the lucky one

tick, tick...

Miranda taps her fingers anxiously, fidgeting in her place at the sofa. She had arrived back from the library late that afternoon, looking for Harry, only to find him missing. Hermione and Ron had told her that he'd been called out of Charms unexpectedly, and left in a huge rush. Miranda assumes it must have to do with Dumbledore, and whatever they're doing— but she can't help but feel concerned. Especially since he still hasn't returned.

She checks the clock for what seems like the hundredth time in the span of an hour, alternating between that and glancing at the door every ten seconds.

"He's fine," says Hermione quietly, patting her leg. Though her brow is wrinkled.

"I don't know, Hermione," Miranda mumbles, jiggling her knee up and down. "Dumbledore's been so absent lately, and when he is here he acts so strangely. Not to mention Harry's been stressed and—"

Ron interjects, holding his hands up, "Breathe, McGonagall. I'm sure everything is—"

At this moment, the portrait hole to the common room bursts open with a crash. Harry, frenzied and frantic and breathing heavily, tumbles inside.

"What does he want?" Miranda says at once. "Harry, are you okay?" she adds anxiously, catching sight of his expression. A horrible, sinking feeling worms its way through her gut.

"I'm fine," says Harry shortly, racing past them. He dashes up the stairs and into his dormitory, where he flung open his trunk and pulled out the Marauder's Map and a pair of balled-up socks. Then he speeds back down the stairs and into the common room, skidding to a halt where Ron, Miranda, and Hermione sit, looking stunned.

"I've got to be quick," Harry pants. "Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen. . . ." Quickly he tells them where he is going and why. He does not pause either for Hermione's gasps of horror, Miranda's concerned interjections, or for Ron's hasty questions; they could work out the finer details for themselves later.

". . . so you see what this means?" Harry finishes at a gallop. "Dumbledore won't be here tonight, so Malfoy's going to have another clear shot at whatever he's up to. No, listen to me!" he hisses angrily, as all three of them show every sign of interrupting. "I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —" He shoves the Marauder's Map into Miranda's hands. "You've got to watch him and you've got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he's put extra protection in the school, but if Snape's involved, he'll know what Dumbledore's protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won't be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?"

"Harry —" begins Miranda, her eyes huge with fear. This isn't right. How is all of this happening so fast? It shouldn't be happening so fast. They were supposed to have time. She needed time.

"I haven't got time to argue," says Harry curtly. Miranda sucks in a sharp inhale. "Take this as well —"  He thrusts the socks into Ron's hands.
"Thanks," says Ron. "Er — why do I need socks?"
"You need what's wrapped in them, it's the Felix Felicis. Share it between yourselves. Ginny and Matt too. Say goodbye to them for me. I'd better go, Dumbledore's waiting —"

"No!" Miranda protests, grabbing his wrist. He can't leave like this— he can't. Ron unwraps the tiny little bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. "We don't want it," she insists, shaking her head fervently. "You take it, who knows what you're going to be facing?"

"I'll be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore," says Harry gruffly, almost as if he slows down everything will set in and he will not be able to bring himself to leave her. "I want to know you lot are okay. . . . " He pauses, softening briefly. His eyes meet hers. "Don't look like that, Miranda, I'll see you later. . . .you're going to be alright, don't worry."