Neville had never actually seen red-hot chili marbles, but if he had, they would have described his eyes perfectly. "Oh my god. I think my eyes are slowly disintegrating in the smoldering fire in my head." Neville rolled on the bed, promptly falling out of it onto the carpeted floor. He picked himself up slowly and looked around, very confused for a moment. It hit him.
"Oh bloody hell." He peeled off the white collared shirt and tossed it on the ground. Well... rather, on a traffic cone. Neville blinked before picking the item off of the bright orange plastic. "What the hell is this and why is it in my room?" He tried to think back to where he had received such an item, but it only made his head hurt more. A sharp knock echoed through his head terribly. "I'm up, I'm up," Neville exclaimed as he toddled to the door. Ron was behind it, freshly showered and wearing an orange bathrobe. "Blimey, Neville! You smell horrible," Ron cried out, thrusting the towels into his arms. "Not so loud, Ron! You look like you've been tromped upon by Buckbeak," Neville yelled back, cradling his head in his hand. Ron smirked before picking up the traffic cone. "Do you have any clue where I got that? Or what it is?" Ron smiled before setting it in front of the closet. "It was Seamus's shoe. It is now a traffic cone... whatever that is," Ron shrugged. Neville looked at Ron. "Remind me never to drink again."
Neville emerged from the shower feeling slightly better. He flopped down the three flights of stairs and walked into the kitchen. If Ron and Neville had looked horrific this morning, Ginny had them beat. She looked like the living dead, her head hung over a cup of coffee and thick sunglasses over her eyes. Fluffy purple earmuffs were extended over her head. Limp hair pooled on the table. She groaned loudly before, with much effort, she took a sip of the black coffee. She winced. "Lucky your mum and dad aren't here, Ron. Ginny, are you alright?" Ginny pulled off her glasses and glared with bloodshot eyes. "Right. I think I'll have what she's having," Neville replied before sinking into a seat across from Ginny. Ron brought two cups to the table and slid one to Neville. "Gin, drink it up. I don't fancy getting lectured by Hermione first thing this afternoon and the sooner you drink it, the sooner you'll stop feeling like shite," Ron advised before taking his own sip. His face contorted into pain; he nearly spit it out. "See," was all Ginny said. Ron glared and threw the entire mug of Hangover Joe down his throat. Neville shrugged and followed suit. "Oh..." Neville started before shooting up and running to the sink. He closed his eyes, turned on the cold tap and started washing his mouth out. Ron ran over and pushed him aside, drinking the water down.
They both pulled back from the sink, both a bright magenta. The color slowly faded as they both slid down into their seats, both heads crashing to the table. After a moment, Neville looked up thoughtfully. "You know, I think it worked." Ron looked up from the table and squinted. He sat up a bit straighter and smiled. "Yeah. I think it did. Just chug the entire thing, Gin." Ginny shot him a death stare from behind the glasses and sat up a bit. She picked up the cup warily and started drinking it. Her throat bobbed with the gulps and tears started to leak down her cheeks, but she finished the cup. She shot up like a bottle rocket and ran to the sink, spinning the cold tap and dunking her head underneath it. Neville looked over at Ron, who shrugged before standing up. He put a comforting hand on her back and began to rub circles across it. He shut off the water and Ginny raised her head out of the sink. She looked around quizzically before peeling the earmuffs from her head. "Oh thank god it worked," she sighed, turning and resting against the counter.
"So Hermione's coming?" Neville asked. "Harry and Hermione apparently, though Harry is coming with Lupin later this evening," Ron replied, nervous tension stretching across his face. "I haven't had more than 2 words from Hermione all this summer and none at all from Harry." Ron looked down at the table before snatching an apple from the bowl in the middle. He munched it thoughtfully. Neville nor Ginny could think of anything to say to that, so they each grabbed their own apple and started eating them.
"So, what do you think we should do about Percy's diary?" Ginny spouted suddenly between mouthfuls. Neville looked surprised, but Ron didn't. "I thought you weren't... talking... to Percy... well..." Neville trailed off, looking a bit sheepish. Ron shook his head. "We were cleaning the rest of his stuff out of your room and we found a diary from fourth year. Me and Gin were flipping through it and we came across some very disturbing images." Neville looked at the two of them quizzically, so Ginny ran upstairs. She came down presently and gave the leather book to Neville. He flipped through the pages and halted on the morning after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. A young child tied down to a bed, a large needle sticking out his chest. It was quick and sketched. He flipped the page and, instead of words, neatly printed symbols covered the page. He looked through it- Ginny kept her distance, but Ron finished off his apple while reading it over his shoulder. Neville came up to the last page written in and looked up at Ginny. "What the hell is all that?" he asked. Ginny shrugged. "We're not sure, but I think that we should have a talk with him. At the ministry, do you think?" Ron replied, looking over at Ginny. "Yeah, how do we get there? 'Yes, Dad, do you suppose we could come with you to work so we could talk to Percy?' Pull the other one," she guffawed, tossing her apple core away.
A cloud of dust shot out from the fireplace and suddenly, Mrs. Weasley stood in all her glory. Then, Hermione stood at the grate, her trunk thunking down on the floor next to her. A sharply dressed gentlemen poofed out of the fire next to her. Ginny ran over and threw her arms around Hermione, who hugged back slightly warily. Ron walked over and gave her a hug as well, concern written all over his face. "Hermione?"
She seemed to snap out of whatever she was focused on and took a look at Ron. "Hello Ron," she said wearily, but with a small smile. Hermione caught the eye of Neville and let go of Ron. "I read about your grandmother in the paper, Neville. Are you doing alright?" she asked, the old Hermione shining through. Neville nodded. "Thanks. I guess so," he remarked and looked amazed as Hermione hugged him too. "I'll just get your things up to Ginny's room, shall I?" Molly remarked and, with a wave, the luggage was floating up the stairs. "Now, Mr. Green, let me fix you a cup of tea," she added, walking over to the counter. She looked at the pot on the stove and opened the top.
"Ron, what is this?" Molly asked, surprisingly puzzled. Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh, it's just coffee, Mrs. Weasley. I got used to drinking it at the hospital," Neville pipped up suddenly. Molly's face softened. "Of course dear. Are you finished with it?" she said sweetly, bringing the pot over to the sink. He nodded and she dumped it out- Ron's face flushed with thanks. "Exploding Snap?" Ginny tried not to chuckle as she pulled Ron out of the kitchen. Neville pocketed the diary as he got up from his seat. The four students tromped upstairs.
"What happened, Hermione?" Ginny asked when they reached Neville's room. Hermione's face went grim as she heard the question. "Where did you get a traffic cone?" she asked, ignoring the question. "It was Seamus's shoe. Long story," Ron answered, sitting down on Neville's bed. Hermione sat down next to him, Neville plopping down in the antique armchair. Ginny wasn't to be easily deterred. "I don't get one note from you the entire summer!" she spat. Ron looked at her strangely and shot her a warning look. "Ginny..." Ron growled slightly. He turned back to Hermione, who had an empty look in her eyes.
"Death Eaters found out where we lived. Left the body of Crookshanks on my doorstep. Threatening letters, the lot. So we were moved." Emotion was drained from her voice and she had a hard look to her. Ginny's jaw dropped along with Neville's. Ron's eyes were closed in exasperation. "You knew?" Ginny asked, and Hermione turned to look at him, a surprised look on her face. "You knew?" she mimicked Ginny. Ron shook his head. "It isn't important. What is important is that you're okay. And your parents?" he fended off the question with one of his own. Hermione looked at her feet. "They aren't happy with any of it- moving, me coming back. But it really is for the best," she replied.
"In any case, they aren't going to get another chance at me," she added sharply before standing up. She walked over to the wooden bookshelf and set herself behind it. She wound back and, with a primal "hyah," her fist went through the 3/4 inch thick board. The top shelf crumbled down on one side, Neville's Rememberall sliding down the decline. Hermione caught it neatly and set it on a functional shelf. At this, Ron's jaw did drop. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he almost-whispered reverentially, with Ginny and Neville nodding. She cracked her knuckle and gave a wry smile. "Well, it's really only for an emergency," she blushed slightly, before checking herself and emptying her face of emotion. "That's really amazing, Hermione. You could do hand-to-hand combat at the D.A. this year," Neville congratulated. She seemed to consider it. "Watch this," she smiled slyly and went back to the bookcase.
"You drank the entire bottle?" Harry could hear Hermione's voice on the other side of the door. "Seamus and Dean went half on it, for me. I wasn't going to drink the whole bottle, but after the reception..." Neville's voice trailed off sadly. "In any case, Seamus said we should all do a shot in memorial to Mrs. Longbottom, so we did. Even Luna, though that was the only one she had, but trust me, it was enough. But after the first shot, Dean said that since Neville did one by himself at the end of the funeral we had to catch up, but Neville didn't want to be left out, so he did one too. And then we spent the rest of the night playing catch-up to him," Ginny's voice chimed in. Harry stood outside the door, listening hesitantly to Hermione's abject horror and Ginny's giggles.
"You going to go in and say hi?"
Harry turned to see Ron carrying a sack of Bertie Botts, looking at him solemnly. Harry reached reluctantly for the knob before Ron stopped him. "Don't go in there if you're angry, Harry. Hermione and Neville have had enough to deal with lately and they don't need that right now." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess I won't be talking to THEM much this summer then, will I?" Harry spat, turning on his heels and climbing up the stairs to Ron's Attic. Ron heaved a sigh before opening the door. He tossed the bag to Neville and sat down on the floor. "Harry's here. He's a little edgy right now, I'd give him some space," Ron said, his eyes dark. Hermione got to her feet. "Seriously. Leave it out, Hermione. Let's not start out this visit with a fight." Neville looked up at Ron a little weird as he asked for the journal.
"He's been like this all summer. All of a sudden, he's grown an intuition," Ginny whispered to Hermione as Ron walked over to the bed. He sat down next to her on the bed and opened up the journal. He flipped through until he hit the lines and lines of symbols. "Have a look at this. Tell me what you think." Ron handed her the journal with the page saved and Hermione looked it over. "Looks like some sort of code. I mean, some of the letters look familiar; the v, except it has a bunch of lines in different locations surrounding it; an o; and 8. There isn't a key?" Hermione asked, flipping through the pages. She came across one of the disturbing pictures and stopped. "Oh dear God," Hermione said, clutching her mouth.
It was a detailed sketch of a young child tied to a wall, cut all over its body, blood trailing down and pooling on the floor. "What on Earth is this?" Hermione asked, taken-aback. He let the book flop over and he opened the cover. "Percy?!" She shouted in disbelief. "Welcome to the confusion. We're thinking about going down to the ministry to have a talk with him. Look at the last page," Ginny said, reaching over and flipping to the last entry. She looked at it. "Ginny said this one," Ron flipped through the pages, "is of You Know Who." At the mention of that name, Neville sat up. "Wait, you didn't show me that one!" he cried before jumping out of his seat to have a look. "We don't know who all the other pictures are of. The more mundane ones and the more... disturbing ones. But that's definitely Tom Riddle," Ginny pointed out, her voice slightly week and a shiver going through her spine. The four of them looked at the picture and a silence swept over all of them. The didn't need to ask the question. Why was Percy drawing pictures of Lord Voldemort?
"I've got to use the loo," Neville said, suddenly standing up from his spot next to Ginny. He walked out of the door and shut it behind him. He laid against the wall, slowly sliding down until he was piked on the wooden floor. Deep breaths; almost hyperventilating. Images of the D.O.M. incident weighed heavily on his mind- seeing those burning red eyes shine out from the terrifying face. That he had once looked human, handsome; he just needed some air. Unlike the three in the room, he hadn't been dealing with You Know Who and his Death Eaters since the age of 11- he was rather new to this. A creak revived him from his metal spiral, and he looked up to see Harry. He stood on the stairs with a look of confusion on his face. "Hey Harry," Neville stated with a rather hollow tone. Harry clomped down the stairs and stood next to Neville.
"Sorry to hear about your grandmother," Harry offered with a slight edge of remorse. Neville didn't bother looking at him. "Thanks," he replied, but said nothing else. "How did she die?" Harry asked quietly, after a brief period of silence. "Pneumonia... but I think it was just her time to go." Harry gave a little guffaw. "Lucky," he muttered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Neville stood up and fixed Harry with a mean stare. "Nothing, forget it," Harry said, shaking his head and turning to walk up stairs. Neville grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the wall. "What, my loss is unimportant next to the great, ever-suffering Harry Potter? You aren't the only one that get's to feel loss, you know. Just cause she was old it was okay for her to die?" Neville spat angrily. Harry looked shocked for all of two seconds. Then those green eyes dimmed. "She lived her life, her entire life, didn't she? It's more than most people seem to get," Harry snapped back, pushing Neville off of him. He bounced off of the wall with a surprising amount of composure and swung.
An audible crack, a crash of glass. In a flash, Ron was outside shoving Neville back into his room, nearly taking out Ginny and Hermione's eavesdropping frames in the process, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him downstairs, not speaking the entire way. He threw him into a kitchen chair, reached into the icebox and pulled out an ice cream sandwich. "Here, put this on your eye," Ron tossed it to him before fishing around in the cupboard. He pulled out a small bottle and, pulling the cork out, he emptied the bright green contents onto a towel. Ron pulled the sandwich from his eye and replaced it with the doctored towel. He put the ice cream sandwich on top of it and replaced Harry's hand. He sat down as Harry glared at him.
"You handled that well," Ron said quietly. "Don't start, Ron," Harry spat, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting in across the room. "Calm down, you shouldn't be moving around with that poultice on your eye," Ron added, getting up and standing in front of the doorway to the living room. "What, are you going to hit me too?" Harry challenged. Ron stared down at Harry with a sort of apathy, which wasn't hard with almost 7 inches of height separating the two. "I don't know. Are you going to insult the memory of my grandmother the day after her funeral?" Ron asked sharply.
Harry thought about it. Maybe not the best idea ever. He looked down at his feet. He turned around and plopped down into the chair. "Just to let you know, Hermione's been taking some sort of martial arts lessons this summer. So unless you want a fist through your head, I'd think before you speak around her. She practically demolished Neville's bookcase." A look of surprise came over Harry's face. "Really?" he asked in disbelief. Ron nodded, his eyes mirroring Harry's surprise. Harry gave a chuckle, to his surprise. Ron smirked, and Harry couldn't help but smirk back. "You know you were wrong, right?" Ron asked, his eyes twinkling. Harry sighed heavily and nodded. "Shite..." Harry let out and rested his head on his free hand. "Don't go spare... but if you want to talk... you know..." Ron trailed off, gesturing the rest of the sentence. Harry looked up through his free eye. "I don't know Ron. I don't want to talk, I don't want to feel, really. I'm really tired of it," He said wearily. Ron nodded. Ron frowned, but didn't press. He stood up and pounded Harry on the back. "I'll get the lot of them to bed. Come up when you're ready," he grunted strangely before leaving Harry in the kitchen.
Harry picked up the salt shaker and through it against the wall. It shattered into as many fragments as grains of salt.
Author's Note: The heavens have smiled upon me! People actually ARE reading this. Thank you to Filler Bunny Rox, Silver Mirror, willowscribe, db and sibbo for giving me a heads up and telling me to post! You are the fuel of my fire!