𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Inquiry

Looking down at the ground covered with brittle, dry leaves colored in deep hues of scarlet and gold, Harry made his way languidly back toward the main grounds.

The dew still rested on the blades of grass in these early morning hours, the droplets of water reflecting the clear sky above, randomly flecked with gray-bottomed clouds.

It was November, and it still had yet to snow.

Ever since last Friday, a strange feeling had befallen him; one that only solitude and long walks could temporarily cure.

Though all had insisted he was entirely innocent as far as the "situation" (as it was now being called) was concerned, he remained unconvinced. Harry saw everyone's silent stares in the hall, felt their eyes upon his back. The students, and even some teachers, thought he could not see without his glasses, but even with them off, he could sense their every thought.

His steps quickened and he did not glance about to the sun-washed walls of the Astronomy Tower, or the new crops of Mandrake's that were leafing out among the carrots. The Gryffindor knew he had to return quickly, for soon Ron and Hermione would awake and begin to worry. The presence he felt most acutely through this interminable waiting was that of Ron and Hermione: their good intentions that somehow, through the process, helped.

Although, their worry became mangled with his own.

The scents of oatmeal and honey wafted across the grass on a gentle breeze and, temporarily forgetting his friends' concern, he directed his attention toward the Great Hall, his only thoughts residing on buttered toast and a cup of steaming cocoa.

The Great Hall was mostly unpopulated except for a few seventh years—usually Ravenclaw—that woke up at the break of dawn each day to study for N.E.W.T.S.

Shrugging off their inquisitive glances, he reached for a hot piece of toast and generously smeared a glop of marmalade on top. He felt much better by the time he reached his fifth piece and second cup of cocoa—

"Harry! We were wondering where you were," a shrill scream interrupted his thoughts.

Green eyes glanced up. With an inward sigh, Harry met the feminine gaze of one of his closest friends and thought of a plausible cover-up story for himself. "Hey, Hermione. Sorry, I woke up early and got hungry. I tried waking Ron, but you know him," Harry lied smoothly, deciding to cram the remaining piece of toast into his mouth.

Maybe she would take the hint and leave him in peace.

Hermione, deciding this was an acceptable answer for now, settled herself down comfortably on the bench, scooped herself a bowl of porridge, and began to eat it primly while she scanned the Transfigurations book.

There was a test today that he hadn't studied for, Harry realized.

Yet, this past week had been one of the most abnormal of his life: he had actually completed all assignments early and on time. He had even approached Quidditch with a mechanical eye.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed as he plopped down onto the bench after clapping a hand on his dark-haired friends back. He immediately reached for a ham steak and some freshly made applesauce.

"Hello, Ron," Harry greeted quietly, idly wondering if anything had been heard of Mal—er, if he should study for his Transfigurations test.

Ron, who hardly noticed Harry's quiet nature nudged Hermione and whispered in her ear, though rather loudly, defeating the purpose entirely. "Hermione, did Harry tell you where he was?"

The blood came rushing to the back of his neck. Harry looked down at his empty plate and tried to act innocent and casual, thinking of answers he could possibly use as an explanation; he found none immediately available, let alone believable. After all, Ron and Hermione knew him the best and would see through any thin veil he put up in defense.