Chapter 3

My first two weeks of school were all pretty much a blur. I did eventually begin to figure out my way around the castle, so even when Hermione wasn't there to lead the way, I could get to my classes. I only made a few wrong turns and I managed to remember about the trick steps and not get caught in them, though I did help pull a First Year out of one the second day. Classes were going pretty well and I found that I didn't seem to be behind in any of them. Occasionally I would find that they had covered something I never had and I'd have to do a little catch up (not too difficult with Hermione around), but sometimes I also knew about something they hadn't yet covered.

Hermione and I had gone to the Quidditch tryouts the second Saturday (they didn't find anyone they were happy with at the first one and held another one), but she took along her books and didn't spend much time watching. Somehow I just couldn't bring myself to focus on schoolwork while sitting in the sunshine on such a beautiful autumn day. I watched the tryouts with interest. Even though I didn't understand everything I was seeing, I began to discern what was good playing and what wasn't. Some of the people that tried out for Chaser were really awful. They couldn't seem to hang onto the ball ('Quaffle', as Ron insistently reminds me whenever I call it a 'ball') or pass it to other Chasers or get it past the Keeper. One kid, Colin Creevey, did pretty well. He seemed to be a friend of Ron's sister, Ginny, who had successfully won one Chaser spot on the team. I think they're both Fifth Years.

I hadn't had much chance to see the Hogwarts grounds, so I talked the guys into showing me around. Hermione finally agreed to put aside her books for a little while and join us. We visited with Hagrid (Harry had warned me to refuse any offers of food he made) and I met his boarhound, Fang, who seemed especially fond of Ron and Harry and drooled all over the both of them. I had seen the Quidditch field that morning, and we avoided the Forbidden Forest, though they pointed it out and told me some of the things that had happened to them when they had been in it. Finally, we ended up just sitting by the lake and watching the Giant Squid lazily playing in the water.

Sitting there, all right with the world, it didn't seem possible there could be such evil as Voldemort anywhere in the world, though an unpleasant tug of reality reminded me I didn't really believe that. Somehow just thinking about it for that brief moment cast a shadow on my happy mood. Voldemort. Seems like a lot of the bad/sad things in my life tie to him. Losing my mother, never knowing my father - both those things had to do with him. I found myself at school and friends with the boy who had somehow defeated him all those years ago. And here, even more than in America, there was talk about his return. In America, it still amounted more to rumors; probably no one wanted to believe it. But in Britain, the wizarding community had finally been convinced he was back. My three companions were largely responsible for that. They hadn't told me the whole story, but I had picked up bits and pieces here and there, and knew it involved an attack on the Ministry of Magic by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

As I sat with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, lost in my reverie, I felt a nudge. Harry was looking at me curiously and asked, "Are you all right?" He hesitated, then added, "You just got real quiet and, well...sort of somber, all of a sudden." I hadn't noticed that Ron and Hermione had gotten up at some point and begun walking around the lake, so we were sitting there alone. I sighed and considered a moment; usually I only talked to Cassie about these things. I hadn't even wanted to burden my parents with it. They never heard a lot of what was going on in the wizarding world, but there was plenty of talk at school so I knew more than they did about the rumors of Voldemort. I hadn't wanted to worry them. They had lived through his first reign of terror.

I realized I hadn't answered Harry, and he was beginning to shift uncomfortably, like he thought maybe he had offended me with the question. Before I knew what I was doing, I began to pour it all out to him. It was the first time I had really shared anything personal with any of them. I had given them bits and pieces, but nothing appreciable. I spent more time listening to them than sharing, and up til now, no one had pressed me on it. Maybe it was a relief to get it out. I missed having Cassie so close by; we often talked late into the night, making it difficult to get up the next morning.

Harry didn't interrupt my longwinded monologue; just listened silently. When I finished, and looked tentatively at Harry to see his reaction, I found the sorrow of our first day had returned to his eyes. A muscle in his jaw was twitching tightly and somehow I knew he was fighting back tears. I knew this didn't really have anything to do with what I had told him; well, not specifically anyway - but something I had said had triggered painful memories in him. I wanted to comfort him, but I was afraid to touch him. He looked like he might take off running if I did. He was seemingly in some private hell that I could not reach, and still did not fully understand. So I just sat there quietly beside him and let him regain control, if he could.

Ten or fifteen minutes had passed when I noticed that Ron and Hermione were returning to the spot where we sat, and I mentioned it to Harry. His face got a look of panic and he jumped up, mumbled, "Sorry!" and took off toward the castle at a quick pace. When Ron and Hermione reached me, naturally they asked where Harry had gone. I had a feeling they would chase him down if they knew he was upset, and I was pretty sure he had departed hastily so they wouldn't see, so I lied and told them he had decided to go take a nap. They seemed inclined to return to the castle as well, so I rose and accompanied them. When we got to the common room, I was afraid Ron might head upstairs in search of Harry, so I engaged him in a conversation about Quidditch, and he settled into an armchair, talking with relish about his favorite subject. Hermione stuck it out a few minutes before retrieving her Transfiguration textbook and starting to read.

It was maybe an hour later when Harry came through the portrait hole into the common room. It only took a moment for it to register with Ron that he hadn't been upstairs asleep. "Harry? Where have you been? I thought Deandra said you were going to take a nap?" He glanced at me, and I thought I saw a glimmer of gratitude flash briefly over his face, before he replied, "I was going to, but I decided to...go down and visit Dobby for a bit, in the kitchen. I haven't seen him in awhile."

Ron straightened up, "You didn't bring anything back to eat, did you? I'm starving!" Hermione snorted, "What else is new, Ron! Dinner is in an hour." Ron pouted at her, "I'm a growing boy. I need my strength." Wisely, Hermione smirked down at her book but said nothing more on the subject. Harry shook his head since Ron had turned back in his direction, "Sorry. Didn't think about it."

Ron rose and headed off to his dorm room to hit his stash of candy to tide him over the next hour and Harry sat down in a nearby chair, the farthest away from where Hermione had resumed her reading. Ever so quietly, so much so that I almost didn't hear him, he whispered, "Thanks." I nodded my head slightly to let him know I had heard, but made no comment. When Ron returned, he brought his Wizard Chess set and asked if Harry wanted to play. I don't think he really did, but he agreed anyway. I went and got some parchment, a quill and some ink and began a long overdue letter to Cassie.

Dinner passed uneventfully, and Ron and Harry were finally persuaded by Hermione to begin working on their homework, rather than waiting until Sunday, as they clearly had intended to do. I think they were both a little too tired to argue, and figured they might as well get some of it out of the way rather than quarrel with her. Ron began struggling through our Herbology essay and Harry was trying to practice a Retrieval Charm that Professor Flitwick had us working on.

He wasn't having much success with it and was getting a little frustrated. Suddenly I was hit with an impish urge and pulled my wand out under the table, still seemingly focused on my Herbology reading. When Harry tried again to retrieve the balled up sock he was using, I muttered a Repulsing Charm too low for him to hear and he watched in amazement as the sock moved away from him instead of toward him. Suppressing a smile, I continued to pretend to be reading and not to have noticed, as he looked around at each of us suspiciously and then glanced around the room as well. The room was fairly deserted just then, and those who were there weren't particularly paying any attention to us. After a moment, he shrugged, moved the sock back to its starting position and tried the Charm again. Once more, I repulsed it away, this time toward Hermione. Harry's head jerked up and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Hermione!" She tore her attention from what she was writing to look at him questioningly, "Yes?"

"Did you do that?" he asked, now a little more uncertainly.

"Do what?" she asked, obviously perplexed.

"Make the sock...move away when I tried to retrieve it." I think he was beginning to feel a little foolish about the accusation.

"Of course not! I don't even have my wand out!" She rolled her eyes at him and returned to her essay.

Ron had looked up in interest, glad to be distracted from his own essay, but shrugged and shook his head in denial when Harry looked questioningly at him. "Wasn't me, mate." By then I couldn't stifle a snicker, and they both turned to me, Harry staring accusingly at me a moment before finally grinning. "Sorry," I muttered through my efforts at not giggling. "I couldn't resist!" He snatched the sock back to its starting position, ordered me to put both hands on the table where he could see them, glared warningly at me and attempted the Charm again, this time successfully. I grinned, returned my wand to my robe pocket and went back to my reading.

By now, Ron was frustrated enough to begin whining to Hermione for help and after a considerable amount of time spent chiding him; she finally gave in and helped him with his homework. To do so, they shoved their chairs closer together so they could more easily see his paper together. I had a sneaking suspicion that 'sitting closer together' was more the point than 'getting help' had been. Harry was grinning down toward his parchment too, so he may have been thinking the same thing.

All of us called it a night some time after 11:00 but when I got to bed, I found I couldn't really relax and get to sleep after all. I fought it for about an hour, but I couldn't put the events of the day out of my head enough for slumber, so I finally gave in and got up. I grabbed my letter to Cassie and writing materials, then headed downstairs to the common room so I wouldn't disturb anyone else. At first, I thought I was alone, but when I set my things on the table, the inkbottle slipped down with a thump and I heard something stir over on the couch in front of the fire. I turned to see Harry looking curiously at me. "What are you doing up?" he asked, sounding a bit hoarse.

I walked over to the couch and sat down next to him, leaning back, "Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd finish my letter. What about you?" He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, "Same. Couldn't sleep." That terrible sorrow had returned to his eyes, and this time the tears seemed even closer to the surface than they had this afternoon. Maybe he had already been crying; that would explain the hoarseness in his voice. I was at a loss for what to do. I wasn't sure I knew him well enough to ask him any questions, and I wasn't sure he was capable of answering them just then anyway. Finally, I couldn't help myself; I reached over and put an arm around him consolingly. The next thing I knew, he was sobbing into my shoulder. All I could do was hold him for as long as he needed me to.

His tears seemed to continue forever and come from his very soul. My arm was aching where he had been leaning on it the entire time, and it was beginning to fall asleep, but more than that, my heart ached with a desire to ease his pain. And I felt so helpless to do anything; so we just sat there, and he cried. After an eternity, his sobs subsided and he gradually quieted. I'm not sure how, but he ended up lying on the couch, his head in my lap as I stroked his hair soothingly. His eyes were closed and slowly his face was beginning to relax. He looked so much like a lost little boy as he lay there. I knew there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do - just continue to stroke his head until he fell asleep. I guess I eventually did too.

Later, much later, I awoke and he was gone; the fire had almost died out. Someone, I suspected Harry, had put a blanket over me as I sat there sleeping. Stiffly I stood, collected my letter and writing implements and returned to my bed. It was nearly four in the morning. I didn't think I could go back to sleep with my mind replaying what had just taken place, but I eventually dropped off.

It was after 10:00 when I finally awoke. Hermione and the other girls were long gone. I got up and dressed, then made my way downstairs. Hermione had resumed her seat at the table and was again reading. She looked up when I came in, smiled and waved me over. She pushed a napkin toward me and a jug of pumpkin juice. The napkin concealed several pieces of toast. She pulled out her wand and warmed the toast for me, and I thanked her for saving me some breakfast. "I figured you might get hungry if you had to wait til lunch," she explained. I glanced around as I ate, "Where are the guys?"

"Harry's still asleep. Ron and Ginny went out to practice Quidditch." After a moment she asked, "How come you were so tired?" I shrugged, unwilling to explain all that had happened, then just said, "I couldn't sleep so I got up to finish my letter. Guess I stayed up too long." The answer seemed to satisfy her, and it was mostly the truth. It just left out the part about Harry and the fact that I never actually worked on the letter.

Speaking of Harry, he chose that moment to stumble downstairs, still looking a bit bleary-eyed. His eyes fell on the stack of toast and he sat down next to me. "Mind if I have one of these?" he asked, reaching out his hand. I nodded consent, and he smiled his gratitude, which, if I'm not mistaken, included more than the toast. Without looking up from her book, Hermione said, "Well, I know why Deandra's such a sleepyhead today, but why are you?" He glanced at me questioningly, wondering what I had told her. I explained, "I couldn't sleep and stayed up too late with a letter I was writing." He nodded ever so slightly, then answered Hermione, "I couldn't get to sleep either."

Rather than satisfying her, it seemed to pique her interest further and she looked at him with concern, "You aren't having...dreams...again, are you?" I didn't know what she meant, but it clearly worried her. Harry shook his head quickly, "No. Just couldn't sleep, that's all." She didn't seem entirely convinced but let the subject drop. The worried crease in her forehead remained, though, as she turned back to reading. I pushed the remaining pumpkin juice toward Harry and he gratefully finished it off.

Glancing out the window, I saw it was another fine day. A breeze had picked up and even at 10:30, it looked a bit nippy out. Even so, I felt like I wanted to stretch my legs, and maybe the exercise would clear away some of the cobwebs fogging my head. "Think I'll go for a walk. Anyone want to come?" I asked the others. Hermione shook her head and continued reading. Swallowing the last bite of toast, Harry stood, "Sure. I'll join you."

We said goodbye to Hermione, got our cloaks and headed for the exit. Neither of us spoke again until we were on the castle grounds. We never discussed where we were going, but we ended up walking down toward the lake. Finally, hesitantly, Harry spoke, "Uh...about last night..." He stopped, apparently searching for the right words. All he was able to come up with was, "Thanks." Out of the corner of my eye, he looked nervous. I suspect he felt a little foolish for crying like that. Guys tend to be that way. Quietly, I commented, "That pain must have been bottled up an awfully long time."

He made a strangled sound, and when I looked at him, I thought maybe he was going to start crying again. But he regained his composure after a brief struggle and just nodded. Then, slowly, he began to talk, telling me everything. The Dursleys, Voldemort, Sirius and all the things he blamed himself for. And he told me about the Prophecy, what he had to do - murder or be murdered. We kept walking the entire time and when he finished, we found ourselves at the far end of the lake in an area where most students never bothered to wander.

He flung himself down at the foot of a tree, looking as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. I guess, in a way, it was. I frantically searched for the words to convey my thoughts to him, so he'd understand. "Harry," I said softly, sitting down beside him, "there's a big difference between killing in self-defense, or the defense of others, and murder. Murder is personal and selfish and actively sought as a solution to a problem. You aren't a murderer if you kill someone who is trying their best to kill you, if there is no other way to stop them. And there isn't any other way to stop Voldemort. If he doesn't die, when he comes after you, he'll just keep coming back again and again. None of us wants a fight to the death, but he isn't giving us that choice. He's coming to kill us whether we fight to live or simply let him slay us. It's HIS choice to fight; we - YOU - haven't been given an option."

He looked at me, startled by my words. Clearly, he had never considered things in that light before. As I watched his face, I saw him begin to accept this new idea and some of the fear and worry and anger drained from his features. When he turned back to face me, again he didn't seem to know how to phrase his thoughts, so once more he settled for, "Thanks." And then we just sat, in companionable silence, for a very long time. All of a sudden, he started and looked quickly at me, directly into my eyes. My quizzical expression prompted an explanation and he said, "I just figured out whose eyes yours remind me of!"

"Oh?" I never knew he had ever paid any attention to my eyes...

"Yeah...Sirius. He had penetrating grey eyes, also." He had told me Sirius' history, how he and Harry had become as close as father and son in the past two years, and about his death, for which Harry blamed himself. I wasn't sure of the significance of this observation, but somehow I felt like it was a compliment of sorts. I had smiled and looked away when he told me that, but when I turned back, the look on his face confirmed the feeling. My smile widened for a moment, then faded as I saw his expression change. He was looking at me strangely and my stomach started doing a tap dance. Next thing I knew he had leaned over and kissed me. It was just the kind of kiss you imagine for your first kiss - slow and sweet and...perfect. He pulled back, looking a little embarrassed, unsure how I would react. But I guess my smile convinced him that I hadn't minded at all. He put his arm around my shoulders and moved closer. I let my head come to rest on his shoulder, and we just sat silently watching the lake lap on the shore.