Once again, thanks to Moonysgirl79 for betaing.
And hear what I’ve got to say
Burning words of anger
Of hate and desperation.
(Lacrimosa)
Harry spent another night tossing and turning in his bed. Anxious about how Ginny would react to his letter, he even skipped breakfast the next morning, afraid that he might possibly run into her in the Great Hall. The first lesson of the day passed without Harry noticing. He kept glancing at Hermione, trying to determine from her behaviour if she knew anything of the letter. Unsurprisingly, Hermione’s attention was focused on Professor Snape’s lecture about most potent potions. Harry was glad he was seated at the back of the class because his notes were mainly tiny little pictures of hearts and engravings of four certain initials. Snape would have a field day should he spot the parchment.
Defence against the Dark Arts lifted his spirits a bit. Professor Flitwick asked them to produce a Patronus and, with no Dementors present, Harry’s stag happily galloped around the room. Afterwards, he had no more reasons to stay away from the Great Hall or Ginny. His nerves were at breaking point anyway; he had to find out what she thought of his letter, so he decided to look for her. He quickly found her near the Fat Lady, apparently just returning from her last class.
“Hi, Ginny,” he said, surprised by his steady voice.
“Harry!” She whipped around, her cheeks colouring in a soft, cute pink. The amazingly interesting arrangement of the stone tiles caught both their attention. Embarrassed, they studied it for several moments until Harry worked up the courage to speak.
“Did you get a letter today?” From the corner of his eye, he could see her nod. Frustrated that she didn’t speak and lost for words, Harry began to stutter nonsense.
“I…ehm…did you…ehm…the weather is nice.” He could have slapped himself.
More moments of silence passed. “The letter was cute,” Ginny finally admitted, barely audible. “I really liked it.”
Harry stepped closer to her. He took her hand, and their eyes met for the first time. Harry caught a quick insight of her emotions. She had been very happy indeed about the letter, almost cried. He could see Hermione standing next to Ginny, looking serious.
“Ginny,” he said earnestly, “What did Hermione say to you?”
Ginny look at him, astounded. “Well…ehm…I’m supposed to talk to you, but not about the letter. It’s about Simon,” she explained hesitantly.
Harry hadn’t expected this. He eyed her suspiciously. “What about him?”
“Did you ever notice that they disappeared about the same time during the Yule ball?”
Harry nodded, but he actually only remembered the time he spent with Ginny, dancing.
“She thinks he did something to her then,” Ginny continued carefully.
“Oh, great, not her too. Where is she?” Harry exclaimed angrily.
“I think she was on her way to the library. But, Harry…” Ginny tried to stop him from storming away, but he didn’t care.
Won’t this ever stop? People accusing Simon of all those silly things? Simon had just gained some respect among the students, and then someone else started a rumour. He saw her seated in her usual corner with stacks of books all around. Ron was with her. Harry only regarded him with a contemptuous glance. Ginny who had followed Harry, sat down beside Hermione.
“What’s that I hear about you accusing Simon?” Harry didn’t waste time beating around the bush.
“Calm down and have a seat,” Hermione started, but Harry denied her this wish.
“Okay, well. The Yule Ball. Everything was so confusing. I have no clue what happened to me,” Hermione said.
Harry nodded; that wasn’t news to him.
“My memory is still a bit blurry, but I’ve been having this dream, and the more I think about it the less I think it’s a dream after all,” she continued.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“I don’t think Simon is as innocent as he seems. Harry,” she said loudly before he managed to interrupt her, “in this dream, it’s the Yule ball, but I’m in a room somewhere in Hogwarts. I see Simon. He’s laughing and threatening me with his wand.”
“Hermione, it’s a dream.”
“No! Harry, I don’t know how to describe it best or where this dream originated or what exactly Simon is saying, but Harry, his eyes! And did you ever see him laugh before? Cold and diabolic! He…he wants to kill me, but is not allowed to. Then the kiss…”
Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re only mad because he rejected you.”
“No, Harry, the kiss was cold, ice-cold.”
“You weren’t yourself that night. But that’s not a reason to turn Simon into a scapegoat. You were drunk.”
“Hermione and drunk, that already doesn’t sound right, don’t you think?” Ron intervened.
“Of course you’re siding with her, now. You hate him, even though you’ve never properly met him.” Harry was quickly losing his temper.
“Oh, you have no idea! Every time I’m close to him, I have to think about gruesome things! I don’t know how he does it, but he makes me believe he’s a Death Eater!”
“Simon? A Death Eater? HA!” Harry was really angry now. “How come he hasn’t killed me yet? Or even attempted it? No, instead he teaches me Occlumency to strengthen my defences!”
“Right. And how well are you doing, then? Is he a better teacher than Snape?” Ron asked sarcastically.
“Yes! I’m much more advanced now. We’ll be starting with Legilimency soon,” Harry triumphed.
“Oh, that reminds me. Have you ever heard of something called the Legilimens’ Kiss?” Hermione asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Ron said with a side glance to Harry. “Why?”
“They’re said to be really cold,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
“Hermione, cut it out already,” Harry exhaled in despair. “You were in love with him. He rejected you. Your emotions are confused.”
“The only one who’s confused is you, Harry,” Ron roared. He had jumped up and moved behind Hermione, putting one hand on her shoulder. “He’s not the good mate he pretends to be! What does it take to make you see reason? Will you only believe us when he drops his mask and it’s too late?”
“You’re mad as hell!” Harry retorted heatedly. “It’s you who’s talking nonsense! Hermione used to like Simon. You infl…”
“I don’t have to listen to this rubbish! Do as you like, but keep in mind that I warned you right from the beginning,” Ron shouted before Harry could finish. He angrily slammed a book shut and almost ran from the library.
As soon as Ron was out of sight, Harry’s anger decreased a bit. He looked at Ginny and Hermione for an explanation and excuse but only received silent stares in return. He wasn’t sure if Ron really had managed to convince Hermione; she seemed to have a steady opinion on her ‘dream’. He didn’t want to take this further, since it wasn’t the first warning he had heard. What if Simon really was a Death Eater? But then, why should he be? He has done so many things giving evidence that he wasn’t a supporter of the Dark side. No, it just didn’t fit.
“I just can’t come to a different conclusion other than to trust him. Why should he be playing a part?” Harry asked no one in particular.
“No idea,” Hermione admitted. “He's so nice, but I’m just not so sure anymore. His laugh, his eyes, he…”
Harry! Suddenly, Simon’s agonized voice pierced his mind. Help me! Simon yelled, the voice full of pain.
“Simon!” Harry exclaimed. Hermione and Ginny stared at him when he jumped up and pulled his wand from his pocket.
Where are you? He asked while running out of the library, Hermione and Ginny on his heels.
“Harry, what is it?” the girls had dropped their things upon seeing his scared face.
“Simon’s in danger somewhere,” he said and repeated in his mind, Where are you?
Seventh floor, third corridor…Simon dragged the words and suddenly felt silent.
Harry ran faster. Left or right? But he didn’t get an answer. Hastily, he climbed the steps, pushing other students aside. “We have to find him. He’s hurt. He’s somewhere up here!”
Simon, why aren’t you answering?
When they reached the seventh floor, Harry turned into the right hand corridor, Hermione ran to the left and Ginny straight. But, Simon was nowhere to be found. Harry ran back to the stairs, hoping desperately that one of the girls had been successful. Hermione was already springing towards him but hadn’t seen anything either. Just in that moment, they heard Ginny’s sharp scream. They stormed in the direction it came from, but a crackling, bluish light stopped them. Ginny was standing only a few steps away at a corner, staring at something in front of her. Slowly, they moved closer. When they rounded the corner, they saw the body lying on the floor; blue-white flames were licking its form and had covered it almost completely.
“Simon!” Harry yelled.
“Finite Incantatem!” A bright, yellow gleam broke through the fatal blue flames. Hermione watched her charm as it dissolved the fire. It took only seconds before it was gone.
Simon was still lying on the floor, unmoving. His clothes were nearly all burned; only streaks of fabric were clinging to red flesh. Blistered, raw skin was exposed everywhere and the sharp smell of burned flesh hung in the air. His upper body, arms, hands and a major part of his face were wrecked and his eyes were closed. Harry took a step towards Simon but couldn’t detect any sign of life.
“What are you doing? Go, run, get help!” he screeched at Ginny and Hermione. The girls woke from their petrified state and quickly hastened away to do as told. “Please, Simon,” he whispered.
“Simon,” Harry started a new attempt to wake the injured boy up. “Please, don’t be dead.” But nothing happened. He tried to feel a pulse, if just a weak one. The skin felt unnaturally hot, and a few blisters burst upon Harry’s touch. Soon, his hands and sleeves were covered in blood, but Harry didn’t notice. He finally found fragile a pulse and noticed a breath so feeble he’d almost missed it entirely. ‘He needs help,’ Harry thought, tears streaming down his cheeks. Desperately, he clutched his hands above Simon’s heart, forcing it to keep beating. “Breath, Simon, keep breathing,” he insisted. “Help will be here soon. Madam Pomfrey will fix you up again, you’ll see. Just don’t die.”
Beneath his hands, Harry was aware of the fading heartbeat.
After what seemed to have been hours, Harry perceived the sounds of approaching footsteps.
“Over here, hurry up,” he yelled. “He won’t last much longer!”
Professor McGonagall stepped around the corner and gasped when she saw the scene in front of her. Harry could tell by her expression that she had come upon them by accident.
“Mr. Potter, what…?” she asked and quickly bent down and automatically felt for Simon’s pulse, just as Harry had done.
“He’s alive, though barely,” she declared. McGonagall drew her wand, directed it at Simon, who was still unconscious and murmured a few well-chosen words. Immediately, his breathing improved a bit. “Who is he?”
“Simon Lestrange,” Harry replied.
“Help me carry him to the Hospital Wing,” she instructed Harry, who nodded eager to finally give Simon some aid. McGonagall conjured a stretcher and together they heaved Simon’s body on top. More blood poured onto Harry’s robes. They heard a loud intake of breath and looked up. Ginny and Hermione were back, closely followed by Snape.
“Is he …dead?” Ginny asked.
“No, just unconscious,” Harry answered.
Snape conjured a blanket to cover Simon’s almost-naked body before the group scurried down to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey yelped when she saw Simon’s mangled body. She dashed next door to retrieve bandages, creams and healing potions. Snape and McGonagall hauled him onto one of the beds.
“You three had better leave,” Madam Pomfrey announced when she returned.
“I’ll stay,” Harry insisted.
“All right, but the girls really should leave,” the school matron determined.
McGonagall summoned the curtains used to give patients privacy before following the girls outside to make sure they were all right. Snape went to notify Dumbledore of the incident.
“Mr. Potter, you can help me by soaking the bandages in this potion. We have to cover the entire skin with them,” Madam Pomfrey suggested while dipping white bandages into a small cauldron, then cautiously wrapping them around Simon’s left arm.
“Will he make it?” Harry had kneeled next to the cauldron and was now soaking the next bandage in the cooling liquid.
“If we’re lucky, he won’t even have too many scars or none at all, but it’s going to take a while.”
She carefully wrapped every bandage around Simon’s left arm, then set about draping them over the other; all the while, he didn’t react to the touches at all. Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and relieved the body of the remaining garments. “I’ll need your help with the upper body,” she said to Harry. He was instructed to move to the other side of the bed and cautiously lift Simon’s upper body. The matron arranged more bandages around it. When he was back in a lying position, Madam Pomfrey used a smaller strap to cover Simon’s right face
“How is he?” Snape had returned and had noiselessly stepped around the curtains.
“He’ll survive; I’ll get a strong painkiller potion in a moment, then we can wake him up,” Madam Pomfrey declared.
“Who did this?” Snape asked Harry, somewhat more hostile than usual.
“I don’t know, Sir. Ginny found him, but no one else was in that corridor when we arrived,” Harry explained, afraid to be declared the culprit.
“No suspects?” Snape stared at him suspiciously, and Harry quickly dropped his gaze.
Harry thought of Ron and his mood when he had left them, but didn’t believe his former best friend would do such a gruesome thing.
“No, sir,” he said.
Harry…thank you! Simons voice was in his head. I didn’t know if I still had the strength to reach you.
Who did it? Harry asked back, dreading the answer.
Ron! He came after me. Suddenly, he was there, and before I could sense his anger or draw my wand to defend myself, he had already cast the spell.
Harry was too shocked to react right away. Ron? But why? Being mad was one thing, but attacking someone with a could-be-fatal curse was another and just didn’t sound like Ron.
I suspected him, but never thought…he actually…Harry was lost for words.
You were fighting about me again, weren’t you? Simon inquired.
Yes, Harry admitted and remembered Hermione’s accusations.
What do you think about it? Simon asked and even his inner voice sounded exhausted.
Well, I’m not sure. But I don’t believe it, Harry thought.
And you’re right. I’m not a Death Eater. If just a few would share your opinion and didn’t judge books by their covers, I could actually lead a quiet life, Simon said.
Does it still hurt much? Harry asked to change the topic.
The potion kills most of the pain, but I don’t dare to move, not even to speak. The stinging would no doubt come back.
They kept ‘talking’ until Madam Pomfrey returned after about an hour to give Simon a new dose of palliatives. And another hour later, she revisited the bed, carrying the cauldron containing the potion for the bandages; they had to be changed. Harry was surprised to see how many blisters had already vanished. The skin was still red, but not as crimson as before.
“It’ll take two or three days until the skin will have recovered from the curses effects,” she said and went to get Simon a bowl of soup. She helped Simon sit up, and since his heavily bandaged hands prevented him from eating himself, she fed him spoon by spoon. To save Simon the embarrassment, she sent Harry out to grab some dinner in the Great Hall.
“I’ll be back after dinner,” Harry promised.
Simon tried to form an encouraging smile, but agony let his body shudder. See you later, then.
Lost in thoughts, Harry strolled down to the Great Hall, trying hard to figure out why Ron would have done such a horrible thing. Snape had already threatened the culprit who attempted to cast the fire-curse on Owen Caldwell with expulsion, but what would Ron, who had been even more successful, face? Surely Snape would show no mercy, especially since it was his own Godson who happened to be the victim. In the Great Hall, Harry slipped onto a seat, not daring to look over to the Phoenix table. He wasn’t sure how he’d react should Ron be eating his dinner now, too. Harry didn’t want to risk a fight and thus draw the attention to Ron’s involvement. He took a solemn bite from a slice of bread. It tasted odd.
During the next days, Harry could mostly be found in the Hospital Wing. It was no extraordinary sight if he strolled out of a class, not really knowing what they had discussed that day. Simon was on his way to complete recovery. He was able to talk again, though it still seemed to cause him pain. Every time Snape came to look after Simon, Harry left. He was too scared he’d give Ron away. But he stayed close by, praying that Snape would not be storming out angrily, looking for Ron. Simon seemed to stick to his word. Harry had begged him not to tell on Ron, and this just proved to Harry that Simon couldn’t be the Death Eater everyone accused him of being.
Harry had only seen Ron once since the attack. Ron had been sitting at his house table, staring at an untouched bowl of porridge. ‘Yeah, you have every right to feel guilty,’ Harry had thought. Ron then had looked up and gaped at Harry. Had he really just projected the thought into Ron’s mind? Ron’s eyes looked frightened. Ron had checked the teacher’s table, where McGonagall and McPherson were talking, causing Harry to quickly look away. The blinding anger rising inside Harry would do no one any good at this moment.
On the fourth day after the attack, the blisters on Simon’s skin had disappeared completely. However, Simon still reported a slight burning feeling on it. His body was still very weak, too. He couldn’t stand up for longer than a few minutes time. Harry once again sat with him, trying to distract his friend from the boring quiet of the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey brought a breakfast tray and announced that Simon might be able to leave in a few days - if he kept a slow pace. After that, Harry had to run to his first class of the morning, Charms.
When he entered the classroom, the lesson had already started. McPherson shot him a firm glance but continued her sentence. Harry slumped onto a chair and tried to focus. The Professor was lecturing them about Apparating - a difficult string of magic, which required a great deal of concentration. They had been studying geographic details for over a month now, details which were important if wanted to reappear at the intended location and not in the middle of the rain forest.
“So,” Professor McPherson as saying, “who can tell me the exact code if you want to apparate to Diagon Alley?”
Silence fell over the class. Harry’s eyes searched the classroom no hands were up in the air.
Hold on a second, no hands? Not even Hermione’s? Harry squinted and looked around the room again. He couldn’t see Hermione anywhere. That was weird. He hadn’t actually talked to her for days, only met her briefly after their classes together to tell her how Simon was improving. No matter her accusation, she till seemed to have feelings for him. But she didn’t dare to visit him herself, fearing he might sense her feeble distrust and that there was a bit of truth in her dream. She also had no idea that Ron really was involved, though she had mentioned a light suspicion. After the lesson, Harry cornered Neville.
“Have you seen Hermione?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since last night.” Neville shrugged. “She’s been doing overtime in the library, I bet she fell asleep on a pile of books “ yet again.”
During his next lesson, Muggle Studies, Harry had already shoved Hermione’s lack of presence aside. Maybe she was just not feeling well, caught a cold or something, or, as Neville suggested, had spent the night on top of a pile of books and was now exhausted. Instead, Harry enjoyed the stand-up comedy Malfoy was putting on. He had tried to dry his hair with an ordinary Muggle hairdryer - an attempt with disastrous results. After the lesson, Ginny surprisingly stood in the opposite wall of the door, apparently waiting for Harry.
“Hey, Ginny! What are you doing here?”
“Well, I just wanted to say ‘hi’, but I guess you’re on your way to Simon, so…” she trailed off.
Harry smirked but hurried his steps to walk next to her.
“How is he?” Ginny asked.
“Quite well, actually. He might be allowed to leave soon,” Harry replied.
“Owen was back in class today,” she said.
“Oh, did they found out who did it?”
“Nah, I don’t think Slytherins are brave enough to admit it,” Ginny spat. “Was Simon able to see the offender?”
“Hmm…yes,” Harry murmured. He couldn’t tell her that her brother was capable of an attempted murder; this should better stay between Simon and Ron and him.
“Well? Who?” Ginny urged him
“I don’t think I should tell you,” Harry tried to beat about the bush.
“It was Ron, wasn’t it?” Ginny grimaced. Harry sighed, but didn’t answer.
“Harry! Yes or no?”
Why couldn’t he just have told her that Simon hadn’t recognized anyone? Why couldn’t he have kept his stupid mouth shut?
“What if? What would you do? Have him expelled? Watch him serving a life long detention with Snape?”
Ginny shook her had sadly.
“See. It makes no difference. The less there are to know about it, the better. Simon promised not to say anything, either.”
“It was Ron.” Ginny sounded desperate and angry at the same time.
“Please don’t tell Hermione. She seems to suspect something is up but also still seems to sit between the chairs,” Harry pleaded.
“Hermione already believes Ron did it,” Ginny stated glumly.
Harry sighed. He didn’t think he should ask her now where Hermione was. He watched Ginny silently, pushing all his negative feelings to a far back corner of his mind. Should he hug her? She was standing close enough. Ginny sensed his eyes upon her and shyly looked up and down the corridor. Then she came closer and quickly brushed her lips against his cheek. She blushed, waiting for a response.
When none came, she said, “Ehm, well, I have…to…meet someone now.”
Harry finally looked down at her, knowing he really had to act soon or she would slip away again. He smiled. “No, Ginny.” He leaned down and kissed her softly on her lips. They tasted sweet and he wanted more. He pulled her even closer and stroked her hair. He could feel her hands on his back, caressing it. His knees were as weak as jelly. He couldn’t focus, his thoughts were swirling in his mind, all he knew that he never wanted to let go of her again. Suddenly, there were strange thoughts in his mind.
Ginny was sitting in her room at the Burrow “ crying. Then she was in the Chamber of Secrets and Tom Riddle emerged from his diary “ the last Quidditch match, her broom broken on the ground “ Simon’s body in front of her “ flames everywhere…
Terrified, Harry pushed Ginny aside. ‘No, I can’t do this,’ he thought. Aloud he said, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I have to see Simon. Now.” He stumbled a few steps backwards. He turned around, not knowing if she had felt his mind invading hers. He heard steps hurrying after him.
“Harry! What’s up?”
He slowed his pace but didn’t know how to explain the situation best. “I’m really, really sorry. I have to talk to Simon in private about…something. But I can’t tell you. You just have to trust me on this.” He stopped and hugged Ginny tightly. “I’m in love with you,” he whispered into her ear.
She tried to kiss him again, but Harry pulled away, only allowing a brief kiss on the cheek.
“What about if we have dinner together, okay?”
Ginny’s disappointed, confused eyes bored through him. Harry would have to find a decent explanation by then. Finally, Ginny nodded her agreement and Harry dashed to the Hospital Wing.
Simon was upright in his bed, a Potions Book on his lap. He hadn’t been reading it, but was instead talking to the person Harry wanted to see the least: Malfoy.
“Come on in, Harry,” Simon ordered cheerily, and when he noticed Harry’s gloomy expression, he added, “Draco was just leaving.”
Malfoy sneered but got up from his chair. He shot Harry a reproachful look as he left.
“Simon! I have to learn Occlumency,” Harry almost shouted.
“Okay, what do you think we’ve been doing these past months?” Simon asked, an amused smile playing around his lips. “Well, well, well.” He knew Harry’s problem all to well. “You kissed her, am I right?”
“I have to know how to prevent that. I don’t want to snoop around her thoughts every time I kiss her,” Harry exclaimed, distraught.
Simon grinned knowingly and shut the book. “Have a seat then, it’s good that you finally realized the extent of this skill and that there’s no way around it. That should make our lessons a lot easier.”
Just because Simon’s body strength was still at a lower level, it didn’t mean that his mind had suffered as much, too. They began a lesson that proved to be the hardest ever.
Harry was exhausted when he left the Hospital Wing. The exercise had drained his energy. Every time he had managed to defeat Simon’s attempts, Simon had strengthened the challenge and succeeded in penetrating Harry’s mind nonetheless. No matter what Harry tried, Simon always found a gap to slip into his thoughts. Harry started to understand what Snape had tried to explain ages ago. By now, Simon must know every tiny little detail about Harry and his life, but Harry didn’t care. He had to master Occlumency.
He had trouble focusing on Herbology. Further, it took him a few moments to realize that Hermione was missing another lesson. As was Ron. Both their places were empty. Their absence puzzled Harry even more, and the plant he was supposed to be working on suffered a great deal under his lack of concentration.
After class, he roamed the castle’s corridors, trying to locate Hermione, or even Ron. He didn’t feel like returning to the Hospital Wing, either; he was too worn out already. In the library, he met Ginny. He tried to keep his distance, even though she seemed to be disappointed about his reserved behaviour. He tried to ignore this and asked her about Ron and Hermione, but she, too, had not seen them for a while. Together, they went to find a Phoenix student and asked her to see if Ron or Hermione were in their common room or dormitories. But the fourth-year returned saying that neither of them were inside.
At dinnertime, Harry was really worried. He and Ginny had searched every possible place to find Hermione, but the girl seemed to have vanished. He was clueless as what to do next, when Ginny had an idea: the Marauder’s Map. Of course, why hadn’t they though of that before? Harry sprinted to his dorm and retrieved the map from the depths of his trunk. The self-apparating book plopped about, but he didn’t take notice of it. He hurried back to Ginny, who was waiting in the Great Hall. After they had made sure no one was watching, Harry activated the map. Many black points were busily moving around. He searched the corridors, Ginny the grounds, but they couldn’t spot Hermione’s name. Just before Harry meant to close the map again, he stopped. There, there he read Hermione Granger. According to the map, she was currently in the Great Hall. They looked up, confused. There were many students filing in for dinner or already seated and tucking in, but no Hermione. Irritated, they got up and moved to the exact point the map showed. Still, there was no sight of her. They felt around, just in case she was under an invisibility cloak or similar, but again no result. Harry didn’t trust the situation and checked the map. The dot ‘Hermione Granger’ was gone.
“Could it be broken?” Ginny asked, not really believing it herself. “It looks a bit dented.”
Harry shook his head. “No, it’s working alright. Something’s just wrong here.” He had no idea what, but the hair at the back of his neck was standing upright.
“Okay. I’m going to McGonagall. And you’ll ask around here. Someone has to have seen at least one of them,” Ginny instructed and turned around to dash to the office of her Head of House.
Harry’s inquiries were met with confusion. No one had seen or heard from Hermione or Ron.
During his lesson the next day, Harry’s eyes kept swaying to the chairs Hermione and Ron usually occupied. He just couldn’t take his mind off of their mysterious disappearances. People didn’t just vanish from certain maps. By now, the entire school seemed to know that something must have happened. Even the teachers seemed to be nervous and distracted. After his last class, which luckily was around noon, Harry wandered to the common room and onto the dormitories to drop his things. Once again, he opened the Marauder’s Map and checked it. Suddenly, he jumped up. Near Moaning Myrtle’s he had seen a dot sporting Ron’s name. He was about to run out of the room when he spotted something on the windowsill. Lying there in the sunlight, slightly covered by one of his jumpers Harry probably had cast there last night, were two wands. Hesitantly, he stepped closer to examine them. He knew that his wand was safely tucked in his pocket. He moved his clothes away and dropped them to the floor. Cautiously, he stretched his hand out to lift one of the wands.
“Impossible,” he whispered.
He had seen this wand in action a thousand times. Two letters were engraved at its handle: H and G. The wand he was holding belonged to Hermione Granger, and Harry was sure that the other wand would turn out to be Ron’s.
Next: Through the Looking Glass.