Chapter 7 Separation Anxiety

Sunday, a week before the First Task, saw Ron's return to Hogwarts. It was a quiet, subdued return. Nobody was there to welcome him back or greet him, which was just the way he wanted it. Ron swallowed his pride, and knew that he had only one choice: Apologize to Harry, for not believing him.

The following morning dawned bright and sunny though a little chilly. Harry had kept his regular pace, lapped Hermione once but she was doing fine, and she was catching up with him. Already, she was not quite out of breath at the end of them. She had agreed to join him for a multitude of reasons, but mainly because as his girlfriend, there would be some kind of insanity they would need to overcome - or run from.

They were out of sight of the castle, and safe enough on the grounds of the castle, as Hermione pushed herself through her final lap as Harry finished his tenth and final lap. Taking a slow walk back to the castle, the couple saw the light on in Hagrid's hut with smoke dancing from the chimney and stopped in. The half-giant was slightly worried about what Harry would face in the coming task, and he had no clue as the organizers had been keeping everything under wraps. Hagrid had confirmed however, that cheating was an integral part of tournament tradition - so long as nobody was hurt. Taking in to account that people had died, it occurred to Harry to wonder just how many of those deaths were truly "accidental."

Walking back up the castle, the couple caught sight of Ron Weasely, leaning against the open door of the castle, "Harry, Hermione." He greeted them with almost complete indifference. They started at each other for a long, moment, "So how goes it, champion?" drawled Ron. It was a stark difference in his attitude: Polite to the point of sarcastically insulting. Harry had seen that particular attitude before. So had Hermione, "Not sure what you hope to achieve by that…" he nodded in the direction of the Black Lake, "running around it like a mud…muggle."

Harry could note the changes in his almost former friend and it all seemed strangely familiar: The air, the attitude, the way he carried himself, but he decided to answer the question, in the hopes of rebuilding a friendship that he truly cherished, "Physical training, just trying to get in to better shape for the tournament." He said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, "Why?"

Ron righted himself, "Just wondering," and the young red head was wondering, just who had the right of things, considering everything he had been told and discussed with Draco, Pansy, even Millicent and Daphne. While the four were pureblood, the purist ideology three of them followed was extremist to Ron, he had to admit that there were points that he did agree with. Considering how far his pureblood family had fallen, out of favor, from wealth, from power. It had given Ron a lot to think about but he was not sure if he was prepared to turn his back on three years of friendship, "Harry… things are never going to be the same between us are they?" asked the redhead. There was a touch of hope in his voice, and Harry was willing to concede the point with a careful nod, "But can they be better? Better than they are now."

Hermione stole a glance at both boys and whispered, "You and him need to work this out, without me getting in the way." She hesitated for a moment, "Trade a few punches if you have to, and if you do hex him, try not to put him in the hospital for more than a day." She nodded coolly to Ron, who had almost completely ignored her existence.

Harry never once took his eyes off Ron as he drew his wand and cast a silencing charm over the pair of them and their small patch of the foyer. Not for nothing however, had Harry been practicing his silent casting, added another privacy charm over himself and met Ron's eyes, "Harry," he said very seriously, "I should have believed you when you told me you didn't enter your name in the goblet."

Harry's eyes bore in to Ron as if he no longer needed to blink, "Fair enough. Apology accepted." Ron looked very relieved but Harry was not finished, "Now all you have to do is explain why you fired multiple curses at your best friends." Ron was speechless and just stood there with his mouth fish out of water, "You doubted me, when you've seen the inside of my vault. Why would I risk my life for money? Don't you think that I have enough of fame? Have had enough of people gawking at me over this damn scar? I can forgive you for not believing me. But I can't forgive you for trying to hex me," his voice developed an icy chill, "I can't forgive you for trying to hex my Hermione." He growled, "Figure it out. Ron. Figure out why. Then you can apologize to me, and to 'Mione."

This was not going anyway like Ron had hoped it would, and he hated that, hated the fact that Draco had been right, that an apology was not going to cut it, "You don't see it do you?" said Ron carefully, "You don't understand do you?"

"What, do you think I don't understand?" said Harry. Ron remained silent, "You think I don't see the jealously, hatred, envy, disgust that surrounds me because I was born and some lunatic madman died trying to kill me?" Harry laughed, "Voldemort choose me," he said fiercely, his voice devoid of laughter, "My parents paid the price! You know the hell I endure called Number 4 Privet Drive! When you figure things out, come find us. Until then…" He had stalked in to the castle, feeling Ron's gaze upon the back of his head.

"Do you think he'll figure it out?" asked Hermione at breakfast later that morning.

Harry chewed his bacon thoughtfully, buying time to gather his thoughts on what was a sensitive subject. "If he can't, he can't. We're not going to tip toe around him." He shrugged, "I know that things have move fast between us, but everyone else has kept up with us," she gave him a look, "Fine. Everyone has sorta kinda kept up. But he hasn't even tried to do that." He shrugged again, "Things just can't go back to the way they were."

She smiled, "I don't think I could handle it if things went back the way they were."

He nodded in agreement, "Yeah well… there this bodiless spirit of a lunatic mad man on the loose that's been trying to kill me my whole life. I don't intend to make it easy for him, even if Dumbledore seems hell bent on doing just that."

At the mention of the headmaster, Hermione quieted for a moment, at war with herself before something won out and she forged ahead, "He's only trying to do the right thing Harry," she said, "He cares about you a lot," she rushed on before he could interrupt, "He cares and he's made a lot of mistakes. But I think, you…we've been hard on him." said Hermione quietly, "Perhaps too hard, I don't think that we've even given him the chance to try to make amends for what he's done."

Harry was not forgiving, "He knows just about everything that goes on in this castle, and then the rest of the wizarding world. He could have intervened at any point in my life. Instead I had to grow up with 11 years of hell at the Durselys," he was speaking, quietly, calmly and fortunately, the very slight tremble that ran down the length of the Gryffindor table went unnoticed, "I can't forgive what he's done, yet. Maybe, somewhere in the future, I can try. I still have to go back there for the summer you know?" he was quiet, almost whispering, "And three months away from you… I'm trying not to think about it."

Harry had made it a point to come up to the Castle for breakfast at least three times a week, even though he was never absent for lunch or dinner. There were mornings when he preferred a quiet breakfast with some if not all of his retinue that had grown to include the Prank Master Generals Gred and Forge and "Prank Master Trainee" Ginny and perhaps most surprisingly of all Neville Longbottom.

As everyone left for class, Harry and Neville were alone at the Gryffindor table. The two boys were not actually talking, just really enjoying the silent company. Harry knew that Neville and Ginny were growing close, but he was not about to embarrass his friend on the topic but felt that he had a certain responsibility to, or perhaps for Ginny, "Neville, you and Ginny, it's getting serious?" The shy quiet boy blushed, and Harry hurried on, "I'm not trying to put you on the spot here, but you should know that things are probably going to get difficult with Ron."

"You and him, still at odds?" asked Neville quietly. Harry nodded, "I didn't think he'd turn on you the way he did. Considering how much you two have been through together…." Harry was not sure how to respond to that insightful remark as they parted ways for their respective classes. Harry had two Marauders waiting for him.

Though the guards were in their customary places, something seemed off to him as he strode in to the residence. He dropped in to a crouch and rolled to the left. A flick of his wrist had his wand in his hand and a moment after that he had rolled out from behind the curse-shattered couch and showered the area in paper confetti revealing his attackers taking the offensive.

Dodging in random directions, the teenager attacked, "impedimenta!" followed a tripping jinx, followed by leg locker and then, "Petrificus totalus!" and then, "Stupfey!" finally "Expelliarmus!" the spell chain was one of his own creations and felt that it would have done Flitwick proud as his first opponent went down for the count. The wand flew from his attacker's hand and he summoned it to him only to have it fly over his shoulder. A spell slammed in to his ribs, taking him off his feet. Slamming in to the floor, he somehow kept a grip of his wand. Stunned for a moment, he managed to dodge a spell, then a second before disillusioning himself and rolling back to his feet compliments of his hand-to-hand combat instruction.

His remaining opponent had mirrored his charm. The disillusionment charm makes one invisible by adapting one's appearance to their surroundings… if that was the charm employed against him. Confetti streaming from his wand but that would not reveal anyone who stood still, "Periculum!" standing still while covered in paper is easy enough, but standing still under flaming paper is much harder. "Rictumsempra! Stupefy! Expelliarmus!" Harry ducked as two of his spells rebounded off a shield, and spun low to the right "Depulso!" the banishment charm was a cover for a far more powerful spell, "Reducto!" that blasted a cabinet and showered his Goblin attacker in wood splinters.

Suddenly, Harry was airborne as the rug flew out from under his feet, courtesy of a summoning charm. He found himself staring up at a grinning Goblin, a stunner already dancing on his fingertips with Remus "Moony" Lupin looking on. They apologized for the ambush, but they had wanted see how he was progressing, "After all, the more you bleed in training, the less you will bleed in battle." said a perhaps overly serious Griphook.

"Yeah well, next time you want to test me, leave the test, a note, a quill and some parchment okay?" said Harry, with the barest trace of a smile. They got down to business, and if the duel was not demonstration enough, it was clear that Harry was not only ahead in his class, but ahead of his year as well in Defense, Charms and Transfiguration. He struggled with potions but knew that would be the case as long as Snape continued to "teach" the subject. Herbology was about average and he was quite happy with where he stood academically. He was still attending a few of his regularly scheduled classes - namely potions, herbology and the ultimate bore: Divination because his tutors and instructors were not masters in those particular areas of study. Not that he minded much. He was so far ahead in the other subjects, having to work in class was a novelty.

In his office, Dumbledore was pacing back and forth, and sucking on yet another lemon drop, his fifth in the past hour. They helped calm him down, and help him think as well. Something he clearly needed to do a great deal. So far, his plans to get back in to Harry's good graces had all gone awry, and even attempts to manipulate the boy were not faring well. Even though she was doing the best she could, he was still too sensitive a topic. Everything she mentioned his name, Harry would turn cold, like the Tom Riddle he remembered from his days as Hogwart's Transfiguration Professor. To make matters worse, the boy was able to resist the charms of a Veela! A feat in its own right, but it was clear that Fleur was no longer a viable way to get the boy back. No. He needed something else.

Fawkes shook his magnificent head, Dumbledore, his friend for almost fifty years was wandering down a path that he, ironically feared Harry might one-day walk, and there was nothing he could do. Phoenix's are immortal, and Fawkes had seen more than one wizard make the same mistakes that Albus was making now. Again, he could do nothing but continue to carry out his duty: Watch, observe and record the passing of the ages, and never interfere. As an agent of a higher power, Fawkes knew that soon, his Mistress would have to act.

The Phoenix burst in to flames with a trill and vanished from his perch. Dumbledore ignored the event. Fawkes had been doing that regularly for almost three years and he thought nothing of it.

If only the headmaster knew…