Chapter Five: Side Effects
The next morning, Ginny was not at the breakfast table with them. This was because the Ministry Police Wizards had taken her for questioning. Mrs Weasley was bustling over a hot stove, crying loudly. Cups of cinnamon hot chocolate were next to her, and she had drunk six of them.
Hermione was helping her to cook breakfast, consoling her.
"I'm sure the person who killed him was jealous of him," Hermione said brightly, despite being sad inside. "Arthur was really nice. He was a good wizard, with sweet children, and the person who did the deed must've been upset that they couldn't be like him and have his life."
Mrs Weasley nodded.
"You are so sweet, Hermione, trying to make me feel better. I know Arthur's gone and he'll never come back, and I've got to get over his death."
"He will probably be a ghost, y'know," Hermione said.
"Maybe," said Mrs Weasley spacely, drying up the last dish with a confused look on her face. She'd begun drying up two minutes previously, due to the fact that Ron was looking at her with wide red eyes. She had her wand with her, and therefore was able to dry up much more quickly than Muggle women.
"Don't worry about his death, Mrs Weasley. You'll find someone else like Arthur, but nobody will ever be able to replace him in your heart," Hermione whispered. "Now, because of this problem that occured - Arthur's death - I haven't heard anything about how we are to get to school this year."
"Arrange transport yourselves, please. Hermione, I believe you know how to use a telephone? I don't, and the Ministry of Magic aren't talking to me anymore so I can't get cars from them anymore to take you to King's Cross. You'll have to book a couple of cabs if that's okay." Mrs Weasley dried her hands on her apron and slipped it over her head. "I'm sorry I'm not up to much, dear. You can cope on your own, am I right?"
Hermione nodded. "Leave it to me, Mrs Weasley, I'll be fine."
Harry was desperately trying to ignore the sharp pain in his stomach from the Veritaserum. "It doesn't usually have this effect on me - why now?"
Ron shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe because it's ten times stronger than the one you drank at school. I managed to read a book last week, and it said that if the drinker delays telling the truth after taking strong Veritaserum then they'll pay dearly. At the time I wasn't sure what that meant."
"Do you know now, though?" Harry asked, biting his tongue. "Ohh," he moaned. "If only I'd told the truth yesterday, then I would be fine and these pains wouldn't have existed." He moaned in pain, then. "Ohh, it felt like someone just stabbed me. Try and remember that book, Ron. Did it say anything about how to stop pains after denying the truth when you drink Veritaserum? It should have something about that."
"Maybe you should just tell the truth," Ron said logically. "Maybe the pain will go then. I told the truth, and I'm not rolling on my bed and holding my stomach to try and stop the pain. Sometimes you don't think about what will happen afterwards when you do something or take something, and it turns against you, doesn't it?"
His words felt like a knife to Harry's heart.
"Yeah," Harry said. "I suppose it does. I'm going to find Hermione and tell the truth, but I want you with me. My mouth will stay shut if you don't come and support me."
He got up off the bed, bit his lip as pain soared through his stomach, and fell down onto the covers. "Ron... tell Hermione to come here, that'll be best."
"Okay, mate," Ron said, and disappeared out the door. Harry rolled on his stomach, moaning. Why had he not told her the truth when he had the chance? Hermione came rushing through the door, Ron at her side.
"Ohh, Harry, Harry," she said, frightened. "Why did you deny the truth? You'll have to tell me now or we may not have a chance to save you. Now, I have three questions. One: how come you never read books? Two: why did you unfreeze Ron first and not me? Three: what is the truth behind every single lie you have told me since you first met me on that train? Come on, my ears are waiting to hear your voice."
Ron, who thought Hermione was incredibly talented and knowledgeable at the best of times, shrugged. "What? What sort of questions are those, Hermione?"
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well, obviously, ones that I want answers to," she whispered. Ron noticed that she was clasping her wand behind her back, unknown to Harry. Ron was tempted to tell Harry about it, but then decided against doing so. It was better to see Harry look surprised, rather than smug.
For ten seconds, a horrible silence entered the room and circled around their heads. Ron knew it was an atmosphere you could cut with a knife, but said nothing. Hermione was twirling a strand of her brown curly hair around her finger, red eyes staring at Ron extremely sadly.
Harry crept out the room. Ron didn't notice until he turned round, looking for Harry, and couldn't see him anywhere.
"Harry, where are you?" Ron asked, genuinely worried.
Hermione grabbed his shoulders, tears in her eyes. These eyes were wide with shock, and red with tears. She looked frantically around the room. Empty. "Ron. I can't find him. He's gone."