Chapter Twenty Six
"I don't…" Ron broke off his sentence to yawn as the class of fifth year Gryffindors poured out of the green house, "don't believe it. Who would have thought herbology could ever be used to defend against the dark arts?"
The end of their second day of classes had been their first Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, led by Professor Sprout. No one had known quite what to expect, nor how much to expect from Professor Sprout in the area of dark art defense, but to their amazement they discovered there were many ways to use plants both offensively and defensively. And their portly herbology professor was a plethora of knowledge on both.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron were walking abreast as they all headed back toward the castle, their classmates a black-robed pack moving in the same direction on all sides of them.
"I think it's great," came Neville's voice as he caught up to them, clearly having heard Ron's comment. "Herbology as a defense against the dark arts! I might actually have some hope of living."
"I have to admit," Harry added as Ron gave another gape-jaw yawn, "I didn't really expect herbology to be of much use in defense against the dark arts."
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Hermione mused aloud at Harry's left as she rearranged the bag strap over her shoulder. "Professor Sprout knew so much about using plants as weapons…"
"Bit scary," Neville confessed.
"Well, you know, before our time, they were around to actually have to fight Death Eaters and You Know Who with everything they had. Would make them pretty bloody good at it," Ron said lowly.
"Kind of hard to imagine that it was people our parents' age who fought You Know Who the first time, when it seems so much farther away than… oh," Hermione stopped talking and looked regretfully toward Harry.
Harry, for his part, watched where he placed his feet on their trek back to the castle and consciously refrained from looking up. "Not so far away," he said in a nearwhisper.
"No," Neville mumbled in agreement.
"What do you suppose Trelawney will have for her go at Defense practical?" Ron asked with a snicker.
"Complete and utter rubbish," Hermione retorted as they entered the castle and headed toward the Gryffindor tower.
"Maybe she'll surprise you, too," Neville offered in a small voice.
"If she managed to predict the weather tomorrow I'd have a stroke from shock. Honestly, we'd be better off with a double lesson from Moody or Snape."
"Ugh!" Ron protested, "you want more lessons with Snape? Are you completely touched in the head?"
"He'll know a lot more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than that old bat Trelawney. Vigilance," Hermione spoke the last to the fat lady portrait.
"No need to be brusque about it, young lady," she scolded as she swung open.
Harry picked up the conversation they'd been having as though the painting had not spoken. "And he's better at dark arts for a very good reason."
"Or bad reason, however you want to look at it," Ron quipped.
Hermione grunted and dropped her bag on to the couch end. Neville made for the boys' dorm room while Ron let his bag fall on the floor where he stood, walked around to the front of the couch, and dropped flat on his back with a groan. He'd been up late last night, though neither Harry nor Hermione knew exactly how late, but in History of Magic that morning he'd had a complete (if messy) essay to turn in to Binns. He'd also had an apology for Hermione. From her expression, she didn't seem to quite believe what she was hearing as Ron said he was sorry for upsetting her last year at the Yule Ball. In whispered confidence, Hermione told Harry she suspected it was the sleep deprivation.
Hermione glanced at Ron spread out on the couch then looked at her watch.
"Harry… I think we have time for a run before dinner if you're up for it." "Run? Why do that?" Ron asked from his prone position.
"Yeah, that sounds good," Harry answered. He could do with a bit of physical exertion if truth be told. He'd grown conditioned to it at Hermione's and had actually begun to feel a bit antsy with pent up energy without some kind of outlet since returning to Hogwarts.
"It does?" Ron looked between his two friends as though they were suggesting a community bath with the Slytherins.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I told you Harry and I took up exercising over the holiday to build up a bit. Wouldn't make sense to slack off just because we're back in classes, would it?"
"Right." Ron sat up and looked between Harry and Hermione with a contemplative expression on his face. He seemed to give both Harry and Hermione an assessing glance that might have made Harry both uncomfortable and ruffled, respectively, if he didn't know Ron so well. "Maybe I ought to come along too, you think?"
Harry and Hermione looked at one another, shared an expression of ambivalence, and shrugged practically in unison. Hermione answered, "Come along if you like. I'll meet you both back here in five minutes." She scooped up her bag, turned, and hurried up the stairs.
Ron seemed to drag himself off the couch, nearly as reluctant as though he were heading off to sit an exam. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, Ron," Harry said.
"No, no, I want to. I mean, it's really done you two a load of good, and besides, the three of us do everything together, right?"
"Right," Harry replied as though on autopilot and preceded Ron up the stairs, their bags slung over their shoulders.
In the dorm, they walked into the middle of a conversation between Dean and Seamus.
"… you'd turn on the Canons because of a girl," Dean said with disgust.
"A bloody hot girl." When Seamus saw Harry and Ron come in, he launched into them. "Ron! You've seen the new chaser for the Falmouth Falcons, haven't you?"
"You mean Ledora Paltry? Have I! She's a real looker, that one."
"See?" Seamus gestured to Ron emphatically. Harry side-stepped the lot of them and opened his trunk. He had to dig a bit to find his black track pants and old T-shirt of Dudley's with the sleeves cut off.
"Yeah, but would you root for the Falcons as opposed to the Canons just because of some ruddy girl?" Dean challenged.
"You're missing the point of it, Dean. She's not just 'some ruddy girl'. It's a bloody hot girl, and you know, those girl Quidditch players… well, Harry gets that, don't you, Harry?"
Harry had toed off his shoes and began to shrug out of his robes when he was drawn into the conversation. "What's that?"
"Cho Chang. Have a thing for her, don't you?"
Harry scowled and tossed his robes on the bed. He undid his tie and gave a lop-sided shrug.
"Oh, come on, you were a mess over her last year. Not that I blame you in the least for it; I wouldn't mind getting in on some of that. It's that whole girl Quidditch player thing, isn't it?"
"What about them?" Neville asked, perplexed.
Seamus grinned wolfishly. "Well, a girl like that, she's not going to be some dainty little thing like most. A girl who'll hit a bludger right for your head will also be the type to start a good snog."
Dean snorted. "Like you know anything about snogging."
"I've snogged more than you have, you twit." Seamus threw a pillow at Dean, who ducked it quickly. Harry shed his shirt with very little attention paid to the discussion, and projectiles, flying about the room around him.
"Couldn't have anything to do with the fact Cho's just plain hot, Quidditch player or not?" Dean asked.
Seamus sounded genuinely surprised. "Didn't know you fancied her."
"I never knew that you did."
"I don't have to fancy her to know she's hot."
Harry dropped his trousers and slipped on the track pants, listening to the ongoing conversation with only half an ear.
"Not like she's the only hot girl at Hogwarts I've noticed, either." "Yeah, and who else have you noticed, then?"
Seamus snickered. "Hermione Granger, for one."
"Hermione?!" Dean choked.
"Have you bloody seen her this year? She's definitely outgrown that ugly duckling phase. You know, next to Quidditch players, they say the bookworms are real steamy snoggers, all that reading up they do on it. I'll bet Hermione—"
"Back off." Harry turned to level a glare at Seamus.
Seamus blinked, startled by the venom in Harry's eyes and words. "Relax, Harry, it's just a bit of fun."
"Have your fun, but leave Hermione out of it," Harry pulled on his shirt and continued to stare down Seamus.
"She's our friend, you git," Ron threw in reproachfully.
"But I just meant that…" Seamus started to argue, but Harry took a step forward and Seamus jumped back as though scalded.
"Okay, I'm sorry, I won't talk about Hermione anymore. Bloody hell, Harry, you'd think she was your girlfriend or something."
"Don't be stupid," Ron spat. "Let's go, Harry, Hermione's waiting for us."
Hermione was indeed in the common room waiting for them, garbed in her usual running attire. She had on a white tank top and gray exercise pants with pink stripes running down the outside of both legs. Her hair was pulled back in a curly ponytail. Harry was used to seeing Hermione dressed that way, but Ron did a fair bit of goggling when they reached the common room and she turned to them.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when she got a look at Harry's face.
Harry shook his head and knelt to put on his trainers. "Nothing. Seamus was being a bastard."
Hermione cocked her head and glanced at Ron for an explanation. Ron was a gaping wasteland, so she turned her attention back to Harry. However, Harry would say nothing more on the subject. He stood from tying his shoes and put a hand on Hermione's elbow to direct her toward the portrait hole.
"Harry…" Hermione began again and looked up into his face. She stopped with a frown when she saw the look on his face and chose to let it go. Harry dropped her elbow but continued to walk closely at her side.
Once outside and standing in the open courtyard, Harry and Hermione began stretching. Ron hung back and watched, looking a bit out of place in his shorts and lounge shirt idly while Harry and Hermione rotated through awell- practiced series of leg, arm, and back stretches. They'd done it so many times over the summer they didn't need to make conversation to fill the silence; it had long ago ceased being uncomfortable. A few passing students snickered at the pair of them bending and extending, and it made Ron shuffle uneasily.
"You'd best stretch, Ron, or you're liable to pull something," Hermione suggested.
"Oh, um… you know, I'm sure I'll be fine."
"Suit yourself." She offset to address both Ron and Harry. "Here's what I was thinking, we could start off toward the Black Lake, turn left, and make a round of the perimeter of Hogwarts fromthere."
Harry calculated the distance in his head. "Sounds good to me."
"Uh, wa… wait, all the way around Hogwarts?" Ron yelped.
Hermione tried not to smile. "Well, we'll see." She turned to Harry and Ron caught on they were about to go and scurried up to take up position on Hermione's other side.
The three of them set off at a steady jog toward the Black Lake, keeping pace and staying in a line shoulder-to-shoulder. They turned a few heads as they passed, not often did students take to running around the grounds when it wasn't to make it to class on time; it made the tips of Ron's ears turn red, but Harry and Hermione were oblivious. They had a rhythm they fell into when they ran, with steps matched and attention locked forward; their worlds narrowed to the experience of the run. It was almost a different state of mind, and there was no room for watchingclassmates.
Ron kept up well enough all the way to the shores of the Black Lake, but not long after they'd made a left and started their circuit around the school his loud breathing was breaking into even Harry and Hermione's singular focus on their task. Ron, just barely, started to fall back, and unspoken Harry and Hermione slowed to stay with him.
Finally, Ron staggered to a stop, gasping for breath, face beet red. "Wait… wait." He braced his hands on his knees and sucked in air. Harry and Hermione stopped and turned to Ron.
"You all right, Ron?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head but couldn't speak, held up a hand to still them, then after a few heaving breaths said, "Just… can't go on."
Hermione stepped closer, "You don't look so good. You sure you're all right?"
Ron tried to straighten, winced, and clutched his side. He grimaced, "I don't think… I'm made for… this running… business. Don't tell me… you two… actually… enjoy this."
Hermione and Harry, their breathing only slightly accelerated and neither of them having yet broken a sweat, looked at one another. They both smiled at the same time. Harry was the one to answer, "Well, yeah, we do. Kind of a rush."
Ron gaped at Harry like he'd confessed to a passing interest in cross-dressing.
Hermione jumped in, "But we didn't like it right off. At first we were…" the words 'just like you' were nearly off the tip of her tongue, but she stopped and her brow crinkled as she studied their friend, wheezing, sweating, and cramping. She changed direction mid-stream, "we weren't nearly so enamored of it. It took a bit. No one's great the first time out. Takes some time to start having fun."
"Fun?!" Ron shook his head and wiped his sopping forehead with his forearm. 'Well, I think I've had enough fun for today. I'm heading back inside to do something a bit more fun… like homework; you two go on without me."
"You sure, Ron?" Harry asked.
Ron nodded vigorously. "Very sure. I'll catch up with you two at dinner."
Harry and Hermione looked at one another, shrugged, and in synch turned and took off again. Ron's mouth hung open when they didn't leave at the leisurely pace the three of them had been keeping previously… Harry and Hermione set off at twice that speed.
"Those gits," Ron muttered and started back towards the castle.
When next Ron saw Harry, it was when his best friend sat down across from him at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall just before the start of dinner.
Ron, combating fatigue and drowsiness the whole way, had actually managed to do his Charms homework while Harry and Hermione were out circling the castle. For once, he considered homework a better use of his time.
Harry was back in his school robes, though he'd clearly showered after coming in from his run. Ron begrudged him how energized and refreshed Harry looked from the work-out, whereas Ron had discovered Hermione had been right about the importance of stretching.
"Harry!" Ginny came bounding up to where they sat, her long red hair free for once, and took the vacant spot next to Harry. "Saw you out on your run a while ago. Nice shirt."
Harry fidgeted. "Huh… it was a tatty old hand-me-down of my cousin's." "Yes, but you wore it well," Ginny countered with a wink.
Harry looked toward Ron for back-up fending off Ginny, but Ron wasn't feeling particularly charitable. Not for the first time, Harry had shown him up well and good. And in front of Hermione, too. Harry could squirm a bit.
"Well, uh… thanks, I guess," Harry said haltingly. He glanced toward Ginny with an uneasy expression on his face, looked past her shoulder, and brightened.
"Hermione!"
Hermione, back in her robes and also fresh from a shower of her own, came up and stood beside the table next to her friends. "Hey, Harry," Hermione looked down at Ginny sitting in the spot next to Harry."Ginny." Hermione's greeting to Ginny was fractionally cooler than her hello toHarry.
To her credit, Ginny took hints well. "I'll leave you three to it, then," she said, got up from the table, and left to join her same-year friends.
Hermione sat down in the place Ginny had vacated. Harry was visibly relieved. "Thanks, Hermione."
Hermione shifted a little closer to Harry, almost absently as she frowned, "For what?"
"Ginny was funning with him," Ron replied, feeling in a better mood after watching Harry suffer Ginny's twisted sense of humor. His mood was also improved by Hermione's arrival.
Harry groaned. "I almost liked it better when she ran away every time I said hi to her. Less awkward for me, at least."
Ron laughed. "Ginny's got a streak in her. Mum figures it comes from growing up the only girl with so many brothers."
"Wonder what she's playing at," Harry mused and pursed his lips in intense thought.
Hermione, her head canted, watched Harry critically, then threw a glance down the table to the fourth years. Ginny was chatting and giggling with her friends. Hermione's eyes narrowed.
"Who knows," Ron said with a shrug, "my sister's barking half the time, if you ask me. I love her and all, but the girl's harder to figure than even Hermione."
Hermione looked quickly at Ron and glowered.
Ron blinked and sat back shortly. "Uh… sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean that in a bad way."
"No, I'm sure you meant barking in a good way." Ron looked like a cornered animal.
Harryintervened."Just like Ron's a prat, but in a good way,right?"
Ron looked torn between affronted and being too concerned about Hermione's wrath to take his eyes off her.
Hermione, to Ron's immeasurable relief, smiled then. "Right."
They were spared any further filler conversation when dinner appeared on the table before them, platters and plates and bowls of delicious food. Ron tucked in as though he'd not eaten in days. Harry and Hermione followed his example, but inmoderation.
Chapter Twenty Seven
In the common room after dinner, most students set to working on their assignments. Ron had appropriated the couch first thing back from the Great Hall, spread out to the point where no one else could even think of sharing it with him, and promptly fell asleep. His eventual snoring drove several of the studying Gryffindors up to their dorms or off to the library looking for a quiet place to study. Harry was at the table working on Potions, by now used to Ron's sawing snores and adept at tuning them out.
A hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder, and Harry knew it was Hermione before she even spoke by the tickle of her hair on his neck and the soft smell of her when she leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Are you busy, Harry?"
Harry half-turned in his seat to look at her, his quill paused and poised over his Potions assignment. Hermione took her hand from Harry's shoulder and used it to shift the strap of her bookbag. "I thought you were in the library," he said in a low voice, mindful of Ron sleeping a few feet away.
Hermione chewed on herbottomlip."Not exactly." She looked quickly to either side to see if anyone was close enough to hear.
Harry laid his quill down. Hermione being sneaky always got his attention.
"Could you come with me? We need to talk," she said with a glance in Ron's direction to make sure he'd not heard.
Harry nodded, gathered up his things, and stood from the table.
Hermione led him out of the common room and through the halls of the castle without a word of explanation as to where they were going. She was in her 'Hermione on a mission' mode, and Harry knew better than to try and stand in her way. He held his peace and followed her.
He hesitated only a heartbeat when Hermione pushed her way into the girls' second floor bathroom before following her inside. The deserted loo looked almost completely unchanged from the last time Harry had been inside it. He gave the sinks a wary look, even though he knew the portal to the Chamber of Secrets wouldn't open without a command in parseltongue. Just knowing it was there was enough to give him the creeps.
Hermione didn't appear to share any of his disquieted associations with the bathroom. Her focus was entirely elsewhere. She turned to Harry the moment they were alone inside the loo and finally launched into the explanation for their sojourn. "I wasn't in the library; I was getting the things we would need to start the potion for our 'project'." She took the bag from her shoulder and set it on the edge of the nearest sink to dig through the contents. Harry frowned, walked over, and took the bag off the basin.
Hermione followed where it went, her hands buried inside, and seemed to pay no mind to why Harry was moving it. Harry sat down on the floor and Hermione followed suit, the bag presently on the tile between them.
"I thought it would be best if I worked on the potion on my own in the evenings," Hermione said as she pulled out the black spell book, set it inher lap, and turned to thewell-readchapter."Ron might get suspicious if you and I continually sneak off without him."
Harry leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. Sure you don't mind doing it by yourself, though?"
Hermione shook her head and reached back into the bag to pull out a jar of mysterious blue liquid. "I'm the one who's been studying up on how to do it, anyway. I expect it might go faster if I'm just left to work. What you'll need to do is keep Ron distracted and throw him off if he starts suspecting we're up to anything.
"Now, this potion doesn't require the same maturation time that the polyjuice did. It's complicated, to be sure, but not nearly as delicate or time- sensitive. I'm certain I can have it done by the time of the fullmoon."
"Which will be when, exactly?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't about to get a lecture for not researching it himself in his astronomy book.
"In two weeks, roughly."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "You can have the potion done by then?"
Hermione nodded. "That doesn't leave a great deal of time for you to learn that incantation I gave you, Harry. You'll need to give it top priority."
"I've already been studying it, between classes and during most of History of Magic."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded.
Harry held out his hands defensively. "Hey, do you want me to know it or don't you?"
Hermione pressed her lips tightly together and tucked a strand of hairbehind her ear. "Well, yes, I suppose this is rather more important than History of Magic. Fine then, I'll not trouble you about it anymore; if you end up needing help with your History of Magic because you've been memorizing that spell, you come tome."
"I always do."
Hermione blushed momentarily and looked back down at the book in her lap. Harry smirked, but not unkindly, as he watched her.
"I… uh," Hermione cleared her throat and looked back up at him, her complexion, for the most part, back to normal, "I'll need your tokens."
Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the marble bag that he carried with him at all times. It was bulky and oddly shaped from the items within. After the entirety of the summer, it was almost a comforting constant weight in his pocket. He passed the bag to her.
"Thanks," Hermione said and placed his marble bag inside her bookbag. "The tokens will have to be soaked in the potion. It should draw out the magic in the objects, stabilize the link, and bind the tokens together. That connection will be very important for the next phase of the process. But this is straight potions, nothing so intricate or difficult as the tokening itself, so I don't expect there to be anytrouble.
"If you happen to token anything else between now and the full moon, still take it. Remember what Kimmy told us, you must never ignore a token. Take it and bring it to me and I'll add it to the potion."
"All right," Harry answered, "what should we do if—" Harry was cut off mid- sentence when a bubbling gurgle came from the last stall of the girls' bathroom. Harry looked quickly in that direction while Hermione slammed shut the spell book in her lap.
"Myrtle?" Hermione called out after a silence listening totheburble."Is that you?"
The bubbling intensified… soon followed by a giggle. Moaning Myrtle came floating out of the fourth stall. She turned to face them and looked first at Harry. And smiled. "Hello, Harry."
"Hello, Mrytle," Harry said uncomfortably, all too conscious of the fact that the last time he'd seen Mrytle he'd been starkers.
Apparently, neither had she forgotten from the lascivious, wicked grin that lit her usually dour, glum expression.
"Umm… how long have you been here?" Hermione asked cautiously.
Myrtle floated lazily closer, twirling one pigtail around an incorporeal finger. "Long enough to know the pair of you are up to something you're not allowed to be doing." She peered at the bag and scrunched her nose even as Hermione tried to discretely close the flap. "Another potion? Oh, that's no fun at all. And after last term, Harry, I'd expect something more intriguing than potions from you." Myrtle openly looked him over head to toe and back again.
"You'll not tell on us, will you, Myrtle?" Hermione appealed to the ghost girl. Myrtle snickered. "I'd never tell on Harry. He and I shared a special moment last term; we're close. Aren't we, Harry?"
"Uh… well…"
Myrtle cackled and swooped in a circle. "Do you know the girls' bathrooms are much more interesting so far this term because of you, Harry? I should thank you for that alone."
"How did I…?" Harry began to ask the ghost, but he noticed Hermione scowl and he shifted his focus to her. "What?"
"He he he… Little Miss Potions uses the same loos I haunt, no doubt she's heard it. The talk, Harry."
"Hermione?" Harry asked uncertainly, wondering if he even wanted to know the answer.
"Oh, Harry… it's tactless, really, but… I've walked in on a few loo conversations about you between the other girls."
"What about me?" Harry frowned when the most logical conclusion came to mind. "They figure I was making up the stuff about Voldemort and Cedric? Think I'm either crazy or as dark as Voldemort is?"
"Oh, to be sure," Myrtle answered airily, "but that's not the talk we mean." She gave Hermione a wink that made the living girl fume.
Hermione sighed and winced on Harry's behalf. "Just some really rude girls commenting on your… well, not on one thing specifically. Suffice it to say, quite a lot of girls think you are rather fanciable."
Harry's eyebrows rose incredulously. "They talk about me like that?"
"Like you've no mind or feelings at all," Hermione said angrily, "believe me, Harry, when I walk in on that kind of talk I give those girls a good tongue- lashing. They ought not talk about you like that. Half of them have never even spoken to you, wouldn't have the first idea what a great person you are, and they've certainly no right to talk about you like you're just some…object. I've not heard any more of that talk, so maybe they've learned their lesson and shut their mouths."
Myrtle laughed. "Ha! They haven't stopped, they've just spread the word not to talk about Harry in front of you." Myrtle sighed, "But I've become so popular in the loos this term. Once the girls found out I saw Harry naked."
Hermione made a sound between an indignant gasp and a high-pitched whimper and Harry wanted to open the Chamber of Secrets and jump down the shaft.
"You what?" Hermione yelped, and looked at Harry.
Harry grimaced; it was time to come clean on Myrtle's 'help' last term. "You know how I said Cedric tipped me off to put the egg with the clue to the second task under the water? Actually, he just told me to take a bath with it… Myrtle was the one who told me to put it underwater."
"Oh…" Hermione looked torn. Finally, she said to the ghostly girl, "Well, thank you for helping him figure that out, Myrtle."
"That came with thanks in itself," Myrtle sniggered in response, and Hermione narrowed her eyes but chose to say nothing. The ghost looked again at the items between the teens. "Any chance this little project will require another bath?" She looked very pointedly at Harry.
"No," Hermione said curtly. "No, this will have nothing to do with anyone taking a bath."
"Oh… too bad. I wouldn't mind, you know, Harry. Seems the talk in the loos is right; you've had a very good summer," Myrtle gave him another lascivious look.
"You know," Harry stood hastily, "I should probably get back to the common room before Ron wakes up and finds us both gone. He's not likely to think anything good about us being off somewhere without him."
"He's been acting a bit odd this year, don't you think?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged. "He's Ron."
Hermione nodded and let it go at that. "I'll be here a while longer starting the potion. If Ron asks, tell him I'm in the library working on Arithmancy."
As ill luck would have it, Ron was already awake when Harry made it back to the common room, but only just. He approached Harry with a serious case of bed-head, the red hair that was sticking up looking almost like a rooster's crown. "Hey, where were you? And where's Hermione?"
"We were working on some homework in the library. She's still there doing her Arithmancy."
Ron peered a long moment at Harry before nodding acceptance and heading up to the dorm room.
Harry sat down on the now-vacated couch and pulled out a book, thinking he'd wait up a bit for Hermione in case she returned to Gryffindor tower before it was too late in the evening. Once he had his book open, he placed the animagus spell against the pages and began to read the words that he'd almost completely memorized already. If anyone walked by, it would look like he was reading his history book. He was left alone, the open book a sure sign among students to leave another be, while Harry poured over the spell for the hundredthtime.
Patch-work light filtered through the canopy and blanketed the jungle floor. Shadows sliced and slithered and danced amid shades of green, all shades of green, from pale green to primary green to jade to emerald. Even the tree trunks were wrapped in green, moss and ferns and climbing vines questing toward the sky. Birds and insects filled the world with sound, sounds that cut crisp and clear into his ears. He slunk along, close to the ground, smooth and sure. Muscles rippled and his senses were almost maddeninglyacute.
Not a bird wing fluttered or cricket jumped that he did not know about. He was part of the fabric of the jungle, and he felt its pulse through the bottom of his feet, heard it with his ears, tasted it on the wind. He crept through brush and passed under water-heavy leaves of fountain-like ferns, felt their tips trail along his back in perfect little pricks of contact. He came upon the stream snaking its way through the trees, trickling and rushing and sparkling in chunks of reflected sunlight. He moved closer, bent down to drink… and in the water's surface, his reflection, dancing and jumping, all he could make out his black hair and blue eyes.
Harry awoke abruptly and stared up at the canopy of his four poster bed. Early morning light spread from the window of the boys' dorm room, marking the hour as close to seven thirty. Harry blinked and took a deep breath, fighting to orient himself. His body was rigid and his skin flushed and coated in a sheen of sweat. His toes were curled. After a moment adjusting to being awake, he realized he was clutching his sheets in his fists. He consciously opened his fingers and let go hishold.
Harry sighed and rubbed at his face with both hands. The dream again. Harry had had his fair share of unusual dreams and tended not to think much of them, but for the past four nights, it had been one dream inparticular.
The jungle dream. It touched him so powerfully that he awoke as from a Voldemort vision-dream, but without the pain or terror or sensation of diseased rot in his blood. The jungle dream was similar in gripping him so intensely, in jarring him awake to find that his body had been just as gripped by the dream as his mind.
Harry sat up in bed and unexpectedly shivered in the morning air. For a moment, he'd actually expected the tropical heat of the jungle and not the balmy cool of Hogwarts. "That decides it," he muttered to himself as he got out of bed to get in a quick shower before he had to be down for breakfast. He'd not thought anything of the dream the first time except that it had been abnormal from his usual brand of dream, good or bad. When he had the same dream a second time he thought it an odd coincidence. After the third night, he began to wonder if he should tell Hermione. Now this, the fourth night in a row, made up his mind for him. He'd not wanted to bother her about something that might not be important, since she'd been working hard for a week trying to finish the animagus potion before the impending full moon, but it was now to the point where he knew she'd be offended if he didn't tell her.
She was already sitting at the Gryffindor table when he arrived down at the Great Hall for breakfast. She was nibbling on a muffin absently, her full attention on an open book on the table, slanted so she could fit both her plate and book before her. It forced her to cock her head to read as she chewed at the same time. Harry knew Hermione well enough to know that her chews would be timed with the completion of a sentence. Bites matched to new paragraphs, assuming they weren't short ones, drinks with page turns. It was a habit Harry thought strangely cute in his bookish friend.
There was a place empty beside Hermione and Harry sat down next to her. Hermione looked up at him and smiled. "Morning, Harry."
Harry glanced around, slid in closer to Hermione's side, and without thinking about it took her elbow in his hand. Hermione became more serious at once and leaned in closer. "What is it?"
Harry leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Have you been having any unusual dreams?"
Hermione's eyes brightened and Harry felt relieved. Hermione only lit up like that for good things. Her bright eyes from figuring out a nasty but vexing problem had a different glint, and Harry knew how to tell those glimmers apart.
"Yes, I have!" she whispered back excitedly, "Just last night, in fact." Harry took a quick look around to make sure no one was listening, and there were a few people watching them, but they looked more interested in the way Harry had sat down tight beside Hermione and at once bent close to whisper to her. Their smirks and elbow jabs at neighbors gave away their thoughts on the matter, and it wasn't that they could hear Harry and Hermione talking. That was what was important for now, so Harry ignored them.
Hermione was too preoccupied by Harry's confession to even notice the looks cast their way.
Hermione had put her muffin down and shifted to more directly face Harry, though she dare not lean back or talkanylouder."This is just what we wanted to have happen, Harry," she said softly, "it means we're internalizing the transformation spell just as we should for it to work. It's become ingrained and it's finding its way into our dreams, part of our subconscious. Plus the tokens have been put in the potion to strengthen their magical connection, so that would amplify their link to us as well… this is great, Harry. It means our inner animals are stirring."
Harry was just glad to hear it wasn't him alone having unusual dreams. "So what did you dream?"
"I was in a field. There was yellow grass, and trees in the distance, and I was running. I was so fast." Hermione's eyes lost focus, took on a dreamy quality, and Harry knew that Hermione's dreams had been just as intense and visceral as his. He swallowed a lump in his throat at the thought of Hermione waking taut and shiny with sweat ashehad."I was thinking maybe it means I'm a gazelle or something. Wouldn't that be incredible if I was?" Hermione returned her attention sharply to Harry and leaned in closer, in her enthusiasm resting one hand on Harry's leg. "What did you dream, Harry?"
Harry glanced down at Hermione's hand on him then said, "Umm… I'm in a jungle. That's about it. It feels like I'm actually there."
Hermione nodded eagerly, "Me too."
"Ahem."
Harry and Hermione startled apart to see Ron had plopped down at the table across from them and was regarding them both sourly.
Hermione shifted away from Harry and removed her hand from his thigh.
"Good morning, Ron."
Ron turned a particularly venomous glare at Harry but to Hermione said pleasantly enough, "Good morning, Hermione. So, what were you two talking about?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Oh, just Potions."
Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "Uh huh."
Harry frowned and opened his mouth to ask Ron when he'd decided to start carrying his wand up his arse when Ginny exploded upon their tense little trio like a whirlwind.
"Hey! Did you guys hear about Ollivander?"
"No, what about him?" Harry asked, anxious for something to derail the inquisition Ron had started in on, even if it was to risk more of Ginny's blatant and uncomfortable overtures.
Ginny squeezed in next to Ron and said, "He was kidnapped. Right out of Diagon Alley last night."
"Where'd you hear that?" Ron asked.
"From Colin. His cousin started working at Madam Malkins during the summer and owled him this morning with the news. Apparently it's all the talk going around Diagon Alley. Well, now all the talk around Hogwarts, too."
Hermione frowned. "Why would anyone want to kidnap Mister Ollivander?" "Well, the theory is that it was You Know Who."
"Obviously," Ron retorted, "it's not likely someone not in league with You Know Who would have any reason to kidnap anybody."
Ginny shrugged and snatched a sausage shamelessly from Ron's plate. Her brother scowled and scooted his plate away from her.
"What would Voldemort want with a wandsmith?" Harry wondered aloud.
Ron went pale at the dark wizard's name being spoken aloud and Ginny smiled at him, but it was sickly and almost pained. "Dunno. That's the mystery of it. And to think that they could get at someone in a place as public and crowded as Diagon Alley without being caught out is the really frightening part. But I've checked the Daily Prophet, and there's no word of it. Makes you think it really must be You Know Who at work."
"If Mad-Eye's right about everything about You Know Who being exactly what isn't printed in the newspaper, which just sounds cock-eyed if you ask me."
"We didn't," Ginny said shortly and reached toward Ron's plate again. He slapped her hand and shouldered her away. Ron glowered at his sister then turned his anger on the group en masse.
"Wouldn't you think people should have some kind of warning about a dark wizard on the loose?"
"We have had warning. Word of mouth." All eyes turned to Hermione at her proclamation. She glanced once at Harry then leanedincloser."At end of term. Dumbledore told all the students of Hogwarts, as well as the visiting students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, about You Know Who beingback when the ministry didn't particularly think it a wise thing to do. He told everyone he was in a position to tell, a crowd full of witches and wizards. He knew we'd each and every one of us tell our parents or guardians what he told us."
"Right, and did you?" Ron asked snottily.
Hermione abruptly closed her mouth and sat back blinking. She looked thoroughly blind-sided as she looked back at Ron across the table.
Ron nodded at her stunned silence and a sneer twisted his expression into something truly unattractive, almost grotesque even. "Yeah, I thought as much, and what about you, Harry? Tell your guardians about You Know Who, did you?"
Harry didn't really notice nor care about the manner in which Ron flung the question at him. He knew his friend got hot-headed sometimes and said inappropriate things, and he wasn't about to let it get to him. What he did respond to was the verbal attack on Hermione. Ron had no right to launch into Hermione like that, friend or not. He stared hard at Ron, for a moment searching for the good mate he knew had the same face. At times, it seemed Ron was a stranger to him. Before the Triwizard Tournament, Harry would have confessed that Ron could be a prat and a bit thick at times, but never cruel. After the Goblet of Fire, he couldn't attest to that anymore.
Ron was watching Harry and his expression was unreadable.
"My guardians," Harry said slowly, "would be only too happy if I were to die. Given half the chance, they'd probably hand me over to Voldemort themselves, so no, I didn't tell them."
Ron's offensive demeanor crumbled, but it was replaced by something uncertain and uncomfortable… and almost unrecognizable as Harry sat watching and fuming.
The tense stalemate at the breakfast table was broken when Hermione slipped her arm around Harry's and whispered in that cool, soothing voice she could master at will, "Come on, Harry."
He didn't know where she meant them to go, but he didn't have to. He trusted her and he'd follow wherever she went. Without taking his eyes from Ron, he let Hermione tug him to his feet and steer him toward the doors.
She stayed tight at his side, her arm locked around his as though she expected him to break away. He could tell she was tense from the sense emanating from her and the grip she had on his arm. There was a resounding smack from behind them that could only be Ginny swatting her brother a good one upside the back of his head. Ron's invective shortly thereafter was only the seal of proof, though Harry didn't bother to turn around and look. He certainly couldn't spare any sympathy for Ron just then.
Once out in the corridor and out of the sight of the gathered students in the Great Hall, Hermione stopped them both, turned to Harry, and folded against his chest. On reflex, Harry brought up his arms to hold her. Since their new understanding about hugs, it wasn't strange for her to just look to him for one. He'd grown rather accustomed to them. Her hands came up and she fisted the front of his robes in her hands as though she could squeeze away the desire to scream with her fingers. She was rigid in his embrace, taut with tension and anger, and she hissed again his shoulder, "He can be such a prat!"
Harry squeezed her to fend off his own derogatory remark about their redheaded friend. It was uncontested that Ron was a prat, but he'd been particularly pratty since the start of term, and Harry had had about enough. Maybe it was the graveyard, Cedric dying, Voldemort's return… Harry couldn't say, but he did know he didn't suffer mistreatment as he used to. He was tired of cowing and bending and enduring, and bad enough when it was aimed at him, but Hermione, the one person who'd never doubted him or questioned him or abandoned him, which was far more than could be said for Ron...
Hermione sighed against his shoulder and with her escaping breath a measure of her tension fled. Her death grip on his robes loosened, though she still held on. She was a little calmer against him, but still mad. Stillhurt.
Harry was seconds away from turning on his heel and marching back into the Great Hall to give Ron a piece of his mind when Ginny came barreling out of the Hall and almost ran right into them standing just outside the door.
"Oh!" Ginny slid to a stop just as Harry looked over at her past the top of Hermione's head. Hermione looked up at Ginny from Harry's shoulder but didn't make any supreme effort to pull away as though they'd been caught in some illicit act. It was unhurried the way Harry let her go and Hermione moved to face Ginny. They acted as though Ginny had merely come upon them standing and talking in the hall rather than hugging. All in all, very anticlimactic from the split-second gape-jaw expression on Ginny's face.
Ginny looked between the two of them once… then smiled. Smiled for an instant then it was gone. She glanced back toward the Great Hall andher expression darkened. "Not that I take responsibility for that git, but I'm sorry about Ron back there."
"What's his problem?" Harry asked bitterly. He would have an end to Ron doing this to Hermione… being bizarrely accommodating and considerate one moment and striking at her the next. He couldn't allow it to continue, and if it came down to a choice between his friends he had no reservations about where his ultimate loyalty wouldlie.
Ginny opened her mouth to answer when the call of, "Harry Potter, sir!" made all three turn.
"Dobby?" Harry asked as the house elf, wearing a clean white pillow case like a toga with a hole cut for his arms and head, came running up to them. He stopped at Harry's feet and gazed up at the young wizard in nothing short of adoration. "Harry Potter! Headmaster Dumbledore asks you to see him right away."
"Now? But I have Transfiguration in ten minutes."
Dobby shook his head so furiously it sent his bat-like ears flapping. "No, no, excused tardy, Headmaster wants to see you at once. Come, come."
Harry looked back at Hermione and Ginny.
"Go on," Hermione said with a nod, and Harry nodded back and left with the ecstatic house elf.
When he was gone Hermione turned to Ginny, took the younger girl's arm, and led her further from the Great Hall. "Ginny… what is going on with Ron?" she asked in a low voice when they were far enough from prying ears. "He's been behaving even more strangely than usual. Has something happened we should know about?"
Ginny looked almost aggrieved to say it. "Oh, Hermione… it's Ron's problem, and I'm truly sorry it's come between your and Harry's friendship with him, but no one expects you to stop seeing Harry because my brother's jealous."
"Jealous… stop seeing… what?!" Hermione squeaked.
"You know Ron's always fancied you, right?"
Hermione shifted uneasily on her feet and needlessly glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was nearby. "Well… I guess so. I mean, he's always been a bit daft around me, dafter than normal, and I'm not stupid, I figured it might be that. But he's never been so…"
"Mean?"
Hermione nodded.
"Ever since first seeing you again at King's Cross after the summer holiday, Ron got the idea in his head that this year he'd get up the courage to do something about his crush on you. Took quite a bit of guts on his part, actually, maybe he managed to learn a thing or two from those dragon- keepers in Romania after all, who knows, but he was convinced this would be the year. It was just hard on him to learn he was too late."
"And I have a bad feeling this is where you're going to bring in that 'seeing Harry' nonsense," Hermione said warily.
Ginny seemed unfazed by Hermione's dubious tone regarding the subject of Harry. She gave Hermione a sympathetic smile and said, "He shouldn't see it as a betrayal, you were never Ron's, but you know my brother. He doesn't think clearly when it comes to Harry. In some ways, competing with Harry's been loads worse for him than any kind of sibling rivalry at home."
"Just a minute. Are you saying Ron thinks Harry stole me from him?" Ginny nodded.
"But, Ginny! That's ridiculous! Harry and I aren't… we don't… we're not dating."
"Come on, Hermione." That made Hermione pull up short for the second time that morning. Ginny was looking at her with a soft smile and gentle eyes, a complete one-eighty from typical whirlwind, spitfire Ginny Weasley. It was almost disconcerting, but Hermione was helpless to do anything but listen when Ginnywenton."Everyone sees the way you two are around each other this year. You've really done nothing to hide it, and nor should you have to. If it helps, most everyone's happy for you two. Of course, the Slytherin table has a different opinion on the matter, but they're near as like in league with You Know Who, so take that for what it's worth."
"Honestly, Ginny, you've got it wrong. Harry and I are just friends." Hermione frowned when the furtherimplicationsclicked."Not that it would be any of Ron's bloody concern if I was dating Harry. He should be happy for us, you know, were there an us. That's what a friend would do."
"You're right. But my brother can be a colossal arse, a sad fact we both know too well. He's mad when he has no right to be. I don't think he knows how to be friends with both of you and resent both of you at the same time." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and looked almost forlornly toward the entrance to the Great Hall wherein her brotherstillbrooded."He'd really like to blame Harry entirely for this, I know Ron would, but then again you're the one who chose Harry overhim."
"It was never a choice, Ginny!"
"I know that."
Hermione sighed in frustration and rubbed her forehead. She felt the start of a headache creeping up. "Well, thanks for telling me what was making Ron act so bipolar. I don't know what I'm going to do about it, but at least now I know why he's acting strangely."
Ginny nodded, turned to leave, but stopped half-way and looked toward Hermione when another thought occurred to her. "I'm happy for you and Harry, if it counts for anything."
Hermione didn't have the strength to continue to deny a relationship with Harry when Ginny had as well as made up her mind already. It was really the lesser of her problems at the moment. Her big one (after Voldemort, of course) was one Ronald Weasley.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Original Author Notes -A/N: I willsay this once more then I will not address it again. As I stated in theauthor's note forChapter One of this story, I amtaking my canon from the movies, Harryhas blue eyes (because Daniel Radcliffe has blue eyes). I'm sorry if that's an issue for some readers, but I am not changing it.
"Headmaster? Dobby said you wanted to see me?"
Dumbledore looked up from a scroll unfurled on his desk and peered at Harry over his half moon glasses. "Ah, yes, Harry. Please," he gestured toward the chair opposite his desk."Crumpet?"
"Ah, no," Harry sat down as bade and added unnecessarily to the headmaster's offer, "I'm just back from breakfast." Which he hadn't eaten, Harry realized in that moment. He'd been too wrapped up in first telling Hermione his jungle dream, then being forced to deal with Ron the Wonder Prat.
"Very well, then. How was your summer with the Grangers?"
Harry frowned in confusion. He hadn't figured Dumbledore would have him miss the beginning of McGonagall's class to ask about his summer holiday. A summons to the headmaster's office would surely be about something a bit more important than how he rated his summer vacation. But Dumbledore was clearly waiting for an answer. "Umm… well, it was great, actually."
"Delightful to hear. I must say that you look well; it would appear that the Granger residence agrees with you."
"They're very good people." It seemed so little to say for all that the Grangers had done for him, but he wasn't really sure that the full scope of the Grangers' hospitality toward him could be defined in words. It had been beyond anything Harry had ever experienced before.
"So they are."
Harry and Dumbledore stared at each other a moment, Harry perplexed and Dumbledore looking just merry at the chance for a friendly chat, as though they'd gotten together for a spot of tea and light conversation. At some point, it almost became a contest who could hold out longest in this farce.
Harry caved first.
"Umm… Headmaster? Was there a reason you asked me here?"
"Yes, in fact there was." He turned his eyes to his desk and picked up a pocket-sized scroll that most likely had been sent by owl post. He handed it to Harry, who accepted it with a querulous look toward his headmaster. "I needed you to read this in a safe place," Dumbledore said softly.
Harry looked down at the note and his eyes widened. He recognized his godfather's handwriting at once. Instantly, his attention on the note was rapt.
'Harry,
'I'm sorry I have not had the chance to contact you this summer, and I am terribly sorry that I missed your birthday. I know I've missed too many to expect forgiveness for yet another, but I hope you'll understand once Headmaster Dumbledore explains everything to you.
'I can't say much right now, I just wanted you to know I am safe and well… for now. See that you stay that way, too.
'Love, 'Sirius'
Harry read the note twice, but that was all there was. No further explanation to be gleaned from the letter's content, no indication what this 'explanation' from Dumbledore might entail. He finally looked up at the headmaster in question.
Dumbledore flicked his wand and the note in Harry's hand suddenly burst into flame. Harry flinched back and the black cinders fell to the floor.
"And now…" Dumbledore cast a silencio and barred his office door with two expert flicks of his wand, "that explanation due you.
"While you were hidden away at the Grangers and I was here safe-guarding any access to the school records that might lead an enemy to your location, I got in contact with you godfather. Naturally, when he learned of Voldemort's return, your involvement in it, and the dark wizard's continuing morbid interest in you, he was eager to do whatever possible to help protect you.
"Since June he has been on a fact-gathering mission trying to discover the location of Voldemort and his followers. My brother, Aberforth, is working with him."
Harry gaped at Dumbledore. To hear nothing from his godfather, and then suddenly learn he was hunting down Voldemort? Shocked was an understatement to describe Harry's reaction to that news.
"Anything they find out I pass on to the ministry to assist their efforts to combat Voldemort, though of course I don't mention Sirius being present, only my brother. Still a bit of a sticky situation with trying to clear Sirius's name, but at this time a secondary concern. Sirius agrees."
"How…" Harry didn't even know where to begin. "Sirius and your brother?" "An odd pairing for fact-finding partners?"
Harry nodded. Good a question as any.
"Yes, I guess it would seem so. But you see, not so odd, as Aberforth and Sirius have one striking similarity that serves them exceedingly well in this venture. They are both animagi."
Harry sat up straighter. "Your brother's an animagus?"
Dumbledore nodded, sat back in his chair, and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. "When we were young, in our sixth year at Hogwarts, Aberforth and I decided we had yet to tackle one magical hurdle in our education, sanctioned or not. The animagus spell. So we took it upon ourselves to tackle it. I'd blame the fact our mother had been gone quite some time and that Aber and I were practically raised by a house elf that we'd do something so disapproved of by the ministry with little regard for the legal breach it constituted, but that would be unfair to Kimmy. She did help us, was with us every step of the way as we struggled to learn the process toward our first transformation, but she is certainly not at fault and I'd never implicate her as guilty to our mischief. Aberforth and I were headstrong and determined. It took us two years to manage, but ever since Aberforth has had the ability to turn into a golden eagle."
"And did you..."
Dumbledore's eyes refocused and he smiled, but a bit crookedly as though at a tacky joke. "Yes, I too managed the transformation. Had the misfortune to be a pygmy goat, I'm afraid. The first time I brought up my cud really soured me to the animagus experience and I've not done it since. Aberforth, on the other hoof, has enjoyed many flights in his bird of prey form. He was actually the one to deliver Sirius's note to me." Dumbledore paused a moment to give Harry time to let it all sink it. "It is as Shylock that Aberforth is working with Sirius to track down Voldemort, using their animal guises to go places regular wizards could not go without being spotted."
"Shylock?" Harry asked dumbly.
"Aberforth's animagus name."
"Oh." Harry felt slightly numb as he took in all he'd just been told.
Dumbledore sat forward again and leveled a long look at Harry. "I was not convinced that telling you what Sirius was up to was in your best interests.I believed you had enough to worry about without adding your questing godfather to that dour list, but he was insistent that he be allowed to tell you he was well and doing all in his power to help you."
On that Harry was very steadfast inhiscertainty."I want to knowwhat Sirius is doing. Thank you for telling me."
Dumbledore nodded and grew very serious. "I realize you've been through a great deal, Harry. Far more than anyone else your age. With that experience comes a maturity beyond your chronological years, and I have truly made an effort to treat you as the age you reflect rather than the age you are. You deserve as much for what you've had to endure, and so far you've proven up to the task of handling that greater responsibility. Primarily for that reason, I trusted you'd be able to rationally handle news of your godfather's activities… and acknowledged that Sirius just might know you better than I do."
It was odd to think of someone knowing more than Dumbledore about anything, even if it was on the subject of Harry himself. But Sirius was right, Harry had to know. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. I did worry that I hadn't heard from him in so long, and I wanted to send him an owl this summer, but I wasn't sure it would be safe… well, Hermione was sure it wouldn'tbe."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Sirius was convinced you were wise enough to hear the truth and not do anything overly rash; in the end, I was certain you'd be wise enough to listen to Miss Granger should you find yourself unsure."
"I'd have to be touched in the head not to listen to the smartest witch at Hogwarts."
"So it is that great men and women need even greater counsel."
It sounded suspiciously like an implied assent. "Does that mean I can tell Hermione what you told me? About Sirius going after Voldemort?"
"I honestly did not expect you to keep it a secret from her to begin with. But be cautious, Harry. While I would like to think Hogwarts is without its dark sides, we can't be absolutely certain that something seen or heard in the halls or common rooms wouldn't be communicated to Voldemort. It would be disastrous and quite likely fatal for your godfather's animagus form and his current endeavor to be leaked to theenemy."
"I understand," Harry replied gravely.
Dumbledore glanced at the clock on his wall, the face swirling into view from an otherwise moonlit sky just when the old wizard had need to know the time. "You best hurry to Transfiguration then, Harry. Professor McGonagall will not take kindly to you missing too much of her class, and in that there's only so much even I can do to stay her displeasure." As he said the last, there was a humorous twinkle in the headmaster's eye.
Harry stood. "Of course. And thank you again, sir."
Harry turned and made for the door. All of the nettling concerns that had pressed at him when he entered Dumbledore's office, petty quibbles with Ron and insignificant dreams of harmless jungles, were practically forgotten when he left.
Hermione was finding it abnormally difficult to concentrate on Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration. She made the effort, tried to focus so hard that her jaw hurt from clenching so tight, but it seemed to be of little use. Her notebook before her was disturbingly sparse of her handwriting and she was flicking the feather-end of her quill against the desktop. She just couldn't get interested in turning a book into a pixie. She was more concerned with the two empty stools of either side of her. Harry had been summoned to Dumbledore's office, and Ron had not even spared her a glance when the Gryffindors filed into McGonagall's classroom. He veered from the trio's usual spot in the back of the class and instead sat down with Dean and Seamus. Hermione looked at the back of his head and frowned. What Ginny had said was bugging her. Of course, Ron had it completely wrong to think she and Harry were a couple, but if that was the misconception he was erroneously belaboring under, then was it partly her fault that Ron was acting so wretched toward her and Harry? Had she done something to encourage it? Nothing conscious or intentional, but she had to admit that after spending the entire summer together she and Harry were closer. She'd come to truly treasure that newfound closeness to Harry. She didn't like the idea that she ought to feel guilty about it. She and Harry were very close friends, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Ron shouldn't begrudge them companionship.
She was debating whether or not she should try talking to Ron when Harry slipped into class and took a seat on the stool to her right. The issue of Ron's misunderstanding took a backseat as she glanced over at Harry and saw a very… significant look on his face. He had something to tell her, she could read it in his expression. He met her eyes, gave a short shake of his head, then turned his attention to the front of the class. For a second his gaze stopped on Ron sitting with Seamus and Dean and he frowned in mixed anger and confusion, then he was doing his best to listen to McGonagall.
Hermione redoubled her efforts to pay attention to the teacher, a task which usually came second nature to her, but today it felt like replanting mandrakes.
Transfiguration seemed to last an interminably long amount of time before McGonagall dismissed the class. The students stood and gathered their things to make for their next class. Idle chatter picked up as classmates began to converse. Hermione stuffed her book and notes into her bag and glanced toward Ron. He was talking with Seamus and Dean, but at that particular moment he glanced toward Hermione and the expression on his face was both wounded and indignant at once. Hermione wanted to march up to him right then and sort everything out, because this was just stupid, even on the Ron Weasley scale of dumb.
Then Harry was in her personal space, standing over her, leaning down close and whispering, "Mione," in her ear. Hermione saw Ron's ears turn red as he watched from across the room.
Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry to find his face only an inch from hers… he'd not backed off from bending close to whisper to her. She blinked and for an instant her heart fluttered at his proximity, the way his breath warmed her neck and stirred her hair, the way she could breathe in and smell Harry, that scent uniquely his that had become so indelibly familiar. She blinked again to get a hold of herself."Yes?"
"We need to talk," Harry said, and without further explanation reached down and took her hand.
Hermione didn't bother to spare a glance toward Ron as she stood and followed Harry out of the Transfiguration room, his hand linked with hers. She gathered he was taking her somewhere where they could talk. And just as well. Harry needed to hear about Ron's brainless assumption that was giving all of them so much grief. Maybe Harry could talk to Ron; they were both guys, it might sound better or perhaps more convincing coming from him.
Harry led Hermione out into the hall, paused to look around, then he ducked toward a wall with her in tow. Harry opened the door to a broom closet, glanced quickly around to see if anyone was watching, then herded Hermione inside with a hand on her side. Hermione squeezed in and turned to Harry, now doubly curious what could be so important and private that only a broom closet would do.
Harry squeezed inside with her and shut the door behind him, blanketing the room in pitch blackness but for the tiny strip of light where the bottom of the door didn't quite meet the floor. Hermione dug out her wand, cast a silencio, then cast lumos. Harry's face flickered into view, cast in engulfing shadows and lighted by the bluish white light of the lumos spell emitting from the tip of Hermione's wand. Harry squinted from the bright point of light. She lowered her wand to stomach-level so it wasn't glaring in their faces.
Hermione wasn't even thinking about Ron just then. "What did Dumbledore want to see you about?"
"About Sirius. He's out hunting Voldemort." Hermione gasped.
"Did you know Dumbledore is an animagus?" Harry asked.
Hermione adjusted to the change in topic with deft ease. "Yes. Before I brought up the idea of us trying to become animagi this summer I did a fair bit of research on the topic. That's when I learned about Dumbledore. He's registered with the ministry. He's listed as non-practicing, though… hasn't been an active animagus for over seventy years. When a witch or wizard is capable of becoming an animagus but hasn't for a long period of time, so long it might as well be assumed they never intend to transform again, the ministry reclassifies them so the Animagus Registry will reflect only currently practicing animagi."
Harry stopped to regard Hermione a moment. "You don't seem at all surprised that Dumbledore's an animagus."
"I'm not. A wizard as powerful as Dumbledore… I'm not certain I'd consider anything beyond his abilities."
Harry had to concede that fact. "I guess so. When you were looking into the Animagus Registry, did you learn that Aberforth Dumbledore is an animagus too?"
Hermione nodded then frowned. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I found out; I honestly didn't think you'd be all that interested."
Harry smirked. "Well, you're right, normally I wouldn't be, but Dumbledore called me into his office just now to tell me that Sirius and Aberforth are working together, using their animal forms, to try and find Voldemort."
"Goodness…" Hermione murmured in muted shock. "Should Sirius be out looking for trouble? I mean, he's still on the outs with the ministry; they still think he's a guilty man."
Harry shrugged. "I know, but he found out about what happened end of term last year, with Voldemort and Cedric in the graveyard, and he insisted on doing something to try and keep me safe." Harry's expression turned drawn and concerned.
Hermione stepped closer and touched his arm with her free hand. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Harry. Sirius is a clever wizard, he had to be to escape Azkaban, and if he has a Dumbledore with him… I can't expect there's anyone better to have as an ally. If Aberforth's even half as powerful as his brother, and you know, magical ability like that often runs in families, so I'll bet his is, then we needn't be too worried for Sirius's sake. I imagine the pair of them can handle anything that crops up."
"I know, I just… I'm tired of people I care about being in danger because of me."
Hermione slid her hand down his arm until she took his hand in hers. She gave his fingers a squeeze. "We put ourselves on the line for you because you're worth it, Harry."
Harry sighed. He looked far from bolstered by Hermione's statement, if anything, he looked a little pale. But maybe that was the light of the lumos.
Then he squeezed her hand in return and said, "We should go before we're late to our next class." He didn't want to talk about it, obviously, and she wasn't going to push him.
Hermione nodded agreement, extinguished her lumos, disspelled the silencio, then pressed close to Harry in the total darkness as he moved to the door knob. They slipped back out into the corridor of students hurrying to class, Hermione's hand firmly held in Harry's. Fred and George were loitering not far from the broom closet, near enough to see the two fifth years make their exit. Fred raised the call. "Oiy! Way to go, Harry!" A few cat calls and whistles followed on the heels of Fred's attention-grabbing salutation. It didn't take a genius to know what everyone figured she and Harry had been doing in the broom closet between classes. Hermione blushed furiously, but Harry's hold on her hand did not waver and Hermione drew courage from it.
If Harry wasn't going to shy then neither would she. She hurried to walk more closely at Harry's side, their fingers still firmly entangled, and they plowed through the giggles and teasing without acknowledging a single one of them.
Only briefly did Hermione pause to wonder if Ron was anywhere nearby, and if he'd seen. Even if he hadn't seen them, he'd no doubt hear about Harry and Hermione's presumed mid-day broom closet snog-fest through the rumor mill before the day's end.
She was not going to worry about it. With Harry's godfather in harm's way, hunting down the most powerful dark wizard in history in order to safeguard Harry, Ron's little sophomoric tantrums were inconsequential.