Dedication:  I've got three people to dedicate this chapter to.  Thank you, Katina, my excellent beta.  Thank you, Amelia, my beta number dos. (Though I kept wondering why you kept reminding me that Draco is 15 when he's 17. ^_^)  I appreciate your help SO much, and it was a lot of fun to read Katina's responses to Amelia's changes. ^_^  And finally, thank you, Allison.  I LOVED getting that chapter review in such a form and it really made my day. (While simultaneously reminding me that I really ought to read over things more closely. lol)  I hope all of you know how important you are to me, as friends and "editors".  Thank you for everything you do.

Chapter 22:  I Hate Coming Up With Chapter Titles So I Won't

            Draco felt that if he moved a millimeter his knees would buckle.  How did she know?  And out of all the people in the world, why did she know?  He barely noticed the paper slipping from his hand as Sirius took it to read more closely.  It was Mrs. Weasley that spoke up finally, her voice quivering slightly.

            "I believe I must have a talk with my son."

            The feeling came back to Draco's form, his head snapping up to gaze at her questionably.  Her eyes shone and looked as though her husband had just been revealed as Lord Voldemort's right-hand man.

            "Just read," she said, her voice now quiet and strained.

            Draco quickly reached for the newspaper.  Sirius, done with his perusal, handed it over, running a hand over his face.  His gaze turned to Mrs. Weasley and he rested a hand on her shoulder.

            "Mrs. Weasley, I'm sure…"

            For some reason, the rest of the reassurance was lost.  Draco's eyes quickly scanned the article, and then came across a name.  He stopped, reread the sentence, but the name was still there.

            Sirius rubbed a hand over his face again.  "Now the question is whether or not we tell Harry and A—"

            Before he could finish, Draco turned and marched toward the hospital room, newspaper in hand.

****

            Ron and Hermione went to the Great Hall late that evening.  They'd barely sat down, however, when an owl swooped over and landed in front of them, dropping a newspaper with a shrill hoot and glaring at Hermione before it took off.

            "Guess he's been waiting a while," she said, smiling at Ron.  He returned the look.

            Unfolding the paper, she picked up a glass of pumpkin juice.  Seconds later, the glass tumbled into her lap, spilling its contents all over her robes.

            "Hermione!" Ron said in surprise.

            Hermione, however, didn't seem aware that her clothes were slowly soaking up the juice.  Her eyes and mouth were as wide as they could go.

            "Of all the…!" she cried.  "The no-good, lying, little worm!  I'll-I'll—I can't believe it!"

            She leapt from her seat and stormed out of the hall, clutching the newspaper in her hands.  Ron scrambled to his feet and followed, crying out questions that Hermione didn't answer.  She was too busy muttering to herself.

            "Ooh, I'll get her.  After all this time!  To think!  That horrid woman!"

            She soon stormed into the hospital wing.  The scene within was clouded with gloom, Draco and Harry sitting on Azar's bed, the girl holding her knees tight and none of them speaking.  Hermione didn't seem to notice this, however, brandishing the newspaper and shouting, "Have you seen this?!"

            "We have, actually," Draco said, his eyes clouded over.  "Sirius and Mrs. Weasley went out to find you to tell you about it.  You and—"

            "Hermione!" Ron said, practically falling into the room and breathing deep.  "You really fly when you're angry.  What's going on?  What did the Prophet say?"

            "It's not what the paper said, but what Rita Skeeter said!" she exclaimed, pushing the paper under his nose.  "She's back to those horrid so-called news articles of hers!  I thought she would stay with her advice column the rest of her career; everyone loved her because she never actually gave advice, just told people they were stupid idiots for getting themselves into the mess they did.  But no, apparently she wasn't content with that; she had to go back to writing this load of bog roll!"

            Ron's eyes were wide as he took in the article's headline.  "But…how did she know?"

            "How indeed," Draco said, not in a question.  His slitted eyes were fixed on Ron.  "Hermione, did you perchance read the whole article?"

            "Well, no," Hermione said a little sheepishly.  "The title was enough to set me off."

            "Read it.  I'm sure you'll find something quite…interesting."

            Perplexed, Hermione scanned the article.  Then her eyes froze and went back over a section to see if she'd read correctly.  Slowly, she looked up from the paper and straight at Ron.

            "You told?" she asked faintly.

            "You told Rita Skeeter," Draco added without a hint of disbelief.

            "What?  No.  Why would you think that?  Just because…  Oh, I see.  So when someone blunders, it's naturally me?  I'm the Neville of the group, aren't I?  Every group has a Neville, and I'm this one's."

            Draco gave him a dark look.  "I'd always figured you the Ron of the group, but if you want to be Neville, go ahead."

            "C'mon, just about anyone could have told Skeeter about…that."

            "Yes, but not just about anyone got credit for it," Draco said, walking forward, snatching the paper from Hermione, and shoving it into Ron's hands.

            This time Ron had a chance to read the article:

                                    Harry Potter's experience failed to aid in the attempt, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.  While most of their classmates were busy celebrating All Hallows' Eve, Harry Potter, apparent Heir of Gryffindor, and his three fellow heirs snuck out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a dangerous purpose.  Having intercepted what they believed to be secret messages regarding You-Know-Who's whereabouts, they were determined to try to destroy him.  Many things went wrong for the children, however, and James Bell, Heir of Hufflepuff, ended up paying for their mistakes with his life.

                                    It appears there is a prophecy that said the Four Heirs of Hogwarts were destined to bring about the downfall of "a man whose name will be poison to the tongue."  This prophecy has been kept out of common knowledge, until now, and its validity is sure to be brought into question.

                                    The mistakes of the Four, however, were not the only reasons this attempt ended in tragedy.  It has become apparent that Heir of Ravenclaw Azar Zundel is, in fact, a Seer.  Yet it wasn't until after the event that she revealed she had foreseen everything, including the death of young Bell.  This deliberate deception has brought many questions to the minds of even Zundel's best friends.

                                    "It's all frightening, really," said Ronald Weasley, Head Boy at Hogwarts.  "Why did she hide it from us?  It was her fault.  She should have stopped it."

            Ron stopped right there, looking up at all his friends with wide eyes.

            "Surely you don't…believe this?" he said quietly, his voice cracking.  "I would never … I would never say any of that, much less to her.  Surely you know that."

            "What are we supposed to think, Ron?" Draco said heavily.  "Skeeter may be prone to stretching the truth, but someone has to give it to her first."

            Ron's eyes were practically bugging out.  "Like you are one to talk!  You two were the best of friends last I knew!"

            Draco flushed, staying silent.  Ron turned to Harry and Azar, who had been quiet the whole time.

            "Azar, you know I would never blame you.  It wasn't your fault!"

            She didn't answer, still gazing blankly at a spot on her bed.  Ron turned to Harry who looked at him with lifeless eyes.

            "You know me, Harry.  Please say you believe me," Ron said, his eyes shining.

            Harry's hand reached out, finding Ron's forearm and gripping it tightly.  "Of course I believe you."

            Relief washed over Ron's face.  He put his hand over Harry's, holding it tight in gratitude.  Hermione, trying to get over her numbness, walked over and looked directly at Ron.

            "Are you sure you said nothing like that, ever?  In any conversation?"

            "I didn't even know Azar was a Seer until I asked Draco yesterday!"

            There was a sudden noise like that of something heavy hitting the ground, and Ron and Hermione turned to find Draco clutching tightly to one of the bed ends, holding himself up.  His eyes were wide and he seemed paler than usual.

            "Ron," he said weakly, "in our conversation yesterday, you said that Azar kept saying it was her fault, that she should have done something to stop it."

            "You're right!  But how—"

            "I flicked a bug off my robes," Draco said, shaking his head.

            "No!" Hermione cried out in disbelief.  "That woman!  She is going to get it!  Seems to me she needs a reminder that she could get arrested for what she's doing!"

            "Hardly matters now," Azar said softly.  "The damage is done."

            "Azar," Harry said, sliding over to comfort her, "no one will believe for a second that it was your fault."

            "It's not that," she said, shaking her head slightly.  "… They know I'm a Seer.  Everyone knows."

            There was a long pause before Ron spoke up.  "But what does that matter?  You're no different for it."

            "Oh, believe me, it matters," she said bitterly.  "If anything happens to my family because of this, I swear, I will kill that woman.  I will crush every bone in her body and leave her for the vultures to devour.  Don't think I won't."

            There was no question as to whether or not she was joking.  In the awkward silence that followed, Ron turned back to the article to finish.

            "I don't understand," he murmured.  "If I didn't tell her all this, who did?"

            "Look at the footnote," Draco said darkly.  "She interviewed an anonymous Death Eater who saw the whole thing.  They have the actual interview on page three."

            "Death Eater?  But who?  Who saw it?"

            Draco sat on the edge of a bed, looking up at Ron with pained eyes.  "My father."

            Azar's eyes flitted over to the pale boy.  "Your father?  But how do you know?"

            "He was unconscious, but not stunned.  He easily could have woken up while we were…preoccupied.  Besides," Draco said, his eyebrow raising slightly a moment, "I know my father."

            "Then why wasn't he arrested?" Ron cried incredulously.  "Any respectable person who had a talk with a Death Eater would surely bring along an Auror or two."

            "You forget, Ron:  we're not talking about any respectable person; we're talking about Rita Skeeter," Hermione said, spitting out the name like poison.  "She would do any unlawful thing for such an interview."

            "What does it say?" Harry asked.

            "Not much that is important to us," Draco replied evenly.  "He retells much of it, slipping in an amble amount of pro-Voldemort propaganda.  It's rather sickening, actually."

            "Anything about Voldemort?" Harry said quickly, as though to hurry the answer.

            "Here, Harry," Ron said, turning to the correct page, "you can re…"

            Ron's face suddenly went very red and he quickly closed the newspaper again, trying to hide his mistake.  Harry tried not to look as though he hadn't even heard what Ron said.  The room echoed with silence, only broken by the faint murmur from the halls.

            "Well," Azar finally spoke up cheerily, "this is quite the awkward pause.  I love those, don't you?"

            Harry laughed, the tension broken.  "Always."

****

            The next day, amid many whispers and sideways glances, the remaining Heirs returned to class.  As often as the class schedules allowed, Azar was the one to guide Harry through the halls, Ron taking up the task when she wasn't there.  They kept saying things like, "Now we're turning right," or "Watch out, the next step's a trick one" and each time Harry felt like screaming, though he knew they were just trying to help.  Some classes went harder than others.  Snape seemed to take it as a personal offense that Harry always needed a partner's help, and Trelawney seemed on the verge of telling him it might be best if he took a class in which sight wasn't so imperative.  Every time he had to ask a teacher for help, it felt like a dagger to his side, the shame making his voice become quieter and quieter.  He soon stopped asking altogether.

            What was worse, Harry decided as the next week went on, were the whispers as he walked through the hall.  It was like he was some strange beast that deserved pity.  He couldn't stand pity.  Not all of the quiet conversations were about him; thanks to Rita Skeeter's article no one needed to ask what happened.  Most of the murmurs were about his companion, Azar.  Strange as it was to Harry, it seemed they almost feared her, feared that she would suddenly turn around and reveal their horrid future.  Or worse, not reveal it.

            Initially, Harry wasn't sure if Azar heard or was bothered by their words.  However, on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts Friday, he heard Lavender whispering to Parvati.

            "I heard most Seers go mad.  They can't stand to see the future and so they lose their minds.  I always thought Azar was a little off; do you think that's why?"

            Without warning, Azar spun around, facing Lavender and crying out, "I just had a vision!"

            Lavender jumped about a meter at this, her eyes wide with horror.

            "Lavender!" Azar said, taking the girl by her shoulders and confirming the worst.  "Beware speaking behind others' backs, for it surely shall lead to a fist in the face!"

            With that, Azar turned back around and walked with Harry into the classroom, leaving Lavender blinking and gaping.

            The story was great entertainment as they walked to the Great Hall for supper.

            "Anyone who claims you haven't a malicious bone in your body, Azar, is greatly mistaken," Draco said upon hearing about it.

            "Hey, she deserved it," Azar said with a shrug.  "Hopefully that'll lessen the whispers a bit.  I'm fine if people talk about me to my face but behind my back is just a bit irritating."

            "C'mon, Azar, you have to reenact it for him," Ron said, laughing at the memory.  "It's just not the same in story form.  Here, Hermione, you play Lavender."

            Azar let go of Harry's arm to replay her triumph, acting it out splendidly and Hermione exaggerating the horror on Lavender's face before being overcome with laughter.

            "Oh, it was truly priceless!" Ron gasped, still laughing as they walked on.  "Harry, I wish you could have seen the look on Lavender's face.  It was really too much."

            "Yeah," Harry said, feeling a slight pang in his stomach.  He was pleased, however, that no one was hanging on his arm now.

            "Oh, speaking of little pests," Hermione said, turning a bit sober, "you won't believe it.  I wrote Skeeter to remind her of what I knew, and I just got the reply back today.  You will not believe it!"

            "Okay, I won't then," Ron grinned.

            "No, I'm serious.  She registered!  She's a registered animagus now!"

            "What?" Ron cried out.  "But surely she's not allowed to use her ability for eavesdropping!"

            Hermione's lip curled slightly.  "She says she'd like to see us prove she is using it for that.  It would be our word against hers."

            "Great.  Now I'm gonna have to look around to make sure no bugs are listening to my conversations.  Of all the rotten—"

            Harry walking into the Gryffindor table halted Ron's exclamation.  He hadn't even realized they were that far, so Harry hit the table as though it wasn't even there, causing a few apples to tumble to the ground.  He stumbled a bit, trying not to fall down and wincing with the pain in his leg.

            "Nice one, Harry," Draco laughed as Harry massaged his thigh. "Be careful, or you'll end up blind and crippled."

            What happened next was so sudden and unexpected that not even Harry was sure why he did it.  All the anger, grief, and despair he'd been holding back broke free, erupting like a volcano that had been dormant for millions of years.  He launched himself forward with an angry yell, just hoping that he might hit Draco.  His aim was exact, Draco giving a cry as he toppled to the ground.  Harry had one desire, one driving force right then:  to destroy, and Draco happened to be the most convenient object.  He balled up his fists and started swinging, seldom connecting with Draco's jaw, but he didn't care.

            "Harry, please stop!"

            Harry froze at the frightened cry.  He wasn't even sure who had said it, but his rage evaporated as quickly as it had arisen, and, though he couldn't see them, Harry felt every eye in the room on him, the silence haunting.  His chest heaved with sobs that never made it past his throat, the situation too surreal for tears.  Suddenly, Harry leapt up and bolted for the door.  His foot ensnared a table leg and he skidded to the stone floor.

            "Let me help you, Harry," came Hermione's quiet voice as he felt her hand pulling up gently on his arm.

            He shoved her away.  "I don't need help!" he yelled.  "I'm fine!  I can take care of myself!  I don't need any help!"

            Crawling up into a run, he rushed for the door, no one stopping him.  He ran through the Entrance Hall, bursting through the doors and down the stairs.  The tears finally came, but he didn't care, dashing down the sloping grounds as if his life depended on it.  As the hill steepened, his feet couldn't catch up with him and he fell, tumbling and skidding, then coming to a halt.  He lay there a moment, silent, his blank eyes spilling over with tears.  In the quiet, he heard the soft lapping of the lake's waters.  He wanted to touch it, to feel the water rolling through his fingers.  The lake had always made things right before.  The lake was always there.

            Harry reached his arm forward, almost smiling at the thought of washing everything away.  His hand hit nothing but grass.  A sob rushed to his throat, but it came out as an angry yell.  His outstretched arm hit the ground as hard as it could, almost trying to break it away.

            "Well, it's a good thing you're taking your anger out on the grass rather than on your friends," said a more than a little bit bitter voice.  "I mean, at least then you won't do something you'll regret."

            "Azar, you don't understand," Harry said, teeth a little gritted.  "No one understands."

            "Don't assume things, Harry.  My grandmother was blind."

            Harry sat up, raising his eyebrows.  "Really?"

            "Yes," Azar said, sitting next to him.  "The thing she loved most in the world was traveling, seeing new things and new people.  Then she got glaucoma, and all that was taken away from her.  It was terribly unfair, but she made the best of it.  She learned to listen.  Everything opened up for her; now all the wonderful images came in her mind.  Sight doesn't hinder imagination."

            Harry just stared off into the distance, his jaw mutinous.  "Well I'm not your grandmother."

            Azar leaned her head on his shoulder.  "And it's a good thing, too, or I would marry you and become my own grandpa."

            A ghost of a smile passed over Harry's face and he leaned his head onto hers, glad she was there.  His mind suddenly free from self-pity, he seemed to finally realize exactly what he'd done.

            "Guess I frightened a few people in there," he said with a great sigh.

            "Let's just say you'll have little trouble bumping into anyone in the halls."

            "Draco least of all.  Think he'll ever forgive me?"

            "Sure.  Not before we're out of Hogwarts, of course, but hopefully sometime within this century."  She gave a sudden laugh as a thought struck her mind.  "You know, it's been a while since Ron pounded on Draco, so I bet he really saw it coming."

            "But not from me.  Did I…did I hurt him?"

            Azar shook her head.  "Not really.  You scared him plenty, though.  You're normally not the type of person to let your anger get the better of you."

            "I know," he said, sitting up straight.  "It's just…  It's so unfair!  My life seems nothing but one horrible experience after another.  I can't take it!"

            Azar smiled slightly.  "I certainly hope your life hasn't been nothing but horrible experiences."

            "Well, no, of course it hasn't.  But it's had more than its fair share."

            "I know," she said, gently tucking some of his hair behind his ear.  "There are times when bad things happen, terrible, terrible things.  You— …We just have to remember that the world still has beautiful things.  There's little sense in anger when it's about the past."

            Harry smiled slightly, turning towards her.  "You're quite the philosopher."

            She grinned broadly.  "It comes and goes."

****

            When Harry ran out of the room, Azar right behind him, Ron flew into action.  He stormed over to Draco, hoisting him to his feet by his robe collar and growling, "We need to talk."

            Without waiting for an answer, or releasing his hold on Draco's clothes, Ron stomped out of the Great Hall, Slytherin in tow.  He turned down a small corridor and stopped, shoving Draco against the wall.

            "What was that?!" he yelled, glaring.

            "I…I—"

            "You know how Harry is struggling with this, and you go and hurt him like that!"

            "If you'll remember, I was the one that was getting pummeled, you louse!" Draco shot back, instinctively going into defense mode.

            "It's less than what you deserve, prat!" Ron yelled.

            "Weasel!"

            "Ferret!"

            "Fine, we're agreed; you're both rodents."

            Ron and Draco froze, turning to find Hermione standing with her arms crossed.

            "Good, that shut you up," she said matter-of-factly.  "Care to try and discuss this as opposed to yelling loud enough for the whole Hall to hear?"

            Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione held up her hand.  "Rhetorical question, Ron.  Hup, no, shush, let me speak."

            Her eyes turned to Draco now, and he realized that he preferred Ron's ranting to Hermione's even gaze.  Though she had been acting as the voice of reason, there was something in her eyes that revealed the confusion she felt.  It took her a while to speak up.

            "Draco, why do you say such things?"

            "I don't really mean to," he said quietly.  "It just came out."

            "Well I suggest you start thinking before things 'come out'.  Harry needs our support right now, not jokes."

            "Jokes would actually do a world of good," Draco insisted. "I'm just not very good at the nice ones."

            "No argument here," Ron said sullenly, hushing up with one look from Hermione.

            "In any case, I want to make this perfectly clear to both of you," she said, suddenly becoming very stern, her eyes flashing with a warning.  "Harry's nerves are in a balancing act right now, and the slightest breeze can do great harm.  He's no different than he was before, so don't treat him like that.  At the same time, be aware of his surroundings when you're walking with him.  Warn him when any person or thing blocks his way, but not in a condescending way.  Use whatever little tact you possess and above all, be his friend.  Understood?"

            The two boys nodded silently, not daring to say a word or hardly to breathe.  With a swift, firm nod, Hermione walked brusquely away.  Draco and Ron stood in silence for a while.

            "I don't know about you," Ron said quietly as though afraid Hermione was still within earshot, "but I thought she was going to eat us."

            Draco snorted, and Ron grinned broadly.  The smile on Draco's face faltered slightly, and he looked up at Ron.

            "Ron, I want to apologize about a couple days ago.  I shouldn't have jumped on you like that; it was a Skeeter article, after all.  I should know better than to trust the truth of those."

            Ron shrugged.  "It's not your fault.  I probably would have suspected me, too."

            Draco took a deep breath to show he wasn't finished, and it was clear that this second part was a lot harder to get out.

            "Ron, there's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about:  Hermione."

            Ron's eyes lost the joking spark they had held, graying instantly.  "Yes?"

            "I think you'll agree neither of us have really acted in the best way concerning her.  I, especially, wasn't really recognizing her feelings.  I know that I am attracted to her; I'm sure you will agree that she is quite beautiful.  And I'm sure that, even if in the smallest amount, she has some attraction to me.  But that's where it stops for her.  She could never see me as something more than a friend, and I'm beginning to see that I might feel the same way."

            Ron blinked, quite slowly, and then said in a voice that sounded oddly like a frog's, "What?"

            Draco, despite the circumstances, could barely hold back a smile.  "I'm no longer going to try and convince her that she loves me and not you.  She's made her choice, so now you can go ride of into the sunset, live happily ever after, and all that rot."

            Ron gaped a moment, as though he were sure all this had to be some elaborate dream or trick.  "You…you're giving in?  A Malfoy conceding to a Weasley?"

            Draco shrugged.  "I guess it's a bit of a habit of mine to break tradition.  Besides, since your mum is so keen on me, I've already got someone to take Hermione's place."

            Ron gave him a stern look.  "That's not funny."

            "Really?"  Draco grinned. "I thought it was quite amusing."

****

            There was a Hogsmeade visit scheduled for that weekend, and the group decided it would be a nice chance for a break.  It was a gray morning, the rain coming down in a cold, misty fog, causing the streets to be quite empty and the businesses to be quite full.  After leaving Honeyduke's with pockets overflowing with sweets, Ron suggested they head over to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to visit Fred and George.  Besides, it would be a good time for him to use the fireplace and go buy a new wand.

            The five entered the small shop to find utter pandemonium.  The Wheezes had become the only place for mischief, making up in popularity what it lacked in size.  You couldn't even breathe without bumping into someone wearing Hogwarts' robes.  The noise was deafening as jokes were tried out, followed by the laughter when they worked quite successfully.  And among it all was George, trying to control the crowd and having about as much luck as a child would with a tornado.  He wasn't exactly looking his best:  heavy bags rested under his eyes and his hair looked as though he'd just got up.

            "Oi!  George!  Having trouble?" Ron called, grinning broadly.

            "For Christ's sake, Ron, I already have one idiotic brother to annoy me, don't make it two," George said, turning around and giving his younger brother a sharp look through his glasses.

            This didn't faze Ron at all.  "What's Fred done?"

            "Nothing!  That's just it!" George cried, throwing his arms up in the air and not caring that he hit a good many customers in the process.  "This is the third day he's slept in this week, and normally I wouldn't mind, but on a Hogsmeade visit!  Not to mention that he and his girl kept me up all night, no matter how many pillows I stuck over my ears."

            "Oh, come off it, George, you're just jealous," Fred said, stumbling down the stairs.

            "I'm all for having a riotous night, Fred, but not at the expense of business," George said, glaring.

            "You're worse than Mum," Fred replied, giving a tired yawn.

            George just shook his head, turning back to the customers.  Deciding to ask the Weasley twin in the best spirits, Ron turned to Fred.

            "Fred, could I borrow a bit of Floo powder?  I need to get to Diagon Alley and buy a wand."

            Fred yawned wide, waving an arm at his brother.  "Sure, yeah, go ahead."

            "I'm gonna go use the fireplace in the back," Ron told his friends.  "Feel free to leave without me.  I'll meet up with you at the Three Broomsticks if you're gone."

            As Ron went through the door to the back room, however, it became apparent that the remaining four had no intention of leaving any time soon.  Azar felt as though she was in heaven, rushing from shelf to shelf with shining eyes.  As soon as he'd woken up completely, Fred became an excellent guide, demonstrating all their latest inventions and whispering information about a few they had in the works.

            Harry soon separated from the others, feeling a bit left out when all he heard was "Oh wow!" and "I can't wait to try that on my aunt!"  He wound his way toward the back of the store and found the door he assumed Ron had gone through.  Hoping perhaps Ron had returned and they could go to the Three Broomsticks, (you didn't need eyes to enjoy butterbeer, after all) he entered the empty room.

            "Ron?" he said, half-hopefully.  There was no response.

            Instead of going back, he came in the room completely and closed the door behind him.  It was strange how the noise in the first room was stifled into a gentle murmur here.  Harry walked in slowly, feeling around the shelves.  It appeared to be a storage room.  He stood alone for a while, relishing the silence.  Suddenly, a loud noise came from right behind him, causing him to spin around.  He ran right into someone, giving a cry of surprise.  The person imitated the exclamation and Harry recognized the voice as Ron's.

            "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Harry laughed.

            "Same to you!" Ron said, trying to sound light-hearted but a slight quaver to his voice.  "What are you doing back here?"

            "Looking for you, actually.  What about you?"

            "Er…just grabbing something Fred needed.  C'mon, let's go back to the front."

            There was an awkward lilt to Ron's voice and as they left the room, Harry was sure that Ron hadn't taken anything from the room.  Ron seemed to sense this confusion and spoke up.

            "Just got back from getting my wand," he said cheerfully.  "Wanna s…  Here.  Fourteen and a half inches, mahogany, dragon heartstring.  Ollivander was quite nice about it, though he did say I was the most careless customer he's ever had, and that I should take as good care of my wand as Harry Potter, who, despite many perils, seems to be able to keep his intact."

            Harry laughed loud as they made their way to Azar, Draco, and Hermione.

            "C'mon, let's go to the Three Broomsticks.  I'm hungry for a butterbeer," Ron said, nodding to the door.

            "Oh, do we have to go?"

            "Honestly, Azar, you sound like a child," Hermione laughed.

            "I feel like one, too.  One in a candy store."

            "Hey, come back whenever you feel like it!" Fred called as they made for the door.

            "And if you feel like having a job next year, Lord knows we could use the help.  Especially since we're thinking of starting a mail order," George added.

            "I'll definitely keep that in mind," Ron assured them.

            Having finally managed getting through the door, the friends headed for the Three Broomsticks, huddling close together against the cold and rain.

****

            "So they're still not sure why exactly it didn't work?" Ron asked tentatively.

            "No," Harry sighed, bowing his head slightly in thought.  "We did everything right, as far as we know, and the spell went on as it was supposed to.  It just didn't end the right way."

            They were on their way to Divination when Ron brought up the meeting Harry went to Sunday.  It hadn't been like other meetings; this one had fewer people, and it was solely about what happened—or more accurately, what went wrong.  As they walked through the halls, Harry insisted that Ron not hold onto his arm, but Ron kept Hermione's orders in mind and was sure to warn Harry of anything that might be of any hindrance.

            "Could it have been because Jame—?"

            Ron regretted the question before he finished it, but Harry didn't make a move as if he noticed this, his head still turned to the floor.

            "It's a possibility," he answered quietly.  "Though as I said, they're not sure."

            "Stairs," Ron warned as they continued on.  Then, hesitantly, "Harry?  There's something I wanted to talk to you about.  I wasn't really sure, but Hermione said I really should.  I talked to Percy the day…well, that night, and he was acting really weird.  He warned me against doing anything stupid, and then he said he was going to be leaving within a year, and that he'd be taking someone with him."

            Simply out of habit, Harry's eyes looked up and turned to Ron.

            "Taking someone with him?  What does he mean by that?"

            Ron shrugged hopelessly.  "How should I know?  Though I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean he'll go out in a blaze of gunfire.  In any case, I haven't seen him since.  I think he's avoiding the subject."

            Harry nodded slowly, his head going back into its hanging/thinking position.  Ron was about to tell him to watch out for the trick step when Harry leapt right over it.  His friend was so shocked he forgot himself and hit the step, his leg falling through.  After Harry helped him back out, Ron was still gaping.

            "You…you jumped the step yourself."

            "Of course," Harry said with a laugh.  "I've been in this castle for more than six years now; I would hope I'd know a few of its surprises."

            "But before…you—"

            "I know," he smiled.  "It just took me a while to remember I know this place."

~*~*~

A/N:  Yeah, yeah, I know I didn't particularly answer any questions, but I gave a good number of hints, so that'll have to suffice.  I'm sorry if the Skeeter article didn't sound sufficiently…Skeeterish; I write for my school paper and have trouble making an article…Skeeterish. ^_^

            Let's see…  I think next chapter we should reach Christmas…possibly. ^_^  I never know with me.

            Ooh, ooh, have you all seen the covers for The Order of the Phoenix?????  Isn't the American one simply gorgeous?  *sighs happily*  It replaced a nummy Sirius reclining on his motorbike as my desktop wallpaper, so that shows how absolutely happy I am. ^_^

            Thank you everyone who reviewed Chapter 21!!!  (Heehee, 21, very good number that. (And if you have to ask why, shame on you!))

Liliana-Suger:  Oh, wow, thanks!  I appreciate recommendations so much!  *bows*

Jeanne:  Yeah, I'm sorry, I knew it was short.  This one is a bit longer, so I hope you like. ^_^  Erm, no, wasn't really planning to go too much more into Arthur's life.  A bit, but not that much.  Foreshadowing?  Me?  Never. ^_^  Heehee, I'm inspiration!  Yah!  …erm, heh, I think I'll have to sneak over and steal your butcher knife.  (Beware the tree with tennis shoes! *rofl*)  Don't be a puddle of mush!  Puddles of mush can't write very easily! ^_^  If I told you that, I'd have to kill you, dear.  You'll find out eventually. ^_^  Thank you!

Trisana:  LOL!  Well, I promise that if Hermione dies, I'll try to slip in a wonderful witch coming into Ron's life, one whose name just happens to be Trisana. ^_^  Thanks!

jona:  lol  Jo, you flatter me too much.  Thanks! *beams*

Lyddi:  Thanks!

Starry:  Thanks!

abbey:  Why thank you.  I did have the Dark Mark in my tea leaves, after all. ^_^  Thanks!

Sonata:  *thumbs up back*  lol, I'm afraid the article might have been a let down.  Dang, how in the word does JK do it?  Gracias. ~_^

Shrimpo/Jewels:  Thanks!

RC:  LOL  I must say, it's been quite enjoyable to see your reviews popping up on my email. (Through review alert.)  Let me thank you very much for reading my other stories!  Thanks! ^_^

            And that's the end of that chapter. *dusts off hands*

            I have one quick thing to add.  I know that the war with Iraq is something that's on everyone's minds right now.  However, I would ask that here it not exist.  I won't go off giving my opinion of it and I ask that you do the same.  This is a place for Potter only! ^_^  If you really, truly, for whatever strange reason (~_^) want my opinion on it, my email is always open:  adyremard@yahoo.com

            Love you all!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady