“You know, it’s a pity Lupin saw that. I really wanted to watch that McKee tear into the ferret. It would have been a sight for sore eyes,” Ron daydreamed.
“She didn’t even use her wand,” commented Harry.
The former shrugged in reply. “She probably went to go grab it, but wasn’t quick enough.”
“I don’t know,” the scarred boy sighed. They wandered back toward Gryffindor Tower. The notes were beginning to pile, up, and Harry was beginning to feel the strain of N.E.W.T. level classes and essays. Just today, they began their study of vampires, and already had 3 feet of parchment to write on ‘Correct and Incorrect Traits of Vampires in Folklore’.
While silently bemoaning endless homework, he groaned aloud when he remembered that he was to meet with Dumbledore for another entertaining Occlumency lesson.
“What’s that about?” asked Ron with his eyes flicking about, looking for the source of Harry’s annoyance.
“I’ve got to go get my brain smashed in by Dumbledore again,” he sighed. “And he still hasn’t told me who was in his memory.” Harry’s shoulders slumped as he turned to head in the direction of the headmaster’s office.
“See you mate! Show him one of those disgusting thoughts! He’ll be wary of you then!” Ron called down the passageway. Without giving much attention to the thought, Harry wondered just how much Ron knew about his ‘disgusting thoughts’.
He entered Dumbledore’s cluttered office and instantly recognized the mane of hair that poked and curled around the sides of the chair. “Hey Hermione. Professor, what is she doing here?”
“Ah, Harry. Please, come, take a seat.” Harry took the chair next to Hermione and felt a strong sense of déjà vu. So much had happened in that very office over the years . . .
Headmaster Dumbledore grabbed hold of the arms of his own chair and lowered himself ponderously. His eyes found the tousled-haired boy. “After our most recent lesson, I was left with much to think about. For one matter, you seemed to be sincerely concerned about Hermione, here.” He gestured toward her with an open palm. She didn’t glance up from where she was inspecting a dent in the old man’s desk. “Professor Lupin investigated the matter . . . at my request. I shall explain her role in this lesson in a moment. In the second instance, you got through my own defenses and found yourself in one of my memories, most assuredly by no purposeful intention.”
Harry opened his mouth to demand the identity of the mystery speaker once more, but quickly snapped it shut again.
Dumbledore continued, unaware of a pause. “It would be untruthful to say you had not surprised me, Harry. I believe that while performing readings with Ginny, you had occasionally ventured into her mind as well . . .”
A sharp intake of breath came form Hermione and she glared at Harry accusatorily. “She let me!” He hissed at her. Suddenly, though, he felt a nagging discomfort in the back of his mind.
Dumbledore looked down his nose at the students until an obedient silence fell over them. “I believe that, for reasons I have not yet discerned, your reading have allowed you to acclimate your mind to intrusion. While this seems like a step backward in becoming an Occlumens, it is, in fact, just the opposite. You’ve learned to guide Ginny to particular thoughts and memories. This is, as you will learn, half the battle. That said, perhaps Hermione would like to tell you why she is here today.” The headmaster gave her a curt nod.
“All right. Well, I’ve been working for probably longer than I should on the translation of the parchment and the leather “ the skin we “ erm . . . found. With all the . . .” Hermione avoided Harry’s gaze, “extra time I’ve had, I’ve managed to work a lot of it out.”
Albus interrupted. “To be sure your thoughts or memories of Hermione and her translations don’t get through, we will include Hermione in our Occlumency lessons.”
“But why? If she doesn’t tell me anything, and Voldemort can’t break into her mind . . .”
“We may never know all that we know, and it is good to be cautious, Harry.” It was never a warm, fuzzy feeling that crept up his spine when Dumbledore chose to be evasive.
“Legilimens!”
“Knight to E5. This whole year has been a nightmare! We’ve got loads of homework every day “ “
“Yeah, I’ve turned in a couple of assignments a bit late. It’s horrible. And term’s only half way through.”
“And Hermione’s gone totally mad!” They purposely waded away from the subject of Ginny. Ron still wasn’t keen on the idea of her kissing, and Harry resented Ron’s involvement altogether.
“Grodporter slime “ “
“Two Quidditch games won!” Ron beamed.
“Bishop to C3. Luna Lovegood.” Both suppressed a laugh.
“Vampires.”
“Mirages.”
“The human mood ring.”
“Let’s not forget our painting of Malfoy. McGonagall hung that up in her office. Did you see?” Ron glowed in mirth.
“Yeah, I had detention with her a few times. Hagrid,” grinned Harry. “The entire class will run in circles once they meet the baby dragon Hagrid’s ordered.”
Ron allowed a smile to flit across his face before the balls of his cheeks slipped down solemnly.
“Well, at least you don’t have to deal with terrifying creatures,” Harry tried to comfort his distraught friend, taking his silence for a fear of the dragon.
Ron sucked in his cheeks for a moment, an annoying red hair falling into his eyes. “It’s all different.” He swallowed a lump.
“What do you mean?”
“Everything used to be normal. Now it’s changing.” He stared dejectedly down at the Gryffindor dining table.
“What’s changing?” came a brisk voice along with the loud clunk of a trunk. It was Hermione, her face a-glow against the wool scarf draped around her neck.
“Oh . . . er . . . us. We’re switching chess sets for the next round.”
“Oh. Well . . . I’m off!”
“We’re leaving for Christmas tomorrow instead of today . . . There was . . . something everyone had to do . . .” Ron stealthily glanced around for eavesdroppers.
She cleared her throat nervously. “Yes, well.” She seemed to be gathering her thoughts for a moment as her eyes screwed up toward the ceiling. “I have to go home. I have to go be with my parents,” she said firmly.
“What? But I thought “ “
“I have to be with them.”
Ron was visibly conflicted with trying to understand her motives for breaking their previous plans, and wanting to spend Christmas with her.
In contrast, however, Hermione’s forehead was smooth. Her eyes were just barely squinted. Her lips were set, straight and firm. Put plainly, Hermione didn’t seem too miffed about not hanging around Ron all holiday. And that was somehow disturbing. What is going on with her?
Silence smothered them for a moment before removing its hand. All three friends looked at each other as they were without any pretenses or masks. Each held a rift between themselves and the other two. A palpable loneliness was seeping beneath their skin.
“Well!” Hermione erupted, breaking the thoughts drifting in and out of one another’s mind. “Must go. They’re gathering now for the train. I should be going.” She gave the two quick hugs and strolled quickly away. Ron stared at the chess board in numbness.
If now isn’t a good time, I don’t know when there will be one. “Be back in a second, Ron. Don’t move any of my pieces.” He nearly galloped to where Hermione stood in the Entry Hall, shifting her feet a bit.
“Hey, Harry,” she smiled slightly. “Did you miss me already, then?”
“No, I came to ask you something. That first day of Occlumency, Dumbledore said, ‘You would not do well to indulge in endless searching. Look around you.’ What did he mean by that? What are you searching for?”
“I don’t see how that’s your business,” Hermione clipped.
“No, it’s not,” he said hurriedly, trying to push through the situation without creating a scene. “But things have been different with you lately. It’s bothering Ron; I can tell. And you haven’t even tried to do anything about it!” He realized he was shouting only near the end, and students stared at them conspicuously.
Her face was pale; his anger seemed to have washed the color from her face. “How dare you! I care! I’ve had a lot on my plate and “ “
“Like what? What’s so much more important than your friends?”
“I’m not telling you!”
“That’s just it! You’re not telling anyone! In the meantime, you’ve been treating people as if they were dirt!”
He swore he could see the moisture in her eyes as they picked through the crowd, catching another pair of eyes, seemingly, and reverted back to Harry. This small fact satisfied him just a little. “I can’t, Harry.”
“Carriages ‘ave arrived!” came Hagrid’s great bellow. Hermione shook her head and turned to leave, looking back only once.
“Argh! Christmas will be loads of fun now. Let’s have a ball in honor of the great McKee, who’ll bestow upon us all the spirit of a hemorrhaging cow!”
Ron was not absolutely thrilled at the prospect of having McKee as a guest for the holidays.
Harry laughed at the ludicrous image, but had similar misgivings. “So . . . you’ll be there to keep her occupied, right Ginny?”
“Honestly, one might think you two were actually afraid of her.” She smirked at them as she turned away.
“We’re not afraid of her,” they both assured her.
“She’s just not exactly sugar and spice,” said Ron. Aside from his current dilemma, he seemed to be well suited to the atmosphere at Grimmauld Place. The slight blow he perceived at Hogwarts with Hermione’s change of plans didn’t seem to extend so far into his life that it followed him to London. He was not wonderful, but he was all right.
“Why is she coming, anyway?” Harry rested his rear on Ginny’s bed, talking to her back as she facetiously unpacked.
“She’s got no one else,” Ginny replied curtly. “If you two could manage to ignore the rude bits, I think you’d be fine with her.”
Ron coughed a bit, and it sounded suspiciously like ‘not on your life’.
“I don’t know how you manage to duel with her,” Ron mused from the doorway. “She always cheats with that blade of hers. You know, she carries it around as if it were a token from a lover.”
His sister turned slightly and raised an eyebrow at him from over her shoulder, saying nothing in response. Ron, however, blushed extraordinarily.
While the Weasleys were finishing up breakfast, Harry was in his room, digging through his perpetually disorganized trunk. He searched out his left-over galleons from last year in order to buy presents in Diagon Alley for his family.
It seems like ages ago that we were there. They came so quickly, and me and Hermione couldn’t move fast enough. Malfoy. Harry gave an involuntary shudder as the ghostly image of Lucius appeared before him, as large as before. He’s haunting Hogwarts. But what can he possibly do as a ghost? He then thought of Peeves and amused himself with combining Peeves’ tricks and Malfoy’s gloomy visage.
He jerked back, landing on his bum, as his hand fell on some especially cold object. Harry scrambled over to his trunk and peered over the edge at the offending item. The mirrors! He removed one of the remaining three from the open box he’d stashed away inside his expanded trunk.
Thankfully, it wasn’t broken. The metal weaved around the edge like some meandering river. The reflection annoyed him. It seemed to be an inappropriate time for some skinny bloke to be staring at him.
“Sirius’ mirror,” the whisper came and faded into nothingness. A cool breeze swam past his ears, telling him to do it, to try one more time. This is stupid.
“Sirius . . .” he mumbled gruffly, wanting and trying his best to remain unruffled.
His heart slammed against his rib cage as he flung the freezing mirror onto his bed and backed away. What sounded like a strong exhalation emanated from the oval mirror. No, he shuddered even as it gained radiance.
“Hhhhaaricole,” the mirror breathed. Thousands of chattering whispers danced in his ears, raising a thunderous noise. “Whhhinew.”
“What?” he mumbled ineffectually into the light.
“Hhhhhaaricole.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t understand you.”
“Whhinewicole.”
He took a step closer, bit by bit, until he propped himself above the mirror on extended arms. While the light looked burning hot, it was cool on his face. Still, he could not quite hear them. Anxiously, tentatively, he lowered his ear to the glass.
“Harry called,” grumbled the mirror, causing Harry to yell and jump backward. His curiosity took over and he returned, propelled by something he couldn’t deny.
“We knew he would call.” It was in answer to the first.
“S . . . Sirius?” he asked with a squeak in his throat.
“He speaks!” Silence.
Then, a familiar voice rang through his mind. It spoke quickly. “You are protected by more! T . . . the love in your blood! Trust! He despises it! He doesn’t . . .” It faded as Harry gaped at the torturously camouflaging light. “He doesn’t trust! I . . . alive! He stole it . . . you’re alive!”
“Sirius!” Harry roared with all the force in his lungs, unsure of how to react. It was him! I know it was him!
The whispers returned in their excitement. Harry’s arms shook at his sides as he stood glaring at the mirror. They’re shouting below. Bullocks! They’re coming!
He searched around the room impatiently. How does it turn off? “Shit.” In haste, he picked up the mirror, said, “Stop! End!” and the mirror darkened as he shoved it beneath a pillow.
His chest heaved and his stomach clenched as he spun around to watch the door being flung open. Mrs. Weasley rushed in and wrapped her tender arms around the boy. “Oh, you poor thing! It’s ok. Just breathe, and I’ll wait here until it’s better.”