That Hogsmeade trip would stand out in Harry's mind as the best out of all
his Hogwarts years. Day broke bright and crystal clear – it had flurried
overnight, and there was an inch of snow dusted all over the town. The cold
made everyone's breath hang on the air, but there was no wind, and the sun
beat down pleasantly on their flushed faces.
Harry raced Ron down the stairs to find Hermione ready and waiting, already bundled up in her frumpy winter coat, her pitifully deformed hat and scarf bearing testimony to her S.P.E.W. knitting skills.
"Come on!" she said, her eyes shining brightly, "I've been waiting for you two!"
"Can't have been more than five minutes!" Ron said, but Harry noticed he was grinning widely as well, zipping up his threadbare parka.
As they walked through Hogsmeade, Harry reflected that it was probably irrational that the events of the past few days had not made him miserable, as he'd expected, but completely happy. Something about this latest brush with death had been the last straw, in a way, and Harry sensed that the three of them were vigorously, almost recklessly cheerful, as though in defiance. After all, there were only so many times you can cheat death before even a normal day seems remarkable.
Maybe it was what Lupin had said, but he found himself sneaking glances at the two of them as they were walking, drinking in tiny details. How dazzlingly white and perfectly straight Hermione's teeth were...how Ron's red hair was lit up like a fire-red halo in the November sunshine. Rather than feel embarrassed by the fraying and wear on Ron's coat, as he normally did, he found it made him smile. And when Hermione's sneaking in the corners smile suddenly erupted into a wide, helpless laugh, he nearly felt light- headed. He was seized with a sudden fear that he'd wake to find this was all a dream.
"What?"
Harry snapped out of his reverie to realize Hermione had caught him staring at her. Ron was chortling, and Harry realized he must have had a pretty odd expression on.
"Sorry," he said, laughing at himself apologetically, "Not important."
"What was [I]that[/I]?" Ron chortled.
"You had this goofy smile on, like you were daydreaming, and all of sudden, it was as though you'd remembered you left the stove on," Hermione laughed, "And your face just..." She put on a comically helpless expression as though she were both concerned and bewildered. Ron howled with laughter.
"Shut up, I don't look like [I]that[/I]," Harry grinned, blushing. But he could see Hermione's eyes piercing him beneath the laughter, seeking beneath the smile.
"You are alright, aren't you?"
"I'm fine!" Harry said casually, gesturing at the town, "It's just so...perfect, today. I was beginning to worry it was a dream."
"You would worry about something like that!" Ron said, scooping up some snow, and flinging it at Harry. Unfortunately, he hadn't really packed it together, and Hermione stood with her mouth hanging open, snow clinging to her shocked expression.
"You!"
Harry watched as Hermione scooped up a fist full of snow, and let her get most of it down Ron's collar before he joined in, mashing a handful of snow to her ear. This earned him a shrill shriek, and a wallop from her bookbag. Ron was laughing helplessly, still trying to shake the snow out of his collar.
"Shut it, you," Hermione said with mock severity, and she trod on his foot lightly.
They started out at Honeydukes, where Ron and Harry stocked up on Chocolate Frogs, Pepper Imps, Ice Mice, and Bertie Botts. Harry and Ron convinced Hermione to try a Fizzing Whizbee with them – unbeknownst to her, they had traded theirs for Muggle gum balls. After Harry and Ron had had a good laugh (and threatened to tote her about Hogsmeade by her scarf like a balloon), Harry cast the simple gravity spell printed on the inside of the wrapper, and Hermione sank back to the floor.
"Gained a little weight, have you? Go on Harry, put some more on," Ron quipped, shielding himself from Hermione's bookbag.
From Honeydukes they went to Zonko's, where Hermione half-heartedly reminded them that most of the products were banned from school, before allowing herself to be led around the store. And while he and Ron were waiting at the cashier's queue, Harry actually caught her taking a second look at an Exploding Snap set.
After some hot butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks (where Hermione ruthlessly regaled Harry with the sad saga of Ron's desperate, unrequited pining for Madame Rosemerta), they stepped blinking into the afternoon sun, and wondered what to do next. Ron was busy admiring his new Gobstones (Harry had lent him the twelve Sickles, with dire oaths from Ron that it would be paid in full), and Hermione was sucking pensievely on a jawbreaker.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure there's anything left for us to do, really."
"Nonsense," Ron said, "We can go to Zonko's."
"We just came from Zonko's," Hermione said, with an exasperated grin, "As much as you love that place, Ron, I don't think it's any different now that it was an hour ago."
"We could try out some of what we bought," Ron said with a wink at Harry.
Hermione was about to open her mouth to protest, when Harry suggested, "Well, we are sixth years. We've been here plenty of times by now."
"I remember a Hogsmeade visit couldn't last long enough!" Ron said, looking slightly crestfallen.
"Isn't it odd? We've only got a year and a half left of school – I feel like we just got here," Hermione said, glancing about the town.
Harry felt a very slight panic tugging at his stomach, and decided to change the subject.
"Let's head back. It's a bit cold anyway. We can go tickle the pear, get something to eat, and spend the rest of the day in the common room."
"Yeah!" Ron said, his eyes lighting up, "It'll be empty. We can play chess...And I think Seamus has more of those fluffy things..."
"Marshmallows," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "You [I]really[/I] ought to take Muggle—"
"Sounds great," Harry said with a grin.
Later that night, the three of them huddled around the dying fire. Harry and Ron had just finished an epic wizard's chess battle, which Ron had won by the skin of his teeth.
"It was the queen," Harry said, with a big stretch.
"Right," Ron agreed with a yawn, "Once I had her, it was curtains from there, mate. Well played, though."
Hermione moaned quietly from her place on the couch, and rolled over awkwardly, the pages of the her book having left small red lines on her cheek. Harry and Ron shared a grin, but managed not to laugh.
"Oh," she said, blearily propping a pillow under her head, "Who won?"
"Who d'you think?" Ron said, with a cocky grin.
"Chuck me another of those," Harry said, pointing at the bag of marshmallows they had liberated from Seamus's trunk. ("Well, he hadn't even locked it. Practially an invitation," as Ron explained.)
They relaxed and chatted about small nothings as people slowly clomped back into the common room, stamping the last of the melted snow off their shoes. A little later, Ginny came clomping in with Neville in tow, who had just been released by Madame Pomfrey. A small celebration ensued, where they all sat about the fire and related what they'd done that day. Harry was so relieved to see Neville back to his old self, he promptly gave him all of his Droobles Blowing Gum. Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender arrived shortly with smuggled butterbeers, though Harry had to share his with Ron, as Seamus wouldn't give him one.
"Oi, where's mine?" Ron asked in dismay.
Seamus indicated the bag of marshmallows with his bottle. "Why don' ye just have another look in my trunk, Ron, maybe it's in there!"
They stayed at their spot by the fire until long after the first and second years retired to bed. Finally, they couldn't stall any longer.
"I hate Sunday nights," Parvati said, heaving a sigh, "It gets poisoned."
Ron snorted, "At least you don't have to take Potions anymore. Talk about poison."
Hermione suddenly gasped, "Ron! We haven't studied!"
Ron shrugged uncomfortably, "Who cares? It's the day after Hogsmeade, no one's studied. The teachers know that."
But Harry's conscience was gnawing at him as well – he had a feeling none of the teachers were inclined to go easy on them, not in NEWT level courses. He mentally promised to spend more time studying and less time goofing off.
Sensing that the buzz had decidedly been killed, most of the Gryffindors turned in for the night. Harry left Ron and Hermione in the common room, bickering.
"Just ten minutes. It's better than nothing."
"If it won't make that much difference, why bother?"
"Ronald Weasley – "
"I'll work better if I'm well-rested...Besides, I know you well enough to know what 'ten minutes' really means..."
Harry sighed comfortably, and headed up the stone staircase.
Later that night, he was just about to nod off to sleep, when he heard the door quietly creak open, and heard Ron's stocking feet padding along the wooden floor, heard the rustle of the bed hangings and the creak of the mattress as Ron settled in to bed.
Harry pulled his own aside slightly.
"Psst – Ron."
There was a brief pause.
"Mm?" Ron asked from behind the curtain, and Harry could hear the yawn in his voice, "What's up, Harry?"
"She finally let you go, eh?"
"Yeah," Ron muttered wearily. Harry heard the blankets rustling, and Ron poked his head out of the curtains. "Still think she's wasting her time to be honest. I'm just thick, that's all."
"No you're not," Harry said reassuringly, "It just takes a lot of work. You'll make it."
"Mmm."
They were quiet again for a while, and Ron ducked back behind the curtains. Harry followed suit, settling onto the pillows.
"Good day, eh?"
"Yeah," Ron whispered, and Harry could almost see his smile, "Great day."
Harry took his glasses off, and set them on his end table with a dull clatter. "G'night, Ron."
"'Night."
Harry took a deep yawn, and before he knew it, he was asleep.
He was walking through Hogsmeade again, with Ron and Hermione. But the already cold day seemed to suddenly get much colder – they turned up their collars as the sun went behind a cloud, but before they knew it they were nearly frozen to the core. The smiles died on their lips, and with a feeling of dread, they realized it wasn't a cloud that was blocking out the sun, but Dementors – hundreds of them, swarming and swirling. Riding on one of their backs, his normally round, boyish face gaunt and pale with death, was Neville. He pointed angrily at Harry, and the Dementor he was riding slowly followed suit with his own bony claws.
"It's him! He's the one that killed me!"
Harry's scar suddenly twinged in sharp, searing pain. He squinted, and clapped a hand to his forehead. Forcing his eyes open, he looked up, and saw that Neville wasn't Neville at all, but –
"It's him!" cried Sirius, pointing angrily at Harry from his place on the Dementor's back, "He's the one that killed me!"
The Dementors swooped towards the three of them. Harry turned to run, but he felt like his legs were cement – every step seemed to take an age. He heard Ron shriek from behind him, and turned to watch him being lifted up into the air, just like Neville...The Dementors had Hermione by the hair, and were dragging her off towards the Quidditch Pitch. He reached for his wand, but it wasn't there. A high, cold laugh was ringing in his ears – he heard his mother screaming.
Suddenly, he found himself back in the Department of Mysteries, in the blue torch room. The door to the amphitheater was once again open, exhaling a hiss of cold air that wrapped around Harry's ankles and seemed to pull him closer.
"HHHhhhhhhhahaaaaarrrrryyyy..." called Sirius's sepulchural voice.
Harry looked down, and saw that he was carrying the mirror that Sirius had given him.
"Did you think I was lying?" asked the high, cold voice sinuously, almost tenderly.
Images flashed in his mind. Neville being lifted up by the Dementors flitted briefly in his mind. Ron, panting and screaming, his shadow looming on the wall as Harry tried to reach him. Harry saw a hand, Sirius's hand, slowly pushing aside the veil of the stone archway...
"A trade then," Voldemort hissed.
Suddenly, the dream seemed to cease. There was no sound. No image. Just darkness...Harry thought that he'd woken up at first, but when he tried to open his eyes, there was only more darkness.
His scar let out a sudden burst of pain, and he found he was back by the Whomping Willow, near the Quidditch pitch. He was watching Neville being lifted up by the Dementors, the loose strands of hair wafting from the rotting, leathery scalp. He tried to look away, but it was as though a hand had grabbed him by the chin and jerked his eyes back to Neville. The dream suddenly froze in place, and Harry's eyes seemed to zoom in, as though he were looking through a pair of Omniocculars. He found himself staring at Neville's face. But suddenly, the image flickered – suddenly it wasn't Neville's face, but Nott's pock-marked one, stricken with fear.
His scar nearly exploded in pain. He felt rage, uncontrollable rage.
Suddenly, before his swimming vision, he saw the burning red eyes, the slitted nostrils –
"[I]YYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU![/I]" roared Voldemort, the cold voice echoing and reverberating painfully in his head, the sound of pure, undisguised hatred.
In that brief moment, Harry saw glimpses – Hogwarts was burning, and the stone archways were crumbling. Students were running, screaming through the hallways. Dementors swooped through the hallways. At his feet, Ron was lying dead.
"Harry!"
Harry lept up in bed, and came face to face with Ron, his face as white as a sheet.
Harry raced Ron down the stairs to find Hermione ready and waiting, already bundled up in her frumpy winter coat, her pitifully deformed hat and scarf bearing testimony to her S.P.E.W. knitting skills.
"Come on!" she said, her eyes shining brightly, "I've been waiting for you two!"
"Can't have been more than five minutes!" Ron said, but Harry noticed he was grinning widely as well, zipping up his threadbare parka.
As they walked through Hogsmeade, Harry reflected that it was probably irrational that the events of the past few days had not made him miserable, as he'd expected, but completely happy. Something about this latest brush with death had been the last straw, in a way, and Harry sensed that the three of them were vigorously, almost recklessly cheerful, as though in defiance. After all, there were only so many times you can cheat death before even a normal day seems remarkable.
Maybe it was what Lupin had said, but he found himself sneaking glances at the two of them as they were walking, drinking in tiny details. How dazzlingly white and perfectly straight Hermione's teeth were...how Ron's red hair was lit up like a fire-red halo in the November sunshine. Rather than feel embarrassed by the fraying and wear on Ron's coat, as he normally did, he found it made him smile. And when Hermione's sneaking in the corners smile suddenly erupted into a wide, helpless laugh, he nearly felt light- headed. He was seized with a sudden fear that he'd wake to find this was all a dream.
"What?"
Harry snapped out of his reverie to realize Hermione had caught him staring at her. Ron was chortling, and Harry realized he must have had a pretty odd expression on.
"Sorry," he said, laughing at himself apologetically, "Not important."
"What was [I]that[/I]?" Ron chortled.
"You had this goofy smile on, like you were daydreaming, and all of sudden, it was as though you'd remembered you left the stove on," Hermione laughed, "And your face just..." She put on a comically helpless expression as though she were both concerned and bewildered. Ron howled with laughter.
"Shut up, I don't look like [I]that[/I]," Harry grinned, blushing. But he could see Hermione's eyes piercing him beneath the laughter, seeking beneath the smile.
"You are alright, aren't you?"
"I'm fine!" Harry said casually, gesturing at the town, "It's just so...perfect, today. I was beginning to worry it was a dream."
"You would worry about something like that!" Ron said, scooping up some snow, and flinging it at Harry. Unfortunately, he hadn't really packed it together, and Hermione stood with her mouth hanging open, snow clinging to her shocked expression.
"You!"
Harry watched as Hermione scooped up a fist full of snow, and let her get most of it down Ron's collar before he joined in, mashing a handful of snow to her ear. This earned him a shrill shriek, and a wallop from her bookbag. Ron was laughing helplessly, still trying to shake the snow out of his collar.
"Shut it, you," Hermione said with mock severity, and she trod on his foot lightly.
They started out at Honeydukes, where Ron and Harry stocked up on Chocolate Frogs, Pepper Imps, Ice Mice, and Bertie Botts. Harry and Ron convinced Hermione to try a Fizzing Whizbee with them – unbeknownst to her, they had traded theirs for Muggle gum balls. After Harry and Ron had had a good laugh (and threatened to tote her about Hogsmeade by her scarf like a balloon), Harry cast the simple gravity spell printed on the inside of the wrapper, and Hermione sank back to the floor.
"Gained a little weight, have you? Go on Harry, put some more on," Ron quipped, shielding himself from Hermione's bookbag.
From Honeydukes they went to Zonko's, where Hermione half-heartedly reminded them that most of the products were banned from school, before allowing herself to be led around the store. And while he and Ron were waiting at the cashier's queue, Harry actually caught her taking a second look at an Exploding Snap set.
After some hot butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks (where Hermione ruthlessly regaled Harry with the sad saga of Ron's desperate, unrequited pining for Madame Rosemerta), they stepped blinking into the afternoon sun, and wondered what to do next. Ron was busy admiring his new Gobstones (Harry had lent him the twelve Sickles, with dire oaths from Ron that it would be paid in full), and Hermione was sucking pensievely on a jawbreaker.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure there's anything left for us to do, really."
"Nonsense," Ron said, "We can go to Zonko's."
"We just came from Zonko's," Hermione said, with an exasperated grin, "As much as you love that place, Ron, I don't think it's any different now that it was an hour ago."
"We could try out some of what we bought," Ron said with a wink at Harry.
Hermione was about to open her mouth to protest, when Harry suggested, "Well, we are sixth years. We've been here plenty of times by now."
"I remember a Hogsmeade visit couldn't last long enough!" Ron said, looking slightly crestfallen.
"Isn't it odd? We've only got a year and a half left of school – I feel like we just got here," Hermione said, glancing about the town.
Harry felt a very slight panic tugging at his stomach, and decided to change the subject.
"Let's head back. It's a bit cold anyway. We can go tickle the pear, get something to eat, and spend the rest of the day in the common room."
"Yeah!" Ron said, his eyes lighting up, "It'll be empty. We can play chess...And I think Seamus has more of those fluffy things..."
"Marshmallows," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "You [I]really[/I] ought to take Muggle—"
"Sounds great," Harry said with a grin.
Later that night, the three of them huddled around the dying fire. Harry and Ron had just finished an epic wizard's chess battle, which Ron had won by the skin of his teeth.
"It was the queen," Harry said, with a big stretch.
"Right," Ron agreed with a yawn, "Once I had her, it was curtains from there, mate. Well played, though."
Hermione moaned quietly from her place on the couch, and rolled over awkwardly, the pages of the her book having left small red lines on her cheek. Harry and Ron shared a grin, but managed not to laugh.
"Oh," she said, blearily propping a pillow under her head, "Who won?"
"Who d'you think?" Ron said, with a cocky grin.
"Chuck me another of those," Harry said, pointing at the bag of marshmallows they had liberated from Seamus's trunk. ("Well, he hadn't even locked it. Practially an invitation," as Ron explained.)
They relaxed and chatted about small nothings as people slowly clomped back into the common room, stamping the last of the melted snow off their shoes. A little later, Ginny came clomping in with Neville in tow, who had just been released by Madame Pomfrey. A small celebration ensued, where they all sat about the fire and related what they'd done that day. Harry was so relieved to see Neville back to his old self, he promptly gave him all of his Droobles Blowing Gum. Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender arrived shortly with smuggled butterbeers, though Harry had to share his with Ron, as Seamus wouldn't give him one.
"Oi, where's mine?" Ron asked in dismay.
Seamus indicated the bag of marshmallows with his bottle. "Why don' ye just have another look in my trunk, Ron, maybe it's in there!"
They stayed at their spot by the fire until long after the first and second years retired to bed. Finally, they couldn't stall any longer.
"I hate Sunday nights," Parvati said, heaving a sigh, "It gets poisoned."
Ron snorted, "At least you don't have to take Potions anymore. Talk about poison."
Hermione suddenly gasped, "Ron! We haven't studied!"
Ron shrugged uncomfortably, "Who cares? It's the day after Hogsmeade, no one's studied. The teachers know that."
But Harry's conscience was gnawing at him as well – he had a feeling none of the teachers were inclined to go easy on them, not in NEWT level courses. He mentally promised to spend more time studying and less time goofing off.
Sensing that the buzz had decidedly been killed, most of the Gryffindors turned in for the night. Harry left Ron and Hermione in the common room, bickering.
"Just ten minutes. It's better than nothing."
"If it won't make that much difference, why bother?"
"Ronald Weasley – "
"I'll work better if I'm well-rested...Besides, I know you well enough to know what 'ten minutes' really means..."
Harry sighed comfortably, and headed up the stone staircase.
Later that night, he was just about to nod off to sleep, when he heard the door quietly creak open, and heard Ron's stocking feet padding along the wooden floor, heard the rustle of the bed hangings and the creak of the mattress as Ron settled in to bed.
Harry pulled his own aside slightly.
"Psst – Ron."
There was a brief pause.
"Mm?" Ron asked from behind the curtain, and Harry could hear the yawn in his voice, "What's up, Harry?"
"She finally let you go, eh?"
"Yeah," Ron muttered wearily. Harry heard the blankets rustling, and Ron poked his head out of the curtains. "Still think she's wasting her time to be honest. I'm just thick, that's all."
"No you're not," Harry said reassuringly, "It just takes a lot of work. You'll make it."
"Mmm."
They were quiet again for a while, and Ron ducked back behind the curtains. Harry followed suit, settling onto the pillows.
"Good day, eh?"
"Yeah," Ron whispered, and Harry could almost see his smile, "Great day."
Harry took his glasses off, and set them on his end table with a dull clatter. "G'night, Ron."
"'Night."
Harry took a deep yawn, and before he knew it, he was asleep.
He was walking through Hogsmeade again, with Ron and Hermione. But the already cold day seemed to suddenly get much colder – they turned up their collars as the sun went behind a cloud, but before they knew it they were nearly frozen to the core. The smiles died on their lips, and with a feeling of dread, they realized it wasn't a cloud that was blocking out the sun, but Dementors – hundreds of them, swarming and swirling. Riding on one of their backs, his normally round, boyish face gaunt and pale with death, was Neville. He pointed angrily at Harry, and the Dementor he was riding slowly followed suit with his own bony claws.
"It's him! He's the one that killed me!"
Harry's scar suddenly twinged in sharp, searing pain. He squinted, and clapped a hand to his forehead. Forcing his eyes open, he looked up, and saw that Neville wasn't Neville at all, but –
"It's him!" cried Sirius, pointing angrily at Harry from his place on the Dementor's back, "He's the one that killed me!"
The Dementors swooped towards the three of them. Harry turned to run, but he felt like his legs were cement – every step seemed to take an age. He heard Ron shriek from behind him, and turned to watch him being lifted up into the air, just like Neville...The Dementors had Hermione by the hair, and were dragging her off towards the Quidditch Pitch. He reached for his wand, but it wasn't there. A high, cold laugh was ringing in his ears – he heard his mother screaming.
Suddenly, he found himself back in the Department of Mysteries, in the blue torch room. The door to the amphitheater was once again open, exhaling a hiss of cold air that wrapped around Harry's ankles and seemed to pull him closer.
"HHHhhhhhhhahaaaaarrrrryyyy..." called Sirius's sepulchural voice.
Harry looked down, and saw that he was carrying the mirror that Sirius had given him.
"Did you think I was lying?" asked the high, cold voice sinuously, almost tenderly.
Images flashed in his mind. Neville being lifted up by the Dementors flitted briefly in his mind. Ron, panting and screaming, his shadow looming on the wall as Harry tried to reach him. Harry saw a hand, Sirius's hand, slowly pushing aside the veil of the stone archway...
"A trade then," Voldemort hissed.
Suddenly, the dream seemed to cease. There was no sound. No image. Just darkness...Harry thought that he'd woken up at first, but when he tried to open his eyes, there was only more darkness.
His scar let out a sudden burst of pain, and he found he was back by the Whomping Willow, near the Quidditch pitch. He was watching Neville being lifted up by the Dementors, the loose strands of hair wafting from the rotting, leathery scalp. He tried to look away, but it was as though a hand had grabbed him by the chin and jerked his eyes back to Neville. The dream suddenly froze in place, and Harry's eyes seemed to zoom in, as though he were looking through a pair of Omniocculars. He found himself staring at Neville's face. But suddenly, the image flickered – suddenly it wasn't Neville's face, but Nott's pock-marked one, stricken with fear.
His scar nearly exploded in pain. He felt rage, uncontrollable rage.
Suddenly, before his swimming vision, he saw the burning red eyes, the slitted nostrils –
"[I]YYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU![/I]" roared Voldemort, the cold voice echoing and reverberating painfully in his head, the sound of pure, undisguised hatred.
In that brief moment, Harry saw glimpses – Hogwarts was burning, and the stone archways were crumbling. Students were running, screaming through the hallways. Dementors swooped through the hallways. At his feet, Ron was lying dead.
"Harry!"
Harry lept up in bed, and came face to face with Ron, his face as white as a sheet.
