Three Times Six, Chapter Three
By: myr_halcyon
Summary: Well, now we are in Harry's mind. The atmosphere's slightly more kind -- it's nine months before, they're just prepping for war, and he finds himself in a bind.
Disclaimer: This story is purely for fun, I really won't hurt anyone. No money I'll make, no liberties take except giving Hermione a son. (I'm only guilty of writing stupid limericks that completely contradict the mood of the story. The Rangers, by the by, are purely a Tolkien reference.)
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Harry was comfortable. He had just finished the last chocolate frog from the graduation party the seventh-year Gryffindors had thrown and was settling back on the familiar, worn seat of the Hogwarts Express. Ron Weasley's feet were propped on the seat next to Harry, and the rest of Ron appeared to be very contentedly asleep. In another situation, Harry would have Transfigured Ron's empty Bertie Bott's box into a giant slug and dropped it on his face, but it had been too exciting a day to do anything but rest.
The seventh years had gotten up at five in the morning and jumped, fully clothed, into the freezing waters of the lake one last time. Then there had been the party in the Astronomy tower, the graduation gift exchange, running frantically around the castle trying to see everyone at once, the impromptu seventh-year Quidditch match, and finally the end-of-the year feast. Hufflepuff had finally won the house cup, thanks to Draco and Harry being caught stringing Snape's underwear from Professor Trelawney's teapots a week ago, but both houses had deemed the loss to be a fair price to pay for the expression on Snape's face...
With all the rabble-rousing and festivities, the students had quite forgotten about the troubles and worries of the outside world. The Aurors guarding every entrance to the grounds and the Rangers patrolling the borders had become such a part of life that the students hardly noticed them anymore. Voldemort hadn't made an attack on a wizarding community since the Ministry had set up their headquarters in Hogwarts, and even in the face of open war, life was good.
Harry sighed. As soon as the train pulled into Platform 9 3/4, he would have to face reality again. He'd been offered a few jobs by various branches of the Ministry, none of which appealed to him. Ron was facing the same situation, but at his mother's urging had accepted an accounting position at Gringotts. ("You'll be looking at more money every day than the rest of your family will make in a lifetime, Weasel." "Shut up, Malfoy.") Malfoy, while independently wealthy, had decided to take a part-time desk job at the Ministry so he could get out of the house once in a while. Hermione had refused all job offers and had been accepted to a secondary school in Italy to study Absolutely Everything.
Harry had felt like such a hypocrite, talking about life going on as it had in the Muggle world. He knew that sooner or later Voldemort would resurface and that he would have to pay the consequences. Why hadn't Voldemort shown up this year? Every year for the past six years he or his minions had come to take a shot at Harry, and though they'd failed to varying degrees, Harry knew they wouldn't give up until he or Voldemort was dead. Every day that passed, his scar hurt a little bit more; every day that passed, Voldemort's life was eaten away a little bit more. Harry's very existence was Voldemort's bane; Voldemort made Harry's life that much more uncomfortable. They could not coexist, and Harry knew that.
Ron's foot twitched.
Harry was immediately on his guard. After six years of Divination, Ron had developed quite an Inner Eye, and any abnormalities were ample cause for --
The train suddenly screeched to a halt, throwing Harry against the wall of the compartment. Ron's feet flew up and hit the wall over his head, prompting a loud cry of pain and indignation from their owner. The lights flickered twice.
"Oww," moaned Ron, righting himself. "That's going to spoil my evening."
"Shh," hissed Harry. "Listen." The wind outside had begun to howl, and the sky had gotten considerably more overcast since the last time Harry had looked out the window. The lights flickered again, and an eerie creaking noise seemed to permeate the train, moving slowly backward from the front of the train.
Ron made a move to open the door of the compartment and stick his head out into the hall. "Don't," whispered Harry. "Not yet."
Suddenly a head popped into the window, giving Harry the fright of his life. It was just Hermione, though, mouthing the words "open up, you stupid prick." Ron leaned on the handle and before Harry could say anything, Hermione had joined the two in the compartment.
"What are you so paranoid about, Harry?" laughed Ron, pushing candy wrappers off the seat and pulling Hermione onto his lap. "School's out! Have fun, you stupid prick." Hermione was laughing too, albeit more quietly and uncomfortably. She stopped suddenly and stood up.
"Ron, Harry's right."
"About what?" asked Ron, obviously disappointed at having lost his lap warmer.
"About taking this seriously. I came back here to make sure you were okay -- they're not even telling the prefects anything, and I'm a little worried." Hermione shifted from one foot to the other.
Harry knew exactly what she meant. "Ron, doesn't it seem strange to you that Voldemort's been trying to kill me for the past six years, getting progressively more powerful, and all of a sudden he stops? That's just a little suspicious, don't you think?"
Ron bit his lip, trying to think of something optimistic to say, but the look in Harry's eyes killed any thought of a joke in his mind. Harry was scared, Ron thought, and not just scared, nearly petrified.
The lights flickered. The creak came again, more loudly.
Harry sat down slowly on the compartment seat, feeling much less comfortable than he had five minutes ago. He felt the seat next to him depress slightly as Hermione sat next to him. "Minnie?" he whispered, sliding his hand onto her leg.
"I'm right here," she whispered back.
Ron knelt on the floor in front of them and rested his chin on Harry's knee. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what you're going through, I just don't. The suspense, the not knowing, the --" Ron stopped, choking. He stood up and backed away from Harry and Hermione, tripped over the pile of candy wrappers and fell to the floor, shaking. "Get out of here," he whispered to them, eyes wide with terror. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he backed away, groping wildly for the wall. "It was me," he screamed, "don't take her, not her, my baby, my baby..." Ron shrieked and lay still.
"Ron, hey, Ron!" Harry shook him, but Ron didn't move. The lights flickered again and went out, plunging the train into a murky fog. Harry stood up quickly, running his hand through his hair. His scar burned, and he was scared.
"What's going on, Harry?" whispered Hermione.
"I think we should get out of here," said Harry. "I know Ron. He doesn't say things without meaning them, whether he knows it or not."
"What did he mean, don't take her?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know," said Harry slowly, "but I think someone is going to die on this train tonight."
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A/N: More to come, and don't worry, I won't leave you hanging this time! I know what's going to happen.
Summary: Well, now we are in Harry's mind. The atmosphere's slightly more kind -- it's nine months before, they're just prepping for war, and he finds himself in a bind.
Disclaimer: This story is purely for fun, I really won't hurt anyone. No money I'll make, no liberties take except giving Hermione a son. (I'm only guilty of writing stupid limericks that completely contradict the mood of the story. The Rangers, by the by, are purely a Tolkien reference.)
=====
Harry was comfortable. He had just finished the last chocolate frog from the graduation party the seventh-year Gryffindors had thrown and was settling back on the familiar, worn seat of the Hogwarts Express. Ron Weasley's feet were propped on the seat next to Harry, and the rest of Ron appeared to be very contentedly asleep. In another situation, Harry would have Transfigured Ron's empty Bertie Bott's box into a giant slug and dropped it on his face, but it had been too exciting a day to do anything but rest.
The seventh years had gotten up at five in the morning and jumped, fully clothed, into the freezing waters of the lake one last time. Then there had been the party in the Astronomy tower, the graduation gift exchange, running frantically around the castle trying to see everyone at once, the impromptu seventh-year Quidditch match, and finally the end-of-the year feast. Hufflepuff had finally won the house cup, thanks to Draco and Harry being caught stringing Snape's underwear from Professor Trelawney's teapots a week ago, but both houses had deemed the loss to be a fair price to pay for the expression on Snape's face...
With all the rabble-rousing and festivities, the students had quite forgotten about the troubles and worries of the outside world. The Aurors guarding every entrance to the grounds and the Rangers patrolling the borders had become such a part of life that the students hardly noticed them anymore. Voldemort hadn't made an attack on a wizarding community since the Ministry had set up their headquarters in Hogwarts, and even in the face of open war, life was good.
Harry sighed. As soon as the train pulled into Platform 9 3/4, he would have to face reality again. He'd been offered a few jobs by various branches of the Ministry, none of which appealed to him. Ron was facing the same situation, but at his mother's urging had accepted an accounting position at Gringotts. ("You'll be looking at more money every day than the rest of your family will make in a lifetime, Weasel." "Shut up, Malfoy.") Malfoy, while independently wealthy, had decided to take a part-time desk job at the Ministry so he could get out of the house once in a while. Hermione had refused all job offers and had been accepted to a secondary school in Italy to study Absolutely Everything.
Harry had felt like such a hypocrite, talking about life going on as it had in the Muggle world. He knew that sooner or later Voldemort would resurface and that he would have to pay the consequences. Why hadn't Voldemort shown up this year? Every year for the past six years he or his minions had come to take a shot at Harry, and though they'd failed to varying degrees, Harry knew they wouldn't give up until he or Voldemort was dead. Every day that passed, his scar hurt a little bit more; every day that passed, Voldemort's life was eaten away a little bit more. Harry's very existence was Voldemort's bane; Voldemort made Harry's life that much more uncomfortable. They could not coexist, and Harry knew that.
Ron's foot twitched.
Harry was immediately on his guard. After six years of Divination, Ron had developed quite an Inner Eye, and any abnormalities were ample cause for --
The train suddenly screeched to a halt, throwing Harry against the wall of the compartment. Ron's feet flew up and hit the wall over his head, prompting a loud cry of pain and indignation from their owner. The lights flickered twice.
"Oww," moaned Ron, righting himself. "That's going to spoil my evening."
"Shh," hissed Harry. "Listen." The wind outside had begun to howl, and the sky had gotten considerably more overcast since the last time Harry had looked out the window. The lights flickered again, and an eerie creaking noise seemed to permeate the train, moving slowly backward from the front of the train.
Ron made a move to open the door of the compartment and stick his head out into the hall. "Don't," whispered Harry. "Not yet."
Suddenly a head popped into the window, giving Harry the fright of his life. It was just Hermione, though, mouthing the words "open up, you stupid prick." Ron leaned on the handle and before Harry could say anything, Hermione had joined the two in the compartment.
"What are you so paranoid about, Harry?" laughed Ron, pushing candy wrappers off the seat and pulling Hermione onto his lap. "School's out! Have fun, you stupid prick." Hermione was laughing too, albeit more quietly and uncomfortably. She stopped suddenly and stood up.
"Ron, Harry's right."
"About what?" asked Ron, obviously disappointed at having lost his lap warmer.
"About taking this seriously. I came back here to make sure you were okay -- they're not even telling the prefects anything, and I'm a little worried." Hermione shifted from one foot to the other.
Harry knew exactly what she meant. "Ron, doesn't it seem strange to you that Voldemort's been trying to kill me for the past six years, getting progressively more powerful, and all of a sudden he stops? That's just a little suspicious, don't you think?"
Ron bit his lip, trying to think of something optimistic to say, but the look in Harry's eyes killed any thought of a joke in his mind. Harry was scared, Ron thought, and not just scared, nearly petrified.
The lights flickered. The creak came again, more loudly.
Harry sat down slowly on the compartment seat, feeling much less comfortable than he had five minutes ago. He felt the seat next to him depress slightly as Hermione sat next to him. "Minnie?" he whispered, sliding his hand onto her leg.
"I'm right here," she whispered back.
Ron knelt on the floor in front of them and rested his chin on Harry's knee. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what you're going through, I just don't. The suspense, the not knowing, the --" Ron stopped, choking. He stood up and backed away from Harry and Hermione, tripped over the pile of candy wrappers and fell to the floor, shaking. "Get out of here," he whispered to them, eyes wide with terror. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he backed away, groping wildly for the wall. "It was me," he screamed, "don't take her, not her, my baby, my baby..." Ron shrieked and lay still.
"Ron, hey, Ron!" Harry shook him, but Ron didn't move. The lights flickered again and went out, plunging the train into a murky fog. Harry stood up quickly, running his hand through his hair. His scar burned, and he was scared.
"What's going on, Harry?" whispered Hermione.
"I think we should get out of here," said Harry. "I know Ron. He doesn't say things without meaning them, whether he knows it or not."
"What did he mean, don't take her?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know," said Harry slowly, "but I think someone is going to die on this train tonight."
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A/N: More to come, and don't worry, I won't leave you hanging this time! I know what's going to happen.