CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Nothing About Life is Fair
Ron came strolling into their compartment on the train, his hand laced through Hermione's, saying, "hey, did we miss the lunch trolley?"
"Yeah, it already came," Harry replied, closing the book he had been reading on Seeker Techniques – From the Middle Ages Until Now, a Christmas gift from Hermione.
Ron cursed and flung himself down on the seat across from Harry, who was amazed when Hermione made no attempt to scold him for his language. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. He had seen their flushed faces, and Ron's mischievous grin when they had walked in. "What's gotten into you two? You've been like this since Christmas."
Harry was almost certain he didn't want to know the reason for the sudden flare of passion in his friend's relationship, but he couldn't help but feel there was more going on then they were telling him.
"We're just in the Christmas spirit is all," said Ron, throwing an arm around Hermione.
"Ron, Christmas has been over for a week," Harry pointed out.
"It's not over for me until we arrive back at Hogwarts."
"So where have you two been the entire train ride? Hermione, you said you had head girl business to do and Ron went with you, but you two never came back."
It was not often that he teased them about their relationship, but after the way they had been acting lately – which was less than discreet – it was impossible not to. He found they were acting a lot like when they had first gotten together.
"I was helping Ron finish that essay on giants for Hagrid's class," Hermione replied smoothly.
"I see… is that the same essay Ron was hurrying to finish last night?"
Both their faces turned a deeper shade of red.
"I let Hermione read it over to make sure it was all right," Ron added in quickly.
"Right," Harry said, struggling to keep a straight face.
"How's Ginny?" Ron asked, deciding Harry needed a taste of his own medicine. It was well worth the elbow he received in the ribs from Hermione to see the smug look on his friend's face quickly disappear. Hermione had lectured him about not teasing Harry about Ginny, but he didn't see what the big deal was. They seemed cozy enough during the last few days of the holidays. Turnabout was fair play after all.
No more embarrassing remarks were thrown because the train gave a great lurch before coming to a dead stop, signaling they had reached their destination.
They followed the rest of the students filing off the train and into the waiting carriages outside. The three of them shared a carriage with Neville, and a couple of younger Hufflepuffs they didn't know by name.
On the ride to Hogwarts, Harry found he was only slightly relieved to be back. After the horrendous start to the holidays he had been thinking the two weeks would drag out, but Sirius never brought up the counseling thing again, and the thrill from knowing he would be living on his own after graduation made it hard for him to find reasons to 'sulk around' as Sirius had put it. Things with Ginny were finally starting to sort themselves out, so he would be starting the winter term with considerably higher spirits then when he had left. He doubted that it would last long though. He was sure like himself, Ron would be dreading the N.E.W.T preparation courses they were starting tomorrow. All that would do was add additional homework on top of what they would receive from their other classes.
The short carriage ride was over, and they soon joined their classmates already trudging up the castle stairs. Instead of heading to their respected house towers, Professor McGonagall and several other teachers were directing the students into the Great Hall.
"What's going on?" Ron asked.
Both Harry and Hermione shook their heads, but they weren't the only ones who appeared confused. No one seemed to have any idea why they were being ushered into the Great Hall.
The chatter coming from the house tables was at an all time high. It didn't take long for wild theories to start going around as to why they were there. Rumours ranging from the Ministry of Magic was closing Hogwarts to the house elves were on strike, were being shouted back and forth amongst the students.
Harry searched the staff table for any clues, but all the solemn faces confirmed was what he already suspected – something was wrong. Professor Sprout's eyes were red, and Harry was startled to see that even Professor Trelawney looked a bit misty eyed. Whatever the news was it was bad, he could tell that much. He looked for Dumbledore but he wasn't present yet.
It wasn't fair. Christmas vacation had just ended. They were supposed to come back to Hogwarts and be well into their studies again before Voldemort made any movement. Harry wanted at least one more month of normalcy before things took a turn for the worst. Was that so much to ask for?
Professor McGonagall patiently waited until every student was seated and there was complete silence before speaking.
"I apologize for the change in routine, but the staff and myself felt it was best we inform you as soon as possible," she began in a grave voice. The entire hall looked on as their normally stern professor had to compose herself before continuing. "There is no such thing as being able to be prepared for everything in life. Many things happen unexpectedly, and sometimes, no matter how hard we prepare, we realize we're not really prepared at all in the end. That was the first thing Professor Dumbledore told me when I started teaching here. Yesterday, that statement once again proved itself to be correct. Albus Dumbledore passed away last night. His death was strictly the case of natural causes. I'm sure it hasn't escaped many of you how much older Professor Dumbledore seemed this year. Eventually, age catches up with us all, but Albus was able to live many long and happy years. He never forgot a student, just as I'm sure none of you will forget him. Tomorrow's classes are cancelled, and all professors are available to speak with students privately if they wish. When funeral arrangements are finalized, I will make a formal announcement. I'll ask the Prefects now to please lead the students up to their common rooms." When McGonagall finished, she had to remove her glasses to wipe at her eyes.
Much somber now, the students silently followed their Prefects out of the Great Hall. There was no talking, the only thing that could be heard was sniffling and crying.
Ron had his arm around a red-eyed Hermione, holding her close while they walked with the other Gryffindors back to their tower. Harry hadn't said a word yet, but Ron knew he and Dumbledore always had some sort of a special relationship.
"Harry, you okay, mate?" He spoke tentatively.
He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, which Harry shrugged off violently, before turning down the opposite direction of where the Gryffindors were heading. Hermione gave him a worried look that said maybe they should go after him, but Ron wordlessly shook his head. He knew Harry well enough to know he needed to be alone right now. The only way they could help him was to give him space.
If there was one thing Hogwarts had taught Harry, it was how to avoid being seen – and with his invisibility cloak disappearing was made all the more easier. Ron and Hermione were probably worried sick. He avoided the common room on most occasions and had skipped more meals in the past three days then during his entire tenure at the school. He'd also skipped almost as many classes that he was sure it was just a matter of time before McGonagall cornered him and reprimanded him for his recent absentness. Quidditch had been postponed for the week, and at least that way he no longer had to wrestle with his conflicting conscience with thoughts of blowing off practice and the team.
That night he had opted to leave his invisibility cloak behind before leaving Gryffindor Tower. He found it didn't really matter anymore if he got caught – and he was praying that Snape would be the one to do it. He had many choice words in mind for the Potions Master if he tried to punish him for wandering around the school past curfew. Unfortunately, it wasn't Snape who found him. Professor McGonagall's stern face was glaring at him from the top of the stairway he was heading for. She didn't look at all pleased to see him.
"Potter, come with me," she said to him. Her voice had lost some of its edge since Dumbledore's death, but her tone told him that didn't mean he was in any less trouble.
He could have offered up any one of a thousand explanations like his friends and he had during the few times a professor had managed to catch them in the past due to their lack of stealth – but he didn't. If McGonagall planned on punishing him, he would take it, whatever it was. He didn't have the energy to lie or to concot some wild story as to why he was wandering the halls at night – not like his head of house would have bought it in the first place.
Harry had only been to McGonagall's office several times – and each one of those times he had been in severe trouble – but he knew enough to know they weren't heading in the direction anywhere near it. The path she was leading him on seemed familiar enough, but besides some empty classrooms he didn't think anything else was there. Maybe she was going to make him do homework all night to catch up on the assignments he had missed that week.
He kept up with his teacher's brisk pace, but came stumbling to a halt when he found himself standing in front of the statue of an oversized phoenix.
McGonagall spoke the password (sugar quills) and the statue disappeared replaced by a set of concrete stairs spiraling upwards. Without pausing to look at him, McGonagall began climbing the stairs. Harry followed up after her, desperately wanting to know what was going on and why she was taking him to Dumbledore's office.
Once inside, they walked into a room that looked every bit like Dumbledore was still alive. All the unique gadgets were lying on tables in the corners and all the paintings of past Head Masters still hung on every inch of the wall.
"As much as I should, I have no intentions of punishing you, Potter," McGonagall began. "It didn't escape me that you had a rather unique relationship with Albus, and that his death has been very hard on you. I'm sorry that the only comfort I can offer you is by telling you what he was working on before he died." When she was sure she had Harry's full attention, she continued. "He was working on a way to defeat You-Know-Who. He kept his work very secret, and he only told me very little about it. He wasn't searching for a way to defeat him himself, he was looking for a way to help you fight him. As much as Albus wanted to take on the Dark Lord himself, he knew you had to be the one to fight him. Before his death, he was spending a great deal of time up here with his books, searching for the answer. Unfortunately, he never kept any records and never told me if he was close to finding his answers. I believe – and I'm sure Albus would agree with me – that you should continue the search. If there is even just the remote chance that You-Know-Who can be brought down, I'm willing to let you use Dumbledore's office for as long as necessary to find what he was searching for. I'm almost certain, seeing as how much time Albus spent in here, that the answers are here buried somewhere. It is too large a search for one person alone, so I'm sure you will want to enlist the help of those you can trust. If there is anything else I can do to help, you need only ask, Potter."
He heard his Professor's retreating footsteps and knew she meant to leave him alone. Where moments earlier he had done nothing but feel sorry for himself, he suddenly found himself looking in a new direction. That direction was about ten feet high and filled with very large books.
"You do realize that we could spend the rest of our lives in here and still not get through every book. There must be hundreds in here!"
Harry shared Ron's misgivings. Even if they spent every free moment they had with their nose in a book, it could probably still take years before they found what Dumbledore had been searching for. The problem was they didn't have years. If they were lucky they had a few months at most, but even then there were no guarantees.
"Well, we're not just going to give up and do nothing, are we?" Hermione said in her most challenging voice – which also happened to be her most annoying. But her attitude was exactly the sort of drive Harry was looking for.
Since pulling them aside in the common room earlier that night and telling them everything McGonagall had told him, they had done nothing but talk about the possible ways to defeat Voldemort that they would find in Dumbledore's books. Hermione, the realist of the three, had pointed out that if it were that easy, Dumbledore would have found it long ago. But since Dumbledore had searched alone, two extra persons should make some sort of a difference. At least that's what Harry was hoping.
"Where should we start?" Harry asked. Pulling books off the shelf at random didn't seem too appealing to him.
Hermione pondered this before saying, "Harry, start looking through the books on Medieval Dark Wizards, and Ron look for anything on Defense Against the Dark Arts dating back as far as you can find. I'll start going through the books that go in to detail about some of the more potent magic."
Ron picked up a massive looking book off one of the shelves. He had to use both hands to lug it towards the rectangular table McGonagall had conjured up for them to use. "It's a good thing you picked her to be in charge. We'll have this whole place read in a week the way she goes through books."
"I didn't pick her, she just assumed the role," Harry said from across the room.
"You need someone who can set a decent pace," she said, from where she was sifting through a section of books on the other side of the Harry.
Harry and Ron both let out a snort of laughter, that Hermione pretended not to hear. Her idea of a decent pace was going through a book or two a day – reading every single word on every page.
Harry realized it was the first time he had laughed, let alone cracked a smile in days. Suddenly he wished he hadn't been so quick to shut his friends out since returning from Christmas break.
"Dumbledore's funeral is going to be held Saturday morning," Hermione said quietly to him. "You missed Professor McGonagall's announcement at dinner."
Harry nodded his head enough to acknowledge that he had heard her before immersing himself in a book.
"You are going, aren't you?"
He continued to read as though he hadn't heard her.
"Harry, you really should go," she urged.
His head snapped up. "Why? So I can be around a bunch of people bawling their eyes out that isn't going to make me feel one ounce better?"
"You don't know that," Ron said. "It might do you a world of good to be around people who are grieving just as much as you are,"
He hated when they would team up against him like this. It didn't happen very often, but when it did it annoyed the hell out of him. "I'm not grieving and I'm not going. And you both should respect my decision."
He waited for them to press the matter further, but after exchanging a quick look with each other that Harry missed, they turned their attention back to their research. He was thankful for that because he had just started talking to them again and he needed their help more than anything right now. It wouldn't do for them to get in some huge row with so much at stake – even more so then before.
It was well after midnight when the trio called it a night and returned to the common room. Harry was able to sneak off up to bed without any more talk about Dumbledore's funeral. The rest of his dorm mates were still up, either holed up in the library or down in the common room. He figured he should probably try and catch up on a bit of reading before going to sleep, but Hermione had made him leaf through so many books that night he couldn't see straight.
When he heard a knock at his door, he gritted his teeth fearing it would be Hermione trying to convince him of the benefits of attending Dumbledore's funeral. He considered ignoring her, but the knocking persisted and if he didn't answer he had a feeling that wouldn't stop her from just walking in.
He already had a few carefully phrased words in mind to get her to leave him alone, but it wasn't Hermione on the other side of his door. The person standing there he had no words for.
"I hope I didn't wake you," Ginny said timidly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I was just getting into bed." He folded his arms over his chest, hoping she would take the hint that he wasn't inviting any further communication.
"I wanted to see how you were doing," she said earnestly.
"That might carry more weight if you weren't the hundredth person to ask me that this week," he went to shut the door, but she moved into the doorway to stop him.
"You never answered me."
"Ginny, I don't owe you anything," he snapped. At the moment he didn't care that she had done nothing to warrant this kind of treatment. He just needed someone to feel the brunt of his grief for a while.
"And I don't want anything from you," she said, standing her ground.
"Of course you do. Somebody always wants something from me. It's always been like that, and I wish it would stop and that everyone would leave me the hell alone."
"You don't want that."
"It already feels like I am."
"Dumbledore – "
"Don't talk about him like you knew him," Harry cut in angrily. "And everyone around here has been sobbing their eyes out like they did too, and they think going to his funeral is going to make everything okay again, but it won't, and eventually they'll see that."
"You're not going, are you?"
He shrugged, indifferent, as if she had just asked him a question about the weather.
"The one thing I never understood about you was how you can just cut yourself off from any feelings with a snap of your fingers. Harry, would it kill you to admit that Dumbledore's death left a hole in you, and to show everyone you're human like the rest of us?"
"I never invited you up here to comfort me – in fact, I didn't invite you up here at all," he said, his voice rising steadily. "But I am inviting you to stay out of my life. You don't have the right to come up here and tell me what I should be feeling. You don't know me, and let's face it Ginny, you never really did. Ron and Hermione are the only two people I've ever been able to count on."
He had some more harsh insults ready to throw her way, but Ginny chose that moment to bolt from his room, denying him the opportunity.
Okay, so I know many of you are probably ready to throw large heavy objects at me because it looked like Harry and Ginny were going to work things out. All I have to say is that things have to get worse before they can get better – but they will eventually get better, I promise!
Sparkle Tangerine: Wow… I don't know what to say except thanks for that story-like review! That's probably the longest review I'll ever get in my life. I loved reading all your different views on the story. Thanks again!