The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Chapter Fourteen
Harry scrutinized the Daily Prophet religiously over the next few weeks, but aside from the occasional editorial wondering when The Boy Who Lived would step forward and challenge He Who Must Not Be Named, nothing new appeared.
“You know Harry,” Ron had said quite seriously one morning after Harry had again thrown down the paper in disgust, “they’ve started talking about you the same way as they do You Know Who.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and said, “That’s rot. How can you even say that?”
“Well, it’s true,” Ron insisted. “They don’t call Harry by his name anymore. He’s always The Boy Who Lived, just like You Know Who…all right…Voldemort, is always He Who Must Not Be Named or You Know Who.”
Harry shrugged. “Who cares? What’s the point anyway? I mean, do they think I’m going to attack them or something if they use my name?”
“It is a bit odd,” Hermione said. “But I remember reading something in Hogwarts: A History about wizards who put a spell on their name, so that if anyone said it, the wizard would be alerted to it. I bet that’s why no one wants to say Voldemort’s name. They’re afraid that he’ll know they’re talking about them. They’re afraid he’ll come after them. Who knows, maybe he did do a spell like that when he made up his name?”
“You don’t think that’s why Snape got so upset when I said Voldemort’s name a bunch of times in his class, do you?” Harry answered. “Maybe he really did. It’d be like him, now that I think about it, to increase everyone’s fear of him by being able to know that they’d been speaking of him.”
“Well,” Ron joked, “we’ll just have to start calling you, oh, I dunno, the Lord of Gryffindor, or something.” He cackled and added, “That’d be too funny. You can go through the halls and we’ll all bow to Your Highness. That’d infuriate Malfoy and his lot, wouldn’t it?”
“Not likely,” Harry answered grinning, “After all, Weasley is our King! We shall all chant that again Your Majesty after we squash Ravenclaw in the first quidditch game.”
“Yeah,” Ron grinned. Then he added quite seriously. “Just do me a favor and keep taking your potion, whatever it is. I want you healthy for our first game. They haven’t a chance if you’re playing Seeker at your best form.”
Harry grimaced and answered, “Don’t worry. I’m taking it. And besides, Voldemort’s been quiet lately. I expect he was disappointed when his last attack failed to get him what he wanted.”
Professor Snape had given them a truly difficult essay to write on the difference between relaxants and depressants, so they had gone that night, at Hermione's suggestion, naturally, to the library for information. Hermione had quickly found a few useful sources and was taking notes for each class of potions. There were quite a few other students who had the same idea and she found herself at a table with Parvati and Padma Patil and Susan Bones. She kept an eye on Harry and Ron with the vague notion that she might have to give them a poke or two to get them to start working. Harry had wandered into a nearby stack and was randomly pulling down books, or so it seemed from where she was sitting. She couldn't help noticing though, that he did look much better than he had for a long time. Whether it was the Revitalizing Potion he was taking or the pure vitality of youth, he seemed to have recovered most of his usual strength and stamina.
Ginny had come to the library as well, and she was reaching up for a book on the highest shelf, which was quite out of her grasp. Harry reached up and pulled the book down easily and looking down at Ginny made some comment that made her giggle. She responded, but too softly for Hermione to hear, and Hermioen found herself startled when Harry laughed aloud, and then ducked just a bit as though he thought Madam Pince was lurking around the corner waiting to jinx him for making noise. It was amazing what a difference that laugh had made. For one moment, his whole face had lit up.
"Too bad he doesn't look like that all the time," Parvati commented.
"He looks good enough any time," Padma responded with a tiny giggle. "Really, Hermione, how come you've never tried to date him?" Hermione glared at her.
"That'd be like dating my brother," she answered, firmly squashing any other round of gossip that way.
"Then you wouldn't care if anyone else did," Parvati said carelessly. "Of course," she added with narrowed eyes, "he's a bit scary at times, don't you think."
"Like you ever worried about anything scary," Padma replied. "You've brains enough, but you forget to use them."
"He's really nice though," Susan Bones said. "Remember how good he was when he taught us all Defense when that Umbridge woman was here." She watched him, gray eyes intent, and she added, "Hmmm.. scary, maybe, but definitely yummy, too."
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said sharply. "Harry woldn't hurt anyone. Well, maybe Voldemort, or a Death Eater. But nobody else." As if he had heard their conversation, though she knew he had not, Harry came sauntering over and peered at Hermione's pile of books.
" 'Lo," he said, "Mind if I look at that one?" he asked, pointing to the huge Encyclopedia of Potions that Hermione had put aside.
"So," Parvati said, "does anyone actually get the difference between relaxants and depressants? Do you, Harry?" Hermione nearly choked. She could have told Parvati that acting silly and girlish was not the way to get a positive response from Harry. He looked up absently from the Enyclopedia, which he had opened up and had flipped through the pages to a whole section on depressants.
"Yeah," he answered, "relaxants calm you down. Depressants slow you down." Parvati and Padma both looked genuinely impressed. Hermione was rather impressed herself.
"How'd you know that without having done the assignment?" Hermione asked curiously.
"It was in a source from a footnote on the Draught of Living Death," Harry answered. He ran a hand through his hair, as he did when he was preoccupied or concentrating hard. Again, Hermione had to stifle a giggle. It had made his hair stand up even more than usual so that he looked like a lion that had had its mane blow dried.
"So," Parvati said, "have you looked at your Career Advice packets? Do you know what you're going to do, or which of the tours you want to go on?"
Harry looked up at that and his gaze sharpened with interest. "I looked at it a little. Is it usual for them to do these tours? I can't remember the Seventh Years doing them before."
"They used to do them every year," Susan Bones relied. "But with You Know Who back, I think they weren't so happy about taking students out of school."
"You'd think they'd be even more worried about it this year," Hermione said. "Although I do think it's a great way to get a good picture of the job you're thinking of applying for."
"Well, my Auntie Amelia told me they've had their numbers drop quite a bit lately at the Ministry," Susan answered. "I guess some people have quit to move away until You Know Who is, well...dealt with." She leaned forward and added in a whisper, "And not everyone is happy with the way Fudge runs things either. So I guess they're wanting new recruits. Especially for Magical Enforcement."
"What about aurors?" Harry asked casually, though Hermione knew it wasn't a casual question at all.
"They need aurors especailly," Susan replied. "On account of, well, several of them have been killed. Like that chap a few weeks ago..."
"Shacklebolt," Harry put in. His gaze darkened slightly, and some of the animation left his face. He shook himself a little, like a puppy trying to shake the dirt off his coat. "So what are you applying for?" he asked Susan.
"Magical Law Enforcement, like my Auntie," Susan answered. "But not the auror department. I'm not good enough at Defense Against the Dark Arts for that. No," she added thoughtfully, "I want to be on the Wizengamot, and have a say in putting the bad ones away." Harry looked at her with renewed interest.
"Is that something that runs in your family? …Like the gray eyes. Your auntie has them too. And your cousin, Edgar." Susan looked quite astonished, and her gray eyes, which were indeed very fine, perhaps her prettiest feature, widened a bit.
"How do you know about Edgar?" she asked. "We all thought he was dead, you know, from when You Know Who killed his Mum and Dad and all the cousins."
Harry smiled a bit and said, "I met him. He could be a bit scary when he's after a suspect. Did you know he tried to arrest Voldemort? I think he's the only one that ever even tried that."
The other girls shivered as one at the mention of Voldemort's name. And Parvati looked more than impressed. "He must be something, if you think he's scary, Harry."
"I think he's very dedicated and very brave," Harry answered. "I dunno, maybe it's a Hufflepuff thing. A passion for fairness and justice." Hermione noticed that Susan blushed and Parvati looked quite put out.
Ernie Macmillan strolled over and said, "Look at you, Harry. Hogging all the pretty girls to yourself." He grinned, but his eyes strayed to Susan Bones, who blushed again.
"We've been talking about our Career Advice packets, and what tours we'd like to take," Susan said quickly.
"Yeah," Harry said solemnly. "But Ernie doesn't need a tour. He's going to be Minister of Magic. And a lot better one than our present one, that's certain." This time, Ernie blushed.
"That's one hell of a prediction, Potter." He looked terribly pleased as well as embarrassed.
Hermione glanced at Harry and saw the faint smile at his mouth, and something else, too. His eyes had gone slightly out of focus for a second; however they sharpened once more and he grinned openly at her.
"You'll just have to pester Ernie about house-elf rights, Hermione. I'd get him to join S.P.E.W. now, if I were you, before he becomes a politican and has to tell people what they want to hear instead of what he really thinks."
"That's a good idea," Hermione answered. She gave him The Look, though, just to let him know she was on to his game.
"What makes you think all politicans tell people what they want to hear?" Ernie asked with annoyance.
Harry shrugged. "Just the ones I've met," he answered.
Ernie grimaced slightly and said, "You can't have met any good ones then." Then his earnest face took on a faint cast of amusement.
"I don't know about being Minister, you know. I think you'll be Minister before me. In fact, if you ran today, Harry, I bet the people would vote for you over Fudge. You Know, The Boy Who Lived over the Minister That Failed."
"Me?" Harry said with horror. "Be Minister of Magic? Never. I wouldn't last three days. I'd have a temper tantrum when no one believed what I had to say and then I'd quit. I mean, I can't even pretend to be respectful of Snape for five minutes. How would I get along pretending to be nice to people I don't like?"
"You're not saying I'd be a hypocrite, are you?" Ernie asked. Hermione could see he was puffing up slightly, as though he was getting ready to be offended.
"No, of course not," Harry answered. "You're just basically a much nicer person than I am Ernie. And you care about people being at peace with each other, so you're nice even when you really don't want to be. That's not bad. It's a good thing, really, when you're honest, like you are." Ernie's face changed then, and he looked surprised and pleased at the praise. Harry relaxed, too, when he saw that Ernie wasn't going to be offended after all.
Does he even know what effect he has on people? Hermione wondered. She looked at Parvati and Padma, who were both eyeing Harry speculatively, and Ernie, who was glowing at the praise Harry had given him, and Susan whose admiration was closer to hero-worship than the Patil sisters' appreciation. Not, she thought, confirming something she had always suspected.
He was, despite his brilliance and despite all of the herioc things he had done, still largely convinced that he did well by luck. Except in quidditch. He was sure of his own worth there, but not really in any other way that counted. She couldn't help thinking, too, that bit about a passion for justice wasn't more about himself than about Susan Bones.
~~***~~
"What news have you got for me?" the Prime Minister asked.
"None," Bones answered. He was hard pressed to satisfy the Prime Minister that MI-7 was handling the present crisis. The newspapers had been leaned on heavily to characterize the attacks on the Royal Family as unknown terrorists, with the odd hint of foreign origins thrown in.
There was nothing more certain to still people's questions about violent assasination attempts, Bones thought cynically, than the suggestion that the perpetrators were foreigners. The result, naturally, had been a spate of new arguments about immigration laws and asylum rules, an ongoing staple of the Parliament debates anyway.
"What about the Potter kid?" the Prime Minister asked.
"Back at school where the Queen sent him," Bones answered. That was another puzzle. But the Queen was nearly as rabid about family matters and protecting youth as Victoria had been, so perhaps it wasn't surprising at all.
"He's still the only one who's come out of a fight with this Riddle fellow and survived to tell the tale, isn't he?" the PM asked.
"Not exactly," Bones answered. "Dumbledore has fought him and bested him, but he didn't kill him. Could't or wouldn't, I don't know which."
"That old man?" the Prime Minister asked. "He looks like Father Time he's so old. How old is he anyway?"
"Not that old," Bones replied with secret amusement, "only about a hundred fifty seven or so."
"You're joking," the Prime Minister said. A frown had begun to gather in the smooth bland face.
"That old man," Bones said, answering the unstated question, "is the most powerful wizard in the world probably. He might be the most powerful wizard since Merlin or Godric Gryffindor. He's the only one Riddle was ever afraid of, you know."
"Then why did Fudge bring the boy into it?" the Prime Minister asked sharply, "and why doesn't Dumbledore simply confront this Voldemort fellow and put him under lock and key?"
Bones frowned and tried to find a way to explain magic to a Muggle. "Riddle, you see, is willing to use magic that is outlawed. Dark magic, that gives him great and terrible power. Dumbledore may be literally more powerful than Riddle, but he will not ever use the kind of magic that Riddle does. It's like someone who knows how to build an atom bomb but won't, who is fighting someone who has and is willing to use it. Do you understand?"
"Are you implying that nuclear weapons are inherently evil?" the Prime Minister asked.
"Sir," Bones answered, "I'm trying to explain by analogy. Could you ever order the use of those weapons now, knowing what they do, knowing what innocents they would harm in your efforts to stop even someone admittedly evil? And dark magic is worse probably than such things. Because it changes the person who uses it. It is inherently evil. And every time Riddle uses it, it transforms him further and further away from being human like you and me and more and more toward something else."
The Prime Minister picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and handed it to Bones. "And the boy?" he asked. "This is why Fudge brought him to us. He survived that, Inspector Bones. Explain that, if you can." Bones looked at the picture of Riddle with a sword stuck straight through his heart, and another sword, a great black one, sticking out of the boy's back. It was one of the most awful sights he'd ever seen, and being a homicide detective, he'd seen many.
“He almost didn't survive," Bones answered absently. "He was on the brink of death for close on a month afterward. And I've seen the scars on him. It missed his heart by inches, but it did miss it." Bones stared at the picture and tried to think what it was that was niggling at his mind, trying to come out.
"Do you have a color copier, sir?" he asked the Prime Minister. "I'd like to get a better look at that sword."
"Which, the one Voldemort used?"
"No, the one Potter used. I think I've seen it somewhere." At a sign from the Prime Minister, his aide, Withers, stepped out and returned within in minutes with an enlarged copy of the picture. The Prime Minister glanced at it again curiously.
"Not Excalibur?" Withers asked with excitement. Bones raised his eyebrows.
"Not hardly, Withers. Not that Excalibur was it's name anyway," he added coolly. "That was added by the medieval romance writers. Most of the Merlin myths are pure fiction, you know."
"But not the sword?" the Prime Minister asked.
"No, sir. Only even if it were found, there's no one today who could wield it. Only one family could and their line died out fifteen hundred years ago."
"Then what's that one?" the Prime Minister asked.
"The Sword of Gryffindor," Bones answered. "I thought I recognized it. I'd like to know how Potter got a hold of it, though. It sits in glass case in the Headmaster's office, and so far as I know, no one has ever been able to open it to get out the sword. Unless maybe the Headmaster can himself."
"Sort of like drawing the sword out of the stone?" Withers asked with fascination.
"Very like," Bones answered.
"Then why, if Potter used that sword and he struck Voldemort right through to the heart," the Prime Minister asked, "why isn't he dead?"
"I don't know exactly," Bones answered. "He made himself an extra body, you see, and when the sword killed the one he was in, he simply possessed the other. Or so I'm told."
"Who told you that?" Withers asked.
"One of the people in the Order. A very reliable source, too."
"How reliable," the Prime Minister asked. Bones shrugged.
"Dumbledore told me that himself."
"Dumbledore again?" the Prime Minister mused. "He's the one who worked for us years ago, isn't he?" Bones nodded. He had read the files on Dumbledore activities during the war with fascination. It had also eased the occasional feeling of disloyalty he had, that he had chosen to continue working for the Yard and for the Minister's secret department--working for Muggles -- when he might have returned to the wizard world full time and taken a job at the Ministry.
"And he's training the Potter boy then, because he thinks Potter will defeat Voldmeort?" the Prime Minister asked.
"Yes," Edgar replied, though he didn't know why he should feel so badly about it.
"And Fudge?"
"He doesn't care if Potter can or not," Bones answered. "He only wants to send the boy out to fight Riddle so it looks like he's doing something. Taking measures, you see."
"Yes," the Prime Minister answered thoughtfully. "I do see. I can almost even sympathize. But not quite."
~~***~~
Fall had arrived with a vengeance, with mid-October storms that ripped the leaves off the trees before they could change colors, with howling winds, and early latherings of needle-like sleet that coated the grounds in ice and made Hagrid grumble about keeping his pumpkin crop warm and growing until Halloween arrived. Just such a storm howled outside the Castle, but the Defense Against the Darks Arts class paid it no mind. Bill had moved onto the next section of curse-breaking and the classes had proved entertaining as well as educational. On the last one, they had had to break the Sleepwalker's Curse - a peculiar one that made one do exactly what its name implied -- by slapping the victim on the face.
Nobody who got cursed much liked the remedy, but the ones who got to play curse-breaker had a good time, and those watching had howled with laughter when Seamus, on being woken, had said, "You should have left me sleeping! That's the closest I've gotten to Lavender in weeks."
Lavender had slapped him a second time and then said airily, "Ooh, sorry, Seamus. I thought you must be sleeptalking as well as sleepwalking."
Harry had thankfully avoided being either cursed or curse-breaker for that one. But they were all looking forward to the next lesson and he had no trouble ignoring the pounding hail that was falling noisily just then.
"Right, class," Bill said. "Today's curse is one of a group that you'll find quite fun, I think. The first one is so famous that even Muggles know it: the Frog Prince Curse it's been nicknamed. Not that you have to be a prince to be a victim of the curse. Nor do you have to be a male to be a victim. The remedy, of course, is the one that is memorialized in Muggle fairy tales. A kiss."
"You're joking!" Harry and Dean said at the same time.
"Not at all," Bill answered. "So, I want you to pair up and we'll try the curse-breaker. I'll do the cursing though, because the curse itself is a bit tricky and can go unpleasantly wrong if it's not done right." Hermione raised her hand.
"Isn't it rather like Transfiguration," she asked tentatively. "Turning someone into another animal, I mean."
"You'd think so," Bill answered, "but it's really very different. In Transfiguration, the actual being is metamorphosed. Here, the transformation is shallower and the person transformed remains completely himself and aware on all levels as himself, but has been turned into what looks like a frog." Hermione raised her hand again, but Bill forestalled her question.
"I'm quite sure Professor McGonagall would be glad to explain the technical differences. But for purposes of this class, I want everyone to see the working of it." Everyone drifted about and paired up. The class got another good laugh, though, when Bill said, "Crabbe and Goyle, you need to pair up with a girl. It doesn't work with persons of the same gender."
They both looked embarrassed and there was a good bit of shifting around as the girls, even most of the Slytherins, avoided the pair of them. Malfoy had managed to pair up with Parvati Patil and Pansy Parkinson was sulking furiously in the corner. Ron had snagged Hermione's hand immediately, and she had given him a sideways glance of amusement. Harry was more than amused to watch the maneuvers between his other classmates and he had chuckled out loud when Seamus had slipped next to Lavender Brown and said, "I think my dreams will come true today. In fact, I'll volunteer to go first!"
Lavender had blushed pink, and giggled instead of slapping him. Harry had found himself paired up with Padma Patil, to the envy of a few of the boys. It was still quite strange, he mused, to have some classes with all four houses at once. Hermione had suggested that it was to give Bill extra time to do work for the Order; Ron had snickered and suggested it gave him extra time to go visit Fleur. But Harry didn't mind. The more students there were, the more difficult it was for Malfoy and the Slytherins to bother him and for that he was grateful.
Bill took Seamus at his word and in the blink of an eye Seamus was no longer a tallish seventeen-year old; he was a good old frog, croaking away. The class roared with laughter again when the frog Seamus hopped closer to Lavender and croaked right at her.
"Euw," Lavender said. "I have to kiss that!" At Bill's nod, however, she picked up the frog - Seamus!- and screwing up her face gave him a peck on his froggy snout. The frog transformed right back into Seamus, who gave her an enthusiastic return kiss on the cheek saying, "Now don't hit me, darlin'. I'm just that grateful not be a frog forever."
Several others tried it as well, and Harry could see that some of the boys were enjoying the whole lesson much more than the girls. Although Parvati did not complain when Malfoy also took advantage to kiss her lightly on the cheek afterwards. Most of the class had their chance when Harry's turn came. He tried not to be too embarrassed, and he smiled a little at Padma and resolved not to be tempted into an extra after kiss. But he had to admit, she was awfully pretty.
"Ready?" Bill asked, just as he had for all the others. Harry nodded and stuck his wand in his pocket out of the way. He closed his eyes a second, because he didn't like the thought of being cursed, of seeing the curse coming at him, and not trying to do something about it. He felt like he'd been thumped lightly in the chest and he opened his eyes as everyone had gasped quite loudly.
He had been expecting to be looking out of frog eyes, as he had been looking out of bird eyes when he became the bird. But Bill had been right about this being different. Everything looked and felt the same. Then he realized, everything was just the same. He looked around in puzzlement to see why Bill hadn't done the curse.
"What happened? Why didn't he do the curse?" he asked. Padma had stepped away from him and was staring at him in astonishment and fear. She walked over to the front of the classroom where a frog croaked loudly.
"How did you do that?" Padma asked.
"Do what?" Harry asked.
"You turned the curse back on Bill," Hermione answered. "It backfired completely. Just like..." Harry turned around and looked behind him and all around.
"But I didn't do anything," he protested. "My wand's still in my pocket."
"Will someone please kiss the frog so we can get the teacher back," Hermione said sharply.
Padma picked up the frog and said, "Well at least I'll go down as the one who got to kiss the cutest teacher we've ever had. Too bad he's married." She kissed him and Bill re-emerged, looking embarrassed and furious and thoughtful all at once.
"Did you know that was going to happen?" Bill asked coolly.
"No," Harry answered.
"Were you trying to defend yourself?" Bill asked.
"No!" Harry answered. "I put my wand in my pocket. You saw it. Everyone saw it." Bill stared at him and seemed to be considering what to do.
"That is, without a doubt, the most unusual thing I have ever seen," Bill said at last. "You really don't know how you did that?" he asked again.
"I didn't do anything," Harry said. "I just stood there and waited for you to curse me."
"How extraordinary," Bill said softly.
***
Extraordinary didn't even begin to describe it, Hermione thought. They had just seen history. They had just seen exactly what had happened when Voldemort's curse had failed. Except that this one hadn't even left a mark. She supposed that must be because this curse was so small and reversible by comparison with Avada Kedavra, which was as powerful and permanent as could be.
The rest of the class was quite obviously frightened. As, she thought, was Harry himself. He looked bewildered and his face had gone all pale and remote and he seemed to be waiting for Bill to punish him for his temerity.
"Has anyone ever managed to use a curse successfully on you?" Bill asked curiously.
Justin interrupted. "When he and Malfoy dueled second year, Malfoy's curse just knocked him down. It didn't really work, did it?"
The others were nodding. "Yeah," said Ernie. "And he threw off the Imperius curse fourth year. That didn't work on him properly either."
Harry turned his head stiffly to look at Ernie and said, "Well, it did work. I just threw it off after."
His face remained pale, though, and Bill gave him a penetrating stare as he said, "All right. Class is dismissed. And don't forget your essay on Egyptian curses is due next lesson." The class packed up their books, muttering quietly and Bill moved over and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Hold up a moment will you. I didn't mean to be sharp with you. I was caught by surprise."
Harry nodded and stuffed his books into his bag without looking at anyone. Hermione and Ron lingered and Hermione was grateful when Bill said very sharply, "Move along Malfoy, Crabbe. Unless you'd like to stay after for detenetion?" They shook their heads and moved away reluctantly. Ron followed after them and shut the door.
"Why'd you do that?" Harry asked.
"To keep them from listening," Ron said, "and repeating everything we say to their Death Eater daddies."
"They'll already have seen everything anyway," Harry answered.
"Yes," Hermione said quickly, "but it isn't anything new. Voldemort already knows you have these defenses. We already knew, too. It was just weird to see it in action." Harry opened his eyes and looked quite disconcerted again.
"But I didn't know it was happening. I don't understand it."
"You didn't really answer my question before," Bill said softly. "Can you remember ever having a curse work on you?" Hermione could see his eyes change then, as a memory, perhaps, came and went.
"I told you, the Imperius curse worked."
"But you threw it off, quite easily, didn't you?" Bill asked. He frowned and said, "Perhaps it doesn't work properly on you after all, and that's why you're able to throw it off so easily. Most fully trained wizards can't, you know."
Harry shifted uncomfortably and said, "Can I go? We'll be late for our next class."
But Bill ignored that. "What about other curses?" he asked. "What other curses have ever worked on you?"
"The Cruciatus curse," Harry said after a pause. "That one worked quite well. So you see, I'm not entirely immune." He picked up his books and this time he didn't ask for permission to leave. Bill stared after Harry looking horrorstruck.
"When would anyone have used that on him?" Hermione felt just the same.
Ron, however, looked broodingly after Harry and said, "After the Triwizard Contest obviously. Voldemort did it to him."
"That wasn't in the story he gave to the Quibbler," Bill replied. "It wasn't in the story he gave Dumbledore even. At least, I don't think it was." He looked at Ron and said, "Did he tell you that?"
"No," Ron answered. "No. But I've always wondered what he left out. He told everyone the things he thought mattered you see. He told them the part about Voldemort getting his body back. It just didn't occur to him that the part about him being tortured was important. It makes you wonder, really, what those Muggles did, when they raised him, that he doesn't think his own pain matters or that anyone would want to know about it."
"We were rather awful," Hermione said, "that summer afterwards. We were all annoyed that he wasn't himself, weren't we? How could we have been so stupid, not to realize that he wouldn't be acting that way unless something caused it? You'll have to tell Dumbledore, won't you?" she added.
Bill raised his eyebrows and said, "He probably knows already. But yes, I'll have to have a word with Dumbledore. And quite frankly, the other teachers will have to be warned to be careful what spells they try to use on him, even for teaching purposes."
"I wonder if he's skived off Divination," Ron said. "I'd better go see if I can find him and have a talk. I'll probably have to yell at him to get his head back on straight after this."
He shook his head and led Hermione out of the class, and when she kept following him, he said, "That's not where your Artihmancy class is."
"No," she answered. "But wouldn't you want me to come after you, too?"
"I always want you to come after me," he responded.
She smiled at him and kissed him right on the cheek. "Single-minded, that's what you are, Ron Weasley. And singularly, and purely for your friends and ...Family."
