"Kingsley wants you to get the HEALING C.H.A.R.M.S.!? And you're just NOW telling me?"
"I just now remembered. I forgot Snape can… heal things. Seems off brand, given his personality. So… the healing C.H.A.R.M.S. isn't that… isn't that the hardest one to get?"
"It's one of the hardest to obtain, not the hardest exam to pass."
"And I have to give up my weekends just to do it? Friday-Sunday, at St. Mungo's with an assigned Mediwizard?"
"Yes, Harry."
"I… I can't do that!"
They were in the common room late at night after everyone went to bed. Hermione was always up studying or finishing her homework, and Harry couldn't sleep, so they stayed up frequently together at least until one or two.
"Well, Harry, you can self-study but I don't recommend it. You still need a certified Mediwizard or a Hogwarts Professor to sign off on your training. McGonagall is signing off on mine."
She was writing a very long letter tonight, the parchment spilling out onto the floor. Harry stared at it, knowing it could only be to one person. "So uh… how's Ron doing?"
"OH! You're asking, FINALLY!" she shrieked, putting her quill down. "Ron is doing TERRIBLE. Thanks for asking. He's afraid he'll get chucked out any day now. He's absolutely terrified, angry, frustrated, his brother is dead, and you're NOT TALKING TO HIM."
Harry stared at her gob smacked. What was he supposed to say? He was just trying to be casual, he didn't want this conversation. Swallowing, he looked away, wanting to walk out and it showed on his face.
"Harry, you're not responsible for his problems. But he misses you, and I can't believe you've let it go on this long. He's struggling at the Ministry. I have to send him weekly letters with complex instructions just so he knows how to do the advanced magic he's already supposed to know. Everyone is nice to him, but he feels incompetent. He's the youngest on the team, and you're not even there."
"I'm… I'm sorry," Harry said softly. And part of him wanted to quit Hogwarts and start next week to ease the shame. Ron was his friend- his responsibility, and he was failing him.
"I… Harry…" she closed her eyes, knowing she was stuck between the needs of two.
"I'm sorry to hear that Hermione, you know I am. I don't want to make any promises, so I won't. I have some things to think about… so… I'll see you later." And he got up from the comfortable chair and left, leaving Hermione with her roll of parchment, fireplace casting shadows on her face.
He felt like he was going crazy. How did he spend six years here? How was he able to be around so many people in the past? And now… he could stand them for maybe 30 minutes, and then he was done. On top of everything, he had to find some way to repair his relationship with Ron AND tend to sick people, begging Pomfrey to assist him with the Healing C.H.A.R.M.S. How was he going to obtain this when he couldn't even turn in all of his assignments? Snape was right, he was going to ruin this year by his own hand.
He needed quiet… his own room… a place to finally study in absolute peace. Or a tutor…
He thought of Advanced Potion Making. To him, The Half Blood Prince and Snape felt like completely two different people. Except for accidently cursing Malfoy, he had nothing but good memories from the book- remembering it like an old friend. It didn't make sense the Half Blood Prince, potions genius, was the same cruel teacher. That just healed your chest wound. Yes- two different people: one, a cunning but friendly bodiless tutor showing him secrets, like the Marauder's Map, and the other… well…
Sleep would not come tonight, not with thinking about Ron struggling at the Ministry, hating him, resenting him, somehow all his fault. So he shoved these deep down somewhere inside him, but they kept bubbling up like acid. With these thoughts buzzing through his head, he made his way to the seventh floor corridor. Why did it not open for him? Was it sealed? Was Trelawney living inside it?
Maybe none of this was true. Maybe the Room of Requirement burned from the inside by Fiendfyre, the room consumed out of existence.
One more go though. And maybe another. We'll see. So, what would be his new tactic tonight? He paced. Come on, prove that you have some Ravenclaw in you.
The Room of Requirement must exist, he requires it to! Yes. And-! It must be 20 meters away, yes, in that direction, he requires that too, because other students can't find it. Yes, he requires the Room of Requirement to exist, and now it's that way, next to the portrait of the pixies playing cards. He needs a comfortable, empty, quiet place to sleep and calm down, because HE REQUIRES the Room of Requirement to exist. Thinking hard, he paced- closing his eyes, wishing, wanting… requiring. Harry opened his eyes and looked at the blank wall directly in front of him.
Nothing. Of course, it would be nothing.
But then his breath caught. Down the hall, was that door there before? His footsteps walked slowly, his mouth completely agape, stepping in front of a new door, smaller… just… a normal was going to feel like an idiot if he stepped inside and it was just a … storage closet or something.
He pushed.
At first, Harry thought it was just a closet. It was blank, empty, and dark inside. I need light. And there was light. And the blank white room stretched. Harry's mouth fell open and his heart raced faster and faster. He must be dreaming! He did it! He actually did it!
"Aaaggggh!" He yelled to himself, unable to contain his impossibly good fortune, jumping, punching the air. …But then he hunched over, breathing hard… too overwhelmed and relieved to function.
After deciding he wasn't dreaming, he walked in quickly and closed the door, still praying he wasn't dreaming. Inside, he walked in endless circles in his blank quiet room. I need this room to be accessible by no one, absolute privacy at all times.
And he practically danced now, celebrating, the thing he wanted coming into being.
Well, I need a chair. And the most comfortable cushy chair Harry had ever seen in his life appeared right behind him. He sat down. Well, this is a little dull, room being empty and all. And a nightstand was right beside him with some light reading material. I'll need to sleep eventually too. And a luxurious bed folded out in the corner with beautiful hangings. He instantly felt comfortable and relaxed in his luxurious chair. He didn't need a bed, really. This was quite nice all in its own.
But he was a bit chilly. A fireplace crackled in front of him, warm but gentle. He melted into the chair, which became a comfortable large reclining chair, as soft as any bed.
And he... he didn't dare…
His hands itched.
He didn't dare… this was enough… this was enough- truly.
But as he thought it, a fanged frisbee whizzed into his hands from the either. The frisbee's mouth opened… showing off all of its teeth. Then he knew.
Breathing deeply, he thought about… THAT. Its tattered pages, the tiny cramped writing… and before he was ready, he checked the nightstand. A sixth year potions book lay innocently on top. New bindings but crumpled old pages. Harry grabbed it greedily, opening it.
He must be dreaming. But Harry decided it didn't matter. With the fire crackling, he softened into his comfy bed-like chair and began reading the scribbled potion instructions of The Half-Blood Prince.
Harry woke up to an alarm he didn't set. Blinking sleepily in the dark he tried to discern where he was through his grogginess. He felt around for his glasses. Dark. He was in a… chair… where was he? And then it all clicked into place. He was in the Room of Requirement.
Brilliant.
Full of vigor, he turned on the lamp and put on his glasses. The bed in the corner, the fire that had gone out, the chair, the frisbee, the book. Harry jumped up, realizing he must be running late or the room wouldn't have woken him. He noticed fresh new underclothes on a brand-new dresser. He changed, grabbed the old potions book, and left.
He felt absolutely refreshed. Why was he avoiding everything? It all seemed so stupid now. Of course he was going down to see Madam Pomfrey tonight and ask her for training. This year would probably be easy if he stopped taking it so seriously.
"Morning Hermione!" Harry piled up a plate of bacon, eggs, and potatoes in front of him, lathering a stack of pancakes with maple syrup.
"Morning… Harry…" she watched his gluttony carefully.
"I'm not going to be in the common room much anymore," he said through forkfuls. "McGonagall gave me a room, finally. You know, for the screaming."
"Oh…" and her voice was small.
"Have to focus." He drank half a glass of orange juice. "Catch up on some homework, study for the C.H.A.R.M.S. "So…" he crunched into some buttered toast, "what are we learning today in Transfiguration?"
"Well…" she started, still looking Harry over. "If Trelawney shows, I'm not sure. If she doesn't, we're going to start on Intelligent Motivational Transfiguration, spells that give the transfigured object intelligence. McGonagall hinted we might start on that after Christmas, thought we'd get a head start."
"Oh, sounds great," and he finished a second glass of orange juice, about to leave the table.
"Harry…" she said, almost reaching for him. "About Ron…"
"No worries, Hermione!" and he gave her a smart look. "When I see him again, I will compliment him, I'll let him duel me, and I'll let him hex me. It'll be fine, really. Let him get his anger out. We'll have a laugh by dinner." And he left, hoping to knock out some overdue homework before the first lesson, leaving Hermione looking as worried as ever.
In the next few weeks Harry felt normal. The first time in a year and a half he felt actually normal. These were just classes. Just classes- nothing important. But no... things were different this year after all. Draco gave him a curt nod once a day. Snape wasn't sabotaging him or threatening him with detention. And when he did correct him in class with some snide remark, it didn't disrupt his learning. Harry even took notes today, something which bothered Hermione and Snape, both annoyed at him, like the act of taking notes could be nothing but suspicious. He even smiled and waved at Ginny a few times this week, and she hesitantly joined them as a group to talk, though he never talked to her about anything below the surface.
But nothing could last forever.
"Harry, I think you should come to the Burrow."
"Not going," Harry said automatically. He wasn't mean about it, but he made up his mind ages ago. It wasn't the right time.
"You've had all year. If you don't come for Christmas…"
"I'm not going Hermione!" Harry said sternly, stopping and facing her.
"People THINK you're going to be there, Harry! All of us were waiting on you, knowing you'd at least show up at Christmas!"
"NO!" Harry yelled, Draco passing, wondering why on earth he was yelling at her in the hallway for everyone to see. A rude thing to do, as Gryffindors and professional duelers were known for their chivalry. "So, you've been talking about me, have you? Everyone's… just made up their minds for me, have they? No, Hermione. You know as well as anyone, despite my lies, how behind I am. I'm lucky if any of the teachers accept my past due work, and it would look good if I turn it all in before the start of next term."
"Harry…" she shook her head. "I can't believe you're missing Christmas!"
"Send everyone my love then," he said curtly. "I mean it. They can't love me too much if I can't take a year off. I'll be at the next one. I need to focus right now. For all I know, I have to spend the whole Christmas break at St. Mungo's making up four months' worth of work."
And she couldn't argue with that. Hermione knew he was starting late on first aid healing and needed to catch up fast. She still tried to convince him, but anything she said after that was useless.
All of his owl-ordered healing books came right before the holidays, but he didn't even bother opening them. Instead, he chose to spend his time finishing most of his past due homework. It would have to be today, he decided. He would talk to Pomfrey today. If she refused, he'd owl Kingsley tonight, and maybe start his internship at St. Mungo's as soon as they let him.
After classes, Harry snuck into the Room of Requirement, his new home, for some last-minute touches. Again, he cut his hair to highlight his scar- he didn't want refusals today. This whole C.H.A.R.M.S. business would be easier if he never had to leave Hogwarts. Looking like 'The Boy Who Lived' with one last glance in the mirror, he set off downstairs to the hospital wing, feeling quite confident.
A few students were around, but not many. Most were busy packing for the holiday break. On his way down, he passed several groups of students and an adult witch, possibly a parent to pick up her children early for the holidays.
"Ohhh, hello Harry dear." He didn't recognize her. Mrs. Weasley turned and smiled at him- withered, but very happy to see him. She looked like a different woman. She lost quite a bit of weight …and her hair was thinning like Draco's mum…
"OH!" Harry gasped, "Hello… I..." I've missed you. He was terrified to see her but raked over her hungerly- a friendly loving face. She looked so frail... Feeling intense pressure behind his eyes, he blinked rapidly.
And before he knew it he was holding her, squeezing her, his head on her shoulder while she held him too. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he begged. "I'll… I'll fix it… I will… Tell Ron… I'm sorry… I'm really sorry…"
"Nooo…" she stroked his hair, "No dear… everything's alright…"
When they broke apart both of their faces were very wet. But she still smiled at him like one of her sons, feeling her unconditional love wash over him. After a long moment she paused, like although Harry was the moon and the stars, she wanted to turn and keep going.
"Harry, are you coming too? Yes… that's nice… Let's go together then. Unless… you're not… and then, well…"
"What… what happened?" and with a sinking feeling he realized Mrs. Weasley did not just pop into Hogwarts for no reason. "What HAPPENED!?" And his voice became louder, more urgent.
"Ohh…" and a small noise escaped her lips. Unsure, she smiled sadly, softening for him. "Ginny dear, took a tumble into the castle. On her broom. Fell… She's downstairs… She'll… she'll be fine." Her voice was a cheery calm but her hands rolled and twisted a handkerchief.
Harry reeled. What was that supposed to mean?
"We better GO THEN!" Harry shouted, hearing his own panic. They walked down together and Harry's imagination flashed. Lupin's dead body. Tonks' dead body. Dumbledore falling. Sirius falling.
"Here we are dear…" Like he time-traveled, Harry popped into the present to Mrs. Weasley holding the door open for him.
Inside were three students. Ginny's leg was splinted, looking sick and almost purple. Harry gasped. Mrs. Weasley ran to her daughter. Harry stood back near the door unable to get any closer. This was his fault. He wasn't sure how, but it had to be. He didn't want to be in here. HOW did he get the impression he could work on students? Ron, Hermione, and all the people he loved, stuck in here over the years. He couldn't do this- instantly wanting to turn around and run out. He could not heal sick people in this room.
"Molly…" Pomfrey came out of a back room with a bowl. "Here…"
This thin and shrunken version of Mrs. Weasley took the bowl and rag and dotted her daughter's face.
"She'll be fine… sick like the others. It will take a couple weeks… you can even take her home to recover there. She may not remember flying into the castle or the entire day, however…" Pomfrey explained.
Mrs. Weasley renewed some fresh sobs, happy her daughter was still alive; a minor event. Any alive child was good enough for her. Harry shook his head, horrified, horrified things like this were still happening, and they still had to count people alive as a blessing. He couldn't do this to people anymore.
He licked his lips, weighing the cost of his escape. It would be rude to leave. Mustering his strength, he walked in but was afraid to get closer. Pomfrey nodded at him and left for the back room, giving them privacy.
Even in sleep Ginny looked… beautiful. Pale and sickly, but beautiful. He sat down, looking at her, really looking at her for the first time in over a year. Every freckle- a friend. Every blemish- a comfortable reminder of home. She breathed deep in an uneasy sleep.
"There, there dear…" Mrs. Weasley wiped sweat from her daughter's forehead and neck.
Overwhelmed, Harry put his head in his hands and cried.