Hello, my lovely readers! Happy new year! I hope 2022 had a good start for you all :D
Yes, I know I am updating late yet again. And time management will get even more challenging as my final exams are approaching nearer. But not to worry! I love writing and I love this story, and just can't wait to wrap it up ;)
As always, thank you for reading and showing your appreciation! It means the world, seriously! Drop some reviews on this chapter, too! Enjoy!
P.S. The Harry Potter reunion almost moved me to both happy and sad tears :( :D What about you all?
The room was alive. The shimmery crystal-like hangings on the ceiling swayed back and forth, creating soft clinking sounds as they hit each other. There was no wind.
Beneath the bizarre chandelier, several glass balls lit up on their own accord. The bird sitting nearby squawked loudly, spreading its beautiful fiery wings as it did so. The strange clock fixed above the mantelpiece bobbed up and down as it was dancing to some tune only it could hear.
The room was a living thing, its breath coming out in the form of strange yet amusing sights and sounds.
However, the owner of this room paid no heed to these peculiar objects. It was like he couldn't even hear them at all and was sitting in a place filled with a void-like silence instead. Tapping his long and slightly blackened fingers on his desk, he seemed to be waiting for someone.
That someone arrived only a few minutes later. The magnificent oak door swung open to reveal a tall, thin woman. Professor McGonagall.
"You called for me, professor?" she asked, entering the interesting room. The wizard behind his desk apprehended the newcomer. Her mouth had grown thinner, her black hair was fixed so tightly in a bun that her forehead appeared stretched out, and her movements were brisk. The wizard could instantly tell she was stressed.
"Thank you for coming, Minerva," said Dumbledore, peering at her over his half-moon glasses, "Yes, I did require your assistance for something."
"What is it?"
He waved a hand to one of the chairs in front of him. "Have a seat."
Instead of obeying him, McGonagall looked at him, deadpan.
"Would this be a long discussion? As I have some duties to carry out for the Order –"
"I am well aware of your tasks," Dumbledore gently interrupted, "But this is an urgent matter. I'm afraid it has been nagging me for quite some time now."
McGonagall sighed, but she took a seat at Dumbledore's request. "What's the matter? I hope it's nothing too...uptight?"
Despite her anxious face, Dumbledore smiled a little. "Well, that depends on how you describe an 'uptight' situation."
She closed her eyes. "Albus, please."
"Don't be so strained, Minerva," he went on, "I see you're under pressure from the tasks the Order has assigned you."
"With those Death Eaters out, I'm not surprised." She paused. "Do you think that...he, or them, have begun plotting?"
"Yes, I believe so," Dumbledore replied, lacing his strange blackened fingers together. McGonagall had noticed their oddness, but she knew better than to ask him about it. The journeys he took were a complete secret, and he didn't even share them with the Order. One could only imagine what he was up to.
"And the Department of Mysteries? Albus, we can't let them get –"
"With so many proficient wizards and witches guarding it, I highly doubt it would get broken into by their lot." Dumbledore sighed sadly. "But who knows? Tom is not someone who lets things go easily. He is as clever as he is smart."
McGonagall let out a little sigh and gazed at her long fingers, contemplating his words. The escapade of those ten Death Eaters had caused a frenzy up in the Order, causing them to work harder than before. But their main concern wasn't the important Ministry department. It was Harry. In the end, it was him they had to protect, which is why he was the first priority of the undercover group.
"And now, for the matter I called you upon."
McGonagall leaned forward, eager to hear what the headmaster had to say.
"I am afraid Voldemort has succeeded in getting into Harry's mind completely."
A loud silence filled the room. The witch stared at the wizard, not believing a word of what he had just told her.
"Succeeded? What are you talking about, Albus?"
Dumbledore sighed and stood up from his chair, his long fingers clasping and unclasping as if they had a mind of their own. "Minerva, I am telling you this with grief, but Harry recently had an incident where he was fully overtaken by Voldemort, who made him act against his will."
"But how did we miss something –"
"It happened on the same day we received the news of the prisoners," he went on, interrupting her, "when I was forced to summon all the members urgently. I believe Tom somehow knew we were going to be absent from the premises and decided it was the perfect opportunity to take over Harry."
"But...why?"
Her question left him mute for a moment. His back was turned to her, but when he spoke, she could sense that he appeared dejected, almost sad.
"To kill me, evidently," said he, "After all, Tom's end motive is to keep me out of the way so he can have a go at Harry."
"Then why..." McGonagall trailed off, thinking. Something was not clicking right here. "Why did he take over Harry if he knew you would not be present?"
"Because he always tests whatever he does," Dumbledore replied, "He wanted to make sure that his Legilimency power has reached such a point that could allow him to easily control Harry and make him do his bidding." He sighed, "We wouldn't have had its knowledge if Harry hadn't recounted the tale to Severus during an Occlumency lesson, and...let's just say it is not something delightful to discuss."
He then proceeded to inform her of what Snape had told him about Harry's alarming episode. McGonagall's back became stiff as she listened to Dumbledore with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth.
She couldn't absorb this dreadful news. How did Harry get taken over by Voldemort?
"Harry was not in his mind. He would have ended up committing unspeakable acts if it weren't for Miss Granger –"
McGonagall's head snapped up. "Miss Granger?"
Dumbledore gave a little shrug. "Yes, she was there when Harry had lost control. Apparently, she had managed to subdue him."
"How on Earth did she do that?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." He sat back down and continued. "Perhaps she knows something about him that we do not, making her almost as invaluable to us as Harry. But we cannot say for sure, not until history repeats itself."
For some reason, McGonagall didn't like the sound of that. "But Albus, I do beg to know one thing for certain – is Harry's mind so vulnerable that he can get controlled over by...by him so easily? What about his Occlumency lessons? I am sure they must be in good progress by now?"
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dumbledore smiled. "You catch on quick, Minerva. Remind me to never doubt your abilities."
It was clearly a joke, but McGonagall's nostrils flared, making the wizard chuckle.
"Evidently, you are right. It is his vulnerability that has presented itself as a grave matter," he said, "He has only gone through three lessons, but Severus informed me that their pace was slow. Harry's mind is simply too endangered, and his ability to clear his mind too inadequate in the moment at hand."
"Oh, the poor boy," the witch sighed, shaking her head, "We cannot expect him to grasp a skill as intricate as Occlumency in only a couple or so classes, Albus. He needs at least a month's worth of those lessons to be competent at a beginner's level."
"I hear you, Minerva, and I do say your point is valid," said Dumbledore, lacing his blackened fingers together. McGonagall was tempted to ask him what had happened to them, but she knew him well, so she stayed silent. "The vulnerability of Harry's mind holds extreme significance right now, but there are more ways to strengthen it than just Occlumency. For this case, I had advised him to distract himself with things he finds pleasing, and it's because I sincerely believe that if he indulges in such activities that can lighten up his emotions, the power-hungry forces of Voldemort would have a harder time finding a connection. It is in Harry's most unprotected and troubling moments that Voldemort can take over him, and I daresay our young student has been having quite a lot of those."
McGonagall nodded. "Then I'll presume they are not working? The distractions?"
In reply, Dumbledore bowed his head as if the question had saddened him, but he raised his twinkling blue eyes just as quickly. "I am afraid they aren't. Either I was mistaken, or Harry had found the wrong ways to distract himself."
"He must be going on a wild goose chase, nothing you can do about it," McGonagall instantly said, not doubting Dumbledore's abilities for a bit.
"The problem lies in the notion that I wish to do something about it." Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot sit back while he suffers torment and the risk of getting his mind invaded again. However, what I should do regarding this matter baffles me, and I require your assistance here, Minerva. I have already devised a plan – an event, more like, and I covet to hear your opinion on it."
"I see," she said, "then please make haste, Albus. I have three people waiting for my orders and –"
"I apologize for disturbing you, but I assure you that this will not take up much time."
Without missing a beat, he leaned forward and told her about his plan on how he could help with Harry's state. As she listened, McGonagall's mouth gradually opened, finding Dumbledore's explanation a little confusing. But just as he finished his account, the first person to come in her mind was;
"Dolores."
"Pardon?"
She looked at him, her lips back to their usual scowl. "Dolores would never approve of this. Even if we could somehow carry it out, she would still try everything in her power to disrupt it."
Dumbledore smiled, "My dear Minerva, I may be off to my long journeys frequently, but I still stand as the headmaster."
"You don't know her that well." McGonagall pursed her lips. Frankly speaking, she detested even thinking about Umbridge. "I've had the misfortune to cross paths with her a lot more than you have, which is why I am asserting that she would not like an event that wasn't discussed with her to be carried out."
"If that is the matter, I am more than happy to inform her about my plans."
"But she is the High Inquisitor –"
"A High Inquisitor appointed by the Ministry, not by Hogwarts's standards," Dumbledore smiled yet again, not taking the situation as seriously as McGonagall would have liked, "You do not need to worry. Once I have your approval, I will ensure that the plan takes place without any intrusions from the Ministry. Remember, this is for Harry's safety, who is the Order's top priority."
McGonagall sighed. It was impossible to argue with Dumbledore when he had his mind set on something...but as long as the Ministry could be appeased, she couldn't find any faults in the plan. Besides, it would be a nice turn of events.
"In that case, if the Ministry doesn't interfere, I think it's all right."
"Then that settles it." Dumbledore nodded. "I will allocate the orders, and an announcement to the students would need to be made. Are you up for the task?"
"Yes," McGonagall answered shortly.
"Wonderful. Fawkes –"
Upon hearing its name, the magnificent bird turned its head and trotted over to its owner. McGonagall watched as Dumbledore stroked its crimson feathers and murmured something that only the bird could hear. Understanding his instructions, it spread its beautiful red-hot wings and disappeared right in front of their eyes, leaving behind a few of its ember and smoky trails. McGonagall was not impressed. She had seen this happen hundreds of times.
"Well, I have sent out the orders," Dumbledore informed her, standing up, "I do wish this works."
McGonagall agreed with him, but when she finally got up to leave his office, she couldn't shake away the feeling that worry lines seemed to have been etched in Dumbledore's otherwise calm face...
"Did you read it?"
"Not yet. But Leo told me about it."
"He dueled You-Know-Who?!"
"How on Earth did he come out of that alive?!"
Utterances like these were heavy in the air when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Instantly, almost every eye turned on Harry as he made his way to the Gryffindor table. Rapid whispers replaced the loud shouts. They were undoubtedly about him, and the rude stares were not helping. Ron and Hermione shielded him from all the attention, assuming he would hate it, but Harry looked up and smiled at the gawking people.
For the first time in a while, he was happy.
The newest issue of the Quibbler had come out just two days before, disclosing Harry's account of the fateful tale to the public. At first, he felt supremely unsure about the whole thing. It was common knowledge that the Daily Prophet was much more popular than the Quibbler, thus also being perceived as more reliable. As a result, the Quibbler did not receive that many readers, causing a doubt to emerge in Harry – would people even read his account? Or believe him?
But to his and his friends' utter relief, he was proven wrong.
The news about Harry's interview had spread like wildfire. People informed other people of how Harry himself had told all the details of what had happened that night, and they were surprised to find the stark difference between his account and the account given to them by the Daily Prophet. Even if most people did not want to believe it at first, the realism present in Harry's story had captured them and their minds, causing them to gradually discern his story as the truth.
So naturally, ever since its release, the top gossip at Hogwarts was the interview. Everywhere one looked, Harry's tale was being discussed with undivided attention. Its popularity among the masses had infuriated Umbridge so much that she had ordered her Inquisitorial Squad to take away House Points from any student who was caught talking about it. Malfoy and his goons had gladly obliged with the command, seeing as they hated Harry and hated things that happened in his favor. But despite their attempts to hush up the narrative, it couldn't be stopped from spreading far and wide.
The interview had caused something to spur up inside the readers. They were now beginning to believe that Harry and Dumbledore were right. Such was the state of this outcome that a considerable number of them had even come to Harry to apologize for their offensive behavior and inform him that they were on his side.
January had been hellish, but February had started off good, making itself seem promising...
Hence, Harry was relieved. At least something was going right for once, and his efforts spent into the Quibbler were worth it. Mr. Lovegood informed them that thanks to the infamous article, the audience of the Quibbler was increasing day by day. He was pleased, or so did Luna tell them.
But Harry's account did not bring the people good news. It meant that You-Know-Who had really returned, back to his body and full strength. Cedric Diggory was really killed under his orders. He was out there, plotting for revenge and dominance over everything they knew so well. Suddenly, the news of the Death Eaters escaping appeared even more alarming than it already was.
The dread was vivid around the school. People who didn't believe Harry before were now starting to panic about Voldemort and his next move. Combined with the worry that hung in the castle before, it had become insurmountable. A sullen air had taken over the place, but the apprehension did not stop people from gossiping heartily.
Harry did not mind all that, though. He was at ease – the majority of the people here now believed him and did not think he was a liar. It was challenging to navigate through the hallways when one only received nasty looks from left and right, so an absence of that alleviated him.
Therefore, when he took a seat on the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, he declared, "Let them look. Besides, they'll forget about me and my interview in just a few days..."
"I don't think so, mate." Ron shook his head. "It's not just this place. Dad told me your story had caused havoc everywhere. There is literally nothing else people are talking about."
"That's good!" Hermione smiled. The interview's success had delighted and relieved her as much as Harry. "People are not being quiet about their support. Shows how believable it is."
"Makes me wonder they didn't believe it the first time," said Harry, staring absentmindedly at his porridge, "What's the difference now?"
"The details, of course!" Hermione answered matter-of-factly, "You were all hassled and only kept saying that Voldemort had returned without telling the whole story. People were bound to think you sounded ridiculous."
"Yeah, well, it is good, I s'pose," Ron put in, attacking his fried eggs, "But it's not all fine and dandy. You started chaos in the Ministry, y'know? The officials are mad at you."
"As if I'd care," said Harry, clenching his fists. The article's success hadn't done much for his over-the-top anger. "If they want a fight, I'll be more than ready to give it to 'em."
Ron laughed at his comment. "You expect those bloody cowards to fight? The lot whose weapons are words?"
"Don't underestimate words like that," Hermione instantly scolded him, "They can be powerful if used right."
Harry nodded, remembering the hellhole his life had become due to Rita Skeeter's words last year. It was crazy to think that she, the same person who had created trouble for him, also relieved him from some of the turmoil. Life really was full of ironies...
"So, Hermione," he said at the thought of the reporter, "Now that my interview is done, are you going to let Rita go?"
At his question, Hermione closed her eyes. Sighed. Finally...
She had been waiting for this topic to stir up, so her anticipation was not allowing her to completely relax. Harry's question had freed her heart from its anxiety cage.
"About that –"
But she was interrupted by Dean, who had approached them to talk to Ron. "Hey, mate. D'you have a moment?"
"Yeah?" Ron answered, the confusion vivid on his face.
"Need to talk to you about something," Dean said. Hermione noticed him give Harry the side-eye.
As soon as Ron left to join him, Seamus, and Neville at the other end of the table, Hermione spoke up, "He was looking at you."
"Yeah, I saw that."
"Probably wants to confirm your account," she said, studying the four boys, who were immersed in a deep conversation, "and your best friend is the perfect candidate for that."
Harry sighed. Sadly, the stares and people treating him like a dangerous object were finally getting to him. He knew this was coming, and as positive as the result could be, he knew he would start hating it at some point. "He couldn't directly ask me?"
"It seems like he's intimidated by you," Hermione said, starting with her breakfast at last, "Then again, why shouldn't he? The essence of your story itself is very intimidating. A normal person couldn't have done what you did."
He nodded, watching her have her breakfast, his own going cold. She didn't notice him looking at her as she was busy reading an Arithmancy book she had brought along to the table.
He noted how she'd cut her sausages in small pieces before eating them, as cleanly as she could. However, the case wasn't the same when she was in a hurry. Her food would be gone in seconds.
Gazing at her, he suddenly felt...empty. As if all the joy and inclination to do anything at all had been sucked out of him. The feeling had somehow also messed with his brain because what he uttered next was something really stupid.
"Are you intimidated by me?"
His question was so abrupt and strange that Hermione almost choked herself with her breakfast. She quickly sipped some milk to clear her throat before he suspected anything.
"What did you say?"
"Are you intimidated by me?"
Harry could not believe himself, but he fought to keep his face straight. How could he ask such a stupid question, let alone repeat it? Even Hermione appeared flustered. Good going, brain, he thought.
Now that Hermione had recovered her wits, she smiled at him. "Why? Do you want me to?"
"Of course not," Harry replied, shrugging. "I was just confirming. Don't want my best friends turning against me."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake...even if I was intimidated by you, I would still never turn against you,"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. You don't even have to give me the benefit of the doubt." She gazed at him, inspecting the conviction of how sad and empty he looked. She could understand that his life was so uncertain that he had to fear isolation. Her heart doubled in size at the thought, and she resumed, "I can't speak for Ron, but you have my full support, Harry. I trust you, and I will keep trusting you, no matter what."
"Thanks,' he answered, looking away. For some reason, the earnestness in her response had created an awkward feeling inside him, even if, just like always, it had touched him, too. But that awkwardness didn't dwell for long as she had asked him a question in return.
"Would you do the same for me?"
"Well, of course," he said, giving a little smile, "I got to return your favour, right?"
She laughed. "Oh, Harry..."
"What?"
"You're so funny."
He did a little bow, right there at the table. "Glad I could entertain you."
Hermione laughed again. Her sweet laughter. It sounded like music to his ears. He just couldn't help but attempt to see her, a person who cared for him so much, happy. Such was the effect of her delight that it had raised his spirit. Suddenly, the dim Great Hall with the unwelcomed stares didn't seem that bad...
"What's holding Ron up?" he asked as he went back to his once-neglected breakfast.
"I don't know," she replied, not bothering to look at the boys and only focused on the one before her. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the pages of her Arithmancy book as she watched him eat and ate herself in intervals. Strangely, the poor book had lost her attention to Harry twice now.
She noticed how he constantly looked deep in thought, even while eating. She wished to see how crowded his mind was at the moment. With so many things happening around them, it wasn't a surprise.
But Hermione wanted to see inside Harry's mind so she could pull half of the worrying thoughts and transfer them into her own. She knew that was impossible, magically and literally, but she sometimes felt sad about how much she cared for him. His pain and despair made her love him even more. He didn't know that, but Hermione had come to learn that it was okay. Even if he didn't acknowledge it in its entirety, Harry was fully aware of how worried she was for him, which suited her just fine.
But...she couldn't brush away the fact of how heartbroken she felt sometimes. The notion of how he didn't know anything about her feelings bothered her day and night, but she also knew that it was her own fault. She just couldn't summon that kind of courage, nor could she put this beautiful friendship with him into jeopardy.
Sighing inwardly, she looked at him with affection. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't erase his troubles, but she could at least be there for him.
She spotted his hand – the scarred one – drumming its fingers on the table. She observed how the pink patches against his pale skin were a display of Umbridge's torturous punishment, but they were almost healed now.
Remembering how he had once done the same to her, Hermione reached forward and placed her hand on top of Harry's, stopping its activity.
"I know times are a bit hard," she said before he could get a chance to think, "but please, don't you ever think Ron and I would turn against you. We're with you through thick and thin, okay?"
Instead of replying right away, Harry apprehended her, his green eyes boring into her brown ones. His stare caused something to stir inside Hermione. Her heartbeat quickened, and her stomach felt queasy – as if millions of butterflies had erupted inside of it. She could feel herself blushing, but she held his gaze, hoping he could understand her. Please see me, she thought. Please see what I feel for you.
But when he spoke up, it was clear he couldn't.
"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, "I know I can trust you both."
"You can. I –"
"Shucks, man. I didn't expect this from those blokes."
Ron had come back, interrupting Hermione once again. He sat right in between them, causing their hands to split up.
"Right. Well, I'm sorry to cut in on your lovefest, but –"
"Mate," said Harry, "Shut up."
"Yes. We were having a heart-to-heart. Ever heard of one?" Hermione snapped. Ron just had to interfere at the wrong moment. A selfish side of her wanted Harry all to herself, especially in moments like the one they were having. Any third person was greatly unappreciated, even Ron.
Much to her annoyance, he grinned. "Why, yes! I had countless one of those with me Lavender –"
"Can you please just tell us what happened with Dean?" Harry said, mirroring Hermione's irritation.
Ron raised his eyebrow and shook his head, but he told them all the same. Apparently, Dean and Seamus were still a bit doubtful of Harry, despite being in his class and learning from him. The issue of the Quibbler had reignited their doubts, which was why they needed confirmation from a close associate, namely Ron, to eradicate their uncertainty. As for Neville, he believed Harry completely. He was just there to listen.
"I can understand Seamus, but why Dean?" Harry asked.
"Beats me," Ron shrugged, "But now he believes you. Assured me and all."
Harry scoffed, "He assured you that he believed me?"
"Sounds 'bout right."
"Wow, I just can't fath –"
"Oh, come on, Harry," Hermione intervened, giving him a disapproving look, "Be thankful. At least he pledged his support."
"It is the way he did that bothers me." He sighed. "Enough about that. You were telling me about Rita?"
"Yes," she proclaimed, closing her book with a loud 'thump,' "I did it. I released her."
Although both of them were expecting this news, Harry and Ron still stared at her in surprise.
"For real?" Ron asked, forgetting his blueberry pancakes for a second.
"For real."
"But how did you do it?" Harry wondered.
"That's the tough part to explain." Hermione said, absently observing her book's cover, "I...um...may have walked on dangerous grounds when I released her."
"So, you might get into trouble?"
She let out a slow breath as she answered, "If somebody finds out, then yes. If I told my reasons, Professor McGonagall, or even Dumbledore, would have spared me, but I don't think anyone else would. Besides, after your issue was released, I didn't have any choice left. I certainly couldn't have kept her trapped in that jar for the rest of our lives, nor could I have kept threatening that I would tell everyone she was an unregistered Animagus if she ever tried to escape."
"Then, did you do it?" Ron asked.
"Did what?"
"Tell everyone she's an unregistered Animagus?"
"No, obviously. She didn't go by herself. I freed her."
"But what did you do?" Harry grilled her, curiosity being his middle name.
Finally, Hermione took a deep breath, contemplated her best friends, and declared in a soft whisper.
"I wiped her memory."
Her words ignited a wave of shock among the two boys. Ron almost choked himself with a blueberry while Harry stared at her with his mouth open.
"You did what?!"
"I made her forget. It was the only w –"
"Hermione, do you even realize how serious this is?!" Ron exclaimed, looking at her like he had never seen her before. "It is illegal to use the Memory charm without the Ministry's authorization! Lockhart would have been punished for it if it hadn't backfired!"
"I know!" Hermione replied, exasperated. "I have read about it –"
"But how did you learn such a spell?" Harry asked her.
"There was a book about it in the Restricted Section. I –" she bit her lip and composed herself before continuing. She already felt so bad about the whole thing, and the two were only making it worse.
"You need to listen to me," she said to an upset Ron and an astonished Harry, "I literally did not have any other choice. But I didn't erase her entire memory! Ever since you told me how Lockhart had wiped out his memory with this charm, I was so fascinated by it. How it worked and all, but I had no intention of learning it, even though I knew a book about it was in that section of the library. Well, had no intention up till now."
"When the time to release Rita got nearer – I knew I would do it at some point – I couldn't think of anything good! Except for you two, nobody knows that I had her trapped in a jar, not even my mum or dad. I'd considered talking to McGonagall about it. I know she doesn't like Rita, but she certainly wouldn't have approved of me basically kidnapping her just because she wrote stupid stuff about us!"
"Why didn't you come to us?" Harry asked, "We could have helped."
"A better alternative," Ron affirmed.
"I didn't want to involve you two," Hermione explained, "It was my mess, and I needed to solve it by myself. I couldn't bring myself to get you into trouble because of me."
"Well, you've got in trouble because of my messes countless times," Harry noted, "Even when I told you both it's not worth it."
"Your messes are big," Hermione argued, "This one wasn't."
"But what you did was big," said Ron.
"Yes, I know. But you two didn't play a part in it." She sighed, already fed up with the conversation. "Please just let me explain the rest."
The boys nodded, and after checking if no one else was listening to them, she continued.
"I figured this was the way. I had to take the risk. So I asked Flitwick for his permission to issue that book in the Restricted Section. It had everything I needed to know. Of course, he was suspicious, but I told him I wanted to know more about this charm because Charms itself is interesting. I wouldn't practice it, obviously, as I know it's against the law. He bought my lie."
"Typical old Flitwick," Ron murmured.
"So, I went ahead and borrowed it. Madam Pince was also suspicious, but she couldn't do anything about it since I had a teacher's signed note. Then, after I read the book, I found out that you can wipe parts of one's memory rather than the entire thing. I was so captivated and thought this would be perfect for Rita."
"Since when did you get so keen about breaking the rules –"
"Can you please let her talk?"
"Thanks, Harry. So, I learned this special trait of the spell in about a week –"
"In a week?!"
"Who's interrupting her now?"
"Every day for a week. Truth be told, it is not that hard to learn. So on Friday, when your interview was released, I reckoned it was time. This weekend, I took Rita to a hidden area in Hogsmeade and cast the spell on her. I made her forget specific memories, like the fact she was ever kidnapped by me, her Animagus form and being a Ministry reporter. It worked. She didn't know who I was when I turned her back to a woman. Then, I paid her fee, freed her on the lane, and merged in the crowd, leaving her behind. So...there you have it."
An uneasy silence settled among the three in her account's wake. The worry of being conspicuous waned as Harry and Ron stared at her.
After what seemed like a long time, Ron spoke up with his blue eyes wide open. "So basically, you followed Lockhart's footsteps. He's in St. Mungo's now, completely out of his mind, d'you know that?"
Hermione shook her head, feeling sick of his never-ending accusations. "I didn't. Honestly, I don't understand why you're making this into such a big deal. We made the Polyjuice Potion in our second year. I am pretty sure that's illegal, too."
"But we drank it. We didn't make anyone else drink it," Ron refuted.
"Oh, Ron. I don't get you." Hermione sighed. She was exhausted, which was bad as the first lesson hadn't even started. "What about you, Harry? You believe me, right?"
Finally, as if he was coming out of torpor, Harry said, "Frankly, I am amazed, Hermione. How did you manage to sneak on such a spell, learn it, cast it on Rita, and get away with it, all without us knowing or even getting suspicious about it?"
After what seemed like a long time, Hermione smiled. "I took steps very carefully. I planned to tell you both once the deed was done."
"Well, color me impressed," Harry grinned, making her feel a lot better, "Seriously."
"Thank you." Her happy face faded as she said in a graver tone, "But it comes down to you two. Rita's safe. She knows herself enough to get through. I am safe and don't have the burden or guilt of keeping her, and no one else is aware of my secret. So...you wouldn't snitch on me, right?"
"Of course. You shouldn't even ask," said Harry at once.
Hermione beamed but regarded Ron with fake doleful eyes. "But Ron might. Will you?"
To her delight, the redhead grinned. "Your secret's safe with me, don't worry. But I won't forgive you for making me miss Rita's forgetful face."
She laughed. "Oh, it wasn't pleasant. Trust me." She was feeling floaty, as if giant bricks had been lifted off her shoulders.
"Well, I wouldn't miss her, that's for sure," Harry said, joining the joke, "She was a nuisan –"
But he couldn't finish his sentence. A sharp tapping sound, magnified way over the normal level, had traveled across the Great Hall, interrupting Harry in the process. He looked at the source with the rest of the students – Professor McGonagall standing behind the head table, tapping a spoon against her glass.
"If I could have your attention please," she declared, setting her glass down, "I have an important announcement to make."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other. What now?
"Yes, please. Look here, everyone. Good."
Before starting her proclamation, McGonagall took in the people in front of her, the smug-looking person clad in pink getting perceived from the corner of her eye. Umbridge was smiling at the students as she was the one who had created the news that was about to be announced.
"As you all must have noticed, the air around the school has become very dim and fearful after the report of those Death Eaters escaping the Azkaban prison," said McGonagall, her voice echoing in the silent Great Hall, "Although you do not need to worry, as the castle is highly protected from any unwanted force, Professor Dumbledore still thinks that the atmosphere here has become too solemn. He believes that a change of air is what the students need. It will revive your spirits and –"
"Ehm, ehm."
McGonagall turned to Umbridge, who had coughed, fighting to hide her hatred. "Yes, Dolores? You want to say something?"
"I believe I should take it from here," she answered, standing up from her seat with a big smile. "It is a major event, and as the High Inquisitor, it is my duty to implement such tasks."
McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Professor Dumbledore put me in char–"
"Students, it is with great pleasure that I am telling you this," Umbridge declared, ignoring the other witch, "In honor of February, we have decided to arrange a dance on the 14th!"
A deafening silence followed these words, but it lasted only a second. An uproar took its place. Voices erupted. Everyone started talking at once.
McGonagall tapped her spoon again. "Settle down, please! I was not finished." She cleared her throat as the students quietened again and went on. "Professor Umbridge is correct. We have arranged a social event for the 14th. But I insist you treat it like a school activity, for it is one. We are doing this in hopes of brightening you up in such uncertain times and making you entertain yourselves for a change. You are strictly not allowed to be brash in anything, and I trust everyone would be on their best behavior. Like last year's Yule Ball, it will take place right here, in the Great Hall, and start sharply at 6pm. The noticeboard has been updated, too. Thank you for your attention."
As soon as she sat down, the cacophony among the students resumed. None of them could believe they'd be getting another one of these events so soon. The Yule Ball was fun, but this one could be even more as there were no foreigners this time around.
The excitement of the students bounced off the walls as everyone continued to talk and laugh as if there was no tomorrow. The change in the air was incredible.
But Hermione wasn't excited. In fact, she was devastated.
"Not another ball!" she complained to Harry and Ron, who were coming out of a daze, "We just had one!"
"Who cares?" Ron grinned, his freckles brightening up from his enthusiasm. "McGonagall is right. It will be a good change in the environment. I was sick of seeing panic everywhere. Besides, I don't even have to find a date now."
He looked at Lavender as he said this. She, who was sitting with Parvati before, grinned at him and blew him a kiss.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course, you don't. You're just liking it because you don't have to look for the 'good ones.'"
She was ticked off. She realized she hated this announcement, this dance, and how happy everyone was suddenly looking. The news of this event had excited everyone, but it had disheartened her.
But she knew why she was so bothered.
She looked at Harry and saw that he didn't appear as excited as the rest of the students. He seemed...indifferent, as if the news meant nothing to him at all.
Hermione knew why she hated this. Harry would undoubtedly take Cho to the dance, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand seeing them together, like a proper couple. It didn't help that she had started to have more moments with Harry – those that could be fooled as being non-platonic. She was hopelessly falling in love with him more and more, and none of it helped her. None of it.
And then came the anticipation of who would ask her to the dance. Obviously, it wasn't going to be Harry, but whoever it might be, Hermione knew it would be extremely awkward. She could live through it, though, but the possibility of not having a date was much more disastrous than its alternative.
"So, you'll take Cho, right?" she now asked Harry.
He sighed. He didn't seem thrilled at all. "I guess so."
"Do you want to take her?"
"Of course. I would love to take her. My last year's wish of going as her date would be fulfilled." He paused, contemplating her. "But she can get cranky, you know? I hope that doesn't ruin the night."
"I hope she doesn't," Hermione agreed, sighing. If Harry was her date, she would have bought a new dress and prepared herself in the best way, so she could look as beautiful as possible, just for him.
But since that wasn't the case, she decided she would just ask her parents to send her last year's dress robes through the mail. She didn't have her heart set out for this dance, so what was the point of making an effort?
She was relieved to see that Harry did not look moved, either. It was just the two of them. Two human beings who were embodying sad souls in a room full of happy people. At least they were sharing the same grey hue present only among them.
But Hermione's grey soul got even greyer as Harry had received a new visitor. It was obviously her...
"Oh, Harry. This is wonderful news, isn't it?" Cho said with delight, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He nodded. "Wonderful, indeed."
"I can't wait! The Yule Ball was amazing. I'm sure this one will be, too." She smiled at him. "After all, we'll finally go together! Remember how you had asked me last year?"
"Er, yeah..." To be honest, Harry wanted to forget that moment rather than remember it. But he still smiled at her. Maybe finally going as her date to a dance event would lighten up his dampened spirit. "I can't wait, too. I bet you'll look pretty," he added for good measure.
Cho giggled, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I hope so."
Hermione sighed and held her head as she stared at the table, her vision going slightly blurry from the concentration, but she refused to look at the two. Uncertainty was all around, but her mind had only one crystal clear thought, clean from all doubts.
This would be the most horrible night of my life.
