Chapter 2
The insanity continues.
Blood pounded through Ron's head as visions slowly cracked and drifted like ice floes through the haze of his mind, the dreamy fog that embraced him slowly pulling away as he felt himself drawn back into the waking world. Vague memories of sparkly pink wings, maniacal laughter, and blinding white light swam through his head as he slowly opened his eyes, staring at the stone ceiling that wavered into his line of vision.
Ack. Headache.
Clamping a hand to his sore head and groaning softly, he heaved himself with considerable effort into sitting position and looked around. He blinked as he found himself staring at a wide expanse of painted cloth… looking up, he saw the face of the Fat Lady peering down at him, lips curved upward in an odd looking smile. In fact, everything about the Fat Lady seemed to look odd…
Slowly, he backed away from the painting, eyes widening. The Fat Lady was adorned in flowing, black robes, and random mouse bones twined around her neck in place of her usual pearls. A mirror that hadn't been there before hung behind her, and in her left hand she clutched a ripe, brilliantly red apple that was so carefully painted and detailed that it seemed nearly to glow lustrously in the light. And besides these changes, there was something… off… about her face…
Her twisted smile grew as she leered down at him, and the flabby skin that hung around her face, usually comfortably benevolent, now fell into creasing folds that made her look almost evil. "Why, hello, there," she said softly, her narrowed eyes pinning him to the floor as she slowly extended the apple. "Would you like a bite?"
Ron gulped. "Um… no. Uh, I mean… thanks, but… um… I don't think I can eat paint."
"What's this?"
Both Ron and the Fat Lady jerked up as the sound of hooves filled their ears, and Sir Cadogan could be seen, galloping his gallant way over to the Fat Lady's painting. Or… pretending to gallop. He was, in fact, clapping coconut shells together. (A/N: Monty Python! Monty Python!!)
"I shall eat your apple, fair maiden! Let not this cur insult you so! Such a noble gift must be received with chivalry!" With that, he hopped into the Fat Lady's painting, gave a flourishing bow (in which he nearly toppled over), graciously accepted the apple, took a bite, and promptly fell with a dull 'THONK' onto the floor, unconscious.
Ron gaped, horrified, as the Fat Lady threw her head back and began laughing maniacally. Lightning crashed and boomed behind her.
"Um… right then," Ron laughed nervously, backing up further. This must be one of those Pables, or whatever they were called, that Hermione was talking about… had he been unconscious so long that Snape had been able to extend his clutches this far?
At the thought of Hermione, his stomach lurched in his chest, eyes widening in horror. Where were Harry and Hermione???
A surge of panic flooded through his system, and he dug his fingers through his flaming hair, his head jerking back and forth as his eyes furiously scanned the hall. What if Snape had already gotten them?!! Visions of Evil Hermiones brandishing poisoned apples danced through his head as he rushed frantically through the hall. Where were they??
Suddenly, the floor lurched upwards to meet his face and he found himself sprawled over the cold, stone ground, nose throbbing painfully from where it had hit the floor. "Owwww…" he groaned, clamping his hand to his bruised appendage, looking around to see what had tripped him.
Hermione.
He breathed a sigh of relief that was so heartfelt it was nearly a squeak (although Ron wouldn't have admitted it. Squeaking was un-manly.) and hurriedly crawled over to her side. Her face was paler than usual, and a little more drawn than he would have liked, but besides that, she seemed fine. Ron sighed again, and smiled with relief, reaching down to brush a lock of curling brown hair from her face. Her face puckered slightly in her sleep, that familiar wrinkle in her nose popping up as she murmured under her breath. She looked so peaceful… almost… beautiful, in a way…
He jerked in surprise at his thoughts and immediately shook himself. What was he thinking?? This was no place to be contemplating wrinkles in his best friend's nose, no matter how cute it was… no! No. He was not thinking this. He had to be Practical Ron, and right now the practical thing to do would probably be to wake her up.
Still rather unhinged by his thoughts, he shook her rather harder than he had intended, and her head lolled on her neck as she jolted back and forth. "'Mione, can you hear me? Wake up, it's ok, I'm not mentally deranged and am without wings…" he quickly checked his back at this point to reassure himself of the truth of that statement, "…hopefully, you are too…" He added the last part rather nervously, backing away slightly, but continued to poke anxiously at her. After a few more such shakings, Hermione began to stir, hazy brown eyes blinking blearily open to stare dazedly at the ceiling.
"Hermione! Finally, you're up." Breathing a sigh of relief, some of the tangled knots of anxiety that twisted in his stomach loosened, and he carefully helped her ease into sitting position. Shaking her head, she blinked dazedly at him, her gaze still slightly unfocused.
"Ron?" she ventured shakily.
"The last time I checked, that was my name," he said easily. Behind him, the Fat Lady burst into another spasm of maniacal laughter, and more lightning exploded furiously behind her. Hermione blinked at her. "Oh, my."
"You can say that again."
"Poor Fat Lady…"
"I don't know… she seems to be enjoying herself."
"True," Hermione laughed, "and at least it seems that Snape chose to spare us…" Suddenly, she frowned, looking around. "Speaking of 'us,' where's Harry? Is he with you?" A hint of anxiety began to creep into her eyes as she painfully wobbled to her feet, peering worriedly down the hall as Ron supported her.
Ron jolted. How had he forgotten about Harry?? A guilty flush rose in his cheeks and he looked quickly away from Hermione. What was wrong with him today?? "No, I haven't seen him," he replied, unable to keep his agitation from creeping into his voice, "but I wouldn't be surprised if he's somewhere nearby."
Hermione's frown deepened. "I don't see him…" she said slowly.
Ron shrugged. "Well, I didn't see you until I fell over you."
Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned, although preoccupation still weighted her words like stones. "That's because you're oblivious, Ron. And take a look for yourself… he's not here."
Ron blinked as he looked down the hall. Empty. A worried frown creased his forehead, and that nagging sense of anxiety slowly creeping back once more, a clawing, itching sensation that something wasn't quite right.
"You're right, he's not… where could he be?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry's head throbbed painfully, each dull thud of his heart wracking his head with a fresh wave of pain. Moaning, he clamped a hand to his forehead, fingers tracing the familiar ridges of his scar… but it wasn't his scar that was hurting this time. He frowned. Why did he have a headache? Why did he feel as if he had just slept on top of a pile of boulders? And, most importantly, what was that tinny voice squeaking in his ear?
Gradually, the insistent squeaking noises tumbled into an unrelenting stream of comprehensible sounds, and he realized that someone was talking to him in a high-pitched voice that stabbed, needle-like, through his eardrums, making his head ache even more. Groaning, he eased his heavy eyelids open, pushing away the fog of sleep that still surrounded him. Blinking dazedly, he stared up into an enormous pair of green eyes.
Harry goggled, immediately snapped clearly back into reality. "Dobby??" he gasped incredulously.
"Ah, Potterella is awake!! Dobby was very worried, sir, Potterella is washing the dishes when suddenly he falls over! Dobby thought Potterella was sick!"
The house elf hovered over him, darting and flickering about, making Harry's head swim as he tried to follow his constant state of motion. Who was this Potterella…?
"Who is Potterella, Dobby? What… what's going on?" He shook his head, wishing fervently that the room would stop spinning, and looked away from Dobby's hopping figure, staring bemusedly at his surroundings. High, stone roof, long rows of tables, countless heaps of kitchen supplies piled in corners, a sea of jittery house elves, all staring at him… how had he gotten into the kitchen?!?
Dobby's eyes widened in horror at Harry's question. He clamped a spindly hand over his mouth, whirling around to face the other house elves, squealing in a horror-struck voice, "Potterella forgets who he is! Potterella doesn't remember!!"
Chaos immediately exploded among the occupants of the kitchen. Cries of "Oh, Potterella!" and "Those stepsisters, they is too harsh! This is what happens when they is too harsh on Potterella!" filled the kitchen, echoing dizzily off the walls. Dobby immediately sprang toward his side and began poking his forehead, firing out a barrage of questions ("What color is the sky?" "How many fingers is Dobby having?") concern and anxiety jumbling in the confused mass of those enormous eyes.
And then it hit him.
Harry realized what had happened.
He was Cinderella.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Maybe he's in the common room?" Hermione suggested hopefully, trotting back towards the Fat Lady. Ron trailed behind her rather apprehensively, eyeing the portrait uneasily. When she saw Hermione, she immediately stopped laughing, and the lightning vanished in an instant. In fact, Ron was almost sure he could hear birds twittering in the background as she beamed a sugary sweet smile down at the bushy-haired girl. "Would you like an ap-"
"Contra Posto," Hermione interrupted briskly, sidestepping the painting as it swung smoothly open, and ignoring the Fat Lady's indignant cries. Ron hurriedly crawled into the portrait hole behind her, so unnerved by the portrait that he didn't notice the eerie silence that wafted through to meet them. Quickly pulling the painting shut with a click, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned around, promptly colliding straight into Hermione. She stood before him, frozen, back rigid as she stared straight ahead of her. Ron frowned, trying to peer around her shoulder.
"Hermione? What's the ma- oh. OH." His jaw dropped open in shock at the sight that met his eyes.
The entire Gryffindor Tower was muffled in an eerie, thick silence that seemed to weigh down the air they breathed. The only sound that disturbed the silence whispered like a faint rustling of leaves, a soft ripple of disjointed sound that brushed against their ears- the collective breathing of a houseful of sleeping Gryffindors.
They were draped limply all over the common room, heads lolling and arms dangling. They didn't even look like they had settled down for a random communal sleepover- some were draped over chessboards, chess pieces scattered around them, some had collapsed over their books, and Fred lay face down, his upper body on the floor but his feet propped up on a low table near him, looking as if he had been standing there when he had fallen asleep.
Ron nervously touched Hermione's arm, snapping her out of her horrified trance. "What's going on?" he whispered, his words pushing thickly through the dense silence.
"Sleeping Beauty," she whispered back, as if that explained everything. Ron stared at her.
"What?!"
"I'll explain later," she whispered distractedly, waving a hand at him, her eyes still fixed on the sleeping students. Cautiously, she stepped into the room, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. She padded carefully through the tower, sidestepping the draped bodies of her classmates, evidently looking for something. Ron watched her for several moments, still baffled, before following suit and fully entering the room. He crouched next to Fred and gently eased him into a more comfortable position, heaving, with some effort, both of his lifeless legs to the ground. Fred responded by snoring like a foghorn. Both Hermione and Ron jumped, completely unglued by the sudden sound that abruptly shattered the deathly silence, and looked at each other.
Suddenly, a smile flashed over Hermione's face and she gave a soft laugh as she watched the comically snoring Fred. Ron's shoulders untensed, and he smiled as well. Some of the strain that shrouded the room was dispelled, and they continued making their way around the room.
"Aha!"
Ron looked up from George's limp body to turn to Hermione. "What is it?" he asked, no longer bothering to whisper. She triumphantly brandished a fluttering fragment of parchment and hopped over several recumbent students to his side, handing it to him. He squinted at it in the dim light, trying to make out the loopy, flourishing script that scrawled over its surface. It read:
Hello there! My stunningly rugged good looks have enraptured two of your little friends, and I now have them in my keeping. You shall never retrieve them! They're in the Astronomy Tower, by the way. So, if you ever want to see Lavender and… Seamus, is it? Again, you might want to try to defeat me. I shall look forward to the encounter! It shall end in your bloody demise!
Much love! ;)
Ron raised his eyebrows. "Oh, ok then."
Hermione, who was peering over his shoulder, suddenly frowned. "Is it just me," she said slowly, "or does that handwriting look uncannily familiar?"
Ron scratched his head, wrinkling his brow in thought. "I know what you mean…"
They stared at it for several seconds, trying to figure out who it reminded them of, a vague memory tickling at the very borders of their minds... Then Hermione sighed, snatching the paper from Ron's hand and carefully folding it into her pocket. "Well, it won't benefit us at all to stand around gawking at the paper all night. We know what's going on now, and we know that no one will come to harm of this particular spell…"
"No one will come to harm?? Does 'bloody demise' sound harmless to you??"
"Ron," she explained patiently, "This fairytale has a happy ending. Everyone lives. And it seems… it's fallen to us to rescue them. So we might as well rest before we start off to the Astronomy Tower- it's rather late. We need to conserve our strength if we're going to face… whoever this is."
Ron reluctantly nodded in agreement. It made sense. But still… there was something tugging uneasily at the edge of his mind… they were forgetting something.
Harry.
How had they forgotten Harry?!?!!?
Oh, right. They had been only slightly sidetracked by a tower-full of knocked out, drooling Gryffindors.
Judging by the expression crossing Hermione's face, she was thinking exactly the same thing.
"He's not here," she said, voice tight, eyes widening anxiously as she hurriedly scanned the room.
"Do you… do you think he's in one of these Pables, too?"
"Fables, Ron. Muggle stories about magic. And yes, it appears so…"
"What should we do?? We have to find him!"
Hermione frowned, running a hand through her hair, conflicting emotions showing clearly in her eyes. She looked inexplicably embarrassed about something. "Ron…" She paused, sighing, before starting up again. "We have to find Seamus and Lavender first. Right now, they're our responsibility, and I think whatever Harry is going through right now, he'll have to go through himself."
Ron stared at her as if she had sprouted two extra heads. Hermione, embarrassed by his scrutiny, quickly plowed on before he could interject. "I remembered something while I was reading the note," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush, "Snape…" She paused here to clamp her hands over her cheeks, which were becoming increasingly flushed. Flustered, and staring pointedly at her shoes, she burst out, "The spell, besides giving him a penchant for fairytales, has… well, he's something of a… he's… how do I put this? He… he pretty much sees what everyone is in denial about, and tries to get them out of denial by making them face... whatever it is that they're in denial about."
Ron stared at her. "So you're telling me," he said slowly, "that we're in denial about wanting all of Gryffindor to be conked out so we can have the common room to ourselves?? Hah! That is bloody brilliant!! Now we'll finally have some peace!"
"NO!" Hermione hissed impatiently, now flushed a brilliant shade of crimson as she glared at him from beneath messy strands of hair that had come loose from her constantly raking her hand through it. "We're… I'm… I'll explain it to you tomorrow." With that, she abruptly turned on her heel and hightailed it up to the girl's dormitory, disappearing in a frantic sweep of black cloth and wild hair.
Ron stared after her, dumbfounded by her sudden mood swing. "Girls," he muttered balefully, shaking his head. "I will never understand them.
He sighed, sinking into a nearby chair, barely missing Alicia Spinnet's limp foot as he did so. He didn't know what Hermione had been blathering on about with the whole denial thing, but it just didn't seem RIGHT, leaving his best friend out there to fend for himself. And Merlin knows what kind of torture he was being put through now…
~*~*~
"AUUGGGHHHH!!!!!"
Trevor latched himself onto Harry's face, croaking over and over again, "My name is Gus Gus! My name is Gus Gus!"
"Get OFF me, Trevor, I can't see!!"
Harry stumbled madly through the kitchen, tripped over a pile of ladles, and upset a precariously positioned cauldron, which promptly proceeded to smash into the back of his head.
~*~*~
Ron sighed, wondering what Harry was up to. A faint tinge of jealousy lanced sourly through his stomach as he imagined Harry gallantly slaying dragons and saving damsels in distress... He had probably been landed with something that would only make him even MORE popular when this whole fiasco ended, while Ron was stuck rescuing Lavender and Seamus from some loon…
~*~*~
CLANG, SMASH!!
"No, Potterella! This is Biting Pan!! Potterella not touch Biting Pan!!"
CHOMP.
"AUGGHHHH!!!!!"
~*~*~
Ron shook his head, viciously berating himself for allowing himself to be jealous. Being jealous of The Boy Who Lived in a Constant State of Glory wouldn't get him anywhere, as he had found out last year. Those months sulking by himself had given him plenty of time to mull over how much Harry's friendship really did mean to him. And it had also made him loath to leave Harry in a position that could be potentially… well… he wasn't sure if dangerous was the right word, but who knew what Mentally Unhinged Fairy Snape would think of next??
But, still, from what Ron had managed to glean from Hermione's frantic blathering, there was some sort of method to Snape's extreme state of madness. Harry would have to go through with this himself, then. Sighing, he bowed his head, resigning himself to this conclusion, and his tired eyes wandering towards his brother George, who lay nearby.
"So," he said conversationally to the snoring George, "does this mean you're in denial about being asleep?"
~*~*~*~*~*~
Fairytale Count:
*Snow White
*Cinderella
*Sleeping Beauty
Phew. Finally, this chapter is done with! It took forever to get it done- the whole Ron soliloquy was especially frustrating. But it's done, yay! ^_^ I hope this isn't intensely boring or horrific. But if it is, tell me, please!! I would be most gratified. *bows*