Chapter 16: Making Up

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"The course of true love never did run smooth." 

-William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, I:1

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**I'm SOOO sorry I haven't updated in such a long time! Things keep coming up. I'm thinking updates will probably only
be once a week for a while now. Be warned, this hasn't been proofread very well, so there may be errors! I just wanted
to update as soon as possible. As usual, read and REVIEW!!**


The attacks had been brutal, and even more Hogwarts students had lost family members and friends. However, classes had
started again, and as a whole the school would have been normal if it weren't for the eerie silence that filled the hallways
in between classes or the half-empty classrooms. Professor McGonagall looked out at her class sadly one afternoon, taking note
of the eight students still in attendance.

"This is dreadful," she muttered to herself, dismissing the class. 

"Are any of them coming back?" Ron asked quietly. McGonagall sighed deeply.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Weasley. Many of them have left permanently; for some, it's just too hard to be so far away from home during 
a tragedy. Others should be back in a few weeks, after... well, funerals and such." Ron nodded and Harry felt a lump in his
throat. The trio was silent as they walked back to the Gryffindor tower. Poor Rachel, Harry thought. He still hadn't
seen her since they had been allowed to attend classes once more; he had heard from Hannah Abbot that she had left to go to
the funeral for her aunt and cousin.I really need to write her a letter. Leaving Ron and Hermione, he entered his 
bedroom and pulled out a quill and some parchment.

Dear Rachel,

I am really sorry I haven't talked to you lately, but 
you know how we were stuck in our dormitories. Hope
you're holding up all right after your loss. I miss
you, come back to school soon. I know I'm not great 
with emotional things like this, but if you ever need
to talk to someone, I'm always here to listen. Stay
strong, we'll all get through this together. 

I love you,

Harry

He gulped as he reread the letter. It all sounded fine until that last line. I love you. He thought for a moment; he had
never told her that before, and it probably wasn't romantic for the first time to be in a letter. But I do love her, and 
she needs to hear it right now, he told himself firmly, folding the letter and tying it to Hedwig's outstretched leg.
Gently stroking Hedwig's head, he gave her a sad smile.

"Make sure she gets this, okay?" he said. Hedwig gave a soft hoot and flew off. Harry left his room and walked back out to
the common room.

"This is the bad thing about having classes again, it means more homework," Ron grumbled, flipping through his Transfiguration
book. Harry shook his head.

"I think I'd rather have homework at this point. Doing nothing for a week drove me insane."

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Rachel sat listlessly in the stifling funeral home as the muggle priest droned on and on in Spanish. The two closed caskets 
in front of her were all she could see, the symbols of life that had been taken so violently. She didn't want to deal with
this; she wished she could just cut this part of her life out completely. She was emotionally drained; all around her, people
were sobbing, but she could no longer cry. Her eyes once again focused on the motionless bodies in her view. The priest's words 
were becoming unintelligible to her, the sound of his voice blending with the odd drumming noise in her ears. Her heart beat
faster, and the room blurred as she swayed in her chair. It was hot, too hot. She needed to get out. Slipping out a side door,
she hurried outside and leaned against the cool brick wall. The air outside was crisp and cool, and she breathed it in greedily.
A snowy white owl flew down in front of her. She recognized it immediately as Harry's owl and placed her hand to her forehead.

Untying the letter, she skimmed it quickly. She felt the anger and hatred boiling up inside of her. You miss me, huh? Then
why haven't you talked to me in over a week? When you KNEW I was upset? she thought, kicking a stone on the ground. 

"He loves me," she said bitterly, rolling her eyes. I'm not so sure about that one.

"Rachel," a voice said quietly behind her. She spun around to find herself staring into her own light green eyes. A man with
bright blonde hair stood only feet away from her.

"Dad," she whispered, taking a stumbling step towards him. He smiled gently and embraced her. 

"I haven't seen you in years, but I would recognize you anywhere. My only daughter," he said fondly, lifting her chin to look
into the eyes that were identical to his. "You don't really want to be here any longer, do you?" he asked. She shook her head,
a single tear winding its way down her face. "Come with me. We'll have a nice dinner." The two walked to a deserted area and
apparated immediately.

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Tension was still obvious between Ron and Hermione. She refused to cut off all communication with Krum, and Ron refused to
talk to her. Harry had tried to talk to Hermione, but he knew that Ron was really at fault. That was his next challenge.

"Come on, mate, you've got to get over this!" he told Ron as they walked together to the greenhouses. Hermione had made up
some excuse to miss breakfast, probably just to avoid seeing Ron, or so Harry assumed. Ron folded his arms stubbornly.

"She embarrassed me in front of the entire common room," he said firmly. Harry sighed in anger.

"Ron, you embarrassed yourself! It's time for you to get over it! She's right and you're wrong," he cried. Ron looked up, a
defeated expression on his face.

"She's right and you're wrong," he echoed. "That's the way it always is, isn't it?" Harry let out a chuckle and Ron began to
laugh as well, and before they knew it they were both laughing until tears ran down their faces. They entered the greenhouse
together and saw Hermione already inside, giving them a reproving glance for coming to class at the last minute. They wound
through the crowd of students to come to her side. Ron stood behind her and whispered in her ear.

"Mione, can we talk after class?" She nodded politely, then pulled out her notebook and began taking notes on the lecture.

***

When Herbology was over, Harry stayed back to wait for Neville, who was checking up on one of his plants that he had decided
to leave in the greenhouse. 

"So how come it's not in the dormitory?" Harry asked, staring at the sickly-looking cactus that Neville had brought to school
two years ago. It had nearly tripled in size.

"Well, you've seen it squirt that stinksap before... It hasn't quite reached maturity yet, it's going through sort of an
adolescent stage, if you will, and it seems to squirt that stuff at random now..." He reached out toward the plant and it
stirred. Harry flinched, but nothing happened. "I think it would be better to leave it here for a few months until it's 
completely mature. I think Dean and Seamus might get mad if our room was full of that. It smells horrible." He wrinkled his
nose. "Well, I'm done. Ready for lunch?" 

"I'm starved," Harry said, following him outside. He saw Ron and Hermione quite far ahead of them and to his relief they were
both not only talking, but also smiling. He rolled his eyes thinking about their love/hate relationship, but felt a pang of
emptiness in his own heart. He was surprised to realize that he really missed Rachel. She hadn't yet responded to the letter
he had sent her yesterday. I'll send another tonight, he told himself firmly. 

***

That night, however, wasn't quite as Harry had expected it to be. He spent hours trying to research information for his 
Potions essay due the next morning, and then realized (at 10 PM) that he had a second essay due as well. When he finally
collapsed into his bed, it was past midnight. His dark, dreamless sleep was interrupted by a face that he had come to know
as familiar.

"Hola, senorita," he said, grinning at Madame Garcia as she smiled back at him.

"Speaking Spanish now, are we Harry?" she asked jokingly. 

"How come you're in my dreams, if I know you're a real ghost now?" he asked. Dulcinea shrugged.

"You are tired, I didn't want to disrupt your rest," she said simply. 

"This is weird," Harry commented, looking around the room he was in. It was completely white, as far as he could see in any
direction.

"Mr. Potter, I haven't come to talk about dreams, I've come to talk about action," she said sternly. 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"You know you are the chosen one. You know what Voldemort plans to do, and that it cannot happen. You must prevent it."

"I know, I know!" he cried. "Stop telling me that. You're just making it worse."

"I didn't come to tell you that tonight. I came to discuss your plan."

"Er.. what plan?" he asked, confused.

"Exactly," she cut in smoothly. "Do you really think your next chance encounter with the Dark Lord will be the one in which
you overthrow him? If you wait for him to attack you, you are not only risking your own life, but the entire world. That 
conflict would be one on his terms; we want a fight on your terms. You must develop a plan and lure him to you, instead of
waiting for him to lure you in. You must be prepared, Harry." He stared at her as if she were insane.

"Are you crazy?! You want me to stage a fight with Voldemort? That'll be my only chance, and when I die, I'll be letting
everyone down!"

"You mustn't think like that," Dulcinea said gently but eagerly. "You need to have this battle. The prophecy must be fulfilled.
Better to have it when you are prepared than when Voldemort is expecting it." Harry sighed.

"Listen, Garcia, you're a nutter," he said, pushing her out of his mind and continuing his dreamless sleep.

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