Chapter Thirty Nine
Their first batch of midterms fell on a frosty, slate gray Wednesday. Mad-Eye Moody never returned to the magical school, but that became old news when the crush of finals swept over the student body. Even Harry, Hermione, and Ron let their focus shift so they might properly attend to their studies. They all sat the Potions, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures exams. Harry had some reservations about Potions when the exam was over, his end-product had been more teal than the prescribed seaweed green, but he thought he did fairly well in Charms and Care of Magical Creatures.
In the afternoon, Hermione left them to take her Arithmancy midterm, and usually that would have meant Harry and Ron had to pack off to Divination. This time, however, when the class arrived to take the test Professor Trelawney informed them that it was really needless, as she already knew what they would make and saw no reason to actually administer the exam. With that, she dismissed them a mere five minutes into the testing period. Neither Harry nor Ron were about to complain, even if the old bat decided to fail them without truly testing their knowledge. They'd take arbitrary failing grades to escape the test itself. It seemed everyone else was just as content to have Trelawney pick grades out of a hat (or, more likely, a crystal ball) for them, because every student to a person scurried out of the Divination classroom before the professor could change her mind. Not even Parvati complained about being unfairly denied the chance to prove their knowledge on the subject. Ron commented on their way out that if Hermione had still been taking Divination with them, she would surely have said something.
In Harry's mind, that left History of Magic as the only remaining exam that had a real chance to trip him up. He was sure he could muddle through Transfiguration and Astronomy well enough. Maybe it was a hint of arrogance on his part, but he wasn't the least bit worried about Defense Against the Dark Arts… not once it had been announced that Dumbledore would be standing in as proctor for the exam since Snape had other years of Potions classes to oversee at the same time. History of Magic could be a real pisser of a test, though. He still zoned out through half the lectures Binns gave, even on the days that he tried to pay attention.
So it was off to the Great Hall to study for History of Magic for Harry Potter. Ron begged off joining him right away, stating that as long as they had an hour free of Hermione while she was taking her Arithmancy final he was going to get in what relaxation time he could. Because once she was out of her test, she'd be on them to study, study, study.
That was how Harry found himself alone at the table, his History of Magic book out in front of him and his notes spread out like a fan of parchments. There were a fair number of other students at all the tables making use of the space to lay out their study materials. The sound of rustling paper, quills scratching on parchment, and hushed whispers turned the Great Hall into a mockery of a library. The Christmas lights strung on the enormous pine trees that decorated the hall cast colorful, twinkling hues on the textbook as Harry forced himself to reread the chapter on the Great Astrology Farce of 1465.
Which was not great. Not even really interesting at all.
Harry didn't realized he'd dozed off, his head pillowed on his open book, until he was wakened. He was comfortable and adrift, far from boring history tomes, when a sudden warm influx of air in his ear startled him from his light slumber. He snapped open his eyes to find Hermione bent close to him, blowing in his ear. When he woke she stopped and smiled. "Do you expect to soak it in that way?" she teased as she put her things on the table and sat down next to him.
Harry smirked and lifted his head, straightening his glasses that had been pushed askew across his nose. "Well, if the ink comes off on my face maybe Ron can read the answers on my cheek. At least someone would benefit."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I heard about what Trelawney did... I can't believe all of you are going to just let her make up grades for you. What if she fails you?"
"Then she saved me having to earn my poor mark," Harry countered with a shrug.
Hermione grunted. "Well, she probably makes them up in any case. I mean, really, how can one grade something as unsubstantiated as Divination?" She dismissed the entire subject with a shake of her head. She glanced down at Harry's book and inched closer, a knowing smile on her face. "Do you want my help?"
Harry smiled crookedly at her. "Can you make the Great Farce interesting?" "Please," she reached for his notebook, "nothing can do that."
Harry's eyes widened. He could hardly believe his ears. "Did you really just call something in History of Magic boring?"
Hermione was leaning in front of him to gather up his study material. At his question she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, their faces a bare inch apart, and with a mischievous little smile she ducked in, pecked him on the lips, and said sotto voce, "Don't tell Ron."
Harry beamed.
"Where is Ron anyway? Shouldn't he be studying this, too?"
Harry and Hermione were going over their combined History of Magic notes, which really meant to say they were going over Hermione's notes, when Ron rejoined them. None too happily, either.
Ron dropped on to the bench across the table from Harry and Hermione with a grunt and very nearly slammed his bag on to the table. Hermione, annoyed, looked up to scold him but when she caught sight of him she gasped instead. "Ron!"
Harry looked up at Ron. He saw why Hermione had sounded so shocked. Ron was livid, his face red with anger, but not nearly so eye-catching as the bruise that was beginning to color the skin around his left eye.
"What happened to you?" he asked in dismay.
Ron ground his jaw. "Foul bloody git," he muttered hotly.
"Who? Was it Malfoy?"
Ron's eyes… or rather, his good one, widened until white showed on all sides of his blue iris. "No! Merlin, don't even say that!"
Harry looked to Hermione, but from the small shake her head she was just as baffled as he was. "Ron," she leaned forward toward their friend, "tell us what happened."
"Seamus! That's what happened."
Harry sputtered. "Seamus Finnegan hit you?! Why in the world would he do that?"
"You know," Ron ranted, "I've never liked that Seamus anyway. But you think you know someone… we've been mates for years! There are just things you don't do! Real lousy of him by all accounts. But I'm not done there, no, I blame her just as much as him. She's a wildcat, I know that, but it's my job to take her side, you know? Even when she's being stupid! Nogratitude! I should just leave her be, snog his face off for all I care!"
Harry was very confused. Hermione was the voice of reason, as always.
"Ron… just slow down and tell us what happened between you and Seamus."
Ron looked up at Hermione, glowered, and turned an ever darker shade of red. "Oh, nothing, no big deal, just walked in on that dirty wanker snogging my sister!"
"Ginny?!" Harry yelped. Ginny and Seamus were kissing? Never in a million years had he seen that coming.
Ron took Harry's tone of shock for indignation. "I know! What was my little sister thinking going about with the likes of Finnegan?" Ron turned matter-of- factly to Harry. "There's only one thing for that, Harry. The pair of us will just have to beat him up."
Harry was still blind-sided by the revelation, but even stunned he didn't think going Death Eater on Seamus was really a sound move. "Uh… Ron… I don't fancy Seamus snogging Ginny much either, but I don't know if that's really the best thing to do." When Ron began to gape at Harry's reluctance to back him Harry added, "Besides, looks as though he's already got you one."
Ron reached up, touched underneath his eye, and winced. "Oh hell. That wasn't bloody Seamus, it was my damn sister."
Hermione tried to hold it back, she really did, but Harry could hear the ghost of a giggle behind her words when she said, "Ginny popped you?"
"When I told her she'd best get up to her room before I swatted her." Heglanced up and saw Hermione holding her hand to her mouth… but still unable to completely mask the smile warring to win over her expression. Ron darkened visibly. "Oh, so that's funny, is it?"
"Of course not… I'm sorry, Ron, it's just—" "Just what? Did you know about this?" "No!" Hermione said at once.
"Hmph. Bet you did, you girls talk about everything, talk about all us blokes behind our backs."
Hermione's compassionate mood was thinning. "I swear I didn't know they were together, Ron."
Ron snorted cynically, still on his tear. "Kind of hate to think what you must say about Harry when it's just the lot of you birds cackling."
Hermione stiffened furiously.
"That's far enough, Ron," Harry said, "if Hermione says she didn't know, she didn't know." Before it could turn into a row when Ron was really angry with someone else, Harry redirected the conversation. "Where's Ginny now?"
"How should I know? She threw her little fit, gave me a black eye, and made off with that bastard Finnegan. Expect they're in some broom closet snogging their brains out." Ron brightened suddenly. "Fred and George!
Brilliant. They'll be up for pounding him good for laying a hand on our baby sister." Without another word, Ron jumped up and ran off to find his older brothers.
Harry watched after Ron, concerned."Should we try and catch him?" "And have him mad at us and accuse us of being in on some conspiracy
masterminded by Ginny or worse, Seamus? Why bother? By the time he'sfound Fred and George he'll have calmed down, and if not… well, the twins aren't likely to agree to actually hurting Seamus… though he may be in for a royal pranking."
Harry conceded with an uneasy sense that he should still have gone after Ron. "You didn't know, did you?" he asked carefully.
Hermione looked reproachfully at him. "No, I didn't."
Harry nodded immediately in acceptance of her word. It was good enough for him; it was possible she'd been telling Ron what would be best for him to hear in the temper he was in, truth or not. But if she told him she didn't know, he believed her.
A very sly smirk touched Hermione's face then and Harry looked closely at her. He was getting to the point where he recognized wicked Hermione in the span of a heartbeat. "What?"
Hermione slid her eyes to him and gave a small shrug… accompanied by a slight blush. "It's nothing, really, I just… it occurred to me that what with Ginny and Seamus to twist him into fits, Ron may not even care anymore that we're snogging."
She was probably right about that. In comparison, your little sister snogging someone had to be far more distressing than your two friends snogging. He hoped that turned out to be true. If Ron stopped caring completely about Harry and Hermione kissing maybe they could stop being so eggshell-careful with each other around him.
Harry found he liked that idea very much. He was just about to put his arm around Hermione to give her some idea of how much that notion pleased him when they were interrupted a second time… this time by a bird. An owl alighted on the table right in front of them, causing Hermione to jump and Harry to all of a sudden find the owl mail concept truly irritating.
The little brown owl had a muggle envelope in its beak, addressed to Hermione in slanted cursive letters.
"Oh," Hermione said as she took the envelope, "it must be from Mum and Dad."
Harry quelled his annoyance and sat back watching while Hermione opened the envelope and began to read.
When she started to smile like sunshine itself, he had to wonder. Hermione broke into a grin nearly bright enough to outshine the Christmas trees and she whirled to face him… and he was on the receiving end of full-on Hermione Granger joy.
Pure and simple joy. He couldn't imagine what her parents' letter said, but he liked it already.
She seemed barely able to contain herself. "Harry! Oh! Here!" she shoved the letter at him, unable to get the words out on her own. Perplexed, Harry looked down at the letter in Miranda Granger's calligraphic pen.
'Hermione,
'We hope your tests are going well. Don't let yourself fret too much, honey, I'm sure you'll do brilliantly. Your dad and I are looking forward to you coming home for Christmas. Tell Harry that if he doesn't have any other plans for the holidays we'd love to have him.
'All our love,
'Mum and Dad'
Harry looked up at Hermione dumbly. She was bubbling over with excitement, her eyes glittering almost as beautifully as the Christmas lights. It made Harry felt heavy and tired, as though swimming in water-logged clothes. He looked down again at the letter from Hermione's mother. With deliberate moves, he folded it and put it on the table.
"Hermione…" he began in a dreary voice, "I thought I told you—"
"But I didn't, Harry!" she said immediately.
Harry was truly puzzled, and it must have read in his face. Hermione shifted on the bench to directly face him, one leg crooked and folded atop the seat so she didn't have to twist horribly at the waist. "I didn't ask my parents to invite you over for Christmas, just like you asked me not to… they invited you themselves!"
Harry blinked, bewildered.
"They wouldn't have done that if they thought you a bother, Harry. They could have just never brought it up and tried to avoid it entirely, hoping I wouldn't ask, but they invited you on their own." Hermione's luminous smile faltered. "This means you will come home with me, right?"
Harry was floored. He couldn't rightly grasp what had transpired in the last two minutes. Hermione's family actually wanted him to be part of their Christmas? Hermione wanting to spend the holiday with him was humbling enough, but she was his girlfriend, she was Hermione… she cared about him like no one else in the world. But Miranda and Jake Granger? Could they possibly, honestly want him around on an occasion as special as Christmas?
"Oh, please, Harry," Hermione took his arm in her hands and pressed closer.
"Please say you'll come."
There was a letter from the Grangers granting him a place in their home right in front of him, and with Hermione imploring him with those eyes, that toneof voice, that passion in her presence… how could he possibly tell her no?
"Yeah… yeah, all right," he said, still off-balance from the offer but letting himself believe for a moment that maybe he actually had a place to go. Like normal kids did… like kids with families.
Hermione made a squeaky sound and threw her arms around him. Harry had to grab the table to keep from toppling over under the enthusiasm in Hermione's embrace. Despite his misgivings, his shock, his amazement, he had to smile. He couldn't get one of those knock-the-wind-out-of-you Hermione hugs and not smile.
Hermione was clutching him fiercely. "It's going to be great, Harry! You'll see! It'll be the best Christmas ever!" She drew back, her arms still wrapped around him, and planted a kiss on him. Not a darting peck like before either, but a full-mouth kiss in the middle of the Great Hall. Already it was the best Christmas of Harry's life.
Before he could respond in kind to her kiss, however, she moved away and leapt to her feet.
"Come on, we've got to speak with Dumbledore."
"Huh… Dumbledore?" Harry felt he'd just now caught up to the Grangers inviting him to stay over for the Christmas holiday. He hadn't tracked over to the Dumbledore topic point yet.
Hermione took his arm, snagged the letter from her mother, and hauled Harry to his feet in her whirlwind of energy. Harry went along at once; he knew better than to stand in the way of a bound and determined Hermione. She hurried them out of the Great Hall, their bags and books forgotten on the table. "Yes. We'll need to ask the headmaster if we can impose upon a certain house elf again, just to be safe. Surely he won't say no. That just wouldn't do at all."
Harry didn't breathe a word of protest or offer a modicum of resistance as Hermione led him by the hand through the corridor. A few Gryffindor boys they crossed gave Harry a covert thumbs-up, no doubt expecting that Hermione was dragging him off to some broom closet somewhere to release some tension between study marathons. He supposed the few high-pitched giggles they left in their wake were girls who thought the same. Harry hadn't really noticed how many of their classmates were actually supportive of his and Hermione's relationship until they actually became a couple. They'd really been a stubborn duo to hold out against all the signs for so long.
At the headmaster's office, Hermione knocked and shortly thereafter
Dumbledore's voice beckoned them inside. Hermione, still holding tightly to Harry's hand, led the way.
Dumbledore was not alone. Professor McGonagall was in the chair opposite the headmaster's desk, and she turned to look at Harry and Hermione when they entered. Harry could swear, for a moment, she even smiled faintly at the sight of them.
"Ah, Harry, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said in way of greeting, "If this is about the altercation between Mister Weasley and young Ginny, I've already been informed. As you might expect, news of that sort tends to travel fast within the castle walls."
Harry took the headmaster's unconcerned tone to mean at least Ron hadn't made good on his threat to beat up Seamus. At least they wouldn't have Ron in a worse mood than he already was for having brought detention upon himself for fighting so close to the holidays.
"Acutally, no, sir, we're here for something else," Hermione said, the first hints of flagging bravado creeping into her voice.
"Is that so? Well, then, I'm intrigued. Was there anything else for you and I to discuss, Professor McGonagall?"
McGonagall shook her head and stood. "No, that was everything. I had best return to my office and see to grading exams." She crossed Harry and Hermione as she headed toward the door of the headmaster's office. As she passed the young pair, she briefly rested her hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry looked after her retreating back, puzzled by the gesture, but if there was en explanation for that fleeting contact he never got it. McGonagall was gone before Harry had much time to think on it.
When the three of them were alone, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and regarded the two teenagers with kind eyes. "Now then, what brings you two to see me if not the Weasley family feud?"
Hermione didn't waste any time on warming up to the subject. "We came to ask if it would be possible to borrow Kimmy for the Christmas holiday, sir."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
Hermione nodded, hesitated, then left Harry's side to place the letter from her parents on Dumbledore's desk. She retreated back to standing abreast with Harry and chewed on her bottom lip.
The headmaster picked up the letter, unfolded it, and read it leisurely. At the end, he nodded. "I really must take the time to get to know your parents better, Miss Granger. They seem to be lovely people. Would you say so, Harry?"
Harry blinked at the question, but he answered on reflex, "Yes, sir." No one would find Harry Potter saying a bad word against the Grangers.
Hermione covered her nervousness with words, and to most it was a very convincing cover to her anxiety. When she spoke it was always with a confidence that may or may not have been truly present. This time, it was mostly show; Hermione was jittery. Harry suspected he may be one of only three people who could truly detect it. "I know it's rather short-notice, Headmaster, but it would mean a great deal to both of us if Harry could spend Christmas with my family, and with the concerns for safety to take into consideration, well, it would be very reassuring to have Kimmy there in case anything happened. Not that we expect it to, of course, but there's no harm in being prepared for the worst—" She was rambling.
Harry glanced at Dumbledore and started when headmaster shifted his twinkling eyes to him, smiled, and ticked his head faintly in Hermione's direction. It was purposeful, deliberate, almost conspiratorial. Harry hadn't a clue what it was meant to communicate, but he knew Hermione would have been too wrapped up in her appeal to notice the subtle gesture. He reached up and touched her elbow to get her attention.
It broke Hermione from her spiel and she stopped to take a breath. She glanced at Harry, then back at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore took advantage of the pause. "I commend your prudence in this matter, Miss Granger. Of course concerns for personal safety must be considered, and I would not wish to be the one to deny Harry here a Granger family Christmas… however, it's not up to me. We'll have to ask Kimmy if she'll consent, as she is a free house elf."
With that, Dumbledore stood and went to his fireplace. Harry and Hermione stood quietly watching while Dumbledore tossed in the floo powder and stared intently into the green flames.
Moments later, Kimmy emerged from the emerald fire, a pair of green oven mitts on her hands and wearing an overall-style pair of boxers that were covered in candy canes.
"Master Albus!" she said merrily the moment she was in the headmaster'soffice.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Kimmy grinned. "No, no, Kimmy was only making holiday treacles in cases Master Aberforth comes home for Christmas."
Dumbledore made a blissful face. "Mmmmm… I do hope you'll save me a few?"
"A dozen few or two."
"I've always loved your 'few'," Dumbledore chuckled, "I'd hate to keep you from your delectable treat-making, but might you spare a few moments of your time to speak with Harry and Miss Granger?"
Kimmy looked to Harry and Hermione and readily trotted over to stand before them. "Miss Hermione! Mister Harry Potter! Hellos."
"Hello, Kimmy. It's good to see you again."
Kimmy tugged off her oven mitts and fitted them over her ears for lack of a better place to put them.
Harry's lips twitched as he fought a smile.
"Go on, Miss Granger, ask her," Dumbledore said kindly. Kimmy looked from Dumbledore then up at Hermione questioningly, orb-like green eyes wide and curious.
Hermione knelt down to look Kimmy in the eye.
"Kimmy… Harry and I were wondering if you might consent to staying over with us for Christmas?
Harry's been invited to stay with me and my parents this holiday, and we'd all feel a lot better if you would be there to make sure nothing bad happens, like you did this past summer."
"Ooo! Kimmy would be happy to," she said at once with a little hop on the balls of her feet. One oven mitt skewed on her ear, dangerously close to falling off.
"You're sure we're not going to be taking you away from… um… Aberforth?" Hermione pressed, the last part awkwardly.
Harry could understand how strange it would feel to speak Dumbledore's brother's name in so informal a manner with the headmaster present.
Kimmy made a chortling noise that fairly baffled Harry, but the headmaster could interpret it all too well. "There's all too little danger of that, if you'd have the truth of it. Dear Kimmy here faithfully prepares every holiday for Aber and me, but I fear I make it back home for the holidays infrequently and Aberforth even less. And as Aberforth has been… 'detained' by prior engagements as of late, it's practically set in stone that he won't turn up this year. We do ask Kimmy that she not go to so much trouble, but she's difficult to talk out of things."
"Well, what happens when once you and Master Aberforth both show up and I've not made a single tart?" Kimmy countered passionately.
"The sky itself would fall down around our ears," Dumbledore answered promptly, in a grievous tone of voice. Harry got the feeling it was an old Dumbledore family tête-à-tête. Kimmy's answering smile would seem to suggest as much.
"So you wouldn't mind coming to my home for Christmas?" Hermione asked hopefully.
Kimmy shook her head and the oven mitts came off and fell to the floor. "Kimmy wouldn't mind. Kimmy wouldn't mind at all. She likes Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter."
Harry smiled. "We like you too, Kimmy."
Kimmy beamed up at him, then looked back at Hermione."And Kimmy wouldn't mind Christmas with a families. Masters Albus and Aberforth have not been little in a very long time."
"Oh!" Hermione gasped and, before anyone in the room rightly knew it was going to happen, she reached out, snagged the little elf around the shoulders, and pulled her into a brief hug. "Kimmy, you can always spend the holidays with Harry and me if you like."
Kimmy drew back from the embrace, her eyes wide with wonder. For a moment, she almost looked like Dobby with her dazzled expression. "Truly, Mister Harry Potter?" Kimmy asked as she looked up at him.
"Of course, Kimmy," Harry answered. Hermione rose and stood at his side, smiling down at Kimmy gratefully.
"Dear me," Dumbledore said playfully, "looks as though I should tell Aberforth that he and I will have to compete for Kimmy's attention if we'renot careful."
"Don't be silly, Master Albus. You and Master Aberforth are Kimmy's boys."
"Well, a relief," Dumbledore returned lightly, then his tone became less jocular as he said, "thank you for kindly agreeing to see that Harry and Miss Granger remain safe this holiday. It will be a load off my mind to know you'll be there."
Kimmy nodded earnestly, then she gasped. "Oh! My treacles!" and with that she dashed back into the fireplace. The flames swelled and swallowed the little house elf with a belch of green, then the color returned to flickering orange and yellow.
Dumbledore shook his head, a smile on his face, and he turned back to face Harry and Hermione."That was very generous of you to extend such an invitation. Kimmy's particularly fond of holidays, but it's been a long time since there's been much of a Dumbledore family holiday. She never says that she's lonely, but I know she'll be thrilled to be surrounded once more by Christmas cheer."
"It's the least we can do after what she's done for us, sir," Hermione said,"and we've grown rather fond of her besides."
"Then it would seem your Christmas will be all the merrier for her presence." When Dumbledore glanced at him, Harry nodded immediate agreement.
Dumbledore paused. "I trust I need not tell you to be careful?"
Hermione turned serious almost on a dime. She shook her head firmly. "No, Headmaster, we will be careful. We know Voldemort's still out there."
"Always remember that, it will serve you well. As Alastor was so fond of saying…"
"Constant vigilance," Harry quipped humorlessly.
Dumbledore nodded with a wan smile. "Sage advice. Now, I think you should go find Mister Weasley and see that he's cooled down a bit. I doubt any of us want to see him doing lines when his time would be better utilized studying for his midterms."
Harry and Hermione left the headmaster's office together to track down Ron. Once they were out of sight of Dumbledore's office, Hermione sidled in closeto Harry and wrapped her arm around his. Christmas holiday was looking up.
Chapter Forty
Original Author Notes -A/N: First of all, I have to sincerely apologize to those who have recently posted comments to my LJ discussion forum about "Vox Corporis"; I know it's been a few days and I haven't responded to the latest posts, but I have been writing like a madwoman, and I hope the following reason exonerates me for putting my LJ to the side. Said reason being…
*This is what MissAnnThropic looks like when she's doing her happy victory dance.* Last night I finished "Vox Corporis". It's done, the epic is at an end. You, of course, still have the latter half of the story to read, but the behemoth is complete. It ended up being 542 pages long and over 310,000 words, but at last it's done. It's bittersweet to finish such an undertaking in which I was so heavily invested… this story has been my every spare moment for nine months. I may not know what to do with myself now that I don't have this to take up whenever I have a free minute.
Very early into "Vox Corporis" I knew it was going to be my final opus in the realm of fanfiction; I'm leaving the world of fandom to try my hand at writing something all my own, and as sad as that parting is (for fanfiction has been my retreat for many, many years), I truly feel this story is a fitting and just last performance for my fanfic days. I'll step out happy with "Vox Corporis" being my last show.
Of course, I will still have your thoughts, reactions, and comments to enjoy as the remaining portion of this story, as yet unposted, is filtered through mybeta and posted. Stay tuned for the end of this epic, and rest easy because this story is finished (no fear that it will become a terminal WIP).
I don't know how it could be possible, but I hope this fic ends up being as memorable to some of you as it always will be to me.
"I don't… I don't know how to do what you're asking," the old man said in a tremulous voice. A voice that had once been so unwavering was made almost unrecognizable by its new quiver. "I… I can't do what you want."
The man was cowering on the floor, stripped of all but his undergarments. His state of undress displayed the long lines of bleeding wounds that striped his back and sides, weeping red even as the man wept salty tears.
"Do you take me for a fool, wandsmith?" a dark, sinister voice hissed venomously. A horribly familiar voice. That voice. His voice. The air chilled to carry his voice, to ferry his words, to give him breath.
"I… please… you don't understand… the core… they're brother-wands, yours and his… phoenix feather… priori incantatum. I can't change that!" the wandsmith wailed in terrified protest.
Voldemort flicked his wand, slashed it through the air, and the wandsmith screamed as a fresh cut sliced open his side, precise and swift as a razor. It was a second before the blood welled and trailed down his heaving ribcage, like water escaping an over-full boiling kettle. Ollivander staggered on his hands and knees under the onslaught. He nearly went down, but at the last moment managed to stay supported by his trembling elbows. His blood dripped to the floor beneath him.
"I can't change it! Please! Stop this!"
"I will stop when you have given me what I want."
Ollivander shook his head weakly. "It can't… it can't be done… you're mad!"
Another twitch of his wand and Ollivander cried out. The wandsmith collapsed on the ground in a heap, fell into his own pooled blood, when his right hand flew to his chest and clutched into a fist. Ollivander seized and grimaced. After a moment he went lax, ashen and trembling.
"Must I tear your heart apart, old man?" Voldemort demanded.
"I… can't… can't… please," he lay panting, head and eyes rolling.
"You had best. I will not be played the fool thrice by this pathetic boy. You will do as I bid you, wandsmith. Your reputation for wandsmithing precedes you, and I expect satisfaction from your work. When next I cast the killing curse it will destroy him, you will see to that."
Ollivander muttered feebly, half mad from the pain, "Priori incantatum… priori… priori incantatum…"
Voldemort turned in a rustle of black robes and seethed in disgust. "Why do you all persist in protecting this worthless child with your lives?!" The dark wizard sucked in a breath and turned back to the cowering wandsmith. A sudden, disquieting calm had settled about him. "No matter… I see you are determined to die a slow, agonizing death, and I am more than willing to oblige. But perhaps you'd care to know that if you refuse to do as I command, I will find another wandsmith who will. Perhaps the talent runs in your family?"
Ollivander opened his eyes in mounting horror. "What?" he croaked. Voldemort turned to a shadow in the outskirts of the room and barked,
"Lucius, bring her."
Ollivander tried to stir. "You're asking for the impossible… it can't be done!"
"Perhaps you merely lack vision, or motivation, but I think I may be able to persuade you to find some of both."
"What… what have you done?"
The Death Eater returned, pushing before him a young woman. She trembled and shrieked as she was manhandled into the room with the dark lord. Her eyes turned in horror to the bloody and broken man on the floor, then they widened when she looked beyond the wounds and battered flesh to the man's face. Her own face lost all color. "Grandfather!" She tried to rush to him.
Voldemort caught her by her long brown hair and jerked her back. The girl was knocked to her knees and knelt, shaking and crying at the dark lord's feet.
"Giselda! No!" Ollivander tried to crawl toward the weeping young woman.
Voldemort flicked his wand and Ollivander was tmhrown back. He slid across the floor and slammed into the wall with a cry of pain.
"Grandfather…" the woman sobbed.
"We'll have it from you or from her, wandsmith," Voldemort said casually.
Ollivander struggled to rise to his knees. "No… please… she… she doesn't know the
rade! She's a seamstress, for Merlin's sake!"
"Oh… well, that is unfortunate then. Had she been of use to me I may have been able to spare her life. But, if she cannot serve my purpose, then…" the wizard leveled his wand tip against the girl's throat.
"Stop!" Ollivander surged to his feet, fell, and hiccupped. "Don't hurt her… I'll… I'll do as you ask. Just don't… don't hurt her."
"Do not fail me, wandsmith, or she will suffer far worse than you."
Ollivander, on hands and knees like a dog, broke down and wept uncontrollably. Black closed around Voldemort, Mister Ollivander, and Giselda.
In the blackness a beast awoke. Coat black as midnight, ice-blue eyes cold and piercing. Claws slashed and tore at the darkness. Fangs bared to the evil. Tear it apart, kill it, rip it to pieces. Wild fury, untempered rage. The agitated panther let loose a ferocious, blood-curdling roar.
Harry snapped awake screaming. It ripped from his throat, pulled out of his chest as though he would tear in two if he didn't get it out. His heart was hammering, the night was pulsing around him, the heartbeat of the night… too close, too strong, crying to the animal inside him.
Harry registered that he was in the dorm of Gryffindor tower, in his bed at Hogwarts. His scream had wakened his roommates. They were turning on lights, forming a ring around his bed. They were talking, surely, asking if he was all right.
Harry couldn't hear them. He couldn't hear past the spitting, roaring black cat inside him. His skin prickled, his hair stood on end, his body tensed and shook.
The jaguar was fighting to break through. He was barely holding human form. His body screamed to change, burned to give over to the feral fury, to become a thing that could tear and rip and rend so effortlessly. He
desperately wanted to be that, a creature his enemies would fear to face. His heart ached to be powerful. Deadly.
Harry gasped. He beat back the jaguar with all he had. The cat was not content to be placated. It snarled and hissed, it twisted and struck out with brandished claws when he tried to force it back. Harry felt another cry, different, more a cry of agonized effort, tear from his throat.
He would lose. He couldn't hold his form. The jaguar would win. In front of everyone… they were all watching him. He must not change. He didn't know if he could stop it.
The jaguar lunged at the restraints keeping it at bay. Harry jerked, he rolled, and he rose to hands and knees on his mattress, hands and legs braced apart. He fought against the cat with all his might, but it was not going to back down without a fight. How could a boy hope to win out against a jaguar, even the one inside him? He couldn't keep this up, he wasn't stronger than the panther… he'd turn, and Merlin, what would he do then?
The blind rage inside him was wild, thick… it screamed for blood, for prey, for a foe to take down with fang and claw.
Someone touched him, a hand on his shoulder. Harry almost turned on instinct to bite. He almost turned his form. Instead he braced, every muscle seemed to lock, and he gave a cry of warning, of protest, of plea… he wasn't sure, but if they touched him he'd take his attention away from the jaguar, and if he got distracted he'd become the cat.
The hand jerked back and Harry breathed raggedly, his tensed muscles shook, and he clenched his eyes shut as he battled the furious cat.
At the outer edge of his hearing, beyond the jaguar's roaring and hissing, he heard a voice, a pinpoint of hope. "What is it? Ron said you needed me, what… oh! What's happened?"
"Dunno, he woke screaming and he's having some kind of fit. He won't let us near him."
He couldn't keep it up. He'd let loose the panther any moment. Hermione, help!
"Draw his curtains, give us some privacy, I'll calm him down." There was rustling, it seemed miles outside his awareness, then he heard "silencio."
And then her voice was close, directly in front of him. "Harry… open your eyes."
He obeyed and saw Hermione lying on his bed underneath him, on her back and between his supporting arms. She must have crawled underneath his body and shuffled up between his arms. She was in her pajamas and sleep- mussed, but her eyes were crystal clear. She was looking up at him in fervent worry.
Harry was quaking, he was breaking, his breath came in uneven rasps. Understanding flashed in Hermione's eyes. "It's all right, Harry… let it go."
He did. Maybe he could not have held it back another moment anyway.
He let loose the jaguar and it leapt into his skin, formed it to fit the shape of the cat. Harry's clutching hands became black paws with curved claws. Claws which ripped into the mattress and sheets. Harry screamed, an ear-splitting roar. He jerked his arms, raked his claws down the mattress and tore the bedding to shreds on either side of Hermione's body. He shook his head from side to side, canines bared, given over to the madness of the cornered wild animal.
For a second he was out of control. But as quickly as it had erupted it began to ebb. The flashpoint passed and the aftermath was not nearly so frightening. His claws dug into the torn mattress but didn't rip open new gouges. A growl rumbled in his throat but he didn't let loose another roar.
The cat had its fit but it seemed once it saw there were no enemies to attack it grudgingly backed off. Harry stood over Hermione, straddling her, untouched and unharmed beneath his black body.
Hermione was watching him carefully. When he met her eyes, his breath quick and shallow, she ventured up a hand and touched his cheek.
Harry closed his eyes and commanded the jaguar to abide by Hermione, recognize that she was calm and take an example from that. The jaguar balked a moment, faltered, then let itself be soothed by Hermione's touch.
It went willingly when Harry cast it back to that place inside him.
Harry opened his eyes again and his fingers were splayed over the ruin of his mattress as he looked down at Hermione from human eyes. With a bone- weary sigh, he lowered his body on top of hers and gathered her up in his arms, his one pocket of sanity and safety in a tempest.
He held her tightly as the nightmare washed over him, reformed in his mind in such horrifying clarity, in the wake of the jaguar's emergence.
She ran her fingers through his damp hair with one hand and circled his back.
with the other arm. "What happened?" she asked in a whisper. She let her fingers stop at his brow and she gasped, "Harry! You're freezing."
He was shivering, that was true enough, but he'd rather stay in her arms than do anything about it. Hermione had other ideas. She wriggled free to sit up and gather his blanket where it had balled up at the foot of his bed.
Harry sat up beside her, sick from the vision, and Hermione wrapped the blanket around him. Harry glanced down at his bed. It looked a fright. Sheets damp with sweat, the mattress torn open, claw marks and stuffing and down feathers everywhere. It was disturbing to look at. Hermione had been lying in the middle of his tantrum. He trembled to think what might have happened to her. What if she'd been in the way of his claws?
Hermione had fetched her wand, gave it a flick, and said, "Reparo."
The torn mattress and sheets repaired themselves, erasing the evidence of his brief transformation into a savage beast. It didn't improve the tussled, tossed condition of his sheets, though. Nor did it remove the memory of what had woken him in such a state.
Hermione shuffled on the bed to his side, wrapped her arms around his blanket-cocooned body, and pulled him into her. Harry went willingly, leaned into her with his head on her shoulder, and Hermione squeezed him tight as though she could give him all of her body heat by willing it. "What happened?" she repeated.
Harry took a breath. "Voldemort… I saw him with Ollivander… he's using the wandsmith to… to remove the priori incantatum on his wand against mine."
Hermione sucked in a breath.
"He has… Ollivander's granddaughter. He's using her…," Harry continued breathlessly then broke off to shake. The blanket wasn't helping, he was still so cold. He drew back and opened his arms, the covers cascading from his arms like a winged creature. He pulled Hermione into the blanket with him and held her close. She was drawn practically into his lap by his insistent hold, but she went without a moment's pause. She slipped her warm, comforting arms around his back inside their little haven. She was so very warm, and soft, and he could be shaken here and know he was safe, so very safe… it helped to beat the horror of the nightmare back, away from his waking world and back to the landscape of his dreams. It was still terrifying there, but not mind-numbingly so.
"We have to tell Dumbledore what you saw," Hermione said with conviction.
Harry just wanted to burrow deeper into Hermione's warm, warm arms and hide from the world for a bit. "Must we go now?"
"I really don't think we should wait on this, Harry."
He knew she was right. "All right. Let me get dressed and put myself together a bit."
Hermione cupped her hand around the back of his neck and gave a gentle squeeze. "I'll just hurry over to the girls' dorm and throw on some clothes. I'll meet you down in the common room, okay?"
Harry nodded mutely.
Hermione gave him a parting hug, slipped from their shared blanket, then disappeared beyond the curtains of his bed.
Harry still procrastinated a moment before he pushed aside the curtains and climbed out of bed. His roommates were all looking at him with wide, worried eyes. It made him want to turn right back around and curl up in bed behind drawn curtains. But Hermione was waiting for him.
Ron came up to him at once. "Harry… you all right, mate?"
Harry was all too aware of Dean, Seamus, and Neville in the room with them. "Uh… just feeling ill… I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey now."
"Need me to go with you?" Ron asked.
"Hermione's going with me," Harry answered, whether that was an answer to Ron's question or not he didn't know. He was too frazzled to think about it.
He rustled up some clothes for the trek to the headmaster's office, ran a comb twice through his hair for what good it would do, then laced up his trainers and headed down the stairs. It was a relief just to be free of the stares of his roommates. Ron didn't trail along after him. Apparently 'Hermione's going with me' meant Ron didn't need to come along as well. Maybe he thought Hermione would do a better job of taking care of him on her own, a girlfriend thing. Harry almost wished Ron had come with him… he didn't fancy explaining his nightmare three times. But he was too beleaguered to turn back and fetch Ron. He just wanted the telling to be over. He was so sick and tired of Voldemort in his life, even when they were vast distances from each other.
Hermione was waiting for him in the common room and she hurried to his
side the moment he came down. He was grateful at least that she was there with him… it might make telling Dumbledore the grisly details easier to have her at his side.
The halls were hauntingly lifeless as they made their way through the castle. The only eing they met on their way through the corridors was Nearly- Headless Nick, who asked why they were up and about so late. When they told him they needed to see Dumbledore the ghost disappeared through a wall. Presumably he had gone and roused the headmaster, because Dumbledore was expecting them when they reached his office, still decked in a dressing robe.
At first sight of Harry he grew even more concerned than being awakened at such an hour disposed him to be to begin with. "Harry, you look dreadful.
What's wrong?"
'What isn't wrong' his tired body seemed to bemoan. "It's Voldemort."
Dumbledore's expression became grim. He conjured a couch and waved them toward it. Hermione practically guided Harry to the couch and sat down with him on the plump cushions. She pressed close to his side, just shy of crawling up into his lap in consideration of their
k headmaster only a few feet away. Harry gripped Hermione's hand tightly. He didn't want to do it; the vision of Ollivander torn and bleeding was still so horribly vivid in his mind's eye.
She knew what he wanted. She took up the tale. "Ron woke me, said that Harry was having a terrible nightmare and they couldn't snap him out of it. It was one of his dream visions about Voldemort. Voldemort has Mister Ollivander, and Mister Ollivander's granddaughter. He's using her as a hostage to get Mister Ollivander to alter Voldemort's wand so it no longer invokes the priori incantatum when he uses it against Harry's wand."
Dumbledore mulled over that for a moment. "I see… well, that clears up a bit of a mystery. It was puzzling to us at first why the dark wizard would kidnap a wandsmith when there are so many others who would seem more likely targets. We have feared Voldemort took Mister Ollivander for reasons very much like you describe."
Not surprisingly, that didn't make Harry feel at all better.
"Is it even possible, sir?" Hermione asked. "I thought wandsmithing magic like that was fairly resistant to tampering."
"It is. And as far as we know the priori incantatum cannot be nullified. Butthen, neither have we ever had much reason to experiment with the possibility. After Mister Ollivander's disappearance, when we began to speculate as to Voldemort's designs with the wandsmith, the ministry began testing on brother-wands, rare enough in their own right, to see what exactly they can and cannot do to each other in greater detail. There have even been wandsmiths in to try and remove the priori incantatum, but they have not met with any success thus far. But I believe that if anyone could break the priori incantatum it would be Mister Ollivander. And with his granddaughter's life in the balance… this is very disturbing."
Dumbledore stopped again. "Harry? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?
"No… I'll be all right in a minute," he answered. Sadly, he had enough experience with these kinds of nightmare visions to know. He looked up at the headmaster, met his eyes for the first time since arriving in his office, and noted the genuine concern in the older wizard's face.
Dumbledore nodded, though he still looked as though he might like to summon the mediwitch anyway. Instead, he asked, "Was there anything else in your dream?"
Harry frowned. "Lucius Malfoy was there. Mister Ollivander was hurt… bleeding everywhere… that's all I saw before I… woke up."
The headmaster sat back thoughtfully.
"What now?" Hermione asked in the following silence.
"I will need to take this information to some of my trusted allies as soon as possible, in fact as soon as you're on your way back to Gryffindor tower I'll begin making house-calls. I don't know yet how we might be able to use this information to any sort of advantage, but at least it paints a clearer picture of Voldemort's current activities.
"I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention immediately.
"For now, I think the two of you should return to your rooms and try to get some sleep. This night has been eventful enough for all of us, I'd wager.
Will you be needing some manner of draught to help you rest, Harry?"
Rather than explain that he would really rather not fall back asleep at all for the remainder of the night, Harry just shook his head.
"As you will, then. And one more thing before you go… in light of this new development, I wonder if perhaps Harry wouldn't be better off staying at Hogwarts this holiday season?"
Harry could understand the concern. He'd stay if Dumbledore asked him to without putting up a fight. It made sense to him, and he almost opened his mouth to consent, but Hermione stiffened at his side and it held his tongue. When he glanced at her she was sitting rigidly, a well-familiar scowl of stubbornness on her face. She just barely narrowed her eyes as she turned over the headmaster's exact words. "You're not telling him to stay?"
Actually, Dumbledore hadn't outright told him he was to stay at the school. Harry had just jumped to that conclusion, but Hermione was right when he thought harder on it. It had been more a query than command.
Dumbledore's mouth ticked in a brief smile, almost a half-wince. "No. I made the mistake once of handling you two like children where Voldemort was concerned, and I like to think I learn my lessons. I won't tell Harry that he's not allowed to leave… but I would have reservations."
Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "I'll leave this up to you and Miss Granger."
Harry turned his eyes to Hermione. It was her family in danger, her life on the line for being with him, she had so much more to lose than he; he would leave the final decision up to her. She'd make the right decision, he was certain of that. It was a relief, to know so unerringly that she'd know the right answer, and being able to put it in her hands.
Hermione met his eyes a moment, gave him a very faint smile, and turned to address Dumbledore. "Headmaster… we can understand your concerns, but we will have Kimmy with us for protection, and we don't know that this means Voldemort's any nearer to moving against Harry or the wizarding world anytime soon. Who knows how long he'll wait to see if the priori incantatum effect can be removed from his wand, if it even can be. I don't think we should change any of our plans."
Dumbledore didn't look wildly thrilled about that, but he merely nodded and sighed. "Well, then at least do me the courtesy of exercising extra caution? For my own peace of mind."
"We will, sir," Hermione replied.
Dumbledore stood. "Then it would seem I have some visits to certain colleagues to make, and you two should head back to bed. It's very late."
Harry wordlessly left the headmaster's office with Hermione.
On the trek back through the deserted corridors, Hermione was fast by his side. Her hand stayed clasped in his, and she let him set the pace. As they
neared the Gryffindor tower, Harry found that pace slowing. He didn't particularly want to go back up to his bed.
When he and Hermione returned to the dark common room, Hermione didn't turn to him to bid him goodnight. She silently led him over to the couch, unfolded the blanket thrown over the back, and gave him a gentle look. "Come on, let's lie down."
Harry looked up at her, afraid to hope.
Hermione cast him a smile. "I know you don't think I'm letting you go back up to that room where I can't check on you every ten seconds." Her tone was teasing, but he also knew she meant what she'd said whole-heartedly. His lioness Hermione was in fine form tonight.
Harry could not have loved her more than he did just then. Hermione lay down first, scrunched against the back of the couch, and Harry squeezed in next to her. Hermione tossed the blanket over them both then settled her head on his shoulder much as they had crowded on to the couch together on several previous occasions.
And as before, Harry brought his arms around her. He held her, maybe a little too tight and a little too needy, but Hermione didn't utter a word of complaint.
"Thank you," he said softly, afraid his voice would catch if he said more. He couldn't begin to tell her all the reasons he was thanking her, but right then it was mostly for not leaving him to face the night alone.
"This is for me, too. I want to know you're okay. But you're welcome."
Harry lay quietly with her in his arms a time before he had the courage to ask the question racing through his mind.
"Why did I change? I don't understand what happened. I woke up and it was like I couldn't stop it."
Hermione took a telling breath, classic Hermione about to lay out a theory.
"I think it may have been some amplification of the fight or flight response. Your dream visions seem to have a powerful effect on you, and you would never be more capable of fighting or fleeing than as the panther. At least it's the best I can figure." Hermione gave a one-shoulder shrug, since her other one was wedged into the couch cushions and not really allotted free range of motion. "It makes sense, I think."
"I guess so. How did you know I was fighting to hold my form? You told me to let it go, like you could tell."
"I could." Hermione lifted her head to look at him. She seemed to search forsomething in his eyes, though for what Harry didn't know. Hermione's brow crinkled a bit before she said, "I can tell when you're touching the jaguar, there's this feel to you that's different, but just now…it was mostly in your eyes. You know how Crookshanks can look at you when it's dark and the light hits his eyes just right and they reflect like little blue mirrors?"
Harry nodded.
"Your eyes are like that. When you're borrowing the jaguar's vision and the light hits them just right, they shine back blue-white like a cat's."
Harry had no idea he ever looked different when he was touching the jaguar.
Hermione smirked. "That and I've teetered on that mad edge between human and cat, and fallen off it, a lot more than you have when I was trying to learn how to touch the lioness like you do the jaguar. I suppose it made me good at spotting it."
Harry gave a small smile in return.
Hermione lowered her head to his shoulder again. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep?" she asked into his chest.
If she'd asked him twenty minutes ago, or in Dumbledore's office, he would have flat-out said no. But if she was going to stay with him…
"Will you stay with me?" he asked.
Hermione snorted and wrapped her arm around him. "Of course."
"Then yes."
He felt Hermione smile against him and it really did a lot toward banishing the disquiet in his bones. He might have drifted off right then if another question didn't prick at his thoughts.
"Hermione… are you sure about me still going with you for Christmas? I mean, it might be safer if I stayed at Hogwarts like Dumbledore suggested."
Hermione stilled at that. He'd struck a chord. She lifted her head again and regarded him closely. "It probably would be, and I almost gave in when Dumbledore first brought it up."
"So what changed your mind?"
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip faintly, but a determined light bloomedbehind her eyes. "The fact that the last time Voldemort was causing so much damage throughout the wizarding world it was eleven years before he was stopped. It could be just as long this time for all we know, if not longer. We won't be Hogwarts students with Dumbledore to watch over us forever.
And I thought, how long will we hide out of fear? How long will we put off living our lives because Voldemort could show up? And I knew that I didn't want to live like that. Do you understand?"
More than she knew. She didn't want to start stockpiling the joys of life in a vault somewhere, unlived and dangling on a promise of someday. He felt like he was always trying to make up for lost happiness during his years with the Dursleys. It was approaching the same desire from different ends. They only wanted a few snatched moments of happiness, a little normality in their lives, and it was a sad state of affairs that they should feel guilty for wanting nothing more extraordinary than that.
"Yeah, I understand."
"You're not upset with me, then?"
Harry gave her a lop-sided smile."Mione, I couldn't be upset with you unless you chopped up my Firebolt and used it for mulch or something, and even that I'd probably forgive you for within the week, ten days at the outside."
"Oh, that's so sweet, Harry." "Not that I want you to."
Hermione chuckled. "Well, lucky for you I'm not one much for gardening." "Well, no worries, then."
Hermione shook her head in amusement and then snuggled back down at his side. Harry had never felt back to his warped definition of normal, and even edging toward better than fine, so soon after a Voldemort dream in his life.
He knew the difference was cuddled up to him on the couch.
He was starting to feel drowsy, and Hermione's breathing was evening out as she drifted toward sleep; he counted the passage of time on her exhales.
Before he slipped into slumber, however, one more thing snared him, like a thorn bush catching his pant leg.
"Mione?" he said softly.
"Mmm hmmm," she murmured sleepily.
"I… I know you only wanted to help, but if that happens again, if you see me losing control of the jaguar like that… I don't want you getting in the way."
"Why?" she asked in an unconcerned voice.
Was she serious? Wouldn't it be painfully obvious?
"Because I couldn't stand the thought of hurting you."
Hermione was nonplussed. "You'd never hurt me, Harry."
Harry swallowed a sick feeling in his gut. "But if I wasn't in control, if I accidentally hurt you…"
Hermione huffed out a breath, treating this all a bit too cavalierly for Harry's liking. He just wanted her safe, was that really so outlandish? And shouldn't she be jumping all over the voice of reason bandwagon with him? It was her specialty far more so than his.
"I think you're in control more than you're giving yourself credit for," Hermione said softly.
Harry found that more confusing than helpful. Though Hermione didn't lift her head to look at his face, she seemed to know his reaction all the same. "You did a number on your bed, but I don't have a scratch on me."
Harry was still turning that over in his head when Hermione undeniably fell asleep. Harry was not long in following her example. And his dreams were not plagued by dark wizards and bleeding wandsmiths. In fact, he didn't dream, and dreamless sleep was better than residual nightmares. He'd take the middle ground with alacrity when he had been braced for the bleak badlands of nightmares.
He woke three times after falling asleep on the couch in Hermione's arms. Once was to a ghost of a sound, a phantom noise that he could not find when he woke. He looked around the dark common room but there was nothing but the sound of Hermione's breathing.
He wondered if maybe he didn't wake up to hear it and know that things were still all right. The second time he woke it was morning and Hermione was gone. He opened his eyes to see her and Ron standing a few feet away, speaking somberly in hushed tones.
She was no doubt filling their friend in on the details of last night while he slept. He was glad for that; he hadn't relished going into the unpleasant recount again. He left her to it. He dozed off once more, this time with Crookshanks on the armrest near his head, his constant purring a lulling sound. When he woke the last time Hermione was gently shaking him by theshoulder and telling him they had to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Ron was waiting on them a pace behind Hermione, and when Harry glanced up at the redhead Ron smiled. Maybe a little forced for knowing what had really happened to Harry last night, but not enough to run him off.
Harry got up off the couch and found he wasn't daunted by the notion of facing the day