He sat bolt upright and frantically glanced around the room like Voldemort or the dementor was going to pop in and kill him any second. But he was safe. There wasn't a dementor and they certainly wouldn't be allowed in Hogwarts ever again after what happened in Harry's fourth year. Voldemort wasn't going to gain access to Hogwarts that easily and this much Harry liked. What he didn't like was that, as much as the dementor and Voldemort wasn't near him, neither was his dad...
His chest heaving, he tried to calm himself down by taking deep breaths. It was almost as bad as that other dream. He wasn't going to see his dad again, this much he knew and the dream horribly reminded him of it.
Harry pulled the curtains back on his four-post bed, flipped his legs over to the side and planted his hands next to him, gripping the mattress tighter than was necessary, as if he was going to pass out if he didn't. After having looked at his feet for a minute, slowly calming down, he looked up again, looking around at the untroubled dreams of Seamus, Neville and Dean. Ron, clearly, was reliving something because he was muttering quietly to himself and every now and then he'd turn over.
He watched and watched and then, after a few minutes, Ron, too sat bolt upright, his chest heaving as well.
"Good morning, Ron," said Harry casually, as though you frequently see your friends wake up from nightmares.
Ron turned both bleary eyes towards him. He looked grumpy.
"What are you doing up?" Ron asked, a slight scowl to his weak forehead.
"Same thing you're doing up. Must have had a bad one. You were talking in your sleep and turning over."
"What's it to you?" Ron replied nastily, slumping back onto his pillows after sighing -- but the sigh was over the dream, Harry knew, not at Harry himself. "Wait a minute, I'm not supposed to be talking to you. Did someone say something?"
Harry didn't reply. He stood up, walked over to the water jug, filled up a glass and sat back down on the side of his bed, staring out the window at the not-soothing night sky.
"Drink some water," said Harry after listening to Ron's heavy breathing for a good few minutes, "it'll help."
Ron was reluctant at taking any advice from him, but he broke down after another minute and did so, though grudgingly. He seemed angry to find out that it did work. There was a few moments silence and then Ron had fallen back to sleep.
Harry put his glass down on his bedside cabinet and, wanting to get back to sleep himself, snatched up the Order of the Merlin necklace and held it, tight. Lying there, staring at the canopy, he practically willed himself to sleep... or had that been the necklace?
In the morning, Harry had his mind made up: he was going to skip Divination and head to the library for more Explicatrix research -- or lack thereof. Hermione didn't like this idea and although she didn't say anything, it was obvious from the look on her face when Harry told them. Ron didn't have any opinion -- or at least one he didn't care to voice but it was as though his mouth had already said, "Good. I won't miss you."
So after breakfast, in which Harry sat by himself as far removed from Ron and Hermione as possible, Harry didn't even go near North Tower where Divination was held.
"You're wasting your time in there anyway," was Raides' comment when asked if he should really skip it. "You don't need that class."
More and more, Harry felt Hermione was right. The only thing Divination did was scare the pants off nearly the entire school about two years ago.
Reluctantly, Madam Pince granted Harry access to the Restricted Section of the library herself.
"Please, Madam Pince, I haven't found anything yet -- and you do want a Hogwarts victory, don't you?" Harry had said, to which she replied, a steely glint in her eyes, "Fine. But so help you if you wander off to the deadly curses section."
"Thank you so much!"
She simply stared accusingly at him which made him feel unnecessarily guilty. After a minute of having just opened his first book, he had to look up because someone who had been talking to Madam Pince just shouted his name.
"Harry!"
It was Hermione, followed closely -- and reluctantly, Harry guessed -- by Ron. She was tugging on his hand. Harry stared at Hermione as she came over towards him with Ron who looked like he wanted to kick and scream like a baby but refrained.
"We both agreed to skip class to help," Hermione explained while Ron's face became slightly screwed up in pain; Harry noticed Hermione was still gripping his hand, "didn't we Ron? Ron?"
Ron didn't say or do anything except give her a disgruntled look. Harry then stopped staring. Something in him wanted them to stay. Something else in him wanted them to go. He'd been listening to the later lately, so why not keep going with it?
"Fine," he said stiffly, really wanting to tell her to leave.
"Fine," said Hermione stiffly back.
She took four books off Harry's stack of six and gave two to Ron. Raides looked between the uneasy faces on all three of them.
"Not getting on well, are you?" she commented.
"Shut up," Harry, Ron and Hermione snapped in unison, united for a very brief moment.
Harry's stomach grumbled of guilt, however, as the period wore on. Hermione wasn't one to skip class -- ever. Harry could only recall her ever doing so one time. Magical Properties, Things That Don't Exist, House Elves Through the Ages... Thirty more minutes got them nothing.
"The 'Through the Ages' series sucks," Hermione admitted at last.
"Tell Harry this is useless," said Ron grumpily, slamming a book shut so hard that Harry jumped.
"Tell Ron if we don't find anything I'll have to forfeit," said Harry, not looking at him.
"Tell Harry to forfeit."
"Tell Ron to shut up."
"Tell Harry to shut up."
"The both of you shut up," Hermione interrupted, sniffing loudly.
Ron wasn't talking to Harry, this much he could see, and it was hurting Hermione a great deal to see them like this, that was also in plain sight. It's not my fault! Harry thought fiercely to himself, slamming a book shut almost as hard as Ron.
"What?" said Hermione, trying to sound as though she wasn't thoroughly unhappy.
"This," Harry grunted angrily, "the Explicatrix. I swear it doesn't exist."
Hermione made a noise of dissent.
"Remember last year?" said Hermione haughtily. Harry looked up. "The Book of Memories?"
"Yeah..." Harry drawled coldly, staring at her.
"We just have to keep looking," she said as if they'd find something any minute.
"You said that last year," Harry reminded her, "and it was Pettigrew who helped us -- BY GIVING US THE RIGHT BLOODY BOOK!"
"Mr. Potter," Madam Pince cut in sharply, "this is a library!"
"Tell Harry I think Dumbledore doesn't want him to be able to do it," said Ron casually.
Despite all his rage, Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude towards Ron for trying to help -- as blaringly obvious as it was that he didn't want to. Or was this just to make Hermione happy for some reason? In either case, Harry looked fondly up at Ron over the top of his round glasses then back down at the book in his hands.
"Thanks," said Harry quietly.
"Yeah... don't mention it," said Ron quietly back, with a touch of bitterness, looking at Harry... and then suddenly realizing he wasn't supposed to be so he went back to staring at the book he was holding.
Although the search, as was per usual, returned nothing, Ron hadn't spoken a word to Harry (directly, at least) and the prospect of seeing Michelle again was scary... okay, it would be a lie to say Harry had a good day. He finished that day without writing a word of notes. Professor Figg was very upset at him for this. In fact, Harry hadn't written a thing anywhere, even as far as homework went, being too upset at... everything. Upset over Mr. Weasley, about Mr. Malfoy (though he couldn't imagine why), about Dudley, about where the hell Sirius could be... Furthermore, Harry hadn't touched his Christmas presents and no one was daring enough to ask him about it, not even Dumbledore; he stuffed them under his bed to forget about them. And he hadn't read Cho's letter either which he wasn't sure he wanted to anyway.
It was Professor McGonagall's voice in Transfiguration three days later on Thursday that cut through him like the cactapus that just pricked Neville's fingers.
"Potter!" she barked at him. "Passing your final exam would require you to know how to change your shrivelfig into a cactapus."
Harry heard a steady stream of anxious breath and looked behind him to see Hermione who, as was also per usual, especially these days, giving him a pair of large, worried eyes. Ron was far more interested in the shrivelfig that he wasn't transfiguring, staring dumbly at it. Why wasn't Professor McGonagall barking at him? Harry asked himself. His frustrations then came flying out of his mouth before he had a chance to supress them.
"Sorry professor," he began in a self-deprecating tone, "but when you're being blamed for two deaths, you tend to obsess over it. Feel free to fail me now because I don't think I'm going to pass no matter what I do."
Feeling the heat rise in his face over what he just said, Harry started to pack his things back in his bag but she began yapping again. And there was a sharp intake of breath to his right which was Parvati Patil gaping open-mouthed at him.
"You are in no immediate danger, Potter, so excuse if I ask this of you," she yapped, both kindly and strictly. "You will sit down, you will get a quill and you will take notes since none of you except Miss Granger, who has just succeeded in making Longbottom bleed, are getting anywhere."
Hermione stopped looking at Harry and instead tended to Neville's fingers. Harry remembered Professor McGonagall taking a stab at saying something comforting to him just four, short (pleasant?) years ago and thought she did a much job better last time. Harry then looked in his bag for a quill and ink bottle. He succeeded in finding the ink but there was no quill. Then he remembered that Ron had snapped his last one.
"Accio pen!" he shouted, thinking of the only writing utencil he owned that wasn't in multiple pieces or had been burned in a fire... or both.
Sure enough, seconds later through the classroom door came the pen Harry had been holding when Cho first told him she...
He tried to avoid everyone's eyes for the rest of Transfiguration but this was hard because Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all seemed to keep looking at him to see if he was going to burst. It was particularly hard during Herbology where he was working across from them, trying to stuff mandrake feet into tiny socks while trying to keep his earmuffs on which seemed to be very tight on his very stuffed, very cloudy head. If he didn't keep them on, he'd end up unconscious for several hours from the cry of the mandrake.
At the beginning of this class, Harry almost -- almost laughed. Hermione gave a look that clearly said she objected to working with mandrakes again which were plants that, unfortunately, had what looked horribly like a human baby as its roots, the plant sticking out of its head. Professor Sprout gave her a really dirty look and she fell silent.
Heading back to the common room after Charms to throw his bag onto the first armchair he could aim at, he couldn't think of anything that would help him on a test. Just then, a first year girl who was walking in the direction of the chair, apparently to sit on it, gave him an offended look, then suddenly looked deathly afraid of him and scurried away. Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping an inch or two, shook his head and headed back out of the portrait hole. Now he had to endure everyone all throughout dinner. Great.
He entered the Great Hall and sat down as close to the staff table as he could sit where there was no one, clearly hoping for some quiet time. This was, unfortunately, not possible. When Harry was just about to bite the end of his chicken wing, Hermione spotted him as she, too, entered. Though he suspected it, he hoped she didn't purposely wait for him to go in first so she could find him. Tugging on Ron's cloak while Harry sighed at the sight of her, she walked straight towards him, Ron looking grumpy.
"Go away," said Harry automatically.
She didn't respond to this and instead did the opposite; she sat down directly in front of him. He didn't want to look at her; the people from the Slytherin table were giving him all the dirty looks he would ever need and didn't want to see the look on her face.
"What do you want," he said stiffly, resigning to the fact that she wasn't going to leave.
"Why did you say that in Transfiguration, Harry?" she asked him.
Amidst stares from Slytherins (and, he noticed, some from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, though few), Harry really didn't want to be talking about this.
"What's it to you?" Harry asked her, not looking up at her.
"Can't you see?" Hermioned asked nervously.
"See what?"
"Look around you!"
"Oh yes, Hermione, I see. I wish I didn't though because it sickens me every time I pass by a Slytherin and they whisper 'murderer' in my ear. Why are we talking about this again?"
"Ron said you punched him and your fist grew really big --"
"Did he now," Harry commented dryly, licking his fingers.
"-- like it did that first summer with the Mark of Ancients."
Ron turned to Hermione.
"Tell Harry I'm going to kill him when I get to it," he said. "It's on my list."
Harry's eyes darted up away from his chicken wing and towards Ron. Ron wasn't seriously considering doing that... was he? Again, thinking about the episode with Liam made him increasingly nervous. And he didn't know what to possibly do with the Memory Charm. Had placing him under one been the right thing to do or had it made Ron more bitter? Would it have lessened Ron's guilt or would have driven him insane? Thinking about these more and more under Hermione's dreadful gaze made his head -- and heart -- hurt so he stopped.
Hermione, unfortunately, noticed Harry's lapse into silence because she asked him with a fake smile, "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," he lied, stuffing some chocolate pudding onto his plate -- then remembered he'd been sick of it ever since eating just that for dinner night after night not too many years ago.
"Oh," said Hermione brightly, that fake smile still there, "I just thought it might be something, you know, pleasant."
Harry stared coldly at her again. He hadn't thought of anything pleasant since the Yule Ball and it was just this that he informed her of. She must have thought she said too much because she sat silent.
"Are we going to keep talking about this until I'm dead and buried?" said Harry loudly, getting some stares now from fellow Gryffindors. "And don't try to shush me," he added.
"Talking about what?" said Hermione with that fake smile which was now very annoying to Harry.
"This!" Harry barked. "Lucius! Dudley! Arthur! Liam!"
"Liam?" said Hermione blankly while Harry fell quickly silent, realizing his mistake. "What about him?"
Ron gave Harry another one of his cold looks (which was slowly starting to resemble Malfoy's, Harry noticed unhappily) and then quickly went back to eating.
"Nothing," said Harry hastily. "Just -- just stop talking, okay?"
I'm not going to crack under her gaze, Harry told himself as Hermione continued looking at him, I'm not. I won't. He didn't think telling her the truth about Liam -- about Ron -- would do the moment any good. He'd pulled the same mistake and wasn't about to repeat it. Come to think of it, he'd done it a few times and never had it turned out the way he hoped... Who could he tell?
He was suddenly very torn over making Ron forget about Liam. If Ron had known, maybe Harry might have been able to explain what he was currently feeling to him because then Ron would understand? But then Ron would have to live with the guilt of such a thing and he couldn't even live with it... The truth about what could have been was bugging him. And bugging him and bugging him until a voice screamed in his ear.
"Harry!" it shrieked.
Harry looked up, his head swiveling in every direction to look for the source until it fixed upon the entrance of the Great Hall. A white cloak, the hood not covering the long black hair falling down to her waist. A fairly pretty face though it was presently screwed up in terror.
Michelle Quirrel bounded down the Gryffindor table and positively seized Harry from his seat, locking her arms around him. Harry sat, redfaced. To his horror, she broke down into unrestrained crying and apologies.
"My God, you're all right! I thought -- I thought -- oh but you're safe! Harry, I could have killed you!"
By some of the looks Harry was currently getting from Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, they wouldn't have minded.
"That was two years ago," Harry reminded her, trying to pry himself away. "Why are you so upset now?"
She unlocked her arms but grabbed his shoulders instead and shook them vigorously, looking straight into his nervous, green eyes and said, "I tried to convince my brother but he still thinks that you -- you --"
Harry noticed that she distinctly ignored his question.
"I'm fine," Harry lied and Hermione gave another noise of dissent.
"You are anything but fine, Harry," said Hermione, staring sharply at him and Harry was afraid Michelle was going to try to hug him again after she said this but, thankfully, she didn't.
Michelle sat down at the very end of the table which was, incidentally, right next to Harry, turned to him, tears leaking out of her eyes at the very sight of him and said, "So how are you? What are you doing lately?"
She looked good to go and talk for about five hours straight.
"I'm doing my homework, going to all my classes -- shut up, Hermione," Harry said, staring pointedly at her.
He tried to stop her from saying what she said next but there was no hope.
"He hasn't done any of his homework since Ron's father -- passed away," Hermione told Michelle, "he's been extremely grumpy and he's showing signs of the Mark of Ancients again. We don't know what to think."
"And I've been doing lots of research on my Triwizard clue," Harry added hastily, seeing Michelle's tears start to come faster.
"That's a whole other story, I assure you," said Hermione bossily, just as hastily. "Been looking ever since we -- er, he -- got the thing and we only know one thing about it."
Michelle now looked ready and willing to help with the Explicatrix. She turned, looking intelligent, to Hermione.
"What is that?"
"It's a shape-intention changer. Professor Dumbledore calls his clue an Explicatrix, Cybele's Orb. Shape-intention changer is a word the three of us settled on for anything the ancients made that changes shape when Harry grabs it." Here, Harry gave her a pair of eyes that said "leave me out of this conversation." To his gratitude, she did so. "I'll explain everything we think we know about these things. Just give me a minute to remember."
Hermione had Michelle's rapt attention. Michelle wiped her tears with a napkin she took from the table and sniffed.
"Okay, so what we know happens is that whenever an ancient touches these things -- or at least we think so because Harry is the only known ancient left alive," she said, glancing sidelong at him while Harry tried his best to ignore her, "-- they change both shape and size. We haven't figured out why they change size yet but it seems like they change into the animal that represents the House the holder would have been in. We're not quite sure how the Hogwarts Houses are connected to all of this but, there you are. You know what the staff was found as, right? It was a four foot long badger, Hufflepuff's animal. Harry grabbed it and it changed right into a seven foot long lion. The Explicatrix was Ravenclaw's colors and fairly small. Harry touched it and it grew a little bit and changed into Gryffindor's colors.
"That's basically all we know. All the books we've read on both the staff and the Explicatrix say neither exists. We used to think they were all nutters for describing them all differently but then we found out they change shape, size and color. Someone tried to do a really good job to cover up these things ever existing and they've done a good job of it."
"Except the fact that we're staring at them," Ron commented darkly.
"Everyone knows that Raides is capable of some 'magic so forbidden' and I'm willing to bet my parents' entire Muggle bank account that the Explicatrix is capable of some really dark magic, too," Hermione went on as if Ron never spoke.
"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry sarcastically.
"Harry, you know it and so do I," she replied to him sharply. "Except you have to figure out what it is the Explicatrix is capable of doing or you're never going to be able to do the second task. Raides can wait."
"Easier said than done."
"When is the second task?" Michelle asked.
"Not far away enough."
"February the twenty-eighth," Hermione told Michelle. "It's almost two months. If we don't find something before then, well, we will. We have to."
"Yeah right."
"Oh come on, Harry," Michelle said, all smiles, trying feebly to cheer him up. "How about Friday? We'll spend --"
"Don't you dare say 'we'll spend all night in the library,'" Ron interjected angrily. "Hermione's had us through that enough. I'm sick of books. I'd stop reading them but I'll never graduate."
Harry quickly turned his laugh into a rather unconvincing sneeze. Either no one noticed this or they chose not to pay any attention to it.
"So, Harry? How about it?" Michelle asked cheerily.
Harry looked between her, Hermione and Ron. Hermione was all for it. Ron, he could tell, would rather have a mandrake screaming in his ear.
"I'm not going," said Ron in a flat voice before Harry could answer. "You three -- two -- go. I have to go find Ginny. See you later."
Ron then proceeded to stand up and walk out of the Great Hall more like a zombie than anything else. Harry turned his head to the person next to him and saw Ginny, sitting a few feet down. This did nothing but make him worry about Ron more...
Michelle was staring after him then turned to Harry and asked slowly, "Did -- did I miss something? I thought you three were great friends?"
Ginny had apparently been listening in because she said, dragging her food over to sit next to Harry, "Were. Ever since dad died Ron's been acting all grumpy and strange."
"What, and you aren't upset over it? Wait, no I shouldn't have said that --"
"No," said Ginny immediately and Harry noticed that she was either taking it much better than Ron or she was practically dying on the inside, hiding it so very well. "I am but, I mean, come on... Look at him. I dunno, I had a really long talk with all of my friends and... well, I guess it helped. I still can't believe it though," Ginny went on slowly, looking sulky all of a sudden and poking her food with her fork, staring at it with a blank expression. "I hope they catch him, who ever did it, and... and he stays in prison for a really long time..."
Harry distinctly heard both Hermione and Michelle say "aww," and Harry himself felt strangely like putting an arm around Ginny. At the very least, she was acknowleding his existence. Then, to his great surprise, she made a crude pillow out of his shoulder. This made Harry feel slightly uneasy but it also made him think of Cho. Ginny wasn't visibly crying but it still was't a pleasant sight. Every now and then she would make a sudden movement like she was but was trying her best to supress the sound. Harry didn't know what to do with her so he let her stay like that until she decided to get up and leave.
The rest of the day had passed and Harry had survived, somehow. Instead of paying sole attention to her notes, Hermione was paying sole attention to Harry in History of Magic Friday morning. The subject?
"Today we will be looking at how the Unforgiveable Curses were discovered," Professor Binns droned.
Harry didn't even bother, he put his books back in his bag along with "Cho's pen," as he now referred to it as, and his notebook. Resting his head on his arms and staring at a dark spot on the floor, he caught up on sleep he hadn't been getting lately.
Michelle's arrival in the library later that day after dinner signalled the boring time. She immediately pulled out a small, dark green notepad with golden writing on it spelling out her name along the very bottom. Then she hesitated for a moment and handed it to Harry.
"Here, you keep it," she said. "You can use it to keep notes on the Explicatrix when -- when you find something on it!"
"Good luck," replied Harry gloomily. "We've been looking for, what, two and a half months and we -- have -- found -- nothing," said Harry hopelessly. Harry took out his pen from his bag and Michelle stared at it. "What?" he said blankly, looking back at her. "It's a pen. So?"
"Don't you usually use quills?"
"Ron snapped my last one."
"Where'd you get that from?"
"I was holding it when Cho --" Harry began, becoming silent rather fast and then he tried again. "I dunno, I just decided to bring it with me."
He looked down at the small diary-sized notebook in his hands, back up at Michelle giving her a very weak, very unsatisfying smile and then at the stack of books Hermione had just brought back. She seemed to notice he stopped himself from saying something, though he didn't know -- or care, really -- if she could tell it was personal. Harry opened the notepad and saw that there was already something written on the first page. A lot of something.
I'm so tired of being here, supressed by all my childish fears.
And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave 'cause your presence still lingers here.
And it won't leave me alone.
These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there's just too much that time cannot erase...
When you cried I'd... wipe away all of your tears. When you'd scream I'd... fight away all of your fears. I held your hand through all of these years but you still have... all of me.
You used to captivate me by your resonating light; now I'm bound by the life you left behind.
Your face it haunts... my once pleasant dreams. Your voice it chased away... all the sanity in me.
These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there's just too much that time cannot erase...
When you cried I'd... wipe away all of your tears. When you'd scream I'd... fight away all of your fears. I held your hand through all of these years but you still have... all of me.
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone... but though you're still with me... I've been alone all along.
When you cried I'd... wipe away all of your tears. When you'd scream I'd... fight away all of your fears. I held your hand through all of these years but you still have... all of me.
All of me.
Harry looked up at Michelle and said, showing the words to her, "You left this in here."
She took the book from his hands, looked at it for a minute, then said, "Oh, just keep it."
"What is it?"
"Just a poem a friend of mine wrote," Michelle told Harry absently; she seemed to be embarassed over forgetting about it. "She's in a Muggle band called Evanescence."
"C'mon," said Hermione brightly as she came back with a stack of ten or so books. "We have a lot of work to do!"
"But this is hopeless," said Harry hopelessly and slouching back in his chair, his hands in his lap after putting the notepad on the table. "And we already looked through that one," Harry told Hermione, picking up A History On Cybele.
She glared at him for a moment and then, still glaring, roughly snatched the book from him and magicked it back onto its shelf. In response to this, Harry made a comment concerning a monthly cycle girls go through.
"Harry!" shrieked Michelle indignantly while Hermione said sharply, "That's not nice."
"C'mon!" said Harry in an unconvincing bright tone. "We have a lot of work to do!"
And then he sighed, turning to page one of Staves and Tomes, Books and Bones.
After about fourty minutes ("I'm not finding anything," commented an annoyed Harry; "Keep searching!" Michelle replied comfortingly though she looked distressed all the same), they found nothing on the Explicatrix but Michelle did find something on --
"RAIDES!" she positively bellowed exuberantly.
"What?" asked Raides, looking up from her spot on the floor next to Harry's feet and her tail suddenly getting raised in curiosity.
"Harry! Hermione!" Michelle went on. "Listen to this!
"Much of The Mother's -- wait a minute, 'The Mother?'" Michelle asked, stopping dead and looking up at Harry.
"Cybele," stated Harry simply. "That's her nickname."
This much he was willing to tell Michelle. He was not going to tell her Cybele's last name and the fact that he -- because her reaction upon first seeing him was bad enough.
"Much of The Mother's worry about creating such a powerful staff was worry over whose hands it would fall into." Harry leaned closer and Raides jumped up on the table much to Madam Pince's disamy.
"How'd we miss that!" said Harry angrily. "We must have read nearly every book here. Which one is that?"
"Shh!" Hermione grunted at him. "Shut up! Who cares? Go on, Michelle."
Harry sat back, now annoyed at Hermione, but was listening attentively anyway.
"'Her primary concern was, if the staff should happen to fall into someone else's hands (she seemed to know something of the sort would happen), how could she know the person's intent? It is rumored that the staff changes shape depending on its owner's intent and is also rumored to change size depending on the owner's magical prowess.' That's it! It grows if you're stronger magically -- er, wait a minute..."
"Oh come off it," said Harry at once, dismissively. "You think I'm a better wizard than whoever hid Raides?" Harry was curious to see what expression Raides was wearing and was not surprised to see her grinning her cheeky grin. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard... Everyone knows wizards and witches back then were more powerful than they are today. We learned that in History of Magic."
"Yeah," said Michelle, sounding let down and looking put out, "I guess you're right."
As the time wore on, Michelle's stress factor rose slowly as Harry held his head closer and closer to the book on his hands. Her stress factor rose considerably when this was finally at the point where if he fell asleep, you couldn't tell. Hermione screamed "Cho!" in his ear when this happened, waking Harry up from a pleasant dreaming involving grassy meadows and puffskeins. This was at one o'clock in the morning and the only reason they had been able to stay so late was because Madam Pince had, too, fallen asleep. She was awoken violently by Hermione's yell and she shooed them out, taking five points from Gryffindor for not waking her up.
Not much needs to be said about how the search went but, slightly unexpected was who was still up in the common room when it was all empty except for him.
"Oh, good -- er, morning, Ron," said Michelle, trying to fight down the urge to run, Harry guessed, before another fight broke out between them. Ron was staring daggers at Harry but Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at him and Ron instead turned to the letter in his hand which Harry just noticed.
"Mom's sent this," Ron told the three of them in a barely audible voice. "I've -- I've been re-reading it over and over..."
Harry, Hermione and Michelle all exchanged nervous glances and walked as a unit towards Ron with Hermione being the one prying the letter from Ron's grip. Ron wasn't looking normal and Harry noticed that Hermione put a hand to her mouth as though in horror as she read the letter.
"What?" Harry asked urgently. "What is it?"
Hermione handed Harry the letter as if it was made out of poison ivy and used her free hand to help her other hand cover her mouth in horror.
Dear Ron,
Fudge sent me a letter this evening. He offered me your dad's old job. Currently, we're living off his social security. We'll have the money from his life insurance fund soon enough though I don't know how long it'll last. Fred and George are working extra hours at the shop but I don't think I have to say that not many people are doing much shopping these days. Bill and Charlie are wiring us money and Percy, well, I hate to say it but he's stopped going to work period. I think he needs some time alone and he seems to think Harry did it. They're not going to fire him though, they're letting him use all the vacation days he never used. I don't think Harry ought to stay here until the killer is found. I tried to convince Percy but he wants revenge on whoever did it and he's just believing all the rumors.
Don't worry, Ron. We'll make it. Say hello to Ginny for me.
Love,
Mom
It would be a lie to say that it was worse than Harry could have ever imagined it but, regardless, it was very bad to put it lightly. Harry found it sickeningly ironic that Mrs. Weasley saw fit to send the letter to Ron while it was Ginny who probably would have taken the news slightly better. Then he realized that she couldn't possibly know this.
And suddenly, in the face of all of Ron's troubles, Harry wanted to put his animosity towards him curbside and state something more firmly than he'd ever stated it before.
"Ron, you are -- NOT -- paying me back for the trip to New York. Just forget about it."
"What trip to New York?" Michelle whispered in Harry's ear.
"I'll tell you later," Hermione whispered back.
Ron stood up, snatching the letter out of Harry's hand as if Harry had no right to touch it and for the brief moment this took, Harry was afraid that Ron was going to tear it. Ron then started for the spiral staircase.
"You're not, Ron," Harry told him again sharply as Ron continued to walk -- but ever so slowly. "Don't."
"I don't get it..." Michelle whispered in Hermione's ear to which Harry whispered back, "I'll tell you later."
Ron stopped at the top of the stairs, looking -- almost -- normal this time but more depressed than Harry had ever seen him.
"My dad's dead, Harry," he said softly as if Harry didn't have a clue, "you just don't understand."
Harry stood there and watched as Ron's feet disappeared from view. He knew that Ron knew that he understood and didn't think twice about letting this small display of thoughtless words pass him. Ron had too much on his mind; Harry knew this feeling very well.
"I do, Ron," said Harry quietly, "I really do."
Hermione and Michelle stood on either side of Harry, gaping open-mouthed after Ron.