Chapter Seven

Confrontation

Hermione was worried.

She had been staying in the Burrow for more than a fortnight but a turmoil of emotions had been sweeping through her since she arrived and it all centered on her redheaded best friend. Ron had been a great comfort to her, it was true. He seemed to have taken over of running the Burrow and making sure everyone was cared for. The Weasley family was still in a depressed state, but surprisingly, Ron managed to be in good spirits. It had surprised her that of all people close to Harry, Ron seemed to have recovered immediately over their best friend's death. After Harry's funeral rites, Ron never shed another tear, not even when they placed the death marker for Harry in a clearing behind the Burrow. He never visited the site, though he regularly visited the markers for Sirius, Hagrid, Percy, Charlie and all their old fallen comrades, even Cedric Diggory. It was as if he never grieved for Harry at all.

Hermione also noticed a change in Ron. It was subtle but it was there. There were times when she could almost feel Harry's presence coming from Ron. There were the little habits: the way he ate, he talked, even smiled that felt so much like Harry that she could swear it was really him. At first she had chalked it up as her own imagination. She reasoned she wanted Harry to be there so much that she believed that Ron acted like Harry. But lately she couldn't deny there was something very different about Ron. There was the time when Ron invited his siblings to play Quidditch outside. Hermione was watching from the ground and gasped with everyone else when he executed a perfect Wronski Feint. One late night, while playing chess, Hermione managed to beat him—an unprecedented event. She expected Ron to be annoyed but he didn't seem bothered about it at all and just went up to bed. Looking back at the chess pieces and reviewing the game, Hermione realized Ron's moves had mirrored Harry's strategies during the times when she played him before. And of course there was the note he sent her in Harry's handwriting. She proved it was really Ron's hand when she watched him sign Harry's name at Gringotts. But what really disturbed her was the number of times she caught Ron talking, even laughing, to himself when he thought he was alone.

Hermione had tried to ask Ron numerous times to talk about Harry, but Ron always changed the subject or turned to talking about her own feelings. He never explained anything of what happened to him on the night of Harry's death aside from what he said during Harry's funeral.

The wizarding world had simply accepted Ron's statement: that Harry defeated Voldemort by sacrificing himself to save Ron. Harry was declared a hero and a martyr, while Ron was given a new title—The-Boy-Who-Survived. At least it was what the Daily Prophet called him when it resumed publication, and the name caught on. Ron didn't seem bothered about it. In fact, he didn't seem bothered at all about anything concerning Harry after the funeral. But to Hermione, what he didn't say spoke volumes of what Ron was really feeling.

One afternoon after Hermione had caught Ron yet again in one of his odd laughing-alone moments just before lunch, she decided to confront him and force him to open up. She asked to meet him in his room after the meal. Ron agreed and told her he would clean up with the dishes first and follow her upstairs.

Hermione entered Ron's room and surveyed the mess. There were pieces of parchment everywhere and his bed was unmade. Socks and other articles of clothing were strewn about. Using her wand, she uttered a quick spell to make his bed and fold the clothing neatly. She turned to his desk and muttered another spell to straighten it out. There was so much parchment here that he had hardly written on. Oh honestly, doesn't Ron ever recycle?

She used another spell to uncrumple the littered pieces of parchment to see if she could salvage anything for scratch paper. She looked up to see the now crisp paper and was startled at the ink-stained sheets. There, in what was obviously Harry's script were several drafts of the same starting paragraph.

I, Harry James Potter, give all my possessions to Ronald Bilius Weasley in the event of my death...

Hermione's heart shuddered. It was clearly the start of Harry's will, but what was it doing here? She presumed Harry had written his will in Hogwarts, just days before his death. Fred and George's jokeshop had only burned down a week before the final battle, so Harry couldn't have written his will until after that incident.

She picked up another parchment in a different handwriting. It was her own letter, the one she sent Ron asking him for permission to let her stay at the Burrow. It was buried between the sheets of numerous drafts of Harry's will. It was ink-stained and had markings on it as if somebody had written on another parchment while it was underneath and the ink stained through. A horrible idea was running through her mind but she had to know. She muttered a spell on the ink stains on her letter and watched in horror as it flowed backwards through the upper parchment which was one of the discarded drafts.

It couldn't be! Why would Ron do such a thing?

At that moment, Ron walked into the room and greeted her. She didn't respond.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione slowly turned to him and forced herself to meet his gaze. Her heart was pounding but she managed to speak out. "Why did you forge Harry's will?"

Ron stared at her, clearly startled. "What?"

"You heard me. Why did you forge Harry's will? You wrote it, the same way you wrote that letter you sent to me using Harry's handwriting. I know you can write in Harry's script. I saw you sign his name at Gringotts."

"What are you talking about, Hermione. I never... I would never do anything like that."

"Is it the money then? Ron, I know your family was destitute, but I could have helped. My parents could have lent you, but you didn't have to..."

Ron approached her looking confused, but she could sense he was fighting inside trying to hold something back. "You think I wanted his money? Hermione, I never... I didn't even know what he owned. I never wrote his will."

"Don't lie to me Ron."

"I'm not lying. He wrote it himself. He's—"

Ron stopped all of a sudden and Hermione watched his facial expression change drastically as if he was debating with himself.

"No, we can't tell her, Ron!"

"—and, I say we do, Harry!"

Hermione was startled when Ron suddenly spoke of himself in the third person and to Harry. Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at Ron looking at her in horror as if she just discovered his most terrible secret. Her heart went out to him.

"Ron..." she began slowly. "Oh, Ron." She hugged him tightly. "It's alright. I had no idea... I'm here. I'll help you go through this and there are... people who can help you."

Ron pushed her away and slapped himself on the forehead. "Great, now you think I'm a nutter."

"No! I mean Ron, I don't think you're... but I know it's been hard on you, after Harry—"

But Ron was backing away out the door. "Could you excuse us—I mean me, for minute." He went running out the door, leaving her very confused.

Ron raced out of the house until he reached the edge of the pond in the backyard. He sat down under a shade.

"We have to tell her, Harry. She suspects already."

"Ron, I can't give her that false hope. I told you its better this way."

"She's been mourning for nothing. All this time she's thought you were dead."

"And better that she did. At least now she's moved on. She won't grieve for me anymore when I really am dead."

"Look, it's been almost two months, Harry. You're still here, you're still alive. I don't think you'll die at all, unless I die with you."

"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life sharing your body with me?"

"If it means you won't die then yes. I don't care if I have to share this with you, Harry. I just want you here and I'm sure Hermione does too. She's our best friend and she deserves to know. She's suffered enough."

"Ron?" They were both startled at her voice. She was running toward them, her hair was whipping around her head and her face was full of concern.

"She's here now, Harry. Whether you like it or not, I'll tell her."

"Ron, can I talk to you please?"

"Are you with me or not?"

She was in front of him now. "Ron, please talk to me."

"Alright Ron, I'm with you."

Harry sighed but looked up at Hermione. He motioned for her to sit next to him on the grassy bank.

"I need to tell you something. But you have to promise, you're not going to freak out. I don't know how to explain it. I don't understand it myself."

"Just tell me what it is, Ron. I'll understand I promise." She took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.

Ron breathed a deep sigh. "You remember what I said during his funeral rites about when Voldemort tried to kill me and Harry got in the way."

Hermione nodded and looked at him intently.

"When he got in the way of the killing curse, I also tried to shield him. I suppose our love for each other was what saved us that night. It was like what Harry's mum did when he was a baby. The force of Harry's mum's love—that she was willing to sacrifice even her life to save him—caused Voldemort's destruction. This time, it was the combined force of Harry's love and mine for each other that dealt Voldemort the final blow."

"Yes, I think I understand Ron. I talked to Dumbledore about that and he told me about it. It's just that the power that killed Voldemort wasn't enough to save Harry."

Ron shook his head. "But it did, Hermione. It did. It saved us both. I don't know if you'll believe me, but Harry's alive."

Hermione dropped his hands. "Ron, we were both at Harry's funeral. And I found him. I was the first person who found you and Harry. He was dead when I got there."

"Harry's body is dead but his soul is alive, Hermione."

"His soul...but where?" she looked around her expecting to see a ghost. Ron cupped her face with his hand so she was facing him again.

"He's here. He's inside me. He's sharing my body."

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. "What are you... what do you mean?"

"Hermione, Harry's in me. You could talk to him if you want to."

"Talk to... Ron, this is crazy..." She turned away from him and got up but Harry pulled at her arm to stop her.

"Hermione, it's me. It's Harry. You have to believe me and Ron."

But Hermione shrugged his arm off abruptly and backed away.

"Ron, don't do this please. You—you need help. We can get you help..."

"I'm not crazy, Hermione. Harry just spoke to you. I know it sounds weird but it's true and you have to believe us."

"But that's impossible. Two souls in one body. There's no such thing."

"No such thing written about it yet, Hermione," Ron corrected. "Or if there has been, you probably haven't read about it. Honestly Hermione, you think you know everything—Ron, cut it out! I'm trying to make her understand and you're not helping."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"Look Hermione, I'll prove I'm Harry." He took out his wand and held it out for Hermione to see. "Can Ron do this? Expecto Patronum!"

A silver stag appeared. He made it gallop in circles around her before it disappeared.

"Ron, please stop it. You're scaring me." Hermione was crying now.

"D-don't cry. It's really me." Harry reached out to touch her but she backed away.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I can't handle this, just-just leave me alone." She ran off and went straight back into the house.

"So much for trying to make her believe."

"Come on Harry, we have to go after her and make her understand or she'll think I'm cracking up."

They ran after her and found her in the living room sobbing. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were beside her, asking her what was wrong.

"Hermione, can we talk?" Harry asked.

"No!" Hermione sobbed.

"Please, you have to understand... We—" he stopped and realized Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were there and he wasn't willing to share this secret with them yet. "I need you... please."

Hermione looked at him with uncertainty before she finally nodded. "Let's—let's go outside." He let her go ahead but Mrs. Weasley pulled him aside.

"What's wrong dear?" she whispered.

"Just a misunderstanding... Mum," Harry replied. He turned to go when the Weasley family clock had just chimed and he glanced at it. Both he and Ron hit on it at the same time. Harry had his own hand on the Weasley family clock beginning at the start of his seventh year when he moved in permanently at the Burrow. But unlike Percy's and Charlie's hands which stayed on 'In Mortal Peril' when they died, Harry's hand pointed to 'Home.'

"You think she'll believe us if..."

"I'm almost sure of it, Ron."

Hermione was on her way out when Harry stopped her and whispered to her ear. "Look at the clock, Hermione."

Hermione glanced at him doubtfully but did as she was told. Her eyes bulged when she saw it and tears started pouring down her cheeks as she looked back at him.

"Har—"

Harry clamped a hand to her mouth. "Outside," he whispered and half carried her back to the edge of the pond. By the time they got there, Hermione was already overwhelmed with tears that she had to blow her nose before she could talk.

"Is it really you, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's me. If you still don't believe me, I can speak in Parseltongue to prove it."

"But this is so... so... oh Harry!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. She had a good cry on his shoulder that by the time she pulled herself away, his robes were so damp that he had to use a drying charm.

"But what about Ron?"

"I'm here too. Do you want a demonstration to prove I'm Ron?" he teased.

Hermione smiled. "No need. You're acting like a prat so I know it's you." Harry laughed and Hermione could tell it was him. When he had calmed down, they filled Hermione in on what they knew.

"So all this time, you've been in Ron?" Hermione asked when they finished their tale.

"Yeah. It feels kind of odd, but we're getting used to it."

"How exactly do you do this? I mean, one body, two minds...?"

"Well we seem to have equal control of Ron's body," Harry explained. "I mean I can move with as much control as Ron has and we feel the same sensations—"

"Except when one of us is unconscious," Ron continued. "The one who's awake has complete control and memory. But that's rare—"

"Like the time I woke up next to you at St. Mungo's. Remember I was insisting I was Harry and you kept calling me Ron."

"Yes, I remember vaguely. I thought you were losing it, or I was losing it."

"But even though we're both awake we can think separately," Ron said. "You know, we have our own private thoughts to ourselves, though we can talk to each other without speaking outright."

Hermione was looking at them with disbelief. "This is amazing... But what about emotions? Do you share them too?"

"I think to a certain point we could feel what the other is feeling though we still make decisions separately. It gets a bit hard when we disagree. We try not to."

"It gets difficult if we do—"

"Like going to different places—"

"At the same time. It gets well—

"It's complicated," they said together.

Hermione shook her head. "I think I'm confused now, you keep interrupting each other and I'm losing track of who's saying what. Could you, identify yourself at least?"

Ron and Harry agreed to grin at her. "Alright Hermione, this is Ron, but you ought to get used to it. It's too hard to say our names every time we say something."

"Yeah, Harry here. It's hard enough not to interrupt each other sometimes."

Hermione laughed then turned serious. "So what happens now? Is there any way we could separate you two?"

"I'm Harry. None that we know of, at least not yet."

"I'm Ron. We tried going through the Hogwarts library but we haven't found anything, except that we couldn't revive Harry's body. We had to let go of that one; we did try to make a fool of ourselves trying to stop his funeral."

"Have you tried asking Dumbledore then?" Hermione asked. "He might know something about this and maybe he could help."

Ron and Harry gave her a surprised expression that it was obvious they hadn't thought about it.

"It's Harry. We haven't exactly told anyone yet about it. Well except for you just now. I didn't want people to get their hopes up that I'm alive. We're not exactly sure if I'm going to be sticking around at all. I mean, who knows? Maybe my soul's just residing on Ron temporarily."

Hermione took their hand. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll find a way to keep you alive." Hermione summoned a piece of parchment and her self-refilling quill from Ginny's room. When the items came to her, she started scribbling.

"First stop, we talk to Dumbledore, if he knows something..." she wrote down Dumbledore's name.

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes heavenward.

"Organizational freak," Ron muttered.

"Not even my death's an exception," Harry agreed.

"... then we check the library again under the following topics: life after death, the spirit world, ancient protection spells, ghosts and other elementals, necromancy..."

"What's necromancy?" Ron asked.

"The ancient art of communicating with the dead," Hermione replied without missing a beat. "Oh and we might want to look at literature on the Egyptian Book of the Dead, voodoo..."

"At this rate, we'll have to read half the books in the library. By the time we even find something, you'll be dying of old age, Ron and we'll both need a new body."

"I know Harry, but let's let her do this. At least she's helping now. We might get something done."

Hermione finally finished her list. "I think that's about everything I can think of. Let's go to Dumbledore first. We could send him an owl and ask to meet with him." She stood up.

Ron and Harry stood up with her and grasped her arm. "One more thing Hermione—Harry here—before we go back, you have to promise us you won't tell anybody. We'll tell Dumbledore, but just him. I don't want anybody to know yet, until we're sure what happened to me."

Hermione nodded. "Alright Harry, if that's what you want. But eventually we do have to tell them. At least Ron's family, Professor Lupin, and some of our closest friends. I think they would be happy to know you're still alive—I mean not exactly in the technical sense, but living... I mean...what do I call you anyway?"

"Just hanging around?" Ron offered.

Hermione smiled. "Guess that's the best way to put it. Come on." She linked arms with them and they walked back together to the house.