The Seventh Year
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Chapter One, Part Three
To Hogwarts
On the surface, the train ride to Hogwarts was as noisy and bustling as ever. But somewhere deep inside of Ron, there was a pervading silence. He suspected it was his heart that was so quiet, and he suspected it was sorrow and fear that were having this curious, quieting effect on him. Sorrow for a muggle man he had never met, and fear for... well, he hated to think of it so dramatically, but fear for life as he knew it. The return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had thus far affected him only indirectly. There had been those muggles at the World Cup, and some muggle-borns had left the school last year, their parents more interested in keeping their children safe than having them learn magic, regardless of the benefits, but so far Ron had not really been touched. Being friends with Harry seemed to carry a special boon - no matter how much trouble they ended up in, they lived to tell the story.
This time seemed different somehow. The only muggle-born wizard at that hayride, to Ron's knowledge, was Hermione. He steered away from that train of thought every time it swam across his consciousness - the Dark Lord going after his, er, friend, was unthinkable. Surely the muggle farmer, Jack, had done nothing to be on the wrong side of a dark wizard.
More likely, he reasoned, you-know-who was after Harry again. But that scared him, too. He didn't like to think that Harry was so easy to find.
He sighed.
"Have a candy, Ron," Hermione whispered enouragingly. She seemed to have heard his wistful sigh, for she was smiling empathetically. She dropped a Bertie Bott's into his hand.
"Hey, thanks a lot, Hermione." He popped the bean into his mouth, chewed once, and promptly spat it out again. "Sardine!" He grimaced.
Hermione was choking with laughter. She raised her eyesbrows towards Ginny. "Told you it was a sardine." She grinned wickedly.
"You did that on purpose? Really, Hermione, I'm hurt." Yet somehow, he wasn't.
Her prank jolted him back into reality. He was sitting next to Harry in the private car given to the Head Boy and Head Girl - Harry and Hermione, naturally. Ginny and Hermione were sitting opposite them. There was a royal spread of sweets on the seat, between himself and Harry. Hermione had insisted that they were too old to be wolfing down so many sweets, and Ginny politely declined - something about wanting to watch her weight - but Ron wasn't really listening to either of them. He was trying to keep things as normal as possible, and that meant a full-fledged raid on the trolley.
Incidentally, quite a few of Fred and George's trick sweets had already managed to find their way into circulation. Harry had purchased a very convincing looking chocolate wand which went aggravatingly limp when you tried to pick it up. Hermione had deigned to purchase a packet of their improvement on sugar quills, realistic writing utensils in fruity flavors, which actually wrote. She said the sugar would help her maintain energy levels while trying to finish her homework.
"...maybe a teacher, but I really want to do something different, you know. I've seriously thought about accepting a job at the ministry, but I don't know. Even that seems sort of limiting. There aren't many witches in the ministry, and the ones that are there have dull-sounding jobs, like Floo Network Regulator... I want a bit more of a challenge after school, I think. I'm definitely going to go straight into University."
Ginny nodded politely at Hermione's lecture. Harry smiled knowingly at her. "What about you Harry," Ginny asked gently. 'What are you going to do when you graduate?"
"I'm going to be an Auror, and track down Voldemort." Harry said firmly.
Ron and Ginny both winced at Harry's casual use of the forbidden name, but they had both given up trying to cure him of it.
"I am hoping that Voldemort will be vanquished before any of you graduate," came a kindly, familiar voice from the door.
"Professor! I didn't know you were on the train!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, smiling with pleasure. "It's good to see you."
Ron and Ginny nodded mutely in agreement.
The headmaster nodded slowly and smiled. "And I am happy to see the four of you, well and safe. I am glad to find you all together. I wished to check up on you before I speak with the other students about the... unfortunate incident at the muggle hayride.
Ron's face darkened. "I'm afraid they already know, sir...."
Draco Malfoy had been the first to greet the four friends when they boarded the train.
"You will learn, Mr. Weasley, when you have to deal with students yourself, that it is always good to tell them the truth, even if they may believe that they already know it. The announcement may have trickled from one student to another until the story gets back to you, and you find it is not a muggle-born farmer, but Father Christmas himself who Voldemort has defeated. No, tell them all at once, and set the story straight. That's the best way." He looked Ron in the eye. "Remember that, young Weasley."
Ron didn't understand at all, but he nodded. "Thank you, sir."
Dumbledore nodded, then frowned. "Miss Granger, why did I come in here?"
"To check on us, before you give the news to the other students, sir."
"Ah, no! It was to give you this." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, white envelope. He handed it to Harry. "One ring for each of you. Just in case."
Girls are not like boys. In particular, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were nothing alike. At the moment, Ron was not aware of Hermione's existence at all. He was lost in the circular hum of 'Beaver, Tabitha - Gryffindor!' 'Cattail, Jared - Ravenclaw!'. He and Harry were quietly booing the Slytherins and throwing encouraging glances at the Gryffindor first-years.
By contrast, Hermione was studying Ron's face intently without anyone noticing - including herself. Her favorite game was trying to pick out constellations with his freckles. None of her family had freckles, so she found them mildy fascinating. She was well aware of Ron Weasley and had been well aware of him since first year. In fourth year, he and Harry had fallen out, and she had spent several months trying to reconcile them. She spent most of those months trying to reassure Harry that Ron still cared about him. Ron wanted little to do with her. Those had been lonely months.
If she had to pinpoint when exactly she had fallen in love with him, it probably would have been somewhere in those few months.
Just then, Ron turned his head, and Hermione hurriedly looked down. She studied her hands. She turned them over and glanced at the silver band around her index finger. The ring of protection that Dumbledore had given her did not fit on any other finger. There was a complicated engraving circling the smooth band. She could not read it yet, but intended to look it up in the library at the nearest opportunity. The graceful script reminded Herminoe of Tolkien's elvish languages. Those were fictional - weren't they? - but it was someplace to start. She sighed and turned her hand over again.
Ron met her eyes for a second, then looked down at the ring on his own hand. His ring was golden, and the inscription seemed to be some form of hieroglpyhics. It reminded him of the towering pyramids Bill worked in. Hermione wanted to translate it for him, and had taken down a rough sketch of it in her notebook.
Hermione herself had certainly not changed, he reflected. But something had, however subtly. For one thing, their seating arrangements were different from last year. For the past six years, Harry had sat in the middle of himself and Hermione. This year, Ginny had beat them all to the table, and Harry sat down right next to her. Ron had been at a complete loss. If he sat next to Harry, where would Hermione sit? Would she be angry at him? A creature of habit, he sat down anyway. Hermione had sat down right next to him, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"I have an announcement to make," Professor Dumble announced gravely from the staff table. The bustling room quieted.
"A tragedy has occurred. An innocent muggle man has been murdered. Several of our students were enjoying a recreational activity with a band of muggle children. They were being chaperoned by a muggle farmer, who was taken down by the killing curse-"
There was a low audible gasp. Apparently, not all of the students were aware of what had happened.
"Calm down, please. That is not all. After his death, the Dark Mark was found-"
Dumbledore's voice was drowned out by the roar of students - talking, whispering, even a few scattered screams from some of the more impressionable females. Professor McGonnagal stood to her feet, trying to settle the Gryffindors.
"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the chaos. Again, the room fell still.
"There is no need to panic. You are safe here. You simply need to be aware of the situation." Dumbledore took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Ron noticed in that moment how old the headmaster really was - how had he never seen it before? "If you have any questions, you can ask the heads of your houses..." He looked from one table to the other, as though counting them all. "You will be safe here," he repeated finally.
Suddenly Ron knew what was really different about this evening. There was a vacant seat at the staff table.
