Harry couldn't believe the moment that happened, and now Shacklebolt's asking how he felt? He wasn't going to stand for it. He stood up abruptly, stormed down the hallway and back up the stairs to a remote room in the flat. He screamed in his head for no one to follow him, but straight away he heard footsteps behind him. The first door he encountered—whether appealing or not—he opened and stepped through, slamming it shut behind him.
Leaning his back against the door, Harry took in a deep breath, and before he could exhale the door gave him a quick shove forward and back again—Hermione had attempted to open the door.
"Harry? Harry, are you all right?" she asked.
"That's a bit of a stupid question, don't you think?" he heard Ron say.
"Please, let us in, Harry," pleaded Hermione. "We want to talk to you."
"Well, I don't want to talk to any of you!" Harry shouted. There was a short pause, and the next thing he heard were footsteps fading down the hall. He took another deep breath and looked around the room. A limited amount of light shone through the dark plum bedding that hung over the window, and a dust-covered bed aligned against the far side of the room. There was a small desk next to it with a pile of disorganised papers scattered on top. A few framed photos lied on a side table—this was Sirius's room.
Harry crossed the grimy room and gazed down at the photos with a fuming look upon his face—there was one of his parents, Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew when they attended Hogwarts. They stared grinning blithely up at Harry in their school robes; it looked as if they were in their sixth or seventh year. He watched his dad peer over at his mum devilishly and saw Sirius smack the back of his dad's head. Lupin and his dad would also peer over at Pettigrew now and then—this didn't amuse Harry one bit. He grabbed the picture and was about to throw it across the room at the wall to help him feel better, but stopped. Instead, he looked down at the picture again, took it out of its frame, and folded it up in to his pocket.
He walked over to the cluttered desk and began thumbing through the papers. There were papers from dates as far back before Harry was even born and some not too long ago. Letters sent from Harry himself and letters from Lupin—even little notes that he wrote to Sirius when they were still in school; some looked like notes Sirius, Lupin, and his dad wrote back and forth to each other. A particular letter caught Harry's attention—Professor Dumbledore wrote it. Harry read:
It's not wise to inform Harry of these things you wish to tell him. There are some things that must be spoken of, and some he will have to find out on his own. Never fear, though. Harry's found out a great deal on his own, I have no doubt he'll unravel this one as well. I advise you, however, do not mention anything towards it to him. I will speak again to you shortly. Keep well hidden—
The sounds of people out side the room in the hallway caused Harry to look over by the door, and no sooner did Ron—followed by Hermione—walked in the room. Closing the door behind her, Hermione glanced around the room, feeling its sinister atmosphere. Ron just looked ahead at Harry, who placed the papers back down and surveyed the two in expectation for them to speak up.
"What are you doing in here?" asked Hermione.
"What's it to you?" asked Harry gruffly, setting the letter back down on the desk.
"We want to help you, Harry. If there's something you want to talk about, we'll be right here listening to every word you have to say," she said calmly.
"Maybe I don't want your help!" Harry shouted.
"Harry, we're just worried—" said Hermione.
"Why don't you quit worrying so much about me," Harry shouted, breaking Hermione off, "and start worrying about yourselves! You're the ones who will need to hide when the time comes, I can't. I have to battle Voldemort! My fate is written in stone—not yours. So before you presume I want help, help yourself, because you need it more than I do."
Hermione's eyes began to coat in a teary glaze. Walking towards them, Harry pushed passed them to open the door and exit the room. He purposely bumped his shoulder in to Ron's and walked out the door. It took Ron a second before he comprehended what just happened, and when his realisations came forth, he stepped out of the room and turned Harry around by his shoulder.
"What is your problem?" asked Ron, perturbed. "Don't you think Hermione has thought about her life? She's doing everything she can for herself, and she still wants to help you!"
Through hand movements, Harry retorted, "I DON'T NEED HELP! If she's thoroughly thought about her life, she should help her parents! Obviously she doesn't care—" Harry stopped himself once he realised what he was just about to say.
Hermione's jaw dropped, and silent tears began to fill her eyes. Her face turned light pink as she swallowed her pride in a hard swallow. She and Ron both knew what he was about to say. Ron quickly turned to Hermione's solemn face—he knew she was holding in her feelings to her best ability. He turned back around to Harry, who began walking away down the narrow hallway. Ron's face immediately turned bright red as he ran up behind Harry and leapt on him, both of them falling to the floor.
"Ron, stop it!" Hermione cried, but realising neither of them would listen to her, she ran down the stairs to bring back help.
Without much room, Harry unleashed himself from Ron and sprung to his feet, glaring irately towards Ron. Before he had time to react, Ron had pinned him in to the wall, bumping a picture off the wall and crashing to the ground. Ron shouted back, "You have no idea what Hermione would do for her parents! She would do bloody anything for them, along with my help!" Harry pushed Ron off him, still glaring.
"You don't think I would help, too?" Harry asked loudly.
Ron looked fiercely back him with a surly frown upon his face and pointed toward the stairs. "Did you know her parents were supposed to be staying here with us? They were supposed to come right before you, but you know what happened? Bloody unlikely…"
"What happened then? You're so anxious to tell me!" Harry bellowed, slowly moving sideways away from the wall.
"Her parents are dead, you git!" Ron remarked as Harry's face went blank. Did Ron just actually say that or was it his imagination? Surely he didn't mean it. "You couldn't see where I was going with that? Are you sure your scar is intact? Didn't see it happening through V-Voldemort's eyes? Not wearing out on you now, is it?"
"W-what did you say?" Harry asked.
"You heard me," responded Ron, closely following Harry's moves. "That's what she wanted to talk to you about—the reason you've seen her being so emotional. She didn't want to tell you by letter."
Harry stood speechless for several minutes. Ron's foul glaring slowly turned to peace, and they both turned to the stairs as they heard several footsteps climbing up them. Harry reached inside his pocket and noticed the picture of his parents was gone. Frantically searching the floor, he found it against the wall and bent down to pick it up. Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, Hermione, and Ginny appeared up the stairs, all looking quite uneasy.
"What's going on?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "Hermione told us you two were at each other's throats."
Harry glanced over at Ron, then Hermione, and then Mrs. Weasley, and spoke, "It's nothing. We resolved everything."
A flow of relief seemed to have exhaled from Mrs. Weasley as she said, "Well, come on down stairs. It's almost time for dinner."
Mrs. Weasley and Lupin turned around and walked back down stairs. Hermione and Ginny casually made their way towards Harry and Ron, cautious to whether they had really resolved their differences.
"Is everything okay?" Ginny asked both of them, but more towards Harry. He gave a slight nod, and looked over at Hermione. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were once again reddened and her quick sniffles confirmed what Ron said was true. Glancing over at Ginny, he wondered whether she knew about Hermione's parents or not. It was most certain since she was here the entire time.
After everyone took a few moments to look around at each other, Hermione finally spoke up.
"We should be getting downstairs," she said and turned to the stairs. Harry, Ron, and Ginny followed, but Harry pulled Hermione back by the arm to talk. Ron quickly looked back, but continued down the steps when Hermione nodded towards him. She looked back at Harry and asked, "What is it?"
"I just—I mean—I wanted to tell you—I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to say anything cruel towards…your parents." Hermione looked down at the floor. Harry watched a tear roll down her cheek. "I'm so sorry about your parents, Hermione—"
"Don't think too much in to it, Harry," she interrupted. "I'll be okay…really."
"I'm going to find whoever caused you such pain, and personally make them pay for what they did to you—or die trying—"
Hermione's quickly tight hug caused Harry to break his sentence, and he wrapped his arms around her, repaying the hug. She silently wept in his shoulder as Harry stood there, allowing her to let her feelings flow. After a few minutes, Hermione pulled back, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Thanks," she whispered. "We should be getting downstairs." She turned and made her way down the steps, leaving Harry in the gloomy hallway anyone would hate to be alone in.