eyes were shut so hard it seemed almost painful, as tears streaked down his cheeks. His head was turned sideways, as if he didn't want Ron to see him. Not knowing what else to do, Ron used his wand to slowly direct Harry back to the window of the tower. As soon as he was safely inside the window, Ron grabbed Harry's arms in a tight grip, not giving him the chance to touch his wand or make another run at the window.
Harry resisted for a moment, but let his struggle die seeing that Ron wasn't going to let up. Instead, he settled for politely reasoning with his friend.
"Let me go," Harry growled.
"Not a chance in hell," Ron replied.
Harry winced, as Ron's grip tightened. He felt as though the pit of his stomach had dropped, as he very suddenly grew aware that Ron was going to interrogate him. Dreading facing Ron, or anyone else, after what he'd just tried to do, Harry began thrashing out of the grip, violently. Panicking, he kicked Ron hard in the shin, and jerked back as hard as he could. Ron was taken aback for a moment, but continued to hold on as Harry assaulted him.
"You can't do this!" Harry snarled, trying to pry Ron's fingers off.
Suddenly angry, Ron slammed Harry against the stone wall of the common room. "Will you stop acting like a mad man, and just talk to me for a moment!?" he screamed, directly staring into Harry's face.
Harry's eyes widened in shock, and he stood frozen at Ron's outburst. He seemed to have forgotten completely about what he was just doing.
Feeling a sharp headache coming on, Ron glanced around the common room, before looking back at Harry. "Now, if I let you go, will you promise to act nice and sane, and sit down to talk?" he asked, his eyes searching Harry.
Harry, still in shock, nodded slowly, and slumped back against the wall, as Ron released him. He rubbed his arms, which were numb from Ron's surprisingly strong grip, and watched as he around, to sit in an armchair by the fireplace. Following suit, Harry also sat down in the chair opposite Ron, though he wished he hadn't, as a direct confrontation was the last thing he wanted.
Ron rubbed his temple, looking much older than his fifteen years. Something must've snapped in him when he saw Harry fall, as he was acting nothing like his usual self.
Harry fidgeted at the silence, staring down at his hands. He didn't feel at all like talking, but the whole situation felt wrong. He felt very depressed, as he knew this was never anything he thought he'd go through with Ron. True, he had been through a lot over these last few months, but he had been very selfish. He'd never wanted to do anything to hurt his friends like this. Never.
Harry jumped at a sudden cough from the other chair. Looking up, he was surprised to see Ron staring at him, as his inwardly contemplating something. Frowning slightly, Ron spoke, "Well?"
Sighing, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly had a very hard time thinking of what to say in a situation like this. It was not exactly something he'd been planning for. Rethinking his strategy, Harry opened his mouth again. "I belong in St. Mungo's," was all he could say.
To his surprise, Ron began to chuckle. "I don't think you've hit that point, yet, Harry," he said, with a grim sort of smirk on his face, "Though you might want to talk to someone."
"Like who? Dumbledore?" Harry snorted, "I'll have a time trying. He hasn't so much as looked at me since I got here. Thanks, but I think I know when I'm not wanted around."
Ron's smirk faded. "I know you've been mad at him all semester, but, still," Ron began, "Dumbledore'll listen. Maybe if he knows how much trouble you've been having, he can do something about it." He grinned wickedly, "Heck, maybe he'll even fire Snape for you."
Harry felt too weak to laugh. Though the idea of getting Snape fired was tempting, he still didn't want to talk to Dumbledore. Besides that, he doubted Dumbledore fire Snape, even if he jumped on the teacher's table during a feast, and screamed that he was a Death Eater. Harry grunted, bitterly.
Ron seemed to have expected this, and threw his next suggestion right out at Harry. "You know, Sirius is always around. He even said he'd want to hear if you having any problems at school."
"Please," Harry said, suddenly serious, "Don't tell Sirius about this. He's the last person I want to know."
Ron raised an eyebrow, and replied quietly, "Me and Hermione are always here." He stared at Harry's face, a sincere look on his own, "That's what we're here for…you to fall on, when you need help."
Harry said nothing to this. He simply sat, staring at the empty fireplace, waiting for something. Anything.
Ron stood up, with intention to escort Harry to bed. He was suddenly caught by a pleading expression on Harry's face, one that seemed to beg him not to go. Ron sat down again, watching as Harry focused once again on the empty fireplace. They sat that way for the rest of the night, dozing now and then, but never leaving each other's company. Together, they would face the morning, and whatever came with it.