Harry was sitting in the common room, his books out on the table beside him on the table. He had one in his lap and open, but he was more interested at the moment in simply watching the fire, wondering what Sirius was up to right now and dreaming of the day that he could someday move in with his godfather.

He was startled out of his reverie when someone slammed their way through the fat lady's portrait.

"Do use some care! I am an important work of art!" the fat lady cried out in protest as she drifted shut once more.

"Like I care." Ron snarled, stalking into the common room. He didn't even slow down, stomping directly up the stairs toward the boy's dormitories.

Harry cast his book onto the pile with the others and pushed himself to his feet to follow his friend; something for sure had gone wrong and he wanted to know what. He was halfway up the stairs when Neville came hurrying down, looking a bit pale. "Neville, what…?"

"Ron's really mad. Won't talk, just snarled at me to get the bloody hell out so he could think." Neville answered, hesitating only long enough to answer before he hurried on down.

The dark-haired boy hurried up the rest of the stairs and opened the door of the dormitory that the five teenagers shared. Ron was there all right, snarling softly under his breath, his hair looking like he'd run his hands through it at least twice which gave him a frazzled look. He glared at Harry a moment but that look gentled only slightly upon recognition of him before he began to pace once more.

"Ron, what happened?"

"I'm having a bloody stupid ridiculous day!" he growled, kicking his shoes off violently. One slapped itself under his bed and slid under there; the other flew into the air and landed on top of Neville's curtain frame. "Bloody well figures…!" he growled, turning his back on it.

Harry levitated the shoe low enough to grab, and then tossed it under the bed as well. "All right, Ron. Tell me what's going on."

Ron glanced at him, and then took a deep breath. He knew that Harry only had his friendship and his best interests in mind. And maybe he'd even have some idea of something he could do. He collapsed to a seat on his bed. "Something's… I mean… bloody hell, Harry, I don't even know where to start!"

"How about the beginning?" Harry suggested, pulling up a chair to sit facing his best friend.

Ron hesitated, then hung his head. "Okay, I guess… I told you about Gregor and all that, right?"

"Yeah, how he was your friend and then he started acting weird…?" Harry told the background briefly that he knew.

"Boy did he ever. I really didn't understand what the hells he wanted. I just wanted someone to talk to because… well, I was being an idjit about you and the Tri-Wizard Cup…"

"Yes, you certainly were." Harry agreed.

Ron gave him a glare. "Don't rub it in, I said I was sorry." He retorted.

"Sorry, mate. So this has something to do with Gregor?"

"Yeah. He gave me a note saying he had to see me and kind of said that he was going to kill himself if I didn't start seeing him again."

"What…?" Harry murmured, surprised. He'd heard those fellows from Drumstrang had been chosen specifically for the Tri-Wizard contest, so all of them should be strong and self-assured; certainly not prone to suicide.

"Yeah, it kind of freaked me out too. So I went to Krum…"

"Krum? But I thought you couldn't stand him anymore."

"I can't, really, but I figured even if Krum is a pure ass and a pumpkin-head, he might know what to do about his classmate. I considered talking to Karkaroff but that guy gives me the willies."

"I can understand that." Harry said, giving a slight shiver. Karkaroff with his intense eyes, snarling voice and broken stained teeth had always given him the creeps.

"That's what Malfoy asked me about when he cornered me…"

Harry blinked, surprised. Ron hadn't said anything about Malfoy attacking him, and he clearly had not been injured that he had noticed. "Malfoy…? When did he get involved in all of this?"

"About a week ago, I got pinned down by Malfoy..."

"What…?"

"Yeah, he chased me down the bloody stairs and halfway across the castle grounds before I turned to face him."

"That dirty little…"

"It's okay, Harry… I have no idea why, but he didn't do anything. He didn't hurt me or even hex me at all. He didn't have Goyle or Crabbe with him and all he wanted to do was talk to me about Ptriov. He asked about the note and then he said something about Zabini. I really don't know what the bloody hell he was talking about."

"He was asking about Zabini? I thought he and Blaise were best mates, like you and me are. I wonder what's going on if Malfoy doesn't know what's going on in his friend's life…"

"I don't know, but I was kind of worried. I went to go find Ptriov then to see if maybe I could find something out. I told him Malfoy had been asking questions and Ptriov told me to bugger off. He said we had nothing to talk about and I shouldn't be around him anymore, so I left it at that…"

"When was that?"

"This morning. I went to go sit and enjoy the sunshine this afternoon – its so nice out – and Zabini came down on me like a ton of bricks. Called me a wranger and told me to stay out of the business of my betters. I was completely humiliated; I haven't even spoken to him in months and he comes at me like I did something wrong.

"Something has to be going on…" Harry said softly, frowning.

"I really don't care what the bloody hells is going on anymore. I just want the lot of them to leave me out of it!" Ron growled, yanking off his socks. "I'm done with the lot of them."

"I understand." Harry sat back in the chair, thoughtful and bothered quite a bit. Something wasn't adding up. Malfoy was searching for his best mate? That meant that Blaise had been avoiding him. The fact that Draco had asked Ron about Ptriov meant that he suspected something was going on there, that all the rumors were true. Everyone in the castle had seen Blaise around the Durmstrang boy, but no one really knew anything. The two had conversations in public places but were never seen going anywhere together. Harry pushed to his feet and nudged the chair back into place.

Something was wrong; something was terribly wrong. He had nothing to go on besides his friend's outrage and a suspicion, but in his experiences his hunches were rarely wrong. Call it a need to be a hero, call it a need to help others; he didn't care. He needed to find out if his hunch was right or not. He glanced at Ron, who had stalked off to the bathroom, still angry but calming down. He knew Ron wasn't going to be too keen to do anything, angry as he was. He would need to check this out on his own. If he found out what he was thinking was rue, he would get his friends to help him.

Ron stuck his head out of the washroom to see Harry putting on his shoes. "Oy, where you goin?" he asked.

"I left my books downstairs, and I need to go check on Hedwig. I haven't visited her in days and she's liable to take off my finger if I keep ignoring her." He explained easily with a smirk. It was true, after all…

"Ugh. Throw something at Pigwidgeon while you're there, okay?"

"I'll give her a treat too." Harry laughed, heading for the door.