Chapter Six: The Plan

Harry was outside. He couldn't stand Ron or Hermione right now. Everyone wanted to know about Mr Weasley, and it was getting on his nerves. He sat down on the grass, shivering. It was good to be alone. He didn't like people crowding on him all the time. It was uncomfortable.

A cold hand touched his shoulder.

"Do you want me to go?"

Harry turned round, and looked up into the smiling face of Nearly Headless Nick. "I came to see you when I heard about Arthur. Peeves wanted to come, but I said no. He wanted to drop water bombs on you."

Harry couldn't help feeling a little better. "Okay."

Nick gasped. "Okay? So you're fine with getting soaked? He was making hundreds of water bombs, Harry."

The truth was that Harry didn't really care what happened to himself, he just wanted to go back in time and fix this mess before it happened. "No. I don't mind. But I do want to know – why are you here?"

Nick frowned and twirled his thumbs together. "Well. I don't really know. I guess I have feelings for you."

Harry was nearly sick.

"What? That's ridiculous!"

Nick's ghostly white face was going red. He tugged at his collar and brought out a small mirror. He watched his face turn bloody, even though no blood had been spilt. "No, Harry. I do not love you. Not like that. I love you like a friend. When you get upset, I get upset. That's all. I wanted to come and comfort you."

Harry smiled at him.

Nick was such a good friend, even if he was ghost.

Hermione was in tears. Literally. Ron was having trouble walking. "How could I have been really stupid?" Hermione moaned, wiping her eyes. "I should never have forced him to tell the truth, or drink Veritaserum!"

"Yeah, that was bad," Ron added, which of course didn't help Hermione to feel better. "I suggest a search, or at least inform Dumbledore that Harry is missing. We can't let him be out on his own – not with a murderer on the loose. You know very well, Hermione, that Harry is the next target on the list."

Hermione said nothing.

"It's true," Ron mumbled, ears red.

"I know," Hermione said. "I'm just having trouble thinking. Why would Harry leave? He knows what danger he's in."

"Maybe he doesn't," Ron said, walking towards the fireplace with a match. He was proud of himself. Recently, he had been on a trek with his father and they'd learnt everything that Muggles did while camping.

He lit the fire, and both of them sat on cushions in front of it to warm themselves. "Ron – you are a lifesaver."

"I am?" Ron enquired.

"Yes," Hermione said, ruffling his ginger hair. "Give me two sheets of paper and pencils. I have a plan."

Ron couldn't help but smile at her. He'd known that she'd find a way to get them out of this problem, as she'd done all the other times trouble loomed. He handed her the papers, and a pencil, and watched in fascination as words appeared on the paper. Then she drew a whole bunch of complicated-looking machines and rolled the paper up. She slipped some string round the paper to hold it together.

"Here. Make them for me," she hissed in Ron's ear, handing him the scroll.

Ron wondered why Hermione wanted Ron to make the machines. He couldn't use magic yet and the only good engineer in the Weasley family was his father. His dead father. Yes, Mr Weasley had shown Ron how to put together a basic machine, but Ron couldn't remember how to do this anymore.

"Um… Hermione…"

Hermione had been applying nail-polish to her left hand.

"Uh – nothing. Sorry I disturbed you." Ron put on what he called his inventing glasses. Thick rimmed and creepy, they actually helped him to figure out where to put all the nuts and bolts that Hermione had marked on the paper.

An hour later, Ron remarked: "Done! God, I'm so proud of myself."

"I am too, Ronnie," Hermione whispered in a sexy sort of way. "Ron, sorry I said that – I really didn't mean it."

"Huh? What didn't you mean?"

Ron hadn't been listening. He'd been looking at the gnomes in his back garden with a nice smile on his face.

He loved the gnomes.