Chapter 3: The New Prediction
When Harry awoke the following morning, he felt well rested and did not immediately remember everything that had happened the night before. It wasn't until he reached for his glasses on his bedside table that he felt the dark, heavy cloak beneath them and fully recalled the previous evening.
The dormitory door opened and Ron looked in. "Good, you're awake. Hermione wanted me to get you up now or she says you won't have time to eat anything before lessons." Harry groaned, lazily dismounted his bed, and walked over to his trunk. "I'll catch you up at breakfast—I'll only be a minute."
After the door closed and Harry had gotten dressed, the cloak by his bedside table caught his eye as he turned to leave and he remembered Hermione's puzzled look, then he brought his hand up to his cheek and smiled.
Harry made his way quickly to the great hall after having reached the common room twice only to realize that he had forgotten, first his school bag, and then his wand. When Harry finally reached the Gryffindor table, he spotted Ron and Hermione with the other committee members and took a seat opposite them, next to Dean.
Harry glanced at Hermione expecting to find her still looking concerned, but instead found her buried in the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. "Look at this Harry," said Dean, holding open his bag to show the flyer he had been working on. "It looks brilliant," Harry said.
Parvati half leaned across Harry's lap to get a closer look. "It does look good," she said approvingly. "Don't forget, Professor McGonagall has to approve that before you can post it," said Hermione in what Harry thought was an overly harsh tone than the offense deemed. "I know Hermione, I just wanted to show Harry, nobody else saw," Dean replied, closing his bag and looking disgruntled.
Ron said something to Hermione under his breath and the pair of them got up with a look at Harry to follow suit. But Harry knew Hermione had been up late last night and might have gotten more sleep if he hadn't worried her so. He felt he needed to apologize for Hermione's bad mood even if he hadn't asked her to wait up for him.
"Sorry about Hermione," Harry said to Dean when he was sure the noise of all the rising students would keep anyone else from overhearing him. "I asked her to help me with some homework but I turned up late so, I wasted her time." "Well, that'd explain it," Dean said half laughing, "It's not a secret how she takes homework."
Harry nodded but then heard Parvati make a derisive noise, and he turned to her. "What are you smiling at," Harry asked semi-defensively. "You," she answered with a shrugged and a smile. Parvati's buttered piece of toast caught his eye and, as he hadn't eaten anything yet, suddenly felt famished.
Parvati must have seen him eyeing her toast because she quickly offered it to him. "You can have this, if you like," she said, taking his hand and handing it to him. Surprised, he thankfully accepted, and noticed her glance at Hermione, who looked away.
Harry felt he had been right to think he was to blame for Hermione's bad mood because she scarcely said anything to him through their first lessons, and even declined accompanying him and Ron into Hogsmeade for the butterbeer run.
Harry had little appetite during lunch because Hermione avoided even looking in his direction, hidden behind the Daily Prophet the whole time, which upset him for some reason. And so it continued for the rest of the day so that, by dinnertime, Harry did not much feel like going to Hogsmeade and instead, placed Ginny in charge of procuring the butterbeer, as it had been her idea to begin with.
When Harry arrived at the Gryffindor table for dinner, he was surprised to learn that Ron had gone down to Hogsmeade despite him and Hermione's absence. Harry hesitated before finally deciding to just apologize to Hermione for the worry he put her through, even though he felt she was equally to blame. "Can I sit down here," he said to Hermione, indicating her schoolbag on the bench next to her. He noticed Parvati grow very still and knew she was listening.
"Of course," answered Hermione politely, moving her schoolbag. "Do you know why Ron wanted to go down to Hogsmeade with Ginny," asked Harry, also politely. "Ginny and Dean," Hermione said, emphasizing Dean's name and sounding quite amused. "Oh," he laughed slightly. Hermione grinned and all of a sudden Harry wasn't sure he still needed to apologize. Hermione's bad temper, whatever it was, seemed to be gone.
When Ron, Ginny, and Dean turned up empty handed a half hour later, they were greeted with looks of shock and worry. "Relax," Ginny said slowly, "it's all at Hagrid's hut now. He went down with us to Hogsmeade and offered to keep it safe—you know, until Friday."
They joined the committee members and attacked what was left of dinner. "Hey Hermione, I wanted to know," asked Dean almost laughing a few minutes later, "if it's alright if I show Harry the flyer now." Hermione glared at Dean, but it was sprinkled with a hint of embarrassment. "Of course, I'm not going to stop you, and I'm sorry for snapping at you this morning... it wasn't right." Dean smiled and said, "That's okay, Harry told me he ah, stood you up for your study date last night."
Everyone in the near vicinity seemed to have stopped whatever it was they were doing as a dead silence followed this statement. Ron and Ginny looked at Harry and Hermione. Hermione blinked but very quickly inclined her head with a mildly interested look and said, slightly laughing, "Very funny Dean, that's a good one," at which point she looked at Harry who, following her lead, also began to laughed.
"I guess you can make it up to me by taking me to the ball then Harry," Hermione laughed, but Harry wasn't as naive about these things anymore and joined in the fun. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'm taking Parvati," Harry said in a mock serious tone. Harry thought the look on Parvati's face alone was worth the effort of playing this game.
For a moment Hermione looked just as shocked as the rest of the people watching, but then she snorted and quickly replied, "Well, it's back to my backup plan then. I guess I'll have to write to Viktor." By now a lot of people were laughing and Harry saw, with a feeling of satisfaction, Parvati and Dean exchanging confused looks before the pair of them reluctantly joined in the mirth.
Harry grinned when Parvati glanced at him because she was still looking a little shocked. Hermione began calming herself down, taking deep gulps of pumpkin juice to do so. Harry, still grinning, turned back to Dean. "So, you finish the flyer, then? Can I have a look," Harry asked, the laughter dieing down now.
After dinner Harry and Dean went to see Professor McGonagall while the others returned to the forth floor classroom to finish the cleaning and begin the decorating. When Harry and Dean had finished speaking to Professor McGonagall, they headed up to the forth floor classroom with the newly approved notices and invites. Professor McGonagall had magically multiplied them so that they could be posted on most of the school's notice boards and said she would take some to the other heads-of-house to be posted in their common rooms.
When they entered the forth floor classroom some fifteen minutes later, Harry noticed at once that Hermione was not there. "Hey, do you know where Hermione is?" he asked the closest person, Parvati Patil. "No. Last I saw her she was waiting for you and Dean after dinner." Harry looked around for a moment before Parvati spoke again. "Harry," she said timidly. "What," he snapped, irritated now because he was suddenly feeling worried.
"Nothing," she said flatly, and she stamped away fuming. To that, Harry's initial reaction was "so what". But then Harry's second thought came faster and stronger than his first impulse so that, before he knew it, he had caught up to Parvati and had cut in front of her so that she almost walked right into him. Facing her he could see now that she looked more hurt than angry.
Harry suddenly remembered something Tonks had told him. "When you apologize, you have to be able to show it in your face." He looked into Parvati's face and tried to say sorry with only his expression. She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly, laughing slightly, and Harry had a strong feeling that she was laughing at herself.
"I forgot to thank you for the toast," Harry said. "Well," said Parvati, suddenly looking, in Harry's opinion, a little malevolent, "you can save me a dance then." She eyed him as she walked passed, still looking a little evil but quite pretty all-the-same and he quite forgot about his worries for a moment.
When Hermione turned up with Ron and Ginny a half-hour later, Harry was both relieved and perturbed. "Sorry", said Ginny at once, catching the look on Harry's face, "we had a prefects' meeting."
Harry had forgotten that Ginny was a prefect now and immediately realized that he no longer wanted to stay on the subject. "No problem, you guys can help here now and I can go put up posters." And with that Harry and Dean departed.
When they returned to the Gryffindor common room an hour later, it was to find it buzzing with excitement and Harry guessed at once what all the chatter must be about. When the room at large saw Harry, they let out a cheer. "Nice one Harry," said a boy from somewhere in the crowd, and they cheered their agreement.
"This is exactly what we need," said one of Ginny's fifth-year friends. Harry grinned at Dean and the pair of them walked up to the notice board; the group of students parted to make way for them. He and Dean attached their last poster and took a moment to admire the moving drawings before walking away, grinning from ear to ear.
After about ten minutes of answering questions from their fellow Gryffindors, Harry felt the effects of hardly eating all day and decided to go up to bed early. The second he entered his dormitory, the sight of the cloak he had found pushed his fleeting thoughts of homework entirely out of his mind and he made a beeline to his bedside.
Harry eyed the cloak curiously before picking it up to examine. It looked as if it belonged to someone taller and broader than him, but when he tried it on it seemed to fit him perfectly, even the length was perfect. Again his whole body felt quite comfortable and the cloak did not feel as heavy as when he simply held it.
Harry smoothed the front of it and found the pockets. He plunged his hands into them hoping to find some sort of clue as to who its owner was, but they were empty. Harry walked around his dormitory five times, half thinking, half watching his reflection in the mirrors, before finally removing the cloak and replacing it onto his bedside table.
Harry's fatigue overpowered the temporary comfort he had been enjoying and he collapsed into bed fully expecting to fall right into unconsciousness when, without warning, his scar seared with pain and he sat bolt upright. He withdrew his wand, taking shallow breaths as he took in the darker parts of the room.
He closed his eyes, trying hard to ignore the pain, but his body seemed to be protesting the fact that he was no longer laying down and it throbbed along with his scar. Pain erupted once more and Harry was a little relieved to realize that Voldermort, wherever he was, was angry, as opposed to pleased. Harry's body shivered again and he desperately reached for the heavy cloak, this time wrapping it around himself like a blanket.
The feeling of comfort returned and Harry tried once more to ignore his burning scar. Little by little the pain ebbed away until he was no longer drawing sharp gasps, but breathing deeply and slowly. Harry removed the cloak and felt light headed when he tossed it aside.
Then he removed his glasses and, without changing, got under his covers and began to clear his mind. This is why I learned occlumency, said a determined voice inside his head. Harry cleared his mind and was unaware of how much time had passed before exhaustion took over and he drifted off to sleep.
Harry awoke the next morning feeling quite peaceful and knew he had not had bad dreams. It worked, said that same determined voice. Harry sat up and looked around expecting his dormitory to be empty but for himself once more, but the room was still very dark and the curtains of the other beds were still drawn shut.
Harry got up, quietly changed out of his wrinkled clothes, and crept down to the common room to take a seat by the fireplace. He pointed his wand and flames burst into life inside it. Why was Voldermort angry? Why, after all this time, had he exploded with rage? Did the Order stop another plan? Did he just realize another scheme would not work? These questions fully occupied Harry's thoughts so that he felt as if he were stuck in Dumbledore's pensive with only these thoughts to keep him company.
After a while, the telltale sounds from above told Harry that other Gryffindors were starting to wake. He extinguished the fire with another wave of his wand and walked back up the stairs to his dormitory to find the curtains of the other four-posters still closed, although their occupants were groggily stirring and mumbling.
"Ron," he said in a low voice, snatching up his schoolbag from beside his bedside. Ron groaned. "I'll meet you at the Great hall," he said in a slow whisper. Ron grunted twice and Harry took that to mean "yes". He left Gryffindor tower and hurried down the marble staircase, not stopping once until he finally reached the entrance hall.
"Bonjour Meester Potter," said a small voice to his right. Harry turned and saw a first-year girl with long silvery hair in Ravenclaw robes. "Hullo Gabrielle," he said smiling. Harry knew that Gabrielle had been quite taken with him after he and Ron had brought her to shore at the end of the second Tri-Wizard task, but he also knew that there was something about her that had always put him in good spirits, although he thought it could just be the Veela in her.
"I was a bit surprised when I heard your name at the sorting," Harry confessed, "how do you like Hogwarts so far?" Gabrielle smile weakly and stared at the ground as though unsure how to answer. "It can't be that bad, can it," Harry asked in as soothing a voice as he had. Gabrielle looked up, "I 'ave much to lern, but I zink my eenglish iz improving, no?"
Harry grinned, but this was more because he found her French accent very cute, as well as befitting to the younger sister of the enchanting Fleur Delacour. "So," he continued, turning towards the Great Hall and offering his arm to her the way he knew gentlemen would.
Gabrielle wrapped her tiny hands around Harry's outstretched arm and they began to walk. "I thought you'd be going to Beauxbaton Academy, like your sister—how is she by the way?" Gabrielle thought for a moment. "I came to Eengland to live wit 'er over ze summer. I liked it so much zat Fleur, she sez I should come to 'Ogwarts, and she would be close by. Madame Maxime, she wuz un'appy of course, but my muzzer zinks it iz a good idea."
"Have you made many friends yet," Harry asked, unsure how she had been received thus far. Her sister, Harry knew, had been disfavored by the majority of the school by the time the third Tri-Wizard task had come. "Yes, zer iz one girl in my 'ouse, she is vairy nice to me. She noz my sister," she said, gazing at him intently.
He considered this. Of course, he thought, because when they were guests in his forth year, the Beauxbaton students had their meals with Ravenclaw house. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. Gabrielle sat down at the Ravenclaw table and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you Moisir Potter," she said.
Harry clicked his tongue in disapproval; a habit he had picked up from both Hedwig and Tonks. "Call me Harry alright, all my friends do, unless you do not zink I am a friend?" Harry said the last bit in his best mock French accent. Gabrielle giggled, "Of course I do, do not be silly. Vairy well zen, 'Arry it iz."
She bowed her head again, this time looking very smug. "If you need anything you be sure to ask me, okay," he insisted. She smiled again as she nodded and Harry saw her resemblance to her sister Fleur more than ever.
Harry walked over by the staff table thinking he would sit near in case Professor McGonagall wanted his attention when, for the second time that morning, someone timidly called his name. Harry turned and saw yet another first-year student, this one from his own house, as well as his own neighborhood.
Standing some ten feet away, the boy looked as though he was waiting for permission to approach. "Hullo Mark," Harry said with a friendly gesture to come over. The boy looked relieved and answered, "Oh, you do know who I am. I was pretty sure it was you, but I didn't know if you remembered me."
"How do you like it so far," Harry asked, looking up at the ceiling, which revealed a gray, cloudy morning, "the castle, the classes, the fact that you're a wizard?" "I'm okay I guess. It's all pretty hard for me to believe still," he sighed. "It's probably harder for your parents to believe," Harry pointed out.
He knew that there weren't any other wizards around his neighborhood, and because Mark was from there, he concluded that Mark was just like Hermione in that sense; both of her parents weren't magic folk either. "I hadn't thought of that," said Mark, bemused.
"How are your classmates," Harry continued, remembering his first memories with Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville. "Oh... they like me, I think," and then he paused, "but I think someone's winding me up. Some of my stuff disappears now and then. Sometimes something missing will turn up again, although the chocolate frog cards that vanished haven't yet."
"Oh," said Harry, a bit sympathetic. Mark shrugged. "What was your first year like?" Harry told Mark about his first days at the school and it didn't seem to surprise the young boy at all when he told him about how Professor Snape treated him.
"He's as bad as Dudley Dursley, that one," Mark said bitterly, and then gasped, clapping a hand to his mouth. He stuttered, "I'm sorry Harry, I forgot." Mark appeared worried now and looked poised to jump off the bench and run.
Harry shrugged. "Well, there's no denying I'm related to that boxing pig—and believe me, I always try. But I can help you with Dudley. Just let him glimpse that wand of yours one day and tell him I taught you how to make him grow another tail." Harry grinned, reminiscing. "He'll leave you alone then." "Really," Mark said in awe, and they both laughed.
Harry didn't notice the hundred or so students, who had already taken their seats, until he heard their muffled excitement and saw the extra measure of movement up and down the house tables that told him, quite plainly, that the posters he and Dean had put up the previous evening had done their job.
The other committee members entered the Great Hall together looking very pleased, yet nervous all-the-same. Mark said a quick good-bye to Harry when some other first-year Gryffindors hailed him, a few of which looked shocked to see whom Mark had been speaking with.
The rest of the committee took seats around Harry and, although there was a great deal of glancing around, clearing of throats, and false coughing, no one said anything outside of morning pleasantries.
"What," Harry asked, finally growing tired of the subtle, unasked questions that were the small noises from his companions. It was Hermione who answered. "Well, we were just wondering about the music," she said casually, "Do you know when it's supposed to arrive?"
Harry returned to his food. "No idea," he said honestly. There was a short silence in which everyone looked around at each other. "Fred and George would have told me if there was a problem," Harry said flatly.
Ron began refilling his plate with sausages. "Harry's right," he said. "My brothers are professionals now. They won't mess this up." Hermione looked a little skeptical but said nothing. "It'll be fine," Ginny said dismissively, and she too reloaded breakfast onto her plate.
Looking none too consoled the others continued to eat in silence, which was fine with Harry because, at the sight of Professor Dumbledore, his thoughts about his scar returned and he knew he should tell him about it.
"I'll catch you guys up," Harry said to Ron and Hermione after he had finished his breakfast, but when he turned to the staff table, his heart sank at the sight of the empty headmaster's seat. He briefly struggled with the idea of letting the matter wait until lunchtime, or else, going to Professor Dumbledore's office now.
He decided on the former, thinking that, if Voldermort was as angry as Harry felt, then Dumbledore probably had the upper hand at the moment, and that the Order need not hear of his scar hurting straight away.
All afternoon it seemed, the school buzzed with talk about the upcoming Gryffindor Ball, but Harry noticed that it wasn't all enthusiasm. One group of students he passed on the way back from the bathrooms seemed to think it would be no fun at all and a complete waste of time.
Harry paused, feeling slightly offended. It was, after all, his idea and to hear someone criticize it as if it had already failed made him feel defensive, rather like he had just been falsely accused of some crime.
Harry suddenly remembered a time he had been blamed and punished by Aunt Petunia after Dudley had taken candy without permission. When his cousin confessed to him later that evening, laughing as he did, Harry was so angry that, much to his and Dudley's surprise, red stripes appeared on Dudley's face, making him resemble ribbon candy for several frightening hours.
He stopped walking and his grip on the strap of his school bag tightened as his other hand found his wand. He took an angry step back towards the students, turning as he did, right into a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl with blond hair and protuberant eyes.
Luna fell to the ground and Harry's anger instantly dissolved into guilt. "I'm sorry Luna," he said quickly, kneeling down to help her up. She accepted his help almost pleasantly and began to gather her things. "I'm alright," she said.
There was an awkward silence in which Luna eyed the wand still in one of his hands. Harry noticed this and put it away casually. "Are you coming to our ball tomorrow night," he asked suddenly. Her head tilted sideways rather dreamily.
"It sound's like fun," she answered, and almost as an afterthought added, "everyone in the DA will be there, I think. There's nothing but a quidditch meeting tomorrow after dinner so... I'll be free. I'll see you then, I suppose." Harry stared after Luna as she walked away. The DA would be coming? Then he laughed to himself, realizing that inter-house cooperation wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Good morning Mr. Potter." The mystical sounding voice was instantly recognizable to Harry. His face automatically contorted in silent anguish, and he had to force it to straighten before he could turn around. "Good morning Professor Trelawney," he replied.
"I see that you have chosen not to pursue further, the art of divination. I suspect that hearing of one's doom constantly would drive anyone to abandon hopes for a better outcome. Perhaps it is for the best." "Right," Harry lied. "I do however think you should allow—"
Professor Trelawney froze and went very rigged, and Harry knew what was about to happen. Her eyes rolled back and she began to fall over. Harry caught her and was able to keep her on her feet as she began to speak in a rough, harsh voice. "The Darklord's favor shall assume the task, to rid him of the boy who could be his undoing. But a single hope lies in four separate parts, each touched by the boy, they may draw on his power. One reverent, one equal, one unrequited, one solace—only when these four are joined will they have strength enough to stop the Darklord's favor. Only when the four parts join."
She shook her head and brought a hand to her temple, swaying slightly and giving Harry an unsteady look. She straightened up and when she spoke, her voice was mystical sounding once more. "Pardon me for my distraction. As I was saying, I think you should allow me to continue to look into your future, just as a reminder of things to come. One should always prepare for the worst, you know." She smiled and walked away.
Harry struggled to remember the scene he had just witnessed as he ran down the halls towards the statue of the gargoyle he knew all too well. "Fizzing Whizbee," he half-shouted, but nothing happened. A few things suddenly occurred to him. The password could have been changed, and even if it hadn't, it might only open to visitors if the headmaster was inside.
Harry cursed, another bad habit he had picked up from Tonks when, as if in response to the obscenity he had just uttered, the gargoyle sprang to life. Harry dropped his bag, jumped back and drew his wand, all in a single motion, but then he saw a very familiar girl standing on the other side of the secret door, now opening.
Cho Chang did not notice him at first; she seemed quite engaged in thought with eyes downcast. Harry hid his hands and wand behind his back just as she looked up. Her expression, surprised at first, softened almost instantly. "Were you coming to see professor Dumbledore," she asked pleasantly.
"Yes, I was," he said, picking up his bag and walking up to her. "Are you alright Harry?" Cho asked, concern evident from behind her dark eyes, "You look a little pale." "I'm okay, I just have to tell Professor Dumbledore something, that's all," he said, struggling to appear calm. He noticed that Cho also looked a bit anxious.
"Harry," she began tentatively, but then she paused. "I guess I'll see you around, then," she finally said, and she walked off, her shiny pony tail swinging and catching Harry's eye as usual. After all this time, Harry realized, its familiar hypnotic affect had never lost its appeal to him.
The stone gargoyle creaked ominously and he quickly walked through the secret door that led to the spiraling steps. He was just about to reach for the griffin shaped knocker when the door opened and Dumbledore froze in the act of walking through it.
"Ah, Harry, what a pleasant surprise, I've been meaning to commend you on your excellent idea..." Dumbledore paused catching the look on Harry's face. "However, you look as though you have something you wish to discuss."
Professor Dumbledore stepped aside and motioned for Harry to enter. When he did he noticed his charms teacher, Professor Flitwick gathering some things. After his Flitwick had departed, Harry proceeded to tell Dumbledore all about his scar hurting last night and his encounter with Professor Trelawney. His memory however, failed him.
"Harry, I need to know the exact words Cybil used, otherwise I might draw wrong conclusions. Can you remember them?" Harry's heart sank, "No professor, I'm sorry." Dumbledore glanced at one of his cabinets. "Not to worry Harry, have a seat, and don't put your wand away just yet."
When Dumbledore reached the desk he was carrying a shallow basin encircled with runes and filled with a shimmering liquid. Harry quite forgot his worries for a moment and felt a small rush of excitement as Dumbledore quickly taught him how to extract his memory to add to the pensive.
Soon they were watching the small figure of Professor Trelawney going into her trance and making her latest prediction. They listened and watched her twice more before spending the next several minutes in silent thought.
"Do you have any clue what these four parts could be Harry?" asked Dumbledore. Harry felt the same penetrating look from his headmaster that he usually received whenever he asked him something very serious. "No idea professor," he said somberly.
There was a knock on the door and Dumbledore sighed, looking up. "Come in Cornelius." Harry stood up quickly, "I'll go back to class." Dumbledore smiled and nodded, also rising from his seat, but with no hint of panic, which reminded Harry that the Ministry of Magic had already accepted his and Dumbledore's story. Harry laughed at himself.
Cornelius Fudge stopped halfway as he met Harry. "Hello Harry," he said, fidgeting with his green bowler hat as he held it to his tummy. "Hullo minister," he replied. He turned to excuse himself, first to his headmaster, then back to Fudge. "Professor, Minister." He nodded to each in turn and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Harry had to be alone. He thought about it for a moment before deciding to go down to the kitchens to grab some lunch to eat away from the Great Hall and the rest of the school. As before, after he had heard a prophecy concerning himself, he felt the seeming weight of his destiny and wanted desperately to be alone.
He felt cold inside and knew that it had nothing to do with being outdoors. Harry thought of the cloak back in his dormitory and briefly regretted not having it with him now. When he reached the lake, he quickly found his usual spot hidden in a cluster of bushes and trees and began pulling out food.
Not really paying any attention to what he was systematically stuffing into his mouth, Harry's mind continued to work almost randomly on the prophecy which marked him, Professor Trelawney's new prediction, and the upcoming ball.
"Where have you been, mate," asked Ron when Harry finally turned up after lunch. "I went to see Professor Dumbledore." Hermione looked up at him from the parchment she had been writing on and Harry knew she was expecting more of an explanation. Since Harry hadn't told them yet about the prophecy that Dumbledore had shown him at the end of last term, he decided not to tell them about this latest prediction either.
Instead he picked a subject that they were sure to be used to by now. "My scar hurt last night," he said blandly. "Why didn't you tell us at breakfast," asked Hermione, sounding a bit hurt. "I didn't think it was a big deal really... Voldermort was really mad so I thought the order foiled him or something."
"So why did you go to Dumbledore if you didn't think it was a bid deal?" There was a steely note in Hermione's voice that offended him. They glared at each other for a moment before Professor Flitwick began Charms class and ended their stare-off.
Harry however, had other things to worry about. He hadn't yet heard from Fred and George and he was now feeling the early stages of panic and despair. What if the music didn't come? He habitually assumed that Fred and George's lack of news was a positive sign. They normally only complained when they had a problem, and were quite content to work in undisturbed peace when all was well. But if the music didn't turn up in time, the whole ball would be ruined.
Harry was the first to reach the forth floor classroom after dinner that night. Thinking that he would worry less if he kept himself busy, Harry began putting up decorations almost at random. Someone came in and Harry ran one hand through his rumpled hair, intending to pull it hard in frustration.
"You don't have to tell me," Harry said sardonically, "the music's not here yet and everyone thinks it's my fault." Hermione's lack of reaction made Harry drop his sarcastic pretense. "The music will be here tomorrow," she said quietly, "Ginny's just heard from Fred and George."
Harry felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards her and then realized that there was something more pressing on her mind. Detecting one of those inevitable discussions one is bound to have when at odds with a friend or loved one, he decided that the sooner it started, the sooner it could end. "What's up," he asked, resigned to the worst.
Hermione walked to one of the great windows. "It's just that... you've been distant with me... and Ron, and Ginny for that matter." Harry, who had been following her, stopped, half-shocked. "That's not true... I still tell you everything," he protested, before he remembered both the Prophecy and the new prediction that he now kept from his two best friends. That's personal, said a little voice inside him, and he wholeheartedly felt justified.
"I was disappointed when you couldn't make it to the quidditch match for my birthday, but I never doubted that you wanted to come." "That's different," she said automatically. "And all summer long," he continued, "I wanted to talk to you about Cho but—" Hermione cut him off, "Leave Cho out of this," she warned him, and Harry felt taken aback.
Hermione bit her lower lip, looking somewhat upset. He let it drop. "Go on then," he said a moment later. "Ask me whatever you like." She hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, and Harry folded his arms impatiently. "All right," she began, her voice rising in response to his outward show of irritation. "Who gave you that cloak; what did Dumbledore say about your scar hurting; and who are you taking to the ball?"
The last question threw him off momentarily but he recovered, realizing that it was probably just thrown in as an afterthought. "I don't know who gave me that cloak... someone put it on me when I nodded off outside that night; Dumbledore didn't have any ideas about why my scar hurt; and I'm not taking anyone to the ball." Then he coolly added, "You and Ron are still the closest people to me, whether you know it or not." Hermione went pink.
Harry decided to give her a friendly hug, more because her reaction would tell him if she believed him or not, but also because it felt as though they had just made up and it seemed the proper thing to do. She relaxed almost instantly in his arms, even before they had made it all the way around her, and Harry, surprised at her reaction, felt a strong urge to extend his brief gesture into a prolonged embrace.
He had just registered a fragrance about her when she gasped suddenly and pulled away. "Ron and Ginny," she whispered, shifting slightly in front of Harry's shoulder to hide her mouth, "Don't look." Harry felt nervous for some reason, perhaps because of the way Hermione was reacting; as though they had just narrowly escaped expulsion.
"Did they see us—" he began, but Hermione cut him off. "No, I saw the door opening first," she hissed, absentmindedly fiddling with a lock of her bushy hair. "I don't want to take any chances. Ron might misunderstand, you know. Talk about your scar hurting again," she said.
Harry did as she suggested and the ploy seemed to work. When Ron and Ginny reached them, he was just getting to the part about his scar. Ron opened his mouth but Hermione raised a finger, looking as though she was contemplating something.
Then she turned to Ginny as though intending to ask her something, opened her mouth, but then merely frowned. She appeared to clear her head with a shake and then sighed. "Why weren't you at the prefects' meeting," Ginny asked her, eyeing Harry as she finished her question.
"I caught some students dueling, and then I went and fetched Professor McGonagall," she explained, catching all of them by surprise. "Slytherin," Ron assumed, and Hermione nodded. "And one from Ravenclaw. Anyway, what did I miss?"
Harry guessed that nerves still lingered somewhere at the back of Hermione's mind because she discreetly continued to play with her hair, which convinced him that she had made up the story of that duel just now. Harry groaned inwardly, thinking that they'd know tomorrow if it wasn't true.
When the rest of the committee members arrived to finish the decorating, Harry decided to hang around Ginny for two reasons. One, he wanted to watch her for clues to whether she suspected anything or not; and two, if Ron was at all suspicious, it was better if Harry wasn't near Hermione whenever Ron glimpsed her.
Two hours later everyone was watching Katie levitate the final piece of décor, a glittering ball designed to hold dozens of fairies, into the very center of the ceiling where a hook had been affixed.
In a further attempt to throw off any suspicion, Harry walked up to Parvati as she looked on and casually placed an arm around her shoulder. Even taking Harry by surprise, Parvati reacted as though, not only had she been expecting it, but that she welcomed it as well. With her attention still on the rising ball, she leaned into him ever so slightly. That should just about do it, he thought nervously.
"I hope tomorrow night won't be like that Yule Ball I went to," Parvati told Harry sarcastically, "My date didn't even want to dance with me." Harry swallowed hard. "I am saving a dance just for you," he assured her, now desperately regretting his attempt at misdirection.
"Just one dance," she said, stepping away from his hold to look him up and down. He shrugged. "We'll just see what you've got saved for me tomorrow night then, shall we," she said slyly, before she walked away.
Harry joined Ron and Hermione as they were getting ready to head back to Gryffindor Tower. "Where's Ginny," he asked, noticing her absence. Ron's face hardened slightly. "Michael Corner came to pick her up about ten minutes ago, but I think you were busy," Hermione answered, with just a hint of coolness in her voice. "I don't know about you two," Ron complained in a tone that suggested changing the subject, "but I've got loads of homework due next week, and it's refusing to do itself."
"So do I," Hermione agreed, "and I promised Neville I'd help him with that essay on gestalts. I gave him a couple of analogies; our whole committee working on that one proposal, horses pulling a single sleigh; those sort of things, but he just doesn't get it."