Ron and Hermione sat inappropriately close together on Ron's bed, reading over the letter from Harry that had just arrived for them. The parchment was dirty and torn in several places, and there was a small reddish-brown stain in one corner. This greatly alarmed them, until they finished reading the first paragraph.

Dearest Sidekicks,

I went to particular pains to convey this missive to you, as Hedwig, my beloved aerial companion, expired four nights past – no doubt the curse touched upon her. I will never love another owl again. (You may stop reading now to spend a moment in silent contemplation, if you are so moved.) On a more practical note, I was obliged to use my creative powers in order devise a trap with which to capture a reasonably intelligent pigeon. That done, there lay before me the task of convincing it to carry this letter to you. The bird proved itself to be even more astute than I had originally thought, for it soon began to peck at me as if to say it understood.

No doubt, the news of my seclusion has already reached you. Cry not, my courageous comrades. Devoid of my unfortunate presence – which will do no more than infect your souls with the curse of untimely death – you will live long and prosper. We have had many a good time together, but you must learn to live without me. You must. I know it will be difficult at first, but remember that you still have each other.

My deepest and most heartfelt love,

Your friend,

Harry

Postscriptum – I am sorry to say that you can never expect to hear from me again.

The letter had, in fact, been delivered by Kingsley Shacklebolt, who, after watching Harry's pathetic attempts to convince a poor, confused pigeon to deliver the letter, caught the pigeon, relieved it of its burden, and brought the letter to Ron and Hermione.

"Oh, whatever shall we do?" Hermione wailed, noting how convenient a moment this would be to cry onto Ron's shoulder. She poked herself in the eye a bit to produce more watering, then buried her face into Ron's chest with a superb shriek.

"Why, ahem, isn't Dumble-ack-dore doing anything?" Ron demanded between hacking Hermione's hair out of his mouth.

"Oh, I don't know! We have learned in the past that his eccentric antics are often cunning strategies in disguise, but I find it hard to have any faith in him when I am faced with the possibility of never seeing my best friend again!" Hermione clutched onto Ron a little bit tighter.

"Yes… but, uh, Harry's right, in a way…" Ron's ears began to turn a deep maroon.

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione asked, looking up. She batted her eyelashes rapidly to push out more tears.

"Well, we do still, er, have each other," Ron mumbled, staring at his shoe.

Just as they were beginning to deliberate whether or not it was morally sound to use the misfortune of a friend as an excuse to get some, Ginny walked in. "Hey, Ron, can I borrow your… Have you been making out? And crying?"

Ron silently handed Ginny the letter. The further her eyes moved down the page, the more her frown deepened. "Oh," she whispered. "That poor bird."

"We're never going to see Harry again!" Hermione cried.

"Oh, calm down," Ginny snorted. "He has to go to school, doesn't he?"

This had never occurred to Ron or Hermione. But yes, it was true. No school in the history of public or private education had ever deemed a sudden attack of depression a good excuse for truancy. Otherwise, no one would ever be forced to be within twenty feet of a Gothic kid ever again… Ron and Hermione paused when they hit on this last bit of information. Slow, careful smiles formed simultaneously on their faces. They began to form a plan…

They realised that they were veering a bit too far to the left of the point, and told the author she'd best take her writing somewhere else and check back in after and hour or two because they had some things to discuss.

"Okay," the author agreed. "But only if you promise to tell me all about it later."

"Oh sure," Hermione nodded. "Now… where did I put that book?"

"This is going to require reading?" Ron moaned.

"Fine, we'll just give it up then!" Hermione snapped back. "But next year, you have to sit next to that annoying Hufflepuff in Charms with all that eyeliner on his face, pretending like he doesn't really want to talk to anyone, but staring at everybody and sporadically trying to start up conversations about things that he thinks are too obscure for you to possibly understand, but their really just ridiculously trite and absurd!"

Ron fell to the floor in the fetal position, covered his ears, and screamed.

Hermione leapt upon him, forced his hand from his ear and yelled, "And see if I do anything to help when he tries to get you to pet his spider!"

Meanwhile, in a small, dark room on Privet Drive…

"Eat the peas, boy!" Mrs Dursley shrieked as she tried to shove a spoonful of green mush into Harry's mouth.

"I'M IN TOO MUCH EMOTIONAL PAIN TO EVEN THINK ABOUT EATING, AUNT PETUNIA!"

Mrs Dursley clenched her teeth together and tried to abstain from pulling out either her or Harry's hair, or both. "If you don't eat, boy, you'll die."

"WHILE I AM DEEPLY AFFTECTED BY YOUR UNPRECEDENTED DISPLAY OF CONCERN, DEATH WOULD BE A WELCOME RESPITE FOR A SOUL SO TROUBLED AS MINE! ALSO, I DO NOT THINK THAT YOU SHOULD BE SHOWING THAT YOU CARE FOR ME IN ANY WAY BECAUSE…" Harry trailed off. He regarded his aunt's stern, angular countenance – the way her eyes bulged out of their sockets and her thin lips pressed together so tightly as to almost disappear. "AUNT PETUNIA! I AM SORRY THAT I NEVER TOLD YOU BEFORE… I AM A HORRIBLE NEPHEW, BUT I REALLY, REALLY DO LOVE YOU – PROFOUNDLY." His voice remained at an unreasonably high volume, but with an added dimension of tenderness. "AUNT PETUNIA, I PROFOUNDLY LOVE YOU. FURTHERMORE, I LOVE UNCLE VERNON! AND DUDLEY! OH, I ESPECIALLY LOVE DUDLEY! AND AUNT MARGE! GEE, SHE IS A GREAT KIND OF GAL! PLEASE TELL THEM ALL THAT I LOVE THEM! TELL EVERYONE! TELL EVERYONE THERE IS TO TELL HOW MUCH I LOVE MY WONDERFUL FAMILY AND THAT WILL BE FOOD ENOUGH FOR MY HUNGRY HEART!"

Mrs Dursley stared at her nephew for several minutes. She then stood up and slowly backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Harry regarded the pea mush she had left behind. For the first time in many, many days, he smiled. And he suddenly felt able to stomach a little bit of food. He tasted the pea mush, and it was surprisingly good.

Then he remembered something… Something about the safety of his mother's sister's house. No harm could come to it. "OH! IS THERE NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD? NO LITTLE SPARK OF LIGHT IN THE MURKY DARKNESS?" he cried with pea mush dribbling down his chin.

Author's Note: I don't think that this story has any kind of overarching moral, but I'm pretty sure that this chapter has one. And this is it: Don't associate with angsty people. Angst is a contagious disease. If you're not careful, the urge to catalogue your woes, exaggerate your hardships, and express yourself in obscure and dramatic wording will sneak up on you. EMO: Don't Play That Game.