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Author: Myth & Legend Story: The Shadows Of Silence Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 5 Words: 113,891
Chapter 6: Little Box Of Memories "In retrospect, time flies, Except in Potions and Divination. Looking back, life is good, We've had more free time than detention!" Ron the "poet" ~ Hermione's Diary The room was a mess. Boxer shorts and robes, books and socks littered every available region of the floor. The beds hadn't been made all week. There was left-over food and dirty plates on the desks, and the terrors that were hidden under the beds didn't bear thinking about! Harry and Ron stood in the doorway of the bedroom they'd occupied in Grimmauld Place for the last week of the summer holidays, a horrified expression on their faces. ‘Maybe we can swap with the girls,' Ron suggested. ‘I don't think there's any way that we can fool them on that kind of scale.' Harry bent down and picked up a drift of papers, reading over his exam results for the one-hundredth time. Ron saw him doing so and laughed. ‘I don't know why you're so surprised mate, you've always had a good brain.' ‘So've you, and you were worried as anything.' ‘It's having Hermione as a friend that does it. You get the feeling that if you get less than a hundred percent she's going to shout at you.' ‘She does shout at you,' Harry reminded his friend, who had dug amongst the junk on the floor to retrieve his own papers. ‘How did we both manage an ‘O' in Potions? Snape hates me, and despises you, Harry. He was failing us.' ‘I expect that Professor Dumbledore might have had something to say about Snape's marking. I don't know if I'm going to carry on with it though.' ‘What? But you need it to be an Auror!' ‘It's suggested, that's all. Are you going to take it?' ‘Only if you are.' ‘I'll think about it.' Harry put the parchment to one side and began to pick up his underwear. ‘I still can't believe Hermione got straight O's. I mean, I can believe it, but you'd think she'd drop to an E in at least one subject!' ‘I can't believe she burst into tears and then you let her wipe her nose on your sleeve.' Harry chuckled, ‘You're unbelievable.' Ron's only reply was a bright blush, which he tried to hide by making his bed. Harry had dragged out his trunk and was taking out all of the junk to reorganise when Ron's sigh made him look up. ‘You all right?' ‘Yeah. It's just – I don't know. Perhaps I'm fooling myself.' Ron swallowed, and Harry tried to hide a smile. ‘I doubt it.' ‘You know what I'm talking about?' ‘I hope so, or I'm more blind than I've ever realised!' ‘What do I do about her, Harry?' ‘I'm not exactly the person to ask am I, Ron? I've only had one girlfriend, and I'm not even sure if that counts.' ‘That's one more than me.' Harry held his silence for a second, stacking his books in his trunk before he spoke again. ‘The only thing you have to worry about is frightening her off and your friendship becoming awkward.' ‘Thanks mate, that really fills me with confidence.' ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,' Harry replied. ‘Look Ron, you're talking about a girl who listens intently to everything you say, whether it's complaining about Snape or reliving winning the Quidditch Cup. This is a girl who, at times, seems to have problems not dribbling when she looks at you, and never misses an opportunity to get close to you.' Harry thought about it for a second, ‘Although don't tell her I told you about the dribbling part.' Ron looked doubtful and Harry threw up his hands in despair, ‘Look, the way I see it, you've got two choices. The first is to suck it up and ask her out…' Ron went pale, ‘or carry on as you are, in which case Seamus or Dean or even Neville might get there before you. Or worse…' Harry lowered his voice gravely, ‘Draco.' Ron narrowed his eyes at his best friend, who was smirking. ‘So, not you then?' The smirk vanished. ‘What?' ‘I wouldn't lose her to you?' ‘No!' Harry spluttered, hating the fact that there was even the tiniest fraction of a doubt. ‘Hermione's like my sister. I couldn't kiss her like that or anything.' ‘You seem pretty keen to kiss my sister sometimes.' Harry was shocked into silence. ‘I- no – well, yeah –but-' He pulled himself together and frowned at his friend. ‘I am nothing to Ginny like you are to Hermione, and how can you know how I feel when I haven't even got a bloody clue?!' Ron held up his hands in mock surrender, as crooked smile appeared on his face. ‘Hah! I knew it!' ‘No, you didn't. You don't know anything.' ‘So who do you like then?' Harry ignored his friend and instead concentrated on shutting his trunk. The hinges protested and the clasp groaned, but eventually he managed to get it so that it stopped springing open at the slightest jolt. He made sure Hedwig's droppings weren't hiding in any unusual places and cleared up any he did find. Genie the cat was sitting on top of the wardrobe, watching them with inquisitive eyes. There had been an incident involving Pigwidgeon earlier in the day, and she was still lying low, away from Ginny's reprimands. Harry picked her up and set her on the floor before turning to look at Ron's mess. Ron himself was sitting on his bed, trying to pair up socks. He looked up as Harry trod on something and yelped in pain. It was the Melancholily. It was entirely undamaged, its glass still shining like crystal. Harry, on the other hand, was clutching at his foot. ‘Did it cut you?' ‘No. It felt like treading on a plug.' ‘What?' Harry thought about the effort of explaining to Ron the crippling, bruising pain of stepping on the upturned prongs of the plug of an electrical appliance and shook his head; it would take too much time. ‘Never mind. Are you almost done?' Ron looked around the room at the stuff that remained, and Harry laughed a little at the look of disbelief that crossed his features. ‘Is all that mine?' ‘Yeah, you'd better hurry up or Hermione will come and help.' ‘You say that like it's a bad thing,' a hurt voice said from the doorway. Hermione was surveying the mess with her arms folded. Her brow crinkled a bit when she spotted the glass flower, but she chose to ignore it and instead set to work on the patch of floor closest to the doorway. All clothes were thrown on the bed; all books, stacked in a pile. Plates and glasses were put outside the door, and in ten minutes she had taken control of the entire operation and had Ron's trunk packed with neat efficiency. Harry made his escape before he was enslaved to help. He crept along the landing and down the sweeping staircase, grateful that all the creaking floorboards had been fixed. The front hall was empty of people; there was only the dark-haired woman in the portrait. She smiled and inclined her head as he passed and waved a greeting. Seeing her made him think, eventually, of Kreacher. The house-elf had disappeared, and Harry knew deep down that he had passed on, either by his own magic or simply because he had no reason left to live. Perhaps if he hadn't burnt the painting, Kreacher wouldn't have vanished. ‘Harry?' The boy looked up to see Professor Lupin. The full moon was approaching, and the man looked unsettled and shifty. ‘I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you to the station tomorrow, but I did find these.' He held out a cardboard shoebox. ‘I've kept a couple, but I thought perhaps you should have the rest.' Lifting the lid, Harry felt a grin spread across his face. Sirius and James were waving back at him from the top photograph, both looking a bit drunk and very enthusiastic about something. ‘Your mother must have found time to organise them at some point. She's written the events on the back.' Lupin looked at the top picture, ‘Although even I can remember that one. You were two days old, and we were all celebrating your birth.' ‘Thanks Remus. Are you sure you don't want to keep any more?' ‘I'm sure, Harry. Thank you. You look like you want to ask a question…' ‘I was wondering what form my dad's tattoo thing took.' ‘It was – markedly different from yours. It was much smaller. In fact, I think it was a galloping stag, but its antlers were twined with a thorny vine. Is yours bothering you?' ‘Not particularly. It just doesn't seem as though it has any relevance to me. They're meant to be like Patronus forms, specific to the person, aren't they?' ‘I see Miss Granger has been researching again.' Remus smiled before his face turned serious. ‘Harry, many things in life are symbolic of something or other, but often it is not until we can see in retrospect that we realise the meaning of them. Take the picture, for example. She mentioned an "Old Race" of which we should beware. We don't know what that means, but perhaps when we come across that race, we will remember her words and realise her meaning. It'll come to you one day.' The former professor rested an uncertain hand on Harry's shoulder. ‘The mirror Sirius gave you, I found the other one. Would you like me to keep it or do away with it?' Harry thought back to that desperate time a few months ago, when he had stood in his dormitory, screaming at the mirror, willing Sirius's face to appear once more. ‘I don't want to take his place, Harry; that's not my aim and it never will be.' ‘I know. Keep the mirror. I'll tell Ron and Hermione about it, and tell them where I'll keep it. If any of us get into trouble, we'll be able to let you know.' ‘Considering how, should trouble arise, the three of you tend to walk into it together, perhaps someone else, someone with whom you know your confidence is well placed, should also know where the mirror is?' ‘All right.' Lupin withdrew his hand, and Harry felt a sharp pang at the loss of contact. ‘Professor, I know you're not trying to take anyone's place. I'm - I'm happy to know you.' It wasn't much, and the words were clumsy, but the smile on Lupin's face was genuine. ‘Goodbye, Harry. I'll see you again soon. Take care.' ‘You too.' The heavy front door shut behind the older man, and Harry was left holding a box full of memories. He looked down at the top photo again and felt a prickle of tears under his eyelids. He'd look at them later, he promised himself. He'd look at them when he couldn't still remember the sound of Sirius' hoarse voice, or the smell of Snuffles' fur. When those sensations had fled his mind, he'd turn to the photos. Not before. The clock chimed the hour, making him jump. He looked up and saw that some of its hands were whirring this way and that. Professor Dumbledore was "At School," Tonks was apparently "Safe and Sound," and someone merely marked with an "S" was "In the Presence of Evil." Harry's own hand was clustered with several others at "Hiding Out". A hand on his shoulder startled him, causing him to shut the box quite hurriedly. Ginny's eyes flickered to it, but if she was curious she didn't press the issue. ‘Mum wants to know if you're packed or if she needs to come upstairs and colour code all your underwear for you.' ‘Did she actually say that?' ‘Close enough.' Ginny grinned. ‘I've got some spare space in my trunk if you need it.' Harry gave her a look of astonishment. ‘You have spare space? How?' ‘I just don't have much stuff that isn't necessary. Not a lot of what Hermione calls "pretty things," just my robes, cauldron, school books, and broom.' ‘Last year,' Harry paused, trying to remember exactly what it was Ginny had said, ‘you said you wanted to be a Chaser, didn't you?' ‘I think I'd be better at that than Seeker. Besides, now that Umbridge is gone your ban is lifted, right?' ‘I hope so. There are a lot of places to fill on the team as it is.' ‘GINNY! GINNY! Oh, there you are dear.' Molly smiled at the two of them, a glint of mischief in her eye. ‘Sorry, am I interrupting?' Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry bowed his head to hide an exasperated grin. ‘No, Mum. What is it?' ‘Actually, you could probably do with Harry's help. I was in your room, checking to see that you'd left nothing behind, and I think you're right about something under the floorboards. Could you try and get it out for me?' At the expression on her daughter's face, Molly sighed. ‘Oh come on, it can't be very big if it can fit under there, besides we've got rid of the worst of the creatures, I'm sure you can handle it.' She handed Harry an empty pillowcase and a hammer. ‘Good luck!' ‘You see?' Ginny huffed. ‘That's exactly what happens: you stand around too long and you get enlisted into pest control.' They spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening pulling up floorboards and rummaging around amongst the dust and pipes. They found nothing that could be making any kind of noise, but as soon as Harry had nailed the last floorboard into place, they heard it. It was a soft, scuttling noise, and as they both remained motionless, straining their ears to listen, a fine shower of plaster dust rained down on them. ‘It's in the roof,' Harry muttered, eyeing the frail ceiling dubiously. ‘Maybe it was in the floor, but ran up a gap in the walls when we started looking for it.' There was a deep, ominous groan, and the sound of splitting stone. They both gaped upwards, frozen in surprise as they watched a massive crack appear in the ceiling. Inside it, glowing as bright as stars, were tiny, coloured pinpricks of light. ‘What are they?' ‘I'm not sure,' Ginny replied, ‘but perhaps we should open the window?' ‘I'll do it. You get out of the room. I don't want the ceiling to crush you.' ‘What about…' ‘Ginny.' His tone held enough of a warning to make his point, and he watched her back out into the corridor before flattening himself against the wall and edging towards the window. Stretching his arm out as far as he could, he pushed the window open on its hinge. The lights in the ceiling flashed and flickered, and a soft chattering started up, echoing to the cavernous rooftop above. The voices merged into one high pitched wail, and as Harry watched, tiny creatures drifted away from the crevasse and towards the tempting breeze of the outside air. It began as one or two curious individuals, but soon there was a multi-coloured trail of light streaming into the evening sky. ‘What are they?' Harry whispered to Ginny, who was watching from the doorway in stunned silence. ‘A kind of fairy, I think. I've never seen so many though.' ‘They've probably been here for years,' Harry pointed out, ‘and they probably won't all want to leave.' ‘It doesn't matter,' Ginny decided. ‘They seem harmless.' The window banged shut as the last sparkle trailed into the dusk, and another cascade of plaster made Harry look like he had a bad case of dandruff. ‘What about the ceiling?' ‘I'll get Mum; a ‘Reparo' should do it. Just get out of there carefully.' He made his way across the floorboards, wincing at every creak and groan. He was halfway across the room when someone slammed a door downstairs. The ceiling buckled and fell, groaning as the supports gave way. He raised a hand to protect himself, expecting the bone-crunching weight to hit him at any second. When no pain was forthcoming, he dared to open an eye and stared at the air. All around him, about a foot above his head, pieces of ceiling were hovering, motionless. He stepped back, but as he lowered his hand, the slabs wobbled threateningly and began to fall. He threw his hand up again so quickly that the chunks banged against each other with a leaden boom. ‘All right, Harry,' Molly said calmly. Harry was quite glad she hadn't made him jump; he didn't want to know what that would make the shattered ceiling do. ‘Just stay where you are. Ginny dear, run and get Bill, will you?' ‘I didn't mean to, Mrs Weasley. I don't know how it happened.' ‘It's all right. I'm sure we can explain it to the Ministry.' But Molly didn't sound at all sure of herself. It took her and Bill an hour and a half of meticulous spells to have the ceiling fully secure and repaired, and every minute, Harry expected an angry owl from the Ministry. None came. ‘Maybe they think you're a lost cause, mate,' Ron joked as they sat on the stairs, waiting for the inevitable bad news. ‘Where was your wand?' Hermione asked. ‘In my bedroom.' There was a moment of silence before Ron gave a low whistle of surprise. ‘Wandless magic. Wow, Harry. When they say you're special, they aren't kidding are they?' ‘But how can I do that? Everyone knows you need a wand to channel magic properly.' ‘Not all witches and wizards do,' Hermione conceded, although she didn't look nearly as enthusiastic as Ron did. There was the familiar "step, clunk" of Mad-Eye Moody making his way up the kitchen steps and into the hall. He focused both eyes on the young adults on the stairs and a thin smile crossed his lips. ‘Ginny's been tellin' us all about it. What spell was it, Potter?' ‘Levitation of some kind.' The magic eye revolved eerily in its socket and focused on one of the walls. ‘Hello,' Moody growled, his tone laced with surprise. ‘Maybe it wasn't exactly you after all, Potter. What's going on with her?' They all looked at the picture and stared before getting up to have a closer look. The woman sat bolt upright in her throne, her eyes closed in concentration and her hands spread wide. The crown around her head was glowing, and all the animals were watching her intently. ‘The writing, look at it!' Hermione said, pointing to the four edges of the picture. On each one was the word Leviosa traced in gleaming gold. ‘I think Dumbledore should see this. There's some powerful magic at work there,' Moody muttered. ‘So, it wasn't me?' Harry asked, feeling relief well up inside him. ‘It was her?' ‘Looks that way. I'm going to get someone to watch her. I don't know if I trust her.' It was hours later, in the hollow darkness of the night, that Harry awoke, a frown distorting his brow. At first he thought it was a dream that had awoken him, but gradually he realised it was the sound of a girl crying. He went to stand, but something, some kind of invisible force pressed him back down to the mattress and tugged at his heavy eyelids. When he awoke that morning, he didn't remember the sob, and could only wonder why there was a soft, disjointed melody going round and round in his mind. It was just after dawn and already Molly Weasley was bustling around, rousing her charges and feeding them a hurried breakfast. ‘We need to leave in half an hour!' she scolded as she rapped on the door to the bedroom. ‘Get up, you two, come on! If you miss the train…' She left the threat hanging. ‘What time is it?' Ron asked from where he lay half-asleep. ‘Don't know. Come on, we'd better do what she says.' There was a bustle of last-minute packing and hurried farewells. The sleek black car that had picked Harry up from Privet Drive sulked at the kerb by the front door. They loaded their things into it quickly, wary of watching Muggles. Tonks was the driver today, and both Mr and Mrs Weasley were coming along with them to see them safely on the train. ‘Harry, don't let me forget about the stuff you put in my trunk, okay?' Ginny said as she settled down, making sure Genie was in her basket. ‘I won't, don't worry.' He slid in next to her, giving a grunt of pain as Ron squashed in next to him. ‘We'll have to choose our lessons.' Hermione said eagerly. ‘I'm definitely going to do Charms and Transfiguration, as well as Arithmancy…' ‘Don't forget about last time you got to choose.' Ron warned, waving his finger mockingly at her. ‘You were exhausted, and your timetable was a nightmare.' ‘Yes, thank you Ron.' Hermione pursed her lips in irritation as she settled back and the car purred off. It was as they pulled into King's Cross station that the litany of parenthood began. ‘Ron, you did wonderfully in your O.W.L.s, please work hard, and look after your sister.' Molly turned to her daughter, ‘And you are not to go rushing off into trouble, young lady. I know you'll do well.' She hugged them both tightly before they grabbed their carts and ran through the barrier. ‘And you two.' Harry and Hermione both smiled to see the kind look on Ron's mother's face. ‘Take care, won't you? Every year, I worry about you more. We'd better not come on the platform. I know Dumbledore's tightened security. I don't want to make his job even more difficult.' She first hugged Hermione and then Harry before releasing them and waving a tearful goodbye. The bricks of the barrier flowed past Harry like water and platform nine and three-quarters unfolded before him. It was bustling with students. The older ones were waving and shouting, urging their friends towards them as they laughed, and some of the girls were embracing one another. Younger ones were looking frightened or in tears, already missing the parents who stood just beyond the barrier. Hermione rushed off to help with the boarding, begging Harry to put her stuff on the train whilst she soothed sobbing first years and scolded the boisterous, more senior students. It took him a while to haul and stack the trunks. He was almost finished and just picking up his own battered luggage when Neville grabbed the other end and helped him haul it onto the train. ‘I've got a carriage, if you want to share,' he said, pushing hair out of his face. ‘Hermione and Ron said they'd be along later. Uh, I'm afraid Luna Lovegood's in there.' ‘That's all right. How's your nose?' Neville ran a finger along the bridge and grinned timidly. ‘It's fine. My gran almost had a fit though, when she heard about my wand.' ‘Did you get a new one?' ‘Yeah!' Neville dragged it out of his pocket and polished it with his sleeve. ‘Ten inches, oak with unicorn hair.' Neville beamed at him. ‘You never know, maybe I won't be such a Squib now!' Harry grinned, ‘Hey Neville, I bet you're a greater wizard than you think.' ‘Huh, I doubt it! Harry said nothing as he followed Neville back to the carriage and settled next to the window. Ginny had let both Genie and Crookshanks out, and the two cats sat on opposite seats, glaring at each other. It was just as the train blew its departing whistle that the black cat curled up in Harry's lap, purring smugly. The rattling and gentle rocking motion of the train soon lulled Harry to sleep. He must have been out for a while, because he only awoke when someone successfully threw a vomit-flavoured Bertie Botts Bean in his mouth. He swallowed convulsively and choked in disgust. Ron, the perpetrator, chuckled quietly before fixing his friend with a serious expression. ‘Have you seen a certain amazing, bouncing white ferret anywhere?' ‘No, I've been asleep, but I don't think he came in here.' He looked around the carriage for confirmation. Neville shook his head adamantly and Luna emerged from her magazine, her dreamy expression fading as she concentrated. Ginny answered for her, ‘He hasn't been here at all.' ‘He doesn't seem to be anywhere on the entire train.' Ron scowled, ‘I don't trust it. A year without Malfoy is just too good to be true.' ‘Maybe he's getting to school a different way. How about Crabbe and Goyle, are they here?' ‘No.' ‘They'll be there, probably on the platform, looking smug,' Harry reassured, smiling at Ron's sigh of disappointment. ‘I'll see you later. There are a lot of crying first years around and Hermione's got me handing out tissues and keeping the Slytherins at bay.' It was dark by the time the Hogwarts Express hauled its carriages into the tiny, rural platform. The only figure standing on it was Hagrid's massive, hulking form. ‘Firs' years ter me!' he bellowed as the doors opened and the student voices rose above the sound of the engine. ‘Yer trunks'll be taken for yer. First years ter me, all others ter the carriages. Come on now!' Harry waved at him enthusiastically, knowing that Ron and Hermione were doing the same behind him. A huge hand returned their greeting and Hagrid's cheerful grin grew wider. There was no time for words as the overcast sky began to release its rain to the earth and there was a sudden rush for the carriages. Ron and Hermione leapt into the dry seats, but Harry hung back for a second. The Thestrals nearest to him were watching him with vividly intelligent and curious eyes. One lowered its head to him, as though in a sign of respect, and the others followed suit. ‘Come on Harry!' The dark-haired boy ducked his head quickly at the scaly horses before jumping into the carriage. He sat next to Luna, who was watching him with wide eyes. ‘I've never seen them do that before. They might be intelligent, but they're meant to be aloof. They don't show any respect to anyone.' She thought about it. ‘Except maybe Hagrid.' ‘It could have been aggressive, or maybe one of them had an itchy leg and was scratching it with his nose!' ‘Thestrals?' Hermione asked, giving a weak grin when both Harry and Luna nodded. ‘I wouldn't worry about it, who can explain the actions of animals?' Ron stared at her in amazement. ‘You mean you haven't looked it up?' Hermione looked unsettled. ‘Look, it's not my fault I'm best friends with someone who needs his own reference section in the library, is it?' She gestured wildly at Harry. ‘I've been so busy looking up that tattoo that I haven't had the time to read more on the Thestrals.' The beasts dragged the carriages to the front of the castle and as the students stepped out, the massive doors were thrown open and Professor McGonagall looked down on them all with sharp eyes. ‘Well, come on then,' she urged, ‘You don't want to be late for the feast!' She stood back to allow the students to pass, and Harry thought he saw the flicker of a real smile before it vanished back to the grim, stern lines more natural for his Head of House. He walked forward, following the throngs of students through to the Great Hall where he settled down to wait. For a brief moment, he felt no worry, grief, or concern. There was just the sensation of having finally made it home safe and sound. But even the security and familiarity of Hogwarts couldn't stave off the darkness of emotion and intent that seemed to fill the world from edge to edge.
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