Potter47
Part Two
The Shadow of the Present
"The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe."
Emily Brontë
"Perhaps it's impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be."
Orson Scott Card
Chapter Thirteen
'Life as Usual'
"Have you seen my Potions text, Harry?" Hermione asked next morning. "I can't seem to find it anywhere, and I know I had it when I touched up McClaggan's essay last night..."
Hermione was quite frantic-looking as Harry came down to the common room. She had been turning all the seats and cushions upside down (sometimes literally) to look for her lost book. It had, apparently, disappeared very recently.
"It's called 'Advanced Potion Making,'" Hermione was telling a timid-looking second year. "And it's by Libatius Borage..." The second-year shook his head no.
It was the first time Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all in separate classes. Or at least, it had been the first week. Now it was the third time, and that was still strange.
Ron and Hermione still weren't exactly 'friendly' to each other the next morning, when they parted ways, Ron going towards his NEWT-level (and unfortunately OWL-passed) Divination class, while Hermione headed off to her NEWT-level Potions with the new teacher, McClaggan. Harry, on the other hand, had passed neither of those subjects (to McGonagall's dissatisfaction, no doubt) and had NEWT-level Herbology. He had wondered why Hermione didn't have Herbology as well, but she told him that the Advanced Potions class covered nearly the same material, with the addition of doing things with it. It still seemed strange, as this was the same person who had used a time-turner to get to extra lessons in third year...
Harry went down to breakfast, then, and had a sort of hollow feeling in his chest while eating. Something is happening, that feeling whispered, hushed in secrecy. Something is coming. A pause, and then just as Harry was going to stand, going to leave, another thought hit him: Answers are coming.
Well, that'll be nice, thought Harry. Answers would be a very nice change, thank you very much...
So Harry was alone, for the third week in a row, and he made his way down to Greenhouse Four, where the NEWT-level class would be held, and put his bag down next to Neville. Harry tried to think: when is Neville's hearing again? October somethingth... He wondered why he, Harry, was tried for his Improper Use of Magic after only ten days, while Neville had to wait a month for murder. Also, why was Neville even here? Shouldn't he have been taken somewhere to await his trial? Harry strongly doubted that Neville's grandmother had enough influence in Ministry matters to stay something like that...
Class started, and Harry tried to stay interested, tried to pay attention, but it was difficult. He kept thinking of the almost-voice in his head, about the answers...what answers, he wondered? He had so many questions in his head, so many thoughts without solutions...
Shaking his head, Harry reckoned that he wouldn't be able to guess, and even if he could guess the questions, he could never answer them himself.
Harry's attention was slowly losing out to his... his what? Inattention? Sure, but that didn't seem the word... Harry looked round and noticed, rather shockingly, that Neville wasn't paying attention either, and Neville loved Herbology. Instead, the boy was looking out of the corner of his eye out of the greenhouse, at something out on the grounds...Harry couldn't see what it was.
Harry nudged Neville in the side, and the boy's head spun round so fast that it would surely hurt before long, and his eyes were wide with something almost like fear.
"Answers?" he said, sounding almost worried. "What answers?"
Harry looked at him very strangely then. How had he... how could he...? But then Professor Sprout spoke:
"The answers to my questions, Neville," she said. "I said, 'What part of this plant must be grated off, to achieve its full affect, and what potion are these an essential part of?'"
Neville blinked a few times, and turned to Sprout, who had somehow managed to be standing right next to them. "Er...I dunno. Sorry."
Sprout blinked. "Are you feeling quite all right, Neville?"
"Er... no. Could I go to the Hospital Wing?" The professor nodded, and Neville rushed out of the Greenhouse, not looking back. Harry watched him go, confused.
The lesson continued.
Ron sat by himself in the first-floor Divination classroom, trying (and failing) to understand what the hell Firenze was talking about.
It was something like this, as far as Ron could make out:
Firenze had been laying (Ron couldn't picture the centaur laying very well at all) by the shore of the lake the previous few nights, watching the stars, and he had noticed how something something something was brighter than something something something else which meant that something might happen sometime next month. It had something to do with the heavens and the earth and all that nonsense, and something else to do with Good and Evil, which at least Ron understood—Good was good and evil was bad. That was simple. He just couldn't figure what the stars had to do with it.
When the class ended, Ron was just nearly out the door when Firenze's voice called him: "Ronald Weasley? Could I speak with you for a moment?"
Ron doubled back, rather hesitant, and wondering if he had noticed Ron's lack-of-comprehension... the last thing Ron needed was remedial Divination...
Ron was not the only one hesitant. Firenze also looked very apprehensive, and his brow was furrowed. "Ronald Weasley," he said, "is your friend Harry Potter... all right?"
Ron blinked. "Harry's not in this class—"
"I know that," said Firenze. "My question stands—"
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. He has seemed a bit off lately, but that's to be expected, isn't it—?"
Firenze looked very worried then. "I have seen him in the corridors. He walks as though in a dream. He does not seem only a bit off, Ronald Weasley."
Ron shrugged again, feeling a bit (just a bit) worried himself. "Well, what could be wrong with him?"
"I do not know, Ronald Weasley," said Firenze. "I wish that I did. Go now. You will be late."
A bit unsettled, Ron went on to his next class, but was stopped once more in the hallway, this time by Katie Bell.
"Tryouts are Friday," she told him, and Ron remembered then that she had been made Quidditch captain after Angelina left. "You don't have any idea who can play Seeker, do you?"
Ron furrowed his brow. "Seeker? But Harry's—"
"—got a lifelong ban, remember? And Ginny's got her whatever-she's-got, and we're short three spots."
"But Umbridge is—"
"Not here anymore, no, but your brother is," she said. "And no offence, Ron, but he's nearly as bad—"
"What?" said Ron. "You can't mean that. Percy would never torture people—"
"I mean when it comes to Quidditch," said Katie. "And definitely when it comes to Harry."
"Well, I don't know anyone," said Ron, shaking his head.
"Well look," said Katie with an air of finality, and she turned off down a different corridor. Ron had completely forgotten that he had to get to Defence, and he managed to slide through the door just as Morgen was closing it, which had been a minute or two after the bell had sounded, so Ron considered himself lucky. He sat down next to Harry and made a point to pointedly ignore Hermione, because his hand still hurt (even though it really didn't, because Madam Pomfrey had mended it in a moment).
"What's that?" Ron murmured to Harry, pointing at the bag by his own which was obviously not his, as it was by his own.
"Neville's," said Harry. "He forgot it in Herbology."
Ron looked round. "Where is he?"
"Hospital Wing."
Ron glanced at Hermione, who was not speaking and was looking very crossly at Professor Morgen, who now turned to address the class.
"Why... would you kill?" he asked.
The class blinked. Yes, the whole class, all at once. What's wrong with that?
No one did anything but stare at the man, because they had simply not expected him to ask that question.
"All right then," said Morgen, "how... could you kill? Say you didn't have the... the heart for the Killing Curse? How could you do it?"
Hermione looked round at the other students, almost as though she wished someone else would answer for once. Huffing slightly, she thrust her hand into the air.
"Miss... Granger?"
"Stabbing," she said, and just as the word left her lips it was written on the blackboard in capital printed letters, not script.
"Very good," said Morgen. "A very subtle way to kill a person... stabbing. What else?"
Hermione raised her hand again. Morgen just looked at her, and quirked an eyebrow.
"Shooting."
"Shooting," said Morgen appraisingly. "A bit too... boisterous for my liking."
Ron felt that was an odd way to put it. To his 'liking'?
Hermione looked round the class again, but everyone else was looking at her. She rolled her eyes and said: "Suffocation. Strangulation. Virus. Blunt-force. Poison..."
She continued on for a few minutes, and Ron wasn't the only one that was a bit...perturbed by her knowledge of killing, or at least the ways to kill someone.
The board was soon filled with various ways, including some that Ron could have lived without hearing about—no pun intended.
"There certainly are an awful... lot of ways to kill a person, aren't there?" said Morgen, smirking grimly, but perhaps not grimly enough. "But you still have to deal with the body."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "But if we're talking about Malfoy—"
"Who said that we were...talking about Malfoy?"
"Oh," said Hermione.
"So, class... how would you deal with a dead body?"
Finally, the class seemed ready to participate. "Transfigure it?" suggested Dean. "And then you'd hide it someplace no one would find it—"
"Transfigurations wear off," said Hermione. "And then if you hide it in the woods or something, people might trip over it."
"We're not using magic... remember?" said Morgen.
"You never said that," said Hermione.
"Wrong—I just did."
The class was silent, and then Morgen made his own suggestion: "What if you... keep it?"
The class blinked once again. Hermione said: "But that's not dealing with the body, that's... keeping it."
"Isn't that... a way to deal with it?"
"Well, not a very good way—"
"Well, what did our... resident madman do?"
"He left the body," said Hermione. "And I thought we weren't talking about Malfoy."
"Who said we weren't... talking about Malfoy?" said Morgen, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "I thought you were observant... Miss Granger."
And then Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Just because I didn't notice, until now, that you didn't actually say we weren't talking about Malfoy, professor," she said, "doesn't mean I'm unobservant."
"No, of course not," said Morgen. "That's not what I meant... What I meant was that you were under the... impression that he left the body."
"He did leave the body," said Hermione. "I saw it with my own eyes."
"Eyes can be misleading," said Morgen, although he truly looked a bit surprised that Hermione didn't know what he did. "Didn't you hear that the body... disappeared before the Express reached Hogsmeade?"
The whole class gasped as one, and most of them audibly. And Morgen looked incredulous.
"Why did you think I didn't... think Mr Longbottom had done it?" he said, almost grinning. "You must have thought I was... quite mad, didn't you?"
But the class wasn't listening anymore. Harry was sort of looking at nothing, Hermione seemed to be in deep concentration, and Lavender and Parvati were whispering to each other fervently.
Then Hermione spoke: "But... why didn't anyone tell us?"
Morgen shrugged, leaning back against the front of his desk. "Perhaps... everyone assumed you'd find out anyway. Perhaps they... didn't want you to find out at all."
"But why?"
Morgen smirked. "You do realise that you all are the students... and that the teachers are in charge? I've heard you've gotten this... confused before—"
"Yes, I do realise that, but this is our... our classmate, I feel that we should have been informed—"
"Ah, but you... weren't, so what does it matter?"
The class continued on rather informational-less-ly for a while, but then the bell rang, and Morgen stopped mid-word to say, "Homework! A roll of parchment on this topic...Mr Malfoy's murder. Tell me what... you think really happened. It will be graded for spelling and accuracy. Due Monday."
"Accuracy?" said Hermione, gathering her things. "How can we tell if it's accurate—"
"Oh, I didn't say it...? This is going to be a... project this term. A bit of a... Hogwarts whodunit. We are going to solve the murder."
Ron took a different way to the common room than usual. He didn't want to walk with Hermione, and for some reason he just felt like going this way instead.
And so he walked, and the corridor was empty, but for him. No one ever went this way, as it was a very scenic route, but he didn't care.
Thoughts bounced off one another in his head, and he tried to make sense of them. Firenze... Firenze had said that something was wrong with Harry. But what was wrong with him? Ron hadn't really noticed anything particularly strange... except for yesterday.
Ron remembered now, yesterday Harry had gotten lost on the way to Defence. He had never gotten lost before... and then suddenly he did. That was something strange, and Ron hadn't even really picked up on it. He wondered what else he had missed.
Neville was lost too, said a voice in Ron's head. Is there something wrong with him as well?
Ron's first thought was no, because Neville had gotten lost before. But then, he had never murdered anyone before... or sort-of-maybe-might-have murdered someone.
That was another thing—what had Morgen meant? He had said... he had said that Malfoy's body had disappeared before the train got to the station... well, Neville couldn't have done anything with it, could he? He had been with the driver. And why would anyone else take the body of a murdered person, other than the murderer?
They wouldn't, another voice said. And it was right—and Ron was confused.
"Hello, Ronald," said yet another voice, but this one was outside his head, and in front of his face. Ron hadn't been looking where he had been going, not really, and he hadn't noticed that Luna was now just in front of him. If she hadn't spoken, he would have toppled her over.
"Hello, Luna," said Ron rather distractedly. "Er... what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," she said. "I haven't seen you much at all, and I've been watching extra-hard."
Neither spoke for a moment, and while Ron sort of looked at the floor, Luna looked at him.
"What are you doing here?" Luna asked.
"I'm on my way to the common room."
"The common room isn't this way," said Luna.
"I was taking the scenic route," said Ron.
"No, you were taking the long way. The scenic route is the beautiful route. This corridor is hardly beautiful."
Ron sighed slightly, and wondered what Luna wanted.
"Why were you looking for me?" said Ron.
"I was wondering why you've been avoiding me."
"I haven't been avoiding you—"
"Yes, you have. I don't mind. You have your reasons, most likely. I just was wondering what they were."
Ron shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable. "I've been busy."
"With what?"
"What does it matter?"
And Luna's calm face sort of furrowed a little. "You don't need to speak to me like that," she said. "I'm just curious. And besides, I've been waiting for you to ask me to Hogsmeade and you haven't done it yet."
Ron blinked. "Hogsmeade?"
"Yes," said Luna. "It's the village down there, where the train stops—"
"I know what it is," said Ron.
"Then why did you ask?"
"I—" Ron stopped, and fell silent. He didn't want to argue any more. He didn't know what he had been going to say, anyway.
"So," said Luna, "when are you going to ask me to Hogsmeade?"
"I dunno," said Ron, "is that something I really have to do? Like, now?"
"Well, not now, no," said Luna, "but if we're going to be together, we have to be together sometimes, you know."
And then Ron blinked once again, and his eyes widened. "Oh, God, Luna, I completely forgot—"
"Forgot what?"
"That we were together."
"But we haven't been," said Luna. "I've hardly seen you at all since the start of term—"
"I mean, I forgot we were together," said Ron, and Luna understood that time, and she was taken aback.
"That's not a very nice thing to forget," she said, "and I reckon that if you said that to anyone else, they would dump you right now—but of course they would have had to be going out with you first—"
"Are you going to?" said Ron. "Dump me, I mean?"
"No, of course not," said Luna. "I was just saying what someone else would do. I've been watching other people, you know, since I haven't seen you too much. It's rather boring, really, but you do learn things—"
"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade, Luna?" said Ron then, and he realised how horrible he suddenly felt. He wouldn't have blamed Luna if she dumped him.
"Sure," said Luna, and she smiled a little. They just looked at each other a moment, and then Luna grabbed Ron's arm. "Let's go."
She started pulling him along the corridor, then.
"What?" said Ron. "Now? I didn't mean now—"
"Well, what were you planning on doing?"
"Going to the common room, I said that," said Ron, and it struck him how very fast Luna was going—she was almost running. He nearly tripped over his feet keeping up so that she didn't pull his arm off.
"But wouldn't you rather be in Hogsmeade? It's such a beautiful day—"
"But it's not a Hogsmeade weekend—"
"So?" And then she stopped short, and Ron fell right into her, knocking them both to the floor. He almost reckoned she'd done that on purpose, as she had somehow turned while falling so that she was facing up under him. "If we're going out, Ronald, we're going out."
And she reached up, hooked her arms round his neck, and kissed him on the mouth, taking him by surprise; Ron realised that he was laying on top of Luna in the middle of a corridor. He looked round, wondering if anyone was watching.
"No one's watching us, Ronald," she said, and she kissed him again, laughing at the look on his face. "Now let's go out," she said. "Race you!"
And somehow she was already out from under him and running full tilt down the corridor. He stood rather awkwardly and went after her, slowly at first, self-conscious in case anyone was watching, but then gaining on her as he realised he really didn't care.
She ran and ran and he chased and chased all the way out to the entrance hall, and he very nearly had caught up to her when she had slipped out the oak front doors. He went after her, and she was already charging down the grounds, laughing.
But...she wasn't running towards Hogsmeade, which was odd. He wondered where she was going.
"Luna!" he called, but she didn't seem to hear him. "Luna! Slow down!"
And this time she did hear him, and she did slow down, and he caught up to her, out of breath.
"You really can run, you know that?" he said, breathing heavily. "But where are you going? Hogsmeade's not this way—"
"We can't get into Hogsmeade the normal way," said Luna. "It's not a Hogsmeade weekend, like you said before. But I know a different way. A special way."
And Ron blinked. "So do I," he said. "We could have just used Harry's map—"
"But where's the fun in using Harry's map? It's like cheating. No, I know a better way."
Ron somewhat doubted it; what were the chances that Luna had found a passageway that the Marauders hadn't? It didn't seem very likely...
"All right then," said Ron, "just... don't run."
Luna looked him up and down. "You look tired," she said. He laughed.
"Really?" he said. "I hadn't noticed..."
"Well, you do," she said. "And I'll go slow."
She reached out her hand for him to take, and he did, after a second's hesitation. She smiled, and pulled him along, walking slowly now.
"So... where is this... 'special way'?"
"This way," she said, and she was whispering now, for some reason. They were headed towards the Quidditch pitch of all places, and he wondered why.
They were walking very slowly now, almost as though sneaking, and Luna kept a finger over her mouth to keep Ron from speaking. He hadn't a clue what she was doing.
They reached the pitch eventually, and they went inside; Luna led him up into the stands, and he couldn't help it any longer:
"What in the world are we doing, Luna?"
"Going to Hogsmeade." She said it with such simple sincerity that he was hard-pressed to disbelieve it, for some reason, but surely she was simply going even madder than usual.
"Are you all right, Luna?" he said. "Should we go to... the Hospital Wing instead?"
They were walking along one of the rows of seats now, Luna walking atop them as though on a tightrope, or a balance beam, with her arms spread for balance.
"Today's a Hogsmeade day," she said, "not a Hospital Wing day. Maybe tomorrow."
And then, suddenly, she threw herself to the bench, flattened herself out, and rolled to the side, underneath the bench behind into the dark space beneath the stands. Ron blinked. It had been so sudden—
"Come on, Ronald," she said.
"Er...why exactly are we going in there? There's... there's probably spiders, aren't there?"
"Oh, don't be scared, Ronald," assured Luna, "I'll keep you safe."
Ron's cheeks reddened; that hadn't been quite what he'd expected. "But why are we going in there?" he said again.
"We're going to Hogsmeade."
Ron was doubting Luna's sanity then more than he ever had in the past, and he'd never been one to think she wasn't mad, even if he didn't really mind.
Hesitantly, Ron lowered himself down, and when he was flat against the bench, Luna pulled him in to her, and the world was black.
"Now what?" he said.
"We go to Hogsmeade, of course," said Luna, and she muttered,"Lumos!" so that her wand lit up, and Ron could see that he had been right, and there were spiders in here, and an awful lot of them.
"Just keep your eyes closed, then," said Luna. "And keep hold of my hand."
Ron didn't close his eyes, of course, because he hadn't any idea where they were going and if he had his eyes closed, he wouldn't be able to see. He did take her hand, though.
"Here we are," said Luna after a minute, and she stopped about half-way down the bench they were under, and moved towards the back of the stands. And then... she jumped.
Ron, who had not been expecting this, looked down over the edge and was quite plainly terrified to see that Luna had disappeared. Where could she have gone? he thought to himself, and then a voice answered him:
To Hogsmeade.
And then Ron, feeling completely foolish jumping out of the back of the Quidditch stands to what appeared to be solid ground about fifty feet below, jumped as well.
Harry and Hermione were walking to the common room, and had been for a considerable amount of time before Harry said, "Where's Ron?"
And Hermione looked round then, and noticed that Ron wasn't there.
"He must have not wanted to be near me," she said, almost smirking. "Honestly, though, how long can it hurt to have your knuckles snapped backwards if you have it magically mended five minutes later?"
Harry didn't answer, and they had reached the portrait hole. Hermione said the password and just as they were climbing through the opening, she stopped short.
"I've just remembered something," Hermione said then. "Quick, I've got to show it to you." And then she scrambled the rest of the way through and practically pulled Harry through after her.
"What is it?" he asked, a bit taken aback my her forcefulness.
"Shh," said Hermione, and she led the way to a far secluded corner of the common room; the room was crowded, so nobody noticed them, and when they were seated in the farthest pair of armchairs, Hermione reached into her bag and took out a purple book.
"What is that?" said Harry. It looked like a course book, but it wasn't one that he had.
"It's the potions text," whispered Hermione. She held it out for him to take.
"But I thought you couldn't find your potions text," said Harry, recalling the morning's frazzled search.
"I couldn't. This isn't mine. McClaggan lent it to me when I said mine had disappeared."
"How is he?" said Harry then. "Is he better than Snape?"
"He's nicer, I guess you could say," said Hermione, her gaze fixed on the book in Harry's hands. "But he's just dreadful at teaching. Open it."
Harry did, and he wondered why she was so taken with this potions text—sure she loved books in general, but what was so special about this particular one to merit hushed discussions in the far-reaches of Gryffindor Tower?
"Flip through it."
Harry did, letting the old, frayed pages fall from the right side to the left—and then he understood.
Just about half-way through the book there was a small figure made out of folded parchment, yellowed with age. It was pressed flat, of course, from spending however long inside the book since its creation, but it seemed to have this...dimension to it, perhaps the way it was folded. It looked like...
"Is it an angel?" said Harry, and he knew that this thing looked inherently familiar, even though he had never seen it before—at least, he had never seen this form of it before. He had seen it before in a different form, though...
This was the anti-Dementor, from the train, he was sure of it, although he didn't know how he was sure of it. He just was. He had felt that before, too, loads of times, and the odd sureness was eerie, and... and just odd.
"That's what I thought too," said Hermione, and surely she meant the angel, not the anti-Dementor. "But look closely, at the wing."
Harry did, and in a very sharp, almost spiky handwriting, was printed:
GOD OF RETRIBUTION
Harry furrowed his brow. The thing was a god? That seemed a bit strange—
"Weird, huh?" said Hermione, and her face was alight with excitement. "You know what's weirder?"
"What?"
"There is no Onyssius. It sounds Greek, doesn't it? But there's no Greek god named Onyssius. It's as though whoever folded this just made him up. Isn't that fascinating?"
Harry agreed that it was, but not for reasons anything like Hermione's.
"What I want to know is, who made it? I would reckon that it was someone who used to use this potions text, wouldn't you? But no one reuses course books—unless they buy them from a second-hand shop, not find it in the back of the Potions Dungeon. I don't know where McClaggan found this..."
"Could it have been his?" said Harry. He had never met Professor McClaggan, only seen him at mealtimes, and he seemed... well, he seemed like a very boring person, like a living Binns, but Harry had never seen one of his lessons, so—
"I don't think so. He said he'd just been cleaning up the other night and he found it; he thought it must have been a lucky break, since I needed one today. So it was just like someone left it in the Potions Dungeon, but I've never seen it before."
"Then it could be one of the seventh years last year," said Harry, and his mind seemed to be working better than it had in a very long time, now, whether it be the mystery of this figure or—as Harry almost suspected—the very thought of this figure.
"I've always had the feeling that Snape disinfects the whole classroom after every term..."
"Well, then what could it be? You don't seem to think it was anything at all, as though it just... appeared, or something."
Hermione shook her head. "I dunno." She was looking off into the distance for a minute, in thought, while Harry held the origami figure. He turned it round and looked at it from that angle. It was so... so very much like the anti-Dementor on the train... but when he stepped back in his mind, he could tell that it didn't look like it at all, not really. It just had this connection...
"Wait, what's this?" he said, pointing at a small marking on the back of the wing. It looked like...no, it must have been his eyes or something...
"Is that lightning?" said Hermione, taking the figure back from Harry and peering closely at the marking. "It's... it's a little off, somehow, though..." She glanced up at Harry, and then at Harry's forehead. "If you took that..." she was referring to his scar, "...and flipped it, then wrote it again..." She motioned with her fingertip over the mark on the wing, making a quick zig-zag. Then she blinked. "Well, that is odd..."
And then a sudden feeling welled up within Harry, almost like the snake from the year before, when he had wanted to attack Dumbledore, but... different. Very different. Almost the opposite. And that feeling was so sharp and sudden that Harry sprang to his feet with the shock of it, and Hermione jumped back a bit, surprised.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I... uh... I'm going to the Owlery. I've got to owl Ginny."
"AAAAAHHH!" said Ron as he fell, but then he realised he wasn't falling, and that he was just standing, and Luna was standing next to him giggling into her hand.
"What happened?" he asked.
"We've come to Hogsmeade," said Luna.
"But we weren't anywhere near Hogsmeade—"
"It was magic, silly," said Luna. "Now...where do you want to go first? I rather liked that Hog's Head place last year... though it was a bit dirty. Would you prefer the Three Broomsticks?"
And Ron thought a moment. "We're not supposed to be here," he said.
"Yes, I know, Ronald," said Luna. "It was my idea, after all."
"No, I mean... we're not supposed to be here, and if we go to the Three Broomsticks, someone's sure to see us, won't they?"
"The Hog's Head, then?" said Luna, quirking a pale eyebrow, and Ron nodded.
"Yeah... we might as well, now we're here."
Luna reached out her hand once again, and Ron took it, with less hesitation this time. He looked round.
"So... where are we?" he said.
"Behind the Shrieking Shack," said Luna.
"And... how exactly did you find out about this...shortcut, thing?" said Ron. "You didn't go rolling out of under the Quidditch stands in different places, just guessing, right?"
"Oh, no," said Luna. "My mother created it. When she was at school. It was in her diary. Remember, the one with the room near Dumbledore's office?"
Ron did remember. That had been just after they'd returned from the Riddle House.
"Oh," he said. "But why would she make it so difficult to find?"
"So that not just everyone could use it, of course. She and Dad used to sneak out sometimes, this way, just like we're doing. Dad loved all her shortcuts..."
They walked round the edge of the village, so as not to be seen, and then walked down the street that held the Hog's Head, and Luna opened the door.
"Just like I remember," said Luna. "What do you want to drink? You've always wanted to try a Firewhisky, haven't you?"
"Er... yeah," said Ron. "What'll you have?"
"The same," said Luna, letting go of Ron's hand and walking to find them a table; she sat down and took in a big breath, blew it out, and sent dust flying everywhere from the tabletop. It was really almost alarming.
"Er...two Firewhiskies, please," said Ron to the wizard at the bar. For a moment Ron panicked, because he didn't have any money on him, but then he noticed that somehow he did have money on him, in the hand that Luna had been holding... she must have slipped it in when he wasn't paying attention.
The wizard at the bar narrowed his eyes at Ron, as though trying to read his mind and make sure he was of-age, but he gave up rather easily, and pulled two bottles from beneath the bar, handing them over for the gold in Ron's hand.
"Er... thanks," said Ron, and he couldn't help feeling as though the man was watching him the whole way to Luna, and even after he had sat down.
Luna took her bottle from him and popped the cap off, and looked at it admirably—"I've never had a Firewhisky cap before...maybe I'll start a new necklace."
Ron opened his own, but before he could put it to his lips, Luna raised her own bottle, as though making a toast.
"To us," she said then, in a very formal voice and aristocratic voice, "may we never grow boring." Ron snorted—he found it highly unlikely that Luna could ever become 'boring.'
"To us," Ron repeated after a moment's hesitation, and chinked his bottle on Luna's, before tipping it back and taking a swig.
"OOOOOAHHH," he roared, his throat burning as the liquid worked its way down his gullet. His eyes were watering, and quite a few of the patrons were looking at him strangely, including Luna.
"What?" he hissed at her. "It hurt."
And then he noticed that her bottle was already empty, and that she was as calm as she had ever been, just looking at him.
"You... you drank it? All of it? How on earth—"
"It wasn't that bad," said Luna. She glanced down at the tabletop. "Could I have your bottle cap?"
Harry had tried owling Ginny before, but something had always stopped him. He... he just couldn't give the letter to Hedwig, or he couldn't put quill to parchment to begin with, or his ink bottle would fall over or Hedwig would be out hunting...
But now he was determined, with the new feeling within him. He was different now, different from before, and it had been the anti-Dementor—Onyssius—whatever it was—that had done it, he was positive.
And yes, Hedwig was here, and—Harry checked his bag—yes, he had brought the parchment, and the ink, and the quill, and everything was OK this time.
Harry took a breath, and dipped his quill in the ink, and began to write:
Ginny,
I'm so sorry I haven't been writing to you... you must hate me now... you haven't been writing me either, so I'm just guessing you hate me.
I've tried writing before, but something always went wrong, or I couldn't think of what to say, or... something. Things have been strange here this year Ginny.
I miss you.
I'm reckoning Hermione's told you all about Morgen, and Neville, and Malfoy and everything, so I'm not going to say anything about that stuff... but there's something I know she didn't tell you about, and that's the anti-Dementor.
When we were coming on the train, the lights went out, and we were all trying to get towards the driver to see what was wrong, and then there was this thing.
It was like an angel, I thought, but at the same time more like I dunno how to say it the OPPOSITE of a Dementor. That's why I called it an anti-Dementor.
And it told me all this stuff about darkness and light and nothing and I remember you said something about nothing, and that it was your biggest fear... I think I might understand that better now. But the anti-Dementor didn't really speak very clearly. It was all vague.
And then Hermione just found this origami thing in a book (where else, right?) and it IS the anti-Dementor, I could feel it, even though it doesn't really look like it...
Everything's confusing here, Gin. I hope everything's all right at the Burrow. Please write back.
I love you, Gin.
Love,
Harry
And Harry folded up the parchment as quick as he could and put it in an envelope and tied it to Hedwig's leg and told her, "Take it to Ginny," and there—it was done—he had written to Ginny.
Ron and Luna left the Hog's Head soon after, and made their way back to the edge of the village, so that no one would see them while they decided where to go next.
"Where to next?" Ron said.
Luna shrugged. "Where do you want to go, Ronald?"
Ron didn't know; all he did know was that he was definitely enjoying his... would you call it a date?—with Luna, much more than he'd imagined he would. He could hardly even remember the problems that he had been mulling over, like Neville, and Malfoy, and Morgen... but, of course, by thinking of how he hadn't been thinking about these things, he started thinking about them again. Then he had an idea.
"Luna," he said, "did you hear about Malfoy's body?"
"That seems an odd place to want to go," said Luna. Then she blinked, and said: "What about it?"
"About how it disappeared."
"No," said Luna. "Did it?"
"Yeah," said Ron, nodding. Then he was curious: "What are you learning in Defence?"
"What did you learn last year?"
"Nothing," said Ron. "We had Umbridge—"
"Well, we're not learning much of anything either," said Luna, and she looked a bit downtrodden. "It's strange, really, because all the other classes seem to be learning just fine. It's as though Professor Morgen doesn't like us, or something."
"Really? What's he doing, then?"
"Well, he tends to sit in his desk through most of the class, and we read aloud from his book. He rarely looks at us, and he never looks at me." She seemed very troubled at that point.
"Why not?" Ron said. Luna hesitated for a minute, and then looked out of the corner of her eye:
"Who knows?" she asked.
"I was wondering, though," said Ron, "what you thought happened to Malfoy. I mean, now that you know he went missing."
Luna shrugged. "I think he disappeared."
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't help much. You see, I've got to write this essay—"
"Let's go home now," said Luna. "It's getting late. We'd better get back on the grounds before the sun sets."
"Why?" said Ron, and Luna looked at him strangely.
"Don't you know there's a war on? You want to be stuck outside of Hogwarts at night?"
"It's barely half-five—"
"We'd still best be going."
And Luna set off then, and didn't say another word until they were back through the castle gates, and then she only said, "Hurry."
Ron was confused. Everything had been going so well, hadn't it? What had gone wrong? He had never seen Luna act all...was it guarded? As though she had something to hide? That unnerved him.
They walked in silence for a long time, until they had to part ways, Ron towards Gryffindor and Luna towards Ravenclaw.
"G'night, then, Luna," said Ron rather... as though he were lost in a storm, or something, and he could only see her hazily through the rain and wind, even though she was right beside him.
"Goodnight, Ronald," said Luna, and she stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek. She began to walk towards Ravenclaw.
"Wait, Luna," said Ron. She turned round. "First Hogsmeade weekend, then? You and me?"
Luna smiled. "Of course, Ronald."
And then she walked away.
Long chapter, eh? I'm going to try to make them longer than usual so that I can finish the story (seven more chapters or so) adequately, and so that no one is left completely in the dark as to what has happened. Also, quite a number of things have to happen before this fic ends, so...
No accurate contest guesses for this chapter. I apologise for my lack-of-sending-out-wallpapers-to-entrants thus far, as I've been busy (writing this chapter!) You should be getting them within a short time of this chapter going live. However, to those who will receive wallpapers, (anyone who entered), keep guessing, as I'm sure you might be interested in that sneak-preview of Regards from Yesterday, yes?
A clarification about the contest: I've realised that I sort of made the contests too specific, and also too vague at the same time. In contest one, I meant to say 'whoever comes closest THE MOST TIMES' will win the sneak-peak, not just whoever comes closest. Also, I've been too specific because somehow I've alienated simple guesses about what will happen, regardless of chapter. These will fall into the newly dubbed "CONTEST THREE" and will work the same as contest one, a la whoever gets the most right. This seems to be what people have been submitting, even though it didn't fit, and those guesses WILL count towards this as well. You just won't find out if you're right for a while.
In other news, a reviewer asked me how, in chapter twelve, Hermione mangled Ron's hand—I guess I was too vague, or something, but here's a play-by-play:
1.) Hermione punches Ron on the arm.
2.) Ron rubs his arm, because it hurt.
3.) Hermione, not looking at him rubbing his arm, punches him AGAIN, in the SAME PLACE, which is now occupied by his HAND.
4.) She hits him in the KNUCKLES.
5.) This HURTS REALLY BAD.
If anyone has ever been punched in the knuckles, they will know that this REALLY hurts. Especially when, as in Ron's case, the knuckles sort of bend backwards... Hermione hit him hard, in just the right (wrong?) spot, and that's how it happened.
I apologise for the confusion. Well, for that bit of it anyway.
Please review.
"There is always an easy solution to every human problem—neat, plausible and wrong."
H. L. Mencken
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