Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the fabulous reviews! I'm so glad you found the last chapter interesting.

I'd love to tell you guys where the idea for the lost owls and Kettleburn's "project" came from. Back in December, I saw a social media post that scared me half to death. It was apparently supposed to be sent the day before, but some technical glitch made it come out the next day, and therefore, the message didn't make any sense. Me, being the ridiculous worrywart that I am, instantly came to the same conclusion as Sirius did and thought that things were really, really bad. I didn't understand what was going on until about two hours later when everything resolved itself. Another message came in that was completely contradictory, basically saying the ABSOLUTE OPPOSITE of what had been said before - it was like everything had flipped 180 degrees, and I was thoroughly confused and disconcerted. Thankfully, everything worked out for the better, but I'll never forget it. Once I realized the truth, I felt like the world's biggest idiot. I was deeply rattled by that day, and my way to recover from it was by thinking, aha! Plot point! Sometimes, it feels better to take bad experiences and make something out of them. This story has come to mean so much to me, and has consumed so much of my being that I thought, why the heck not? It's pretty astounding how the events of one day can change some things forever.

You'll see many ramifications from this event. After all, it seems like the majority of witches and wizards communicate through post-owls. And it's how Hogwarts students are in touch with their loved ones. You'll certainly see a ripple effect from that in this chapter. I love the ideas about how the situation can be handled.

In regards to what Kettleburn's experiment actually was ... think back to chapter 74, and the bottle with the blue liquid he handed over to Voldemort ...

To one of my reviewers: Oh my goodness, I am so incredibly sorry about your wife. You are in my thoughts. I give you so much credit for being a hospital volunteer through Covid and a front line volunteer in Ukraine. That is so incredibly brave. I know I don't often mention current events here - I try not to, on a fanfiction site - but I will say that I feel for every single person that is hurting in Ukraine. It's people like one of my reviewers who truly make the difference.

Anyway. In this chapter, we're stopping by Hogwarts to see some of our favorite students. The Astronomy Tower scene actually came to me because of events that happened this week. My husband and I had a discussion regarding NASA and space exploration, and therefore, I got to thinking about the moon and stars. It made me feel wistful because I, being a blind person, will never get to see what space looks like or anything to do with the moon and stars. I can imagine, of course, but it's one of those things I wish I could see. In regards to Harry Potter, I thought about Ron and Hermione's continued feelings of missing Harry and longing for things to go back to the way they were ... and, what do you know, this scene sprouted into being. I hope you enjoy it. I listened to "A Sky Full of Stars" by Coldplay on repeat while writing it. That song is absolutely gorgeous.

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The Great Hall was so full of noise that Ron Weasley could barely think straight. He sat with Hermione on one side, Neville on the other, as he tried to make sense of the incredibly strange and awful events that were occurring around him.

Ron had been thoroughly confused when Headmistress McGonagall had stood in front of the room, holding a special evening edition of the Daily Prophet. This was unusual for the simple fact that no other student had received theirs. Even though it was rare to receive a special edition, it was always delivered by owl if one happened to be printed - but not today. No flurry of owls had entered the Great Hall, delivering their burdens to their recipients.

"May I have your attention, please." McGonagall cleared her throat, and the room went still. The look on her face made it clear that this was serious business, and everyone should pay attention.

"There has been a serious development today which everyone in this school should know about," the Headmistress stated as she gazed around at all the House tables. "There is no easy way to say this, and so I will be blunt. Our method of communication has been breached by Lord Voldemort."

There were still some gasps in the Great Hall, but not as many as Ron knew there would have been only a month ago. Professor Fiona Giddens had persisted in her mission to get the other students to say Voldemort's name. Many of the younger ones, with House points being an incentive, were now saying it without an issue. It was the older ones, such as Ron himself, who had more trouble uttering the name. After all, he'd grown up learning that the name was feared and it was somehow wrong to speak it. Ron had gotten so used to being afraid of the name that it was a hard habit to break, but every time he felt fear twist his insides, he thought of Harry.

Harry wasn't afraid. Harry was defiant. Harry stood up to the monster and faced his own mortality with a bravery Ron still never thought he would possess. He had looked the demon right in the eye and prepared for his own death. Even though it had been months ago now, the guilt of knowing how Ron had treated his best friend still tore him apart.

He gazed around the hall, gauging everyone's reactions at McGonagall's news. You could have heard a pin drop as the students waited in anticipation for what she was about to say.

Ron listened in horror and fear as McGonagall read the Prophet article out loud. It explained what had happened to a post-owl yesterday. It didn't go into detail about who sent it or what the message contained, but that made sense to Ron. All anyone needed to know was that there had been an issue with the owl.

"Nothing of the kind has ever happened before," McGonagall explained, her voice seeming unnaturally loud in the horrified Great Hall. "We have good reason to believe that the people who seek to destroy our way of life had a hand in this."

"She knows something." Ron could barely hear Hermione's whisper through the roaring in his ears, but somehow, he heard it. "She knows more than she's telling us."

Instinctively, Ron knew Hermione was right. Both of them knew that there was certain ... intelligence the Order received, although Ron still didn't honestly trust Snape worth an inch. Had it been from him, or had the information come from Harry again? Yesterday's Daily Prophet article regarding Voldemort's most recent attack certainly gave Ron the feeling that Harry had, once again, intercepted it. He had no evidence of such a conclusion - no concrete proof. But every time he thought about how Harry had told him about feeling Voldemort's emotions while he'd sent him the false memory of Cedric's murder ... Ron hadn't been able to stop thinking about the connection his best mate shared with that monster.

In any case, no matter how the Order had come by the information, everything in Ron was screaming that McGonagall was keeping some of the information to herself in order to not betray the source of it. He figured that most people wouldn't notice this, since many families weren't involved in the Order, but his was neck-deep in it and despite what some people thought, Ron wasn't a complete dunce. After all, he knew how to play chess, and in order to be good at that game, you needed to know strategy.

Ron had his point proven as someone yelled out from the Hufflepuff table. "How do you know? It's just one owl! You can't make that kind of assumption just from one measly owl, can you?"

"Do you honestly think You-Know-Who has a hand in everything?" a seventh-year Ravenclaw called out, showing that she was one of the students who could not yet call the monster by his name.

"Considering where the owl was sent from, it seems very likely that it is the case. It flew over the location where Wednesday night's attack occurred," McGonagall said, not reprimanding the students who had almost sounded hostile in the way they had spoken to her. She was normally the kind of woman who would blanch at anyone speaking to her with disrespect, and to Ron, this showed just how serious the situation was.

"For this reason," McGonagall said, her voice suddenly gentler than usual, "we do not feel it right to continue sending post-owls out at this time. All mail by owl will be suspended until the situation is resolved."

The silence after this statement was deafening. Once upon a time, Ron had read that in a book and it had sounded absurd. But now, that statement seemed completely in line with how Ron felt about the current situation, and about how others were reacting.

"What do you mean, we can't send owls?" It was Melissa, Cedric's best friend, who spoke, and Ron felt the heat of anger suffuse his cheeks. Ever since the confrontation that he and Hermione had had with her and her boyfriend, Jake, in that classroom, Ron hadn't been able to pass her in the corridor without giving her a good glare. Yes, she had apologized. Yes, she now couldn't hold her head high anymore because her accusations against Harry had been proven false. But Ron had no forgiveness in his heart for her. Maybe that made him a horrible, terrible bastard of a person, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Are you telling me that I can't contact my family?"

"Have you considered the safety of the owls, you selfish shrew?" Ron was rather surprised to hear the normally mild-mannered Dean Thomas, who was only sitting a few seats away from him, spitting at the older girl. "Professor," he addressed McGonagall, "is that owl who got lost ... are you sure it's okay?"

McGonagall nodded at Dean, her smile very small. "Yes, the owl is okay. She is lucky she didn't experience anything more severe than being confused and delayed in reaching her destination." McGonagall looked hard at all the students, but her expression contained genuine sympathy. "Indeed, it is for the safety of the owls that this precaution is being taken," she explained quietly, yet every word still carried through the hall perfectly. "I know this will inconvenience you, and many of us are doing all we can to rectify this issue as soon as possible."

"How soon?" Denise, one of the Muggle-born first-years that Ron and Hermione had comforted on September 1, said through tears. There was no anger or accusation in her words. All Ron could hear was homesickness and desperation. His heart twisted, and he felt incredible sympathy for her. She hadn't adjusted well to being away from home, and the feelings only intensified as she learned more about the war that was ravaging the wizarding world.

Several of the Gryffindor Prefects, including Ron and Hermione, made their way over to her. Hermione and Ron's proximity had been the closest, so they reached her first. Hermione put an arm around her, and Ron placed a hand on her shoulder. What was he supposed to say - everything's going to be okay? That was bullshit, and he didn't have it in him to spout pretty words and tell her something that was a lie.

McGonagall's voice was even more gentle now, though it was plain that she was attempting to retain her professional demeanor. Ron reflected that he had seen more of this McGonagall this year than he had any other - circumstances called for it. "We do not know, Ms. Stein. But I can assure you that in the meantime, there are many temporary solutions being proposed. You are not prisoners here, and I believe that it is prudent that especially during times like this, communicating with loved ones holds a very high importance. There are several possibilities for a solution that we are mulling over. At 10:00 tomorrow morning, they will be announced here in the Great Hall. We just need a little more time to put them in place." There was compassion in her gaze as she held Denise's eyes. "You will be able to contact your family." She spoke the words like a promise.

Ron hurt all over as Denise's sobs renewed, but there was a relieved quality to them now. He thought of Harry, of how the only way he and Hermione had made it through this past month sometimes was knowing they could contact him. Right now, he missed his best mate's presence more than ever. The empty spot beside him where he had once been felt like an open, gaping chasm.

Justin Finch-Fletchley then addressed the Headmistress. "What about sending the owls out hunting?" he asked. "Knowing them as I do, they're not going to cope with being locked inside constantly. They're going to feel like the ones imprisoned."

"Owls are very intelligent creatures, mate." Ernie McMillan spoke from beside him. "No matter how much they might hate what we're saying, they understand when we communicate with them."

"Exactly." McGonagall nodded in agreement. "However, there will be certain times of day when they will be able to fly around the grounds. Since they are nocturnal creatures, they would prefer to get their exercise at night."

"They're still not going to be pleased," Justin insisted, a concerned frown on his face.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Finch-Fletchley." McGonagall still spoke gently. "As I have said, this will be fixed as soon as possible. In the meantime, all those students who receive the Prophet should come to me after the meal this evening. Plans are being put in place for daily subscriptions to continue. How this will be accomplished will also be announced tomorrow." She once again gazed out at shocked, fearful, angered faces. "I am very sorry," she said quietly. "Please carry on with your meal."

But, no matter how hard Ron tried, the rest of the meal did not taste as it normally did - the chips turned to ashes in his mouth, the fish tasted of nothing at all, and even the treacle tart for dessert didn't contain its usual sweetness. The conversations around the hall contained a note of fear in them that seemed so much more magnified than before.

If Voldemort could interrupt something that was so engrained, so ... routine in the magical world, in what other unseen ways could he ruin the rhythm of daily life?

xxx

Ron could barely get his thoughts in order for the rest of the evening. The Gryffindor common room contained a mixture of the same emotions that had been present in the Great Hall - fear, anger, sadness, and confusion.

Hermione spent the evening trying to reassure students who had been the most affected by the news - mainly first-years who were still adjusting to living at Hogwarts and not with their families. Denise had seemed to perk up after McGonagall's reassurance, though her expression was wan and her eyes were so sad. It made rage fill Ron's heart - how dare Voldemort taint the innocence of these students who should be looking at magic with awe and wonder rather than with fear and dread!

Ron had a sudden flashback to his own first year, when he had treated Hermione so badly. Looking back on it now with the perspective of someone a few years older, he realized that Hermione had never, ever deserved the treatment she'd received from him. She hadn't deserved to be teased or made fun of. Sure, she'd come off as a nag, always pestering him about homework and claiming she knew all the answers. Granted, she still acted like that sometimes - but somehow, along the way, it had become endearing rather than annoying. Ron smiled a little as he saw her across the room, talking quietly with several of the younger students.

In a few hours, the fifth-year Gryffindors would head to Astronomy class. Upon receiving their schedules at the beginning of the year, several students had moaned about the fact that Friday night was the beginning of the weekend and therefore, they should be able to stay up late and do whatever they wanted, not attend another ruddy class. Ron had felt exactly the same way, but Hermione, as usual, was excited to have a class as late as midnight. Ron had thought she was insane, but today, he found himself agreeing with her.

It wasn't because he suddenly liked the class - that had nothing to do with it whatsoever. No, it was because he needed a distraction, because times had been exceedingly difficult. And because of what had happened today, it had hit him all over again. Voldemort had returned, students were scared out of their wits, and Hogwarts wasn't filled with the usual joyful bustle, especially because so many were still mourning Cedric Diggory.

But for him and Hermione, things were a struggle for the simple fact that Harry continued not to be there. There were times of the day that were easier than others, but Harry's absence never ceased to be felt by Ron and Hermione. The worst times were when, for a moment, they forgot - Ron sat in Professor Trelawney's class, listening to her droning on and on and on about tea leaves and dreams. He turned to joke with Harry, and the fact that it was Dean sitting beside him instead was like being punched directly in the gut. He honestly would have felt better if he'd been slapped across the face.

He'd been thinking about trying out for Quidditch this year, but upon learning that Harry wasn't attending, his feelings about it had changed drastically. He did not have much confidence in his abilities as it was, but something about Harry made him feel brave. And if a miracle had occurred and he'd actually made it onto the team, he'd have his best mate beside him. He'd never forgotten what he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised, and if there was a chance to make that become any semblance of reality ...

But then, he had seen Harry's face after Cedric was killed. He'd heard him scream as he was tortured under the Cruciatus Curse. He'd seen him look his mortal enemy in the eye, knowing that in a matter of seconds, he would die. He saw his best mate struggle to tell him that he wasn't ready to return to Hogwarts.

And it made him nauseous. What did his petty Quidditch dreams matter when he couldn't stop Harry's suffering? Why did he want to play a stupid game when the boy he realized he'd give his own life for was going through things no one should have to? Every instinct in him told him that Harry had been the one who had intercepted Voldemort's last two attacks, and therefore saved the lives of many Muggles in the process.

And for all of those reasons, he couldn't try out. He was exceedingly glad he hadn't told Harry and Hermione of his old plans. Both of them would tell him not to be ridiculous and to shoot for his dreams, especially Harry. Harry would, Ron knew, have been angry that he'd squandered his chance to do something he loved on his account. He never would have understood Ron's reasons for no longer wanting to do such a thing.

And Harry had seen his parents in the Mirror of Erised. He'd seen his dead family, while Ron had seen a measly Quidditch Cup. It made him feel small and childish and selfish and like the world's lowest person. And he knew that if he hadn't been at Fudge's trial and seen the memory of Voldemort's return for himself, he never would have come to these realizations ... and that made him feel even sicker.

xxx

"Ron?"

Ron looked up, startled out of his thoughts to find Hermione standing beside him. "It's time for Astronomy," she whispered, looking at him worriedly. She always seemed to know these days when Ron was lost in a stream of thoughts.

"Yeah, all right," Ron agreed with no enthusiasm. Hermione gave him a sad smile as the two best friends exited out of the portrait hole and headed to the Astronomy Tower.

Ron had never thought much of Professor Sinistra. She wasn't mean, per se, but she wasn't particularly nice either. She ruled over her class with an iron fist and never allowed the students to ask unnecessary questions. Just last week, she'd given Dean a rather hard time when he'd asked if magical folk had ever ventured into space.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Thomas," she'd snapped. "Of course they have. Most of the space exploration you've heard about has been done by Muggles, but magicals have certainly partaken in it as well. Not that the Muggles knew the people they were exploring with were magical, of course."

Ron had wondered, at the time, why a magic user would bother with space. They had magic - what could eclipse that?

"That's a really narrow-minded view," Hermione had stated crisply when Ron had spoken that out loud. Last year, such a statement would have made Ron's hackles rise, and there would have been a row about it. There was just something about Hermione's bossy expression, the way her hair seemed to be even more insanely bushy when she was infuriated, and the way her brown eyes sparkled with annoyance that made Ron want to push her further.

But this year, he barely reacted to it. After all, there was no Harry there to roll his eyes at them and tell them to shut up. "Give it a rest, you two." His exasperated voice no longer rang out, and his emerald eyes didn't shine at them.

"I'm not narrow-minded," was the only thing Ron had said. He'd glared at her, but it didn't contain its normal vigor. "I've just never been interested in space - my dad goes on about the Muggle moon landing all the time, and I don't understand what the big deal is. Apparently, wizards had nothing to do with that one at all - it was all Muggles."

"Sorry," Hermione had simply said, and this, honestly, didn't feel right to Ron at all. Hermione wasn't supposed to just apologize for what she'd said. She was supposed to stick to her viewpoint, and they were supposed to bicker all the way back to the common room.

Are you saying you LIKE rowing with Hermione? Ron thought as tonight's uninteresting Astronomy lesson came to an end. She's your best friend. Are you saying you LIKE being angry with her?

No, of course I don't, Ron reflected sadly. It isn't that at all. It's just that ... it shows how different things are this year. Without Harry, they weren't the people they once were. He thought back to the conversation they'd had about whether their friendship would have existed if not for Harry, and it was the honest truth that it had been him that had brought them together. Harry was the biggest thing they had in common, and without him, the dynamic was so ... different.

But he should have been grateful, because Harry's absence had somehow brought them closer together, Ron thought as he realized that all the other Gryffindors had left the Astronomy Tower, and he and Hermione were the only ones who remained.

"Ron?" Hermione's soft voice caused him to look up at her. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly, not making any move to leave either. They were sitting on top of the tower, the stars winking and twinkling down on them.

"No," Ron said truthfully. There was no reason to lie to his best friend - none at all. "I'm not. You?"

"No," Hermione responded instantly, her brown eyes directed at the stars. "Are you thinking about Harry, too?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. I know he's coming back in January. I know that," Ron spoke quietly. "And I know I'm being selfish." He, too, looked out at the stars and suddenly felt so unbelievably bereft, so incredibly lost. "He's doing what he needs to do, for himself. He's recovering. And now we know that the governors are going to let him come back next term."

"I miss him too, Ron," hermione said just as softly. "I miss him terribly."

Ron thought that, previously, such a statement might have made jealousy arise in him. But he felt no such emotion. Ron knew that Hermione regarded Harry as a brother. "And we can't even contact him right now," he said, knowing his tone was anguished but unable to bring himself to care.

"You heard Headmistress McGonagall," said Hermione, although there was far less surity in her words than such a statement would have normally conveyed. "We need to trust her. We might be able to contact him tomorrow."

Ron's blue eyes met Hermione's brown ones, and something unsaid passed between them. In that moment, Ron felt like he and Hermione were bonded together in more ways than he could explain.

Hermione continued to gaze out at the stars. The moon hung over the tower as well, giving the night a picturesque beauty that somehow heightened the sadness both of them were feeling. "You said you're not that interested in space, but have you ever wondered ... what else is out there?" she said in a whisper. "The universe ... it's ... it's so vast. There are literally so many planets and galaxies we know nothing about."

It wasn't the kind of thing Ron expected Hermione Granger to say. Hermione, who usually focused on what she knew and what information she could easily access, rather than the unknown. But there were so many other things Ron hadn't expected to happen either, so perhaps ... this was strangely right.

"No, not really," Ron said as he also gazed out at the night sky. "The stars have always been, you know, just ... there. I've never understood people's fascination with them."

Hermione nodded. "My mum told me a story when I was younger," she said, still whispering. "It was a children's story about a little girl who was missing her friend and wouldn't be able to see her for a while. Her mother told her that if she looked out at the stars, it'd be like she was seeing her friend, because the stars would look the same to both of them. So if they were staring out at the stars at the same time, it'd be like they were together." She smiled reminiscently.

Ron snorted, raising his eyebrows. "Sounds rather melodramatic to me," he said with a laugh.

"It's a children's story, Ronald," Hermione said with a note of fond exasperation. Her face broke into a reluctant smile as well. "I didn't like it much, either," she admitted.

"Of course you didn't. You're not into that sappy nonsense," Ron said, still laughing. His face grew somber again very quickly, though, as did Hermione's as he said, "But, strangely enough ... maybe it's not so ridiculous after all. Though I never got the impression Harry was all that fussed about the stars either," he attempted to joke.

Hermione's smile turned sad again. "I know we'll see him again at Christmas," she said wistfully. "He'll make it up to us - I know he'll think of it in those terms, but honestly, he's got nothing to "make up" for."

"No," Ron agreed quietly. "No, he doesn't." After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "Your parents ... you must be upset you can't owl them, either." Slowly, he put an arm around her, and she moved closer to him, making his heart beat a little faster.

Hermione continued to look wistful, the sadness behind her brown eyes tugging at Ron's soul. "My parents and I have grown apart," she confessed softly. "They don't understand the magical world, and I don't know how to explain it to them."

"Is that why you don't write to them that much, or spend much time with them over the summers or at Christmas?" Ron asked, suddenly feeling very annoyed with himself for not noticing this about Hermione. Though his family could drive him stark raving bonkers, Ron couldn't imagine not being close to them. He couldn't imagine going a Christmas without a ridiculous maroon sweater, or not hearing his mother's shouts for him to hurry up and get ready on September 1, or not hearing the twins calling him "ickle Ronniekins" and teasing him about something stupid.

"Yeah." Hermione nodded. "Exactly."

"Do you ever wish it was different?" Ron asked curiously. "Like, if there was a way for your parents to understand more about the magical world, would you want that?"

"More than you know." The conviction that had been lacking in her voice during the rest of their conversation made itself known now. "We used to be close before I went to Hogwarts, you know?" She suddenly looked vulnerable, biting her lip as she continued. "When I was in Muggle school, I didn't have any friends. I ... got picked on a lot."

Ron felt his guilt resurface, remembering his thoughts earlier that day. "And then you came to Hogwarts and I acted like a prat to you too," he said ashamedly. "I'm sorry, Hermione. You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

In response, Hermione only smiled and squeezed him affectionately. Ron felt his heart swell with a surge of emotion that caught him by surprise but, at the same time, felt completely natural. "It's all right, Ron," she said quietly. "Those days are over now, and ..." She smiled again. "I know I can be annoying sometimes." She sounded vulnerable again as she spoke the words.

"You're not annoying," Ron said immediately, his cheeks suddenly flushing at how instant that reaction had been. "Well, er, not ... not anymore."

Hermione smiled. "Well, you're not being a prat anymore, either," she said. Was he mistaken, or had her cheeks just flushed, too?

There was something about this moment, something that felt very powerful. For the first time, Ron thought he could understand the appreciation and awe that some people held for the moon and the stars - after all, he could see them reflected in Hermione's brown eyes, the eyes that contained so much intelligence and honesty, the eyes that were looking at Ron now with a deep understanding. And Ron realized that maybe, just maybe ... instead of focusing on missing Harry, he could be grateful for what his best mate had inadvertently given him. Even in his absence, he had given him something - the new closeness he felt to Hermione. Maybe the old dynamic was different, but maybe it didn't have to mean that it was wrong. "Hermione?" he asked quietly, taking her small hand in his own larger one.

He felt his heart swell again as Hermione didn't pull away - instead, she laced their fingers together, making his stomach flip. "Yes, Ron?"

"Thank you for ... er ... sticking by me, through all this ... this mess." The words came out clumsily, but they were sincere. He meant them with every fiber of his being.

Hermione's eyes were still sad, but she smiled at Ron. The moon and stars shone down on them, giving them a strange sort of reassurance that no matter what came next, they were going to be okay. "Always, Ron," she told him. "We'll always have each other."