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Chapter Text

The Hermit is the card of solitude, and of deep introspection. Only when one is confronted to both, in his lethargic state of penance, can he begin the journey of self-discovery and of spiritual growth.

* * *

On the first day back to school, Ron noticed a change in his friendship dynamic with his two best friends.

It was the start of year 7, the year he was most excited about. During that year, students were encouraged to choose muggle topics to minor in, such as science or English literature. He had to admit his father’s enthusiasm for muggles had gotten to him a few years prior. At the age of fifteen, he had become obsessed with chemistry. He was surprised at first since his main interest was Quidditch and sports in general, but he decided to lean into it. He spent most of his summers studying it. It wasn’t the magical aspect of it he liked. He didn’t like Potion classes and wasn’t interested in the type of magic his twin brothers practiced for their shop. The mathematical aspect and the lab experiments had drawn him in. That is why he should have been buzzing with excitement on the first day of year 7.

However, that summer had been particularly long and weird. Hermione’s folks had decided to go on a 2-months-long vacation to Paris to visit relatives. Harry had stayed for the whole summer at the Weasley’s, but had chosen to spend his entire stay in Ginny’s room. At first, Ron didn’t mind. After some days, he became bored. After a month, he was angry and felt left out. Towards the end of the summer, his throat clenched when he saw glimpses of Harry around the house. He felt somewhat deceived, as if none of his two best friends, the people he cared about most, had enough time for him. He felt like a burden. To make matters worse, the twins were busy managing their business, Bill was kilometers away enjoying his cottage with his wife, Charlie was on an internship as a dragon caretaker in Romania and Percy was a jackass. He also lived in a rathole in the middle of nowhere, which forbade him from ever meeting with his other friends without using magic that far away from the school, which he was still unable to do as a minor.

In other words, he was coming back from the dullest summer of his life.

* * *

In the train, Harry had chosen to take a compartment alone with Ginny, and that left Ron alone with Hermione. She would not stop talking about her trip to Paris, and as happy as he was for her, he was in no mood to listen to her blabbering for five hours.

“Hey. Hey! Moon to Ronald!”

His focus snapped instantly back to the inane conversation.

“Yes. You were saying you visited the Eiffel tower with your cousins.”

Hermione glared at him for what seemed like an eternity. Ron grew uncomfortable, but didn’t dare utter a word. She could get really scary when he acted out.

“If I’m boring you with my story, just say that.” Hermione said tonelessly.

“No! Not at all. I’m just a little bit tired, is all” Ron replied fearfully.

“Look. I’m not fucking stupid. I’ve been speaking to a wall for the last thirty minutes. If you want us to stay in silence for the next four hours, we’ll do just that.”

With that, she whipped her head towards the window and stared down at the landscape, her nostrils flaring. She hugged her arms and unceremoniously flung her feet in the small space between Ron’s body and the window. He shifted uncomfortably away from her dirty kitten heels, soiled by the mud that was a direct by-product of the ever so ugly English weather. After about twenty seconds, she spoke up without looking at him.

“You know what? I’m just so sorry I was happy to see you and share my trip with you. You don’t hug me when you see me after two months. You say three words and then proceed to ignore me. I’m just trying to make this ride enjoyable for us. Anyways, where is Harry?”

Ron stared at her. He thought she must have kept this inside for a really long time, for it to explode like that. He felt guilty, and thought that maybe he should be more vocal about his own issues in order to reach a common understanding. It was unfair to give her the silent treatment when she was not the reason he felt so tense.

“If this is about what I said last year, just forget about it. Please.” Now, she just looked sad. She refused to meet his eyes. Her eyes were following a point in the distance, a pretext to hide the anxiousness that was so obviously displayed in her features.

Ron felt a pang in his side. He vividly remembered her telling him she liked him on the last day of school, right before she left with her parents, right on Platform 9 ¾. Back then, he stood shocked and hadn’t answered. They did not send each other letters during the summer. For her, it had been mostly because of shame. For him, it had been more because of awkwardness. He also wasn’t sure about what he felt for her, and he hadn’t wanted to make their relationship incertain and complicated. But now, in that moment, even though he emotionally stood at the same point he did two months ago, he found himself wanting to feel something. He had been single forever, and as everyone around him found love, he felt emotionally unavailable. He didn’t like that feeling. Besides, he could not say that he had never considered her in that way before.

“This isn’t about what you said last year.” Her eyes finally met his. “I just had a really crappy summer and I guess I just feel a little jealous of yours.” He smiled at her then, and he felt her features slightly relax.

“How can you be so normal about this? I know I am making this worse but it feels unfair to be left with no answer. You had two months to think about it. If you don’t want this just say so. I won’t be mad. I swear.”

“I never said I didn’t want this, but I still don’t know where I stand. I just don’t want to make a mistake that could hurt you.”

Hermione suddenly stood up and headed for the door. Even though she was the one who had brought the subject up, she felt weird about the whole ordeal and didn’t feel like facing it at the moment. The air felt too oppressive in the compartment, and she needed to clear her mind.

“Wait!” Ron grabbed her sleeve and she turned around. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

They both stood very frozen for a long time staring at each other with a certain intensity, hands locked. She was nervously fidgeting with his thumb.

“Really?” She finally said. He looked at her with a gradually growing smile.

“Are you free on Saturday?” She nodded. “Let’s go to Hogsmeade together. It’s a date.”

She returned his smile, “Yes, I’d like that.”.

* * *

As they left their compartment, they let go of each other’s hand, their relationship feeling even wobblier than it was before. Sure, they had enjoyed their time in the train, but stepping out of it felt like going back to reality. Now that Ron was out there, he didn’t know how to feel about the whole ordeal. How was he going to tell Harry about this? Was he going to tell Harry? Thinking about it made his stomach churn. He decided he was not going to bring it up if his so-called friend remembered he existed.

In the dining hall, as they watched the nervous first years squirm in their seats, Ron searched for Harry’s messy hair in the sea of people. When he finally located him, he nudged Hermione’s shoulder to let her know. They headed towards him and Ginny with some difficulty. Was he seriously going to stay by her side constantly, even now that the school year had started? He was acting like her babysitter.

“Hey!” Hermione ran up to Harry to hug him.

Ron didn’t. He stared at Harry over Hermione’s shoulder and he suddenly felt nauseous. He barely acknowledged his sister and forcefully nodded at Harry. Nobody else seemed to notice their discomfort before they all sat down together with Dean, Seamus, Neville, the twins, Angelina and Ginny’s friends. Ron noticed that Georges was holding hands with Angelina. He looked incredulously at his brother, who only wiggled his eyebrows and dramatically kissed the air as a response.

“This year, we are going to win that bloody Quidditch cup!” Angelina said, obviously unaware of all the action happening next to her. “If I lose to Hufflepuff for the third year in a row I might just end up at St-Mungo’s!” She quickly turned to Neville, wide-eyed. He only shrugged in return.

“Yes, captain!”, the twins yelled in unison.

“Shut up. I am being extremely serious about this. I’m even thinking of changing some player’s positions…”

“What?” Ginny almost screamed. Harry looked at her worriedly, but he knew this decision would not compromise his position as a Seeker; after all, he was the best one in all of Hogwarts.

“Girl, I know that you love being a Chaser, but let’s face it, you are wasted potential right now. I want you as a Beater on my team. You probably have the biggest sets of guns in the whole team. Like, if you don’t include me.”

Ginny blushed at the remark and playfully hit Angelina’s arm.

“What about me?” Ron ventured. “I can step down if you want me to. I know I’m not the best…”

Angelina looked at him with a sad expression.

“I know how much you wanted this to work, but this would be a really huge favor for the team… It would be a great sacrifice from you.”

Ron blushed too, but for a much different reason.

“Nah… It’s all right. I think I’m starting to get tired of playing. All of these years of practice made me realize I much preferred to watch from the stands than to be on the field.”

A hand seized his under the table; Hermione. She discreetly mouthed something along the lines of “Really mature” with an expression torn between pride and empathy. He blushed even more.

The rest of the conversation consisted of Angelina and Harry proposing new players and replacing current player’s positions. Seamus, Dean and Ginny would sometimes chime in, but Ron decided to stay silent. Neville and Hermione were passionately speaking about their expectations for this year’s Herbology class. Ginny’s friends had not spared a single ounce of brainpower for the conversation since the beginning; they were too preoccupied gossiping about Pansy’s new haircut and sneaking demeaning glances at her. Even though he was the one who had proposed the idea of leaving the team, Ron felt left out, once again.

To add to his misery, this year’s sorting was far longer than any other year’s, and Ron’s belly was starting to hurt from hunger. If he had been good enough at Transfigurations, he would’ve transformed the twins into rotisserie chicken already.

* * *

“Doesn’t even have the decency to sit with us” Ron whined to Hermione, in the last row of History of Magic class.

“Well if I had known you would’ve forced me back there at the last possible minute I would not have had the decency to sit with you either.” Hermione huffed. She hated being sat in the last row in classes, as the restricted view might hinder her learning potential.

“He isn’t saying anything worthwhile!” Ron whispered. “It’s a recap from last year. Nothing you don’t know already. I bet you even know the curriculum for this year and the next like the palm of your hand.”

Hermione smiled. “That would be correct. But can you blame me? I live as a muggle during the summertime, and if I’m not travelling I get bored quickly. Besides, I find anything related to magical studies quite fantastic.”

“You can’t be serious. I’d rather get scolded for an hour by my mother than listen to this class, maybe then I’d be less bored.” Ron turned his gaze back to Harry who was sitting next to Dean and Seamus. “Seriously, I wonder what’s up with him. He barely spoke to me all summer.”

“Really? That’s odd…”

“Not really. He was too busy getting his hands on my sister to care.”

“This isn’t like him… Did you try speaking to him.”

“Hell no! Why should I? I’m not the one to blame.” Ron crossed his arms in a childlike manner, his face taut.

“Wow, I can see why you guys haven’t been talking… you’re both children. I’ll speak to him.”

“And admit defeat? Are you insane?”

“This isn’t a game, this is a childish quarrel!” She furiously whispered. “You are sixteen, grown enough to step on your ego and admit you did not help the situation in any way.”

Ron mumbled something unpleasant and turned his attention back to Mr Binns. He was not in the wrong and no one would change his mind.

At the end of class, Hermione quickly packed her bag and ran up to the three guys who were already on their way out. She caught up with them and started talking to Harry. Ron slowed down, observing from his desk. He could tell Harry seemed detached and uninterested by their conversation. Dean and Seamus were hanging back, laughing and giving Hermione nasty glances. Ron felt anger flare in his ribs but stayed a third-party to the situation. When the short conversation ended, the boys left her in the doorframe and Ron jogged up to her. They were now the only ones still in class and Binns stared at Ron harshly, excited for them to leave. The pair started walking to their next class, Muggle Chemistry, in silence.

“Fuck him.” Hermione declared after a while.

Chapter Text

The Wheel of Fortune welcomes luck, whether it be good or bad. This game of retribution works in favor of those with serendipity, and acts as an active antagonistic force to the less fortunate.

* * *

On the fourth week of classes, when Durmstang and Beauxbâtons arrived at Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione were officially dating. He hadn’t wanted to make it public information, and she was uncomfortable at the thought of doing it too; they were finally on the same page. Besides, the thrill of having a secret relationship was much more enticing than having a public one. They hadn’t even told Harry, even though he was supposedly their closest friend; he was so obsessed with his own relationship that he didn’t even notice that something had changed. Just like that, he was always somewhere with his girl during the breaks, sitting with her and her friends during meals, studying with her in the afternoons and gone during nighttime.

On the plus side, the Triwizard reaping cup was now open to the students. If they wanted to participate, they could deposit a slip of parchment with their full name on it in the gigantic metal cup spitting blue smoke in the hallway on the way to the dinner hall. Furthermore, the gamemakers had decided to make it possible for anyone of any age to participate since Voldemort had been defeated the previous school year. The games had also been toned down from the previous tournaments, to make them even more age-appropriate.

“You should volunteer in the tournament, Ronald.” Hermione told him on a Tuesday after their last class of the day, Potions, had ended. They were hanging out near the lake, sitting on the grass and watching the sun slowly go to sleep. Hermione was braiding a flower crown with the daffodils and nearby lilies she could find at an arm’s reach distance.

“Huh?! Why?”

“Ginevra is participating. And, I know it sounds stupid but… I feel as if it would be a victory for Harry if she was chosen or even won the tournament. He has really been bugging me lately, and I want him to realize we exist too.”

“If you want to make him realize we exist, you put your name in that damned cup!”

“What are you so afraid of? The gamemakers said it was a toned-down version of the usual games and that it was open to everyone; Ron, that includes eleven years-old. Besides, I think you should get something to do. I am already on several committees and have the best grades on campus. I mean, I don’t want to say you’re not doing anything. Just that you could be doing more. You get what I mean?”

“Sure… Let me think about it.” Ron said reluctantly. He was not planning to think about it.

In the distance, they watched students from the other schools roaming around. Three Durmstrange students were gathered in a circle with their arms crossed and hard stares on their faces.

“I’m betting my money on the blonde girl that has been staring at us too hard to get chosen for Durmstrang.” Declared Hermione, craftily avoiding eye contact with said blond girl by replacing petals in her flower crown that had already been finished for a while.

“What? There’s no way they will pick a girl” Ron laughed.

“And why is that?” Hermione eyed him.

“I mean… No, I just mean there’s tougher guys in that Russian lot.”

“What about Ginny? You don’t think she can get chosen?”

“Absolutely not.”

Hermione stared at him hard for a minute, a tense energy pulsating around her. “You’re a dick”, she finally declared before standing up, taking her flower crown and heading towards the castle.

As he said those words, Ron knew two things to be true; for starters, they were false, and also, he didn’t believe a single sentence that had escaped his lips. He did believe women to be able to defeat men in any given setting. His mother was probably the strongest person he knew. Ginny was also up there in his rank. He didn’t know what had compelled him to say those things, but even as he got up, picked up his schoolbooks and headed for his dorm, he did not feel remorse for saying them. In fact, in a sadistic way, he had expected and appreciated Hermione’s response.

* * *

Harry excitedly nudged Ginny’s shoulder as they sat down with her friends for dinner. This Friday was the day when the cup would reveal the champions from each school. He was so proud of his girl for participating, and wholeheartedly believed she had a fair chance of winning. At first, she had pushed him to do the same, but defeating Voldemort last year had been too exhausting and he was looking forward to an uneventful and relaxing year. Besides, he wanted to make sure she had every possible chance of winning, as he was still the most influential person in the wizarding world.

“If you don’t get chosen, I’m sueing Dumbledore”, Denise declared. She was one of Ginny’s best friends since year one. Being tall and muscular, it would have been a given for her to participate as well. However, she had specified she did not want to partake in any activity that could mess her silk press up.

“D, voyons! How many times do I have to tell you that he has no control over that cup?” Jeanne rolled her eyes. She had a thick Quebec accent, being from there, bore an average height, a thick platinum blonde shag on the head and about twenty piercings in each ear, although only an eyebrow piercing in the face.

“I’m sure you’re getting in.” Harry did an exaggerated flourish to peer around the room. “I don’t see anybody who compares here.” Ginny blushed and gave him a little thank-you peck on the cheek. In return, he grinned ear to ear.

“Ugh, a room monsieur?” Denise scoffed. She looked as if someone had just thrown up all over her lap. Jeanne giggled at her friend’s comment.

Another girl appeared in the distance, walking painfully slowly. When she finally reached the table, Denise and Jeanne moved out of the way to let her sit between them. The girl heavily sighed and dramatically fell on the bench. Her lips were swollen, and her eye makeup was slightly thrashed. Jeanne smirked.

“Who is it this time Valentina?”

“History of Magic. Obviously.”

“Him again? I thought he had cheated on you!” Harry exclaimed. One thing he loved about these girls was that they always had a hot piece of gossip to share. Valentina tossed her long black curls from her shoulder and began salvaging her makeup with her charger plate as a mirror.

“Don’t get it twisted. I was doing the cheating. He was pissing me off.”

“Then why get involved again if you don’t like him, Val?” Ginny asked, incredulous.

Valentina looked up dreamily, “You can’t deny that he looks crazy good. I do fancy him, just not psychologically.” She carried on wiping away her smudged eyeliner. “He acts like he wants to marry me or something. That makes me back off significantly.”

Valentina was a Dominican girl with all the right curves and wrong edges, and Harry couldn’t help but feel bad for every guy that got involved with her. She was an awesome and interesting friend, but decidedly sucked at romance.

“Silence, please!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed off the walls of the dining hall. “It is time to uncover the chosen ones for this year’s Tri-Wizard tournament!” All of the students screamed, most of them shaking their friends who had put their names in the cup. Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand for support, and her friends imitated him.

Turning his full attention toward the end of the hall to get a better look at Dumbledore and the cup, he noticed a flash of red. He stared at Ron as the ginger kept eating, seemingly completely unbothered by the announcement. Hermione was looking grim, swatting at his shoulder for him to turn his attention to the front of the room. A pang of shame and nostalgia hit Harry. He kind of missed them, and dreaded the idea of having to confront them again. Even in the dorm, he did everything he could to enter after Ron was already asleep, and to leave before he could wake up. That is how much shame he had towards the whole situation he had himself created.

“First and foremost, I want to thank Durmstrang and Beauxbâtons for deciding to partake in the games this year. It is truly a pleasure to have you among us for this school year.” The students clapped. “Let’s start with Durmstrang.” A piece of parchment aroused with blue fire landed in Dumbledore’s hand. “Katya Kozlov!”

A girl with inhumane muscles stood up, looking smug. She bent down to kiss a platinum blond girl who was still sitting, out of excitement. A common gasp erupted from the student body. She did not seem to care. She also had blond hair to her shoulders, thought hers were warmer toned, was dressed like she was about to go to war, had a perfect posture and a devilish grin plastered on her face. Her traps looked like they were about to explode. Nonetheless, her bear-like muscles seemed to only enhance her beauty. She walked the whole hall with her head high, staring at almost every individual in the room. Harry saw Draco uncomfortably squirm in the distance as his eye met with hers and snorted. When Katya reached the front of the room, she seized Dumbledore’s now empty hand and shouted “I fucking knew it, cука!”. The parchment had disappeared. Dumbledore quickly took his hand back and away from hers and offered her a smile she didn’t even notice.

“Next up, Beauxbâtons.” Another fired-up parchment flew to his hand. “Étienne Moulain!”

A lad got pushed off the table by his friends. He was dressed in light blue, like all the other students from his school. He seemed uneasy and looked back at his friends with big eyes before walking towards Dumbledore and Katya. A soft “Criss” escaped his lips when he reached their side.

“Omaillegod! Guys, I think he’s from Quebec too!” Jeanne excitedly whispered.

“Someone found her soulmate” Denise raised her eyebrows flirtatiously.

Ginny said nothing. She was not even following their discussion, and looked a sick shade of green.

Étienne was a dirty blonde with a middle part, had a square chin, slight sideburns and was a little chubby. Harry had to admit he was a good-looking fella. When he reached the front, he didn’t even acknowledge Dumbledore and just stared ahead into the emptiness.

“At last, Hogwarts.” Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand tighter. “And… the Hogwarts champion is… Ginevra Weasley!”

Harry snapped his head towards hers at the same time she did. She started screaming with all of the other Gryffindors as Harry hugged her and kissed her neck repetitively. He was overcome with pride for his gorgeous girlfriend who seemed to have every talent and quality in the world. She stood up and half ran to the front of the hall, vigorously shaking Dumbledore’s hand. Denise, Valentina and Jeanne were hugging each other and screaming compliments at their friend while Harry watched from afar, overcome with emotion. She had grown so much since he had first met her, and everyday, she was becoming a fabulous woman even more.

In the distance, he could see an extremely satisfied Hermione and a defeated Ron.

Chapter Text

The Hanged Man card depicts that sometimes, a small sacrifice is needed in order to pave the way for a bigger outcome.

* * *

“You guys still not talking to each other?” Dean asked Ron on a Saturday morning. Harry had awoken to head to quidditch practice with his beloved earlier this morning, around 6, and to his dismay, had found out that all of his other roommates were up too. He had then dressed up in quidditch gear, avoiding every other boy’s eyes, and had headed downstairs without a word. Since he had blocked Ron and Hermione out of his life, it hadn’t been long until all of his old friends became obsolete to him. Aside from Dean, he was now hanging exclusively with Ginny and her friends who had warmed up to him pretty fast. However, since there was no real reason for him blocking them out, he had no argument to make and the dorm ambiance had rapidly become awkward and hellish.

“Nah… I don’t know what’s his problem. It’s as if we were never friends to begin with, as if I was a bloody stranger to him.”

“He’s not talking with me either.” Neville offered as he folded his pyjama pants and slid them under his pillow.

“I figured his honeymoon phase would end someday. Guess that’s too much to hope for.” Ron said, a certain hatred in his tone. “He’s always with his girl-crew now. Worst is, I know these girls. They come over for the holidays sometimes. They have never been kind to me, ever! What do they see in Harry?”

“You’re jealous or what?” Dean smirked.

“Ew, no. Besides, I’m-” Ron stopped in his tracks. He was not supposed to talk about his relationship.

“Besides what?” Neville asked, coming up to sit at the end of Ron’s bed. He looked too interested for Ron’s liking.

Ron weighed his options. Either he confessed and made them promise to not say anything. Either he said nothing, became suspicious and made his friends wary of him. Or he could come up with a lie. But he was a really bad liar.

“I’m in a relationship with someone. Can’t say who, though.”

“Why?” Seamus asked with a wry grin. “It’s a guy? Or worse, a Slytherin?”

“No, it’s not either of that.” He suddenly became extremely aware of his entire body. He could feel a mix of embarrassment and adrenaline coursing in every limb of his. Somewhere far in his brain, he had the faintest feeling of understanding, but he didn’t know what it was about. “Stop asking me dumbass questions”

“Now, I feel like it’s both” Seamus replied. Dean hit his leg with the newspaper he plucked from the feet of his bed, chuckling in his beard. “If I learn you’ve been snogging Malfoy, I will personally kill you myself.”

“Okay, okay, no. I’d rather eat slugs than do… that. I will tell you but you promise to tell no one, not even others from the house.” Four pairs of eyes peered at him as he unveiled his secret, “I’ve been seeing Hermione since the beginning of classes.”

“What?!” Neville screamed.

“Granger? With a man?” Dean snickered.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, perplexed.

“You know what I mean.” He answered with a grin. When Ron didn’t reply, Dean sighed. “I don’t know man… she just seems so passionate about women, I thought she might like them too”

Ron scoffed. ”Then you don’t fucking know her. Obviously she is passionate about women; she is one! Stop saying bullshit about her, okay? You don’t know what you’re talking about”

Dean jokingly raised his hands and feigned innocence, pocketed his wand and then hooked his finger into Seamus’s belt loops to bring him out of the dorm with him.

“Breakfast stops getting served at 7. We’re going to eat. Bye-bye.” He said giddily as he walked away, still holding onto Seamus.

When Neville and Ron were alone in the dorm, Ron turned to him.

“You don’t think that about her, right?”

“Well, I think it’s none of my business, for starters.” When Ron kept staring, Neville continued. “Look, there are rumours about it. I don’t know if they’re true. Just talk to her, alright? I don’t think I can help you with that.”

Neville darted into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and two minutes later he was running down the stairs, avoiding Ron’s gaze.

Rumours? He had never heard anything about them. How widespread were they? And who had started them? And on what were they based? His mind reeled with questions as he brushed his teeth. How was it that he didn’t know what was being said about his best friend? He got that rumours were meant to be spread behind someone’s back and that he was probably too close to her for people to tell him about it. However, there was so much gossip in the school that he was confused he hadn’t heard the rumours while he was walking down a corridor, or taking a stroll towards Hogsmeade. Was she aware of those rumours? Did she care? He lifelessly carried his body to the dining hall, his brain doing gymnastics. He was so deep in thoughts he didn’t see Malfoy and his gang coming.

“Oi, something wrong, Weasel?” He viciously laughed. He was with Pansy and Blaise, his new upgraded gang after he had unceremoniously ditched his two former bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle.

“Yeah, you’re looking a little sick… or maybe it’s just the effects of that carrot-looking hair, I don’t know.” Pansy chimed in. “You should really go see a hairstylist.” She was one to talk, with that symmetrical black bob that barely went past her ears. Ron thought she looked like an old crayon. Ron didn’t know much about fashion, and even he could tell it was ugly. Nevertheless, he was too preoccupied to worry about their stupid jokes to throw in a counter-attack, and he really wanted to question Hermione about the whole ordeal. He tried to push past the trio but Blaise shoved him back.

“Where do you think you’re going, Weasel boy? You only leave when we say we’re done with you” Blaise growled menacingly.

Ron’s jaw locked, displeased, and he looked back into the dining hall for some help. Surely, if the teachers were watching, they would separate them into their respective tables. But nobody was watching him. Except for one. Ron made a prolonged eye contact with Harry, the first since many months. The brunette didn’t make any move to come and help him, but his gaze didn’t quaver. Next to him, Ginny and her friends were chatting.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pansy sweetly announced “I think he’s having a moment.” when she caught the object at the end of his line of sight. Ron looked at the trio, now laughing to tears. He started feeling the same shame he had some minutes ago, up in the dorm.

“Shut up.” He pathetically offered. When their laughter doubled, Ron lost his temper and threw the first punch. He hit Malfoy’s nose, breaking it. He grinned as he was reminded of Hermione doing the same to him, in the third grade. Quickly, Pansy took her wand out and knocked him on the side of his head, sending him to the ground. The actual wand hadn’t hurt that bad, but the impact of her fist had sent stars flying before his eyes.

“Nobody hits Dray-Dray without facing the repercussions!” She yelled. She sounded like a mouse in a cheese trap.

When he received a freezing curse, he couldn’t tell who it was from. He was knocked out, oblivious to the world around him, partially deaf, and could only see the cold flagstones under him, drenched in his own blood. He could nonetheless feel the feets connecting their blows to his stomach, to his back, to his face, and could do nothing but endure the pain. He vaguely heard something about Malfoy’s dad losing his job at the Ministry because of a lost court case in which Arthur helped the other side.

After a minute, the blows stopped. A blue light came his way, and he could finally move. As he turned to his back, he saw Harry perched over him. He was saying something but Ron’s ears felt like they were filled with cotton candy. He could not even say something back, because of the overwhelming pain in his entire body. He squeezed his core, trying to sit upright, knowing his mangled arms would be of no help. Nausea flooded his senses and he threw up in his own mouth as he hit the ground again, hard.

He was aware of hands turning him to his side, of fingers digging up the bile from his throat and of screams. He saw a pair of feets in front of him and could immediately recognize their owners; Hermione. She finally crouched to his height with a terrified look on her face. He was lifted from the ground by his friends, and he could see McGonagall screaming at the Slytherin trio while Snape steered them away. She then led the way to the hospital wing, a noticeable urgency in her steps.

His eyes shut one final time as his body strength left him entirely.

Chapter Text

The card of Death talks of the cycle of life. One is born, lives, and dies in order to be reborn. Death is not the end to all, but rather a powerful transition period in which all things must pass. Without death, the cycle cannot be completed. Without death, there is no way to reach redemption.

* * *

He woke up in a white bed, in the hospital wing. His head was throbbing with the pain of Pansy’s blow, and his whole body felt stiff. He painfully turned his head and saw a piece of paper on the visitor stool next to the bed. He took it and read the note.

“Hi Ron! Hope you are doing well. If you read this it means that you woke up, which is good. I’m worried about you. I stayed for the first day, but you wouldn’t wake up. Mrs. Pomfrey told me that you have three broken ribs and a concussion, but other than that, you’re fine. I wish I could stay but I’m really behind on homework and it is stressing me out, and anyways, me being here will not change anything. When you get better, come and find me. With love, ‘Mione xx”

Ron sighed and fell harshly back on his bed. How many days has it been since he had lost consciousness? Was Pansy secretly a ringfighter? Were those scumbags going to receive punishment? What the hell… He stayed immobile for a while, staring at the ceiling. Just the thought of moving a limb felt painful. If he really had a concussion, he thought that it would be better if he moved as little as possible. At least for now. He softly chuckled at the irony of the situation; at least, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting better quickly for Quidditch.

Just as his eyes began slowly closing, tiredness submerging him, a tussle of dark brown hair entered his peripheral vision. He slightly turned his head to face the boy. Harry stood there, his expression unreadable. He seemed relaxed, with his hands in his pockets and his posture slightly crouched. He could’ve almost fooled Ron if it wasn’t for the hard set of his jaw. The two boys looked at each other without a word.

“Thanks”, Ron finally uttered after what felt like hours of tense silence.

Harry’s expression remained unchanged. “Why are you thanking me?” He somehow seemed a little angry.

“For stepping in and for cleaning my mouth out when I was choking? Seems fitting” Ron said as he painfully pulled himself with his hands to get to a sitting position. When he was leaning on the wall with the pillow on his back, he stared back.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me. I’ve been an asshole to you since this summer and you know it. You should really start standing up for yourself, you know? Especially in front of Malfoy and his little misfit crew.”

Ron scoffed, disbelief slowly creeping up on his features in the appearance of a smile. “That’s ironic.”

Harry restlessly shifted on his feet, inching ever so slightly towards Ron, his fervent gaze unwavering.

“Look, I’ve been going through some stuff, and I know that you won’t understand. That’s why I avoided you.” He looked away. “I knew that she would get it. More than you, anyways.”

“How could you know how I’d react to your problems if you’re not telling me dick?” Ron sleepily rubbed his head. “Go fetch Madam Pomfrey, my head’s killing me”

“No.” The other boy simply answered.

“What do you mean, no?”

“We’re not done talking.”

“Then finish saying whatever you want to say and make it quick”

Harry took the note in his hands and sat on the stool. He didn’t spare a single glance at it.

“You think you’re fooling everyone, but I’m not stupid. I grew up with you and Hermione. I’m aware you guys have a thing going on. If this is some kind of revenge on me-”

“Revenge for what?”

“For focusing on her this summer. Now you’re trying to kick me out of the trio or something.”

Oh. Oh. He didn’t know shit. Ron laughed.

“So you’re making up your own little squad with my sister’s friends? Have you actually tried to talk to any of us since the beginning of the school year? You can whine all you want about being excluded, but the truth is that you did this to yourself”

“You’re the one that tuned me out of your life for the whole summer”

Ron was gobsmacked. “Are you serious? Well, I guess it is my fault for not wanting to actively third wheel my sister and my best friend while they were shagging in my face!”

“I didn’t shag her!”

“Well, it sure looks like you did!”

“If you weren’t already beaten to a pulp I’d jump you right now.”

“Merlin, what the fuck have I done to you?”

At this, Harry fell silent. “I’ve been so on edge lately.” He murmured. His head fell in his hands and he looked at the ground, ashamed. “Now that I’m here, I don’t really know why I’m mad at you. Truth be told, I just think everything is getting to me, you know?”

“What is ‘everything’? Because if you’re talking about the NEWTs, everyone has to do them. It doesn’t give you the right to give me months of silent treatment and then verbally assault me. If you don’t want my friendship anymore, just grow balls and say it.”

“It’s not it, obviously…”

“Then tell me. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Everyone’s dying around me and it’s freaking me out. Even after Voldemort’s defeat… Luna got mauled by those werewolves and Dudley got hit by that bus… After my parents, Sirius, Professor Lupin, Tonks, it just feels like too much. I thought that by avoiding you I’d spare you.”

He said that last sentence looking directly in his friend’s eyes.

“What about my sister?”

Harry didn’t answer for a while. “I don’t know.”

Ron let out a heavy exhale, hoping that all of the burden this conversation had bestowed upon him might fall from his shoulders. It didn’t even alleviate the feeling a little bit. Even if he was constantly talking ill of his sister, he would always protect her. Hearing Harry talk in that way about her truly made him defensive. It didn’t feel right.

“Can you fetch Madam Pomfrey now?” He asked in a weak voice. He could tell his friend was unwell, but he was still pissed that Harry had not even considered confiding in him. What the fuck were friends for, then?

Harry didn’t move. He kept staring at his friend.

“I want us to go back to how we were.” It was a plea, a cry for help.

“Okay.” Ron wanted it too. He had answered without any hesitation. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed this friendship until he had lost it. It was too important to lose, and he hated the fact that neither of them had had the good sense to fight for it enough.

Harry stared at him, relief clear in his eyes. He stood up, and left. After a minute, he was back with Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

“Stop babbling and just go talk to him!”

Denise elbowed Jeanne in the arm.

“No! What if he has a girlfriend? He probably does; he’s so handsome.”

“You will never know if you don’t ask! What’s the harm anyways? He’s leaving at the end of the year either way.”

“What if he thinks I'm ugly? Maybe he likes French girls better…”

Valentina rolled her eyes, sighed and stood up.

“You owe me one, francesca.”

“What?” Jeanne screamed. “No!” She knew her friend too well.

Valentina walked up to the Beaubâtons table and tapped Étienne’s shoulder. He turned around in confusion. She pointed over at Jeanne while leaning in Étienne’s ear for him to hear her clearly. When Étienne looked over, Jeanne threw herself under the table and started rocking back and forth with her arms covering her head, as if she was bracing for a nuclear launch. Étienne smirked at her reaction. Valentina started back towards the Gryffindor table, saw that Étienne wasn’t following and dragged him over by the arm. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Denise and Ginny watched the whole scene unfurl before them with great amusement.

When the pair reached the table, Jeanne looked up from under the table and fell face to face to Étienne.

“Yo” He said. “You're really from Quebec?”

“Yeah…” She obviously didn’t know what to say.

“Wanna join our table? I’m not the only queb over there.” He offered her an amused smile.

After awkwardly wiggling her way out from under the table, she headed over the Beauxbâtons table and sat down with them. They all warmed up to each other pretty quickly and soon, a familiar comfortability settled. The little Gryffindor group was watching the interaction with great interest.

Harry had decided to introduce Hermione and Ron to his usual group, and hoped that Ron would start getting along with them. So far, it was going great. Mostly because Ron was silent since he had gotten here.

“So, do you know what the first task is?” Hermione asked Ginny. “Did you receive a hint or something?”

“No, I don’t know what the gamemakers are waiting for. The task is in a month.” Ginny said, sounding tense.

“Well, a month is a lot of time,” Valentina offered. “Plus, you’re such a procrastinator that two weeks or a year would be no different for you.”

Ginny stared at her friend. “Not for this. I represent this school, I need to be on top of my game.”

Harry reached out to Ginny’s forearm and stroked it, leaning closer to her. “It’s the athlete in her talking.” Harry smiled. He was not worried for her. He knew that no matter how much time she got to understand the hint, she had a lot of people to help her and it was impossible that she would fail.

Ron was not listening to the conversation. He was preoccupied by what Dean and Seamus had told him the week before. With his concussion, he had to stay in his dorm and rest in the dark everyday. He was even forbidden to go to class and to do schoolwork. That had given him a lot of time to think about the whole situation, and thousands of questions were bubbling inside of him.

Today was his first day outside of his dorm, and he intended to get answers to his questions very soon. He made sure no one was paying attention to him and grabbed Hermione farther away on the dining bench. There were not a lot of people left since it was 9 am and breakfast hour was technically over. Still, he took the time to cast a silencing spell around the two of them before turning to face her.

“I can’t stand these girls.” He said as a conversation opener.

“I don’t feel that way. I think they are very nice and interesting.”

“Well, that’s because they like you. They don’t like me, I’m telling you.”

“Maybe if you said something they would pay attention to you in a good way.”

Ron deadpanned. He was not there to be reprimanded.

“Anyways… What happened to Malfoy’s gang? I haven’t seen them today.” He said as he looked over to the Slytherin table. Only a few students remained, and none of them bore a brown bob or platinum white hair. Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with a hand.

“I totally forgot to tell you!” She leaned in, as if someone could overhear her. “Expulsion. All three of them, or almost. And, it’s a definitive one. They are not coming back anytime soon!”

Ron’s jaw unhinged. He had not expected that at all. He threw himself into Hermione’s arms and they started excitedly jumping on their seats. They probably looked stupid, but Ron didn’t care. It was the best day of his life.

“How? What happened? Spare no detail.”

“Okay so, their parents were invited to decide on their punishment in Snape’s office. Dumbledore was there too. I sneaked near the door and used a transparency spell on the door. From there, I could see them but they couldn’t see me. Malfoy’s father was screaming. Oh! And he was dressed in a ragged suit. I think his family is starting to have financial problems… Anyways, his mother looked straight in front of herself and said nothing the whole time. Then, his father threw a cruciatis spell at Pansy for, and I quote; ‘Being an incompetent idiotic wuss’. Then, all of them got expelled. Well, Zabini only got a temporary expulsion because he technically did nothing. Also, his parents are high-ranked in the Ministry and they advocated for his cause.”

“Bloody hell! That’s brilliant”

They both laughed for a while and it gave Ron the courage to say what he intended to ask in the first place.

“Hey… Hermione.” He turned his entire body to face her and she mimicked his movement.

“Yeah?”

“Uhm… Did you know there were… rumours going around? About you?”

Hermione’s smile faltered and only by her expression, Ron could tell she knew exactly what he was hinting at.

“How did you find out?”

“Dean mentioned it last week in the dorms, before… the Malfoy incident.”

“It’s a bunch of idiocies! You shant believe what people say, really.” Hermione took a big breath. “I do it because I feel guilty for my previous behaviour. I was such a prick to her and she was kind to everyone… No one is honouring her memory. It’s a shame! I had to do something.”

It took Ron mere seconds to build the connection; she was talking about leaving braided flower crowns on Luna’s memorial shrine in the school yard. It often got dirty because of how nobody visited her. He had seen her tend to it a few times, cleaning it up, leaving crafts and flowers and all sorts of knick knacks she might’ve liked.

“So… people are calling you, you know, because of that? Because you’ve got empathy?”

“It’s not empathy, Ron. It’s guilt. I feel guilty.” Hermione loudly exhaled. “I was never a good friend… I think people just want to talk for the sake of it. They feel guilty too but instead of admitting that they had always mistreated her, they take it out on me. I can’t say it is not deserved.”

“No… nobody deserves this. You can’t be close to everybody… But, I need you to tell me. Is it true? What they say?”

Suddenly she seemed to snap out of her lethargic numbness and playfully whacked Ron on the arm.

“Well if it was true,” she smiled, “I wouldn’t be with you, silly!”

Chapter Text

The Fool is the card that calls to new beginnings.

* * *

The field was foggy and the morning cold seeped through his heavy leather Quidditch gear and directly into his bones. The sensation was deeply uncomfortable, but it drove Harry’s attention elsewhere.

All of it was so heavy to bear, too heavy for a single person to carry. He had corpse upon corpse on his back, making it hard to step a foot in front of the other. He had monsters crawling at his skin, making it hard to relax and breathe. He had baggage so heavy on his body and so loud in his ears nothing could tune it out. Quidditch was the closest thing to escaping from it; the cold wind whipping his face reminded him it wasn’t someone else doing it, that he should be grateful for the time being. The height shed a new perspective to things; from up there, all of his problems looked so small and insignificant. It felt good.

He took flight and began making laps around the pitch, increasing the speed a little more every second. The adrenaline hit him like a drug, making him feel more alive than ever. He craved this when his feet were on the ground.

The sky seemed to get darker and grayer at every turn, which was strange since it was morning. At first, he paid no attention. The feeling was too good to be tainted by rain or incoming lightning. The sky would scream as loudly as it wanted, and Harry would stay right there, and let things pass since they were out of his control. If the lightning hit him and brung him down, he’d comply and pay the price.

After a while, though, the atmosphere turned so thick, so oppressive, even the most courageous part of him begged him to come back inside and stop. In the clouds, he saw every dead relative and friend frowning at him, insulting him. They were the ones throwing lightning directly upon him. He was getting chastised doing the thing he loved most. He couldn’t believe it. The one lightning bolt that caught him and violently led him to crash to the ground came from his own mother. He screamed at the foul betrayal as he hit the damp mud.

He awoke in a cold sweat, his breathing laboured. His nightmares were so frequent recently and he didn’t know how to stop them. He wondered if he would ever be rid of them, someday.

Harry looked around the room. His four roommates were sleeping. His eyes lingered on Ron’s still form; he looked so peaceful. He decided to keep his gaze on his friend until Sleep’s claws would bring him back under the veil of consciousness.

***

It was the month of October, and the first game had been completed. Turns out it had been nothing less than to vanquish a fire-sputtering dragon. Étienne had finished third, Ginny second and Katya had won the task. Whoever had declared the games to be safe definitely had no knowledge of the definition of that word; Katya still bore a second degree burn on her left arm. Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind and still managed to look even tougher and better than she did before, if that was possible. She wore that scar with great pride.

“Do not overestimate yourself Ronald Bilius Weasley you could have never done what I did in that arena. Even worse, you would’ve been burnt to a crisp by now.” Ginny mocked her brother. She was laying on Harry while Ron occupied the opposite sofa in the common room.

“I have other strengths. Mama says it’s what makes all seven of us different and unique.” Ron shabbily replied. He was not overestimating himself, but it sure felt like everyone else was underestimating him constantly.

“Yeah, I don’t think mixing up anonia and ions would’ve saved you in this situation” Harry said, cackling. He had the faintest memories of chemical names from primary school.

“Uhm, ammonia and iodine, you mean? It creates nitrogen tri-iodine, which is explosive. Pretty sure that would’ve helped me defeat a full-size dragon, yeah.”

Ginny hit him on the arm. “Nerd,” she quipped. Ron rolled his eyes and turned his back to the pair in annoyance. His eyes landed on Valentine and Denise, who both were hurriedly coming towards him.

“Hellooo? Have you forgotten Jeanne’s surprise?” Valentina said.

“Oh, shit.” Ginny jumped to her feet. “It’s Jen’s birthday, and we planned something. See you later.” She bent over to kiss her man on the temple and ran out of the common room, her friends on her heels.

Harry picked up his book from the coffee table; after all, this little get-together was supposed to be a study session. He cracked it open, spared a single glance to it and looked back at his friend. “You’re really into that science stuff, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s so interesting. Mixing chemicals together and seeing the reactions. It’s like magic if it wasn’t magic.”

Harry chuckled. “I get what you mean.” He closed the book and dropped it in his lap. “So… I’ve got to ask, are you dating ‘Mione?” He asked. There was only curiosity in his tone and absolutely nothing else. This made a stark contrast with Ron’s ever-growing sense of shame.

“What? What makes you say that?” His skin shifted into a deep state of red, as red as the shirt he was wearing.

“Come on… I may have been self-absorbed and oblivious lately, but I am not blind. You lot act like a married couple now.” His relaxed posture and neutral tone indicated that he was not bothered by the news. Ron decided to confess.

“It’s been a while we’ve been seeing each other, yeah… since the beginning of the school year.”

Harry’s mouth slightly turned upward. “I’m happy for you two”. Ron could sense hesitation in this claim. However, he didn’t question it. His friend was not a liar. And it was possible he did feel queasy about Hermione and him as he had already shared that he sometimes felt left out in the trio. Ron extended his leg and rested his feet on Harry’s belly in a soothing notion, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry, we shall not forget about you.” Ron claimed in a theatrical exaggeration. Harry giggled and swatted his feet away. It felt good to be comfortable with each other again.

***

The view from the Astronomy Tower was always breath-taking at night, especially around two in the morning. From up there, you could see the majority of the lake, this intimidating, black stillness that seemed to merge with the sky and drown the world in a comfortable kind of darkness.

Hermione loved to come up there when she couldn’t sleep; she was almost always there. It always gave her a moment to herself to think, or sometimes to stop thinking. She also knew it had been Luna’s favorite spot once. Just sharing this space made her feel closer to the Ravenclaw and soothed the relentless part of her soul that felt guilt too intensely.

It reminded her of before. She would close her eyes and lay down on the cold floor. She always brung a flower crown to position next to her, stroke its petals and talk as if Luna was there. Sometimes, when exhaustion got to her she would get sleeping draughts to enhance the feeling of drowsiness. When she would open her eyes and turn to the side, she could always see the blond girl, and touch her, and she would feel so real for a short while.

The whole ordeal tasted like betrayal now.

She took in the quietness and the oppressiveness of the room. Fully awake, the illusion seemed to wither and dissipate. She could only hear the sounds of her deafening heartbeat and of her light steps as she passed the threshold. She had the distinct feeling that she should not be there, not with what went down recently, and because of Ron. She had fought the need to come back for so much time, but lately she hadn’t been able to bear the gaping hole in her chest.

She knew that nobody would understand. From their point of view, Hermione had been judgemental, at best, towards Luna. They never had been close. She would keep her memorial site clean because of shame, and regrets.

This couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Hermione slipped her hand in her jean’s pocket and took in the familiar shape of the vial, stroking its edges and smoothing the label. She took a shaky breath and slowly positioned herself on the floor. Carefully, she placed the flower crown next to her. This ritual of hers was so personal, so mechanical, that every move felt natural. She took the vial, uncapped it and leaned on one of her elbows. She knew that what she was doing was the equivalent of relapsing, in the muggle world. Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to stop, to dump the vial down the tower and to call out to Ron. But her body and mind were two different entities when it came to grieving the person with whom there would be forever unachieved potential.

She drank the vial in a single swig and slowly eased herself back onto the ground. She closed her eyes and started visualizing the other girl. She was pleasantly dizzy as the drought seeped into every single muscle of hers. She was starting to slip into a half-awake sleep when the feeling of being slapped in the face brought her back to life.

Hermione leaped forwards and crashed forehead first into something. Her vision was now blurry, but she could somehow make out strands of long blond hair obstructing her sight.

Was it possible? It couldn’t be…

“What the hell?! You on something?” Screamed an unfamiliar voice.

Hermione started babbling incoherent answers as she got hit by a spell that made her feel instantly back to normal. On the con side, she had just lost a dose of sleeping draught, and also on the con side, she had not heard the name of the spell and could not guess what would happen next. On the plus side… the voice didn’t seem to sound like a teacher’s?

When she finally raised her head, her eyes directly met Katya’s.

Chapter Text

The Moon is the card of illusions, deception, dishonesty and insecurity. The card of those who follow things blindly, in throes of confusion. Those who give into feelings, thoughts and doubts within. Because in order to be reborn, again, there must be chaos first.

* * *

His heart fought wildly against his ribcage as he approached the dining table. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but they had woken him up an hour earlier by pounding their fists on his door. He had made breakfast for the couple and went back under the stairs in the meantime. He wasn’t allowed to eat at the dinner table with them.

When he reached the kitchen, his legs gave out and he lowered his head, staring pointedly at the black and white tiles. He could feel the heavy silence and the indifference punishing him. But he had something to ask, so he would ask it.

After many quiet minutes, a voice arose.

“Yes?” She set her coffee down over her crosswords game. He couldn’t see her from down there but her voice held every indication of cold and blatant irritation towards him.

“Ma’am, I was wondering if I could maybe move into the other room… the guest room. I am starting to grow too tall for the space I was given. There are never any guests here…”

A beat passed.

“You are just like your mother,” She replied, her voice low and heinous. “an entitled jealous brat.” She spat that last word directly onto his forehead. The thick slime slowly travelled down his brows, and he grit his teeth, biting back an insult that would probably get him beat. But he didn’t want it, not just yet. “Your kind always wants what they can’t have, but the truth is that your kind deserves nothing. When we’ll all be bones, you will rot in Hell.”

Her face was now mere inches from his, her putrid breath hitting him with full force. From his corner, the man said nothing, but the boy could imagine his expression very clearly; a deranged smile on his fat fucking face.

“You just be grateful you still have a roof over your head after that stunt you pulled.” She concluded.

She stood up to leave the room, taking care of kicking him in the face in the process.

“It wasn’t my fault…” He mumbled. He felt the injustice of it all like electricity in his guts.

She was already long gone. But the man wasn’t.

“Excuse me? What did you say, boy?” From the corner of his right eye, he could see the man’s obese cheeks becoming gradually redder. That excited him. If she was mean with her words, he was mean with his fists, and he was looking for trouble.

“It’s the type of thing that just happens to some people, because it was His plan all along.” His hands started trembling in his lap, the anticipation becoming stronger.

“You know it happened because of the curse that follows you around! You are a freak that brung freak energy with you that day. Your freak energy also killed your freak parents and your freak godfather and all of the others. You can say whatever you want, but when it happened, you were the only other person there. I think you’re lying about it all, and you’re the one that killed him! My poor, innocent Duddy, dead because of you!”

The boy’s head bowed even deeper, now touching the cold floor. The contact spread the spit deeper into his scalp, burning where he received her foot the minute before. His hands were now shaking even harder.

“You’re right. I killed your idiot fucking son because I knew I’d face no repercussions. I pushed him in front of that bus because I couldn’t handle his fat wet nose being in my business anymore.” He was saying whatever would anger the man the most. To be honest, he hadn’t hated his cousin half as badly as he hated his aunt and uncle. The energy animating his nerves just had to be dispensed, and in this house, the only way it could ever happen was by receiving a beating. Well, only if you were him or Petunia.

He heard the steps approaching him and the heavy breathing before he felt the baton hit the back of his head. Stars exploded behind the darkness of his eyelids and a hot, thick liquid ran down his neck. Usually, the uncle targeted his back or his bottoms. Today was different, but it felt good nonetheless. He knew it would badly hurt tomorrow, but for now, it was pure ecstasy coursing through his head.

He could hear muffled screaming coming from a fattened, greasy mouth. It was coming from farther by the second, as if his consciousness was running away from the other man.

“Yer think that potion is going to make itself?”

Harry blinked three times before clearly seeing the Irish boy in front of him. Seamus.

He looked around; he was in the dungeons, in Potions class. Next to himself was Ron, and next to Seamus was Hermione, completely absorbed in her work. Dean was nowhere to be found.

“If I were you I’d hurry up and stop daydreaming; Snape had been eyeing you suspiciously for the last ten minutes.” Hermione said, never once looking up from her cauldron and the purple mixture inside.

Harry looked at his own empty cauldron and sighed. “I don’t even understand the steps… I’m failing the potion no matter what. It would be pointless to try something now.” He flopped into his own seat and looked up to Ron who was green.

“You alright?”

“I just found a bone in my potion… I haven’t put any by myself…” He sat down next to Harry while his mixture evaporated by itself.

“It really makes you wonder; who is the next wizarding working class? Nobody is able to do even the simplest potion here. I think I can expect to pass away the next time I need to attend St-Mungo’s for a major injury.” Hermione quipped.

Nobody was in the mood for a scolding. Nobody answered.

A flash of blond caught Harry’s attention in the hallway. From the wide open door, Katya peered inside the class. Harry wondered what she was doing there. Surely she had no business coming down here, as the Potions class was close only to the Slytherin dungeons and nothing else.

“Hey, it’s that Russian chick from the tournament.” Ron said to Seamus. Hermione’s gaze finally left her potion and she looked behind. Katya grinned and blew a flying crane towards the brushy-haired girl. She received the crane with her free hand and waved the blond girl goodbye. Katya winked and left as quickly as she came.

“Excito” Hermione mumbled. The wooden spoon started stirring the mixture by itself while she opened the letter-crane.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” Ron asked, bewildered.

“You talk to that girl? If she can even be called a girl…” Seamus inquired.

Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide. “You can’t say that, Seamus!” As if on cue, his potion exploded in his face, painting it with grime. From afar, Snape huffed. No one else reacted, as this was a very common occurrence. “Besides, I have the right to befriend whoever I want to! She happens to be very nice when you get to know her.”

“You get to know her in the sheets?” Seamus laughed.

“Shut it mate, it seriously ain’t funny!” Ron replied. “And you can’t be talking with that char all over your face, go wash up you twat!”

Seamus closed his mouth and headed for the door after asking for permission to leave the class. Snape was surprisingly lenient that day.

“So, what do you guys talk about anyways?” Harry asked. He really didn’t see anything in common the two girls might share.

“Well… to be honest, the language barrier prohibits a fluent conversation between us.” She grabbed a handful of crushed beetles and added them to her potion, now more serious than ever. “She mostly watches me study.”

“Ah, hell no!” Ron screamed in horror.

Hermione hit him hard on the arm across the table.

“Aouch! You must understand how this sounds like, especially after…”

“After what?” Harry asked. He had been out of it only for some short months at the beginning of the year but even as time passed, he felt as if there would always be details of some story missing from him.

Ron pinched his lips and his eyes opened comically wide. He looked at Hermione, for her to respond for him.

“Silly rumours, that's all.” Her expression was neutral. “About me being… a queer, which is obviously false since I have a boyfriend.” She reached across the table again, this time to pat Ron’s arm somehow awkwardly. Ron grinned and slumped deeper in his chair. Her tone was final, and Harry didn’t think that he had anything pertinent to say, so he just nodded.

***

When the trio headed upstairs for dinner, a flash of red, black and white robes was running towards them.

“Guys, guys! Where’s Gin? I’ve got big news!” Jeanne was panting, her hands on her knees. She glanced around herself to try and find the redhead girl.

“How could we know? We’re just back from Potions class” Ron replied distastefully.

She straightened up, puzzled. “Oh. We sixth years had a free period just now so I thought…” A smile played across her lips. “Guess what.” She was staring directly at Harry; she wasn’t that close with the other two.

Harry grinned, slightly uncomfortable. “What?”

“You have to guess! Oh well, screw this – Étienne asked me to be his Yule ball date! I mean, we’re not together together but I can feel the declaration coming! I’m so excited you guys I feel like skipping around like a little girl.”

If she smiled any broader her face would break, that was certain.

“Already? Isn’t the Yule ball in like, many months?” Ron inquired.

“It’s on Christmas day, so in a little over two months. That’s pretty soon! But he knows I’m interested in fashion and so he asked me early to give me the time to sew my own dress. He’s so cute!” She was practically squealing in excitement.

Ron shared an unimpressed glance with Harry. He believed those kinds of things were totally overrated and uninteresting. He looked over to Hermione to see what her reaction was, and he saw the girl blush, clench her teeth and look away. Well, that was an odd reaction, he thought.

When Ron caught a glimpse of his sister running towards her friend with Denise and Valentina, all three of them giggling and screaming, he took Hermione’s hand and led her towards the dinner hall. He didn’t know what was going on with her, but he just knew she didn’t want to be there. Harry stayed behind with the girls.

While they walked towards the Gryffindor table, the squeals fading away in the background, Ron shifted his fingers to intertwine them with Hermione. She smiled at him.

“You think that you’re going to pass your Potion O.W.Ls or that Snape will kick you out of his class first?” She playfully asked, gently jabbing her elbow on his side.

“I think neither; he will transfigurate me into a cauldron and use me for his own personal potions” Ron joked.

She laughed heartily. Ron was lucky his major didn’t need Potions and that it was only an elective class he had taken to be with his friends. Otherwise, he could have kissed his dream job goodbye.

When they reached their table, Dean and Seamus were already there, deep in a passionate discussion about the russian quidditch player Viktor Krum, a magazine open in front of them both. On the page was an animated picture of Krum executing a complicated aerial figure on his broom before landing on the ground and staring menacingly into the camera. The image was playing on loop, becoming increasingly more unsettling everytime; there was an emptiness to his eyes.

“I’m telling you mate; your Irish lads would stand no chance next to him. Have you seen his last game? He captured the snitch with his toes – oh, hello guys.” Dean slammed the magazine closed and put his plate over it.

“I’m not going to explode if I see Quidditch-related stuff, you know.” Ron deadpanned. He sat down in front of Seamus, and Hermione sat next to him, in front of Dean. She gave Seamus a stinky look before turning to Dean.

“Where the hell were you during Potions? You know it’s the O.W.L year; you cannot start missing class aimlessly! Your future is on the line!” She looked outraged.

“I had more pressing matters to attend to; Sixth year’s free period.” He looked around and raised his eyebrows at the others. “Three words; Valentina Samuel Garcia.”

Seamus almost screamed in indignation. “You ain’t told me anything! No fair! What did you do?”

“Well” Dean rubbed his hands together maliciously. “I asked her out. We’re sneaking out to Godric’s Hollow this weekend.”

“I thought she had a boyfriend,” Ron said.

Next to him, Hermione tensed. It had been Harry’s childhood village, after all. The place where his parents had gotten killed. “Why? What is there to do at Godric’s Hollow?”

Dean grinned broader. “The question isn’t what; it’s who. My friend from muggle elementary school lives there. We still write to each other sometimes. She knows what I am. A really chill girl.”

All three of them stared at Dean in incomprehension. He sighed, and leaned towards the center of the table.

“She’s a gardener. Loves one particular plant; poppies.” Looking at their clueless faces he sighed even louder this time and passed a hand on his face. “Poppies make opium. She’s got an opium lab. Me and Val are going to test the merchandise with her. She’s throwing a party in that big mansion-house of hers for her seventeenth birthday.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? You’re casually going to do drugs with Valentina?”

“Why did you think I didn’t invite you?” His eyelids were heavy with annoyance.

“You invited other people, didn’t you?” She furiously whispered.

“Yes, I did. All of them are grown enough to make their own decisions.”

“I want names.”

Dean leaned back a little and laughed.

“Who do you think you are? You think you’re the High Wiza-”

“You didn’t invite me?” Seamus interjected, betrayed.

Dean stared at his friend for a while, open mouthed, a considering look on his face.

“Didn’t think it’d be your scene. But if you want to come, by all means, you’re invited to.”

“Thanks, I will.” Seamus answered sarcastically. “Can’t believe you didn’t even ask me. Let’s forget about the fact that we’ve been best friends for seven years…”

“Well, last time I rolled a blunt in front of you, you looked at me as if I murdered someone, so forgive me for thinking you wouldn’t want to try something harder.”

“Last time you rolled a– It was in year 4! I was thirteen, obviously I wasn’t going to try that!”

Harry and the girls finally arrived and sat next to the four of them.

“What are you screaming about?” Harry asked as he sat down across Dean. “Everyone can hear you in the hall.”

Dean shot a satisfied glance towards Hermione and turned back to Harry. At the same time, Valentina sat next to Dean and kissed him on the temple before getting to filling her plate. He absentmindedly stroked her back as a response. “I was telling them about Avery’s thing. Seamz is tagging along, now.”

“Harry, you’re going?” Hermione screamed as she stood up, outraged. No one answered and all looked at her, empty-eyed. Even Ron didn’t look nearly as sick as he ought to be. She caught glances from other tables coming her way, quickly regained her composure and sat back down.
“I’m going too, then.” She said, with a challenge in her tone. “Who else?” She scanned the table with her eyes, expecting a response.

“So far it’s me, Dean, Jeanne, Ginny, Harry and Seamus.” Valentina answered.

“Yeah, I don’t dabble in those kinds of things,” Denise responded.

“Ginny?!” Ron said, bewildered.

“I’m not going to do opium, airhead. Don’t worry, I’m just going to have some fun.” Ginny explained, while pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

“Good. It’s settled then; everyone comes aside from Ron and Denise.” Dean said.

“Who said I didn’t come either? I don’t have to do that… poppy thing. I can just hangout and have a drink.” Ron remarked.

“Sure thing, Ronnie.” Dean said. “Sure thing”