Okay. I'd like to start by apologising- obviously asking for reviews in the Harry Potter sect of this website is a bit of a no-go. But I would like to clarify something- in the previous chapter, I asked for a 16-20 reviews, meaning an overall total of that many for the story as a whole. At the time of the last chapter's publication, I believe I had 12 reviews. Meaning I was asking for between 4-8 reviews. That's all. Taken the general reaction to this request, this probably won't justify anything, but I felt the need to explain that I was not trying to get 20 reviews for one chapter.
I am sorry to anyone out there who genuinely enjoys this story, but because of the harsh reaction I received because of this statement, I lost all inspiration to continue. I know I'm pulling a bit of a Stephenie Meyer and having a little diva-out, but coming from other communities on this website who are very friendly and supportive it was shocking -and rather hurtful- to garner such negativity from naivety on my part.
So this chapter is for all the people who gave positive reviews, which actually mentioned something of the story rather than just insulting me, and I thank you sincerely for your wonderful input. Enjoy!
Ron started as a loud crashing sound resonated through his room, sleepily sitting up and looking around for the source of the noise. Beams of early morning sunlight cut through the room like airy knives, their glary white light temporarily blinding Ron as he shot upright. His eyes soon adjusted to the brightness, but before he could place what exactly made the crash a quiet moan sounded from down near his waist.
He glanced down in surprise, and blanched when he saw a slim arm draped across his stomach. After a moment of complete blank shock, memories of his discussion the night before flooded back, and with a relieved sigh he remembered why his friend was lying so unusually close to his side. With an incoherent mumble she pushed herself upright, grasping her hand across Ron's shoulder to balance herself. Her hand lingered on his arm after she was sitting up, and they both slowly looked down at it, before their eyes met. They sat frozen for a moment, before jumping apart as though buzzed by an electric current.
'What's happening? Hermione asked, her voice tainted with sleepy disorientation. Ron, suddenly remembering the reason for his abrupt awakening, glanced around the room quickly as he began to search for the source of the disturbance. He was puzzled when he saw nothing out of place, but he snapped back to attention when Hermione grabbed his wrist.
'There!' Hermione pointed at the window, and when Ron followed her gaze he saw his tiny owl sitting on the window ledge, looking ruffled. Jumping to his feet to let the bird in, he guessed that the crashing sound was Pig running into the window in his haste to get home- but as he undid the window's latch to let him in he appeared completely undamaged. He zoomed in circles around the room, occasionally letting out tiny squeaks until he settled on the top of his cage. Ron absentmindedly fed him an owl treat, a confused frown tweaking his brow when he saw no trace of a letter anywhere in his room.
Hermione gave out a sigh, looking decidedly dejected as she sat on the bed.
'He didn't write back, did he?' Ron turned when he heard the hurt tone to her voice, and guiltily had to smother a smile at how she looked. Her hair was mussed by sleep, her oversized pyjama top slipping off one shoulder, and a crestfallen expression on her face made her look akin to a homeless puppy. He moved back over to his bed and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. He was just trying to think of some consoling words when he felt Hermione straighten beside him, before leaping from the bed and running to the window.
'Look! It's Hedwig!' Ron dashed to her side, just in time to see Hermione extend her arm out the window and for Hedwig to come to a gentle landing there. Hermione lifted the bird inside, stroking her feathers gently with her free hand and cooing kind nothings after the bird's obviously hasty and tiring trip. An ecstatic smile lit her face, and Ron began to grin too when he saw the letter tied to Hedwig's leg. Ron leant in and began to untie the string attaching the letter to the bird, and a slightly confused frown playing across his features as he saw Hedwig's leg was red and scabbed.
'What's the matter, Ron?' Hermione asked, seeing his uneasy expression and looking down with concern of her own.
'I dunno, it's just, this letter was tied on way too tight, and it's cut into Hedwig's leg. Harry knows better than to do that…' With a feeling of apprehension that he couldn't quite place, Ron pulled the letter free and slit open the envelope. A single, folded sheet of paper was inside and Ron, after a single moment's hesitation, flicked it open.
The writing on the sheet was barely legible, but Ron could recognise that it was written by Harry's hand. He moved back over to his bed and sat down, Hermione right beside him, and they both began to read.
Dear Ron and Hermione,
There is no need to worry about me, I am fine. I don't think I'll be coming to the Burrow these holidays, my Aunt, Uncle and Cousin want to spend some more time with me until we get back to school. There is no need for you to come and visit me here. I'll see you at the start of term.
Harry.
Ron finished reading the letter, and stared at the writing blankly for a moment. It made no sense; Harry had always left the Dursleys as soon as he got the chance in the past, an arrangement which was usually mutually appreciated by both Harry and his relations. Not to mention that he had only ever talked of them as hating him in every imaginable way, making it sound even stranger that they wanted to spend extra time with him over the holidays.
Ron glanced up at Hermione's face, and saw she looked just as utterly confounded as he did. He turned the letter over, looking to see if there was something else, but was disappointed to find nothing.
'Wait, look…' Hermione quickly took the letter out of his hands, and lifted a dog-eared corner of the letter. Underneath was a scrawled message, with a dark red smear beside it.
'Is that…blood?' she asked in a shaky voice, passing the letter back to Ron. He read the writing, his stomach dropping uncomfortably at the ominous words, and his confusion merging into worry as he recognised the red smudge as blood.
'It looks like the paper's warped here, too…' Hermione pointed at a wrinkled section of paper, shaped suspiciously like a teardrop, smudging the ink of the pen. Ron gulped down a gasp of air, trying to steady his fingers which had begun to shake. He looked up from the letter to see Hermione's face had blanched, her mind obviously whirring with hundreds of horrible possible reasons behind the presence of their friend's blood and tears.
'We have to show this to someone.' He said in as steady a voice as possible, and after receiving a silent nod of confirmation from Hermione they both rose from the bed and solemnly walked out the door. They descended down into the kitchen, where most of the Weasley family was sitting at the table eating breakfast. At the sight of the pair, Fred and George jumped to their feet, both wearing identical mischievous grins.
'So we heard, Hermione, that you didn't go back to your room last night…'
'…and that does make one wonder what exactly you and Ickle Ronnikins got up to in that secluded…' George trailed off when he saw Ron's distraught expression, and Hermione's pale complexion. Mr Weasley glanced up curiously when his sons stopped their taunting so abruptly, and quickly strode over to their side when he saw their alarmed expressions.
'What's happened?' he asked in a low, serious voice, which immediately commanded the rapt attention of the entire room. Ginny and Mrs Weasley looked over apprehensively from the table, and even the dishes in the sink that we washing themselves froze in place. Ron held out the letter to his father, and slid an arm around Hermione's shoulders once his father took the note from his hands. Arthur quickly scanned through the note, and shot a slightly confused glance at his youngest son. Immediately knowing why he was confused, all Ron did was point to the dog-eared corner, and once he saw what was there Mr Weasley's face was filled with aghast understanding.
Mrs Weasley was at her husband's side in seconds, snatching the letter and reading it hastily. Her husband pointed out the note in the corner, and Mrs Weasley's hand flew to her chest as she saw the scribbled message. Mr Weasley quickly guided her back to her seat at the table, and she sank slowly off her feet. She dropped the letter onto the scrubbed wooden table, where it was promptly seized by Ginny, with Fred and George reading over one of her shoulders each.
By the time they had finished examining the note Arthur was beside the fire grate, fastening his cloak around his shoulders and leaving his breakfast discarded on the table. He grabbed the letter from his daughter and stowed it safely within a hidden inner pocket of his jacket.
'I'll get this straight to Kingsley; see what he can do to help. Boys,' he added with a completely serious and intolerant glance at his sons, 'do not do anything until I return.' And with a swift peck to his wife's cheek, he tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the flames and disappeared in a swirl of green light.
Silence reigned in the kitchen for a full minute; each person frozen in place, all their eyes glued to the fireplace where Mr Weasley had just disappeared from. No one knew what was going on, but at the same time they all shared the knowledge that something horrible had transpired.
The awful silence seemed to stretch on forever, as though the small slip of paper had drawn all their energy, and made them incapable of anything but horrified contemplation. The spell was broken, however, when with a small pop Bill apparated into the kitchen.
'Hey, mum, I just thought I'd…' Bill trailed off into silence, his eyes wide at the scene before him. A moment later he was at the other side of the room, on his knees at his mother's side.
'Is it Dad? Have some of his followers…' Bill trailed off as his mother sadly shook her head. His eyes remained confused, slowly trailing from his mother's face to the others in the room. Fred and George were sitting side by side, both staring at their hands. Ginny was beside her brothers, sickly pale, clutching a mug of tea like a lifeline. Ron stood, his arm still encompassing Hermione's shoulders, standing as still as stone. Hermione stood as still as her friend, the only difference was a solitary teardrop that was trailing down her cheek. He turned back to Mrs Weasley, his eyes imploring, begging to know what was wrong.
'It's Harry, dear. We received a letter from him…we aren't sure what to make of it, but it sounds bad. Your father's gone to the Ministry to try and get them to help, but we don't really know what's happening yet.'
Bill looked aghast at the news, but he quickly smothered the expression with a mask of neutrality. He rose to his feet, and held out his hand in an authoritative manner to his mother.
'By the sounds of it, then, you're going to have a new guest here by the end of the day. Shouldn't you be preparing his room?' Mrs Weasley stared at her son with wide eyes for a moment, before springing to her feet.
'Yes, of course, dear.' And she bustled away, muttering a list of tasks to complete under her breath as she made her way to the stairs.
Bill immediately sunk into Mrs Weasley's vacated seat, letting out a gushing sigh and looking around at his siblings and Hermione.
'Is it true?' There were various mumbles of affirmation from around the room, and with a sigh Bill leaned his head against one hand.
'That kid just can't catch a break, can he?'
Shaking his head slightly, Ron seemed to break out of his reverie. He gently led Hermione to the kitchen table, where they sat side by side. Their fingers had somehow become linked in the process, and were resting together against the smoothly scrubbed wood. Bill pulled out his wand and silently summoned two steaming mugs of tea from beside the kettle, which came to rest in front of the pair of shell-shocked best friends.
'What do you think is going to happen?' Ginny's voice sounded hollow, as her eyes continued to stare blankly into the fireplace where her father had disappeared into a good ten minutes prior.
'Dad'll try his best to get the Ministry to break their ban on our interference…'
'Fat chance of that.' Fred murmured darkly, while George nodded his agreement beside him.
'We'll just have to wait.' Hermione said in a thin, quiet voice. Loathe as they were to the idea, after years of being able to take action whenever they chose at Hogwarts, the family gathered around the table had to admit that Hermione was correct. So with resignation in their hearts, the clan huddled around the table, prepared to wait until Mr Weasley brought further news.
I hope you liked it, more to come as soon as I decide the best way to get Harry out of his little pickle.