Chapter 22: Amicus

Amicus means �friend� in Latin.

Strange how powerfully scent could trigger a onslaught of memories.

Hermione discovered this the moment she stepped into the library, and that familiar dense, musty smell filled her lungs to the very brim. The ghostly fragrance of aged wood also lingered in the air: creaky chairs and tables hidden in the back with incriminating etchings of other couples who�d come long before her and Ron, and rows and rows of bookshelves that spanned the entire wing, with books that smelled of bound leather and yellowing paper.

She�d spent many hours in this place. More than she�d care to remember, now that she thought back on it--and certainly more than Ron would care to remember, for that matter. She knew every nook and cranny there was in here, knew which chairs were unsteady and which far-off shelves were frequented by lovers in search of a secret tryst.

And so, she knew exactly where to look to find her younger self with Harry and young Ron.

It had been hard to trail them all day. As usual, it had been harried right from the off, with lessons back-to-back-to-back, and barely a few seconds to spare here and there before it was time to follow the trio out down yet another corridor, round yet another corner, to yet another room. Keeping up with them at all times had been, as Hermione learnt today, an incredibly exhausting task.

But Ron had been so worried about Harry ever since the attack on the Muggle town, agonizing constantly over the chilling message Voldemort had left in his wake, and wondering how long it would be before the Dark Lord made his next move, which undoubtedly would be very bold. Between Ron and Dumbledore--and even McGonagall and Hagrid--they�d managed to keep a close watch over Harry in the last two weeks, but there were only so many places one or all of them could happen to show up as well, and Ron sensed that Harry was not only beginning to get suspicious of their constant presence, but also becoming quite annoyed.

More than anybody, Ron and Hermione knew all too well that Harry had a tendency to rebel whenever he felt caged--and Ron was convinced that it would only be a matter of time before he found a way to elude his ever-present bodyguards. The only other means they had of protecting Harry, Ron reasoned, was to have Hermione, disguised under the cloak, follow him all over the castle whenever he was not in class or the Great Hall.

It wasn�t till after Divination (that ridiculous excuse-for-a-subject that Hermione had sworn she would never give another thought to for as long as she lived), that she�d lost sight of Harry. If it hadn�t been for that blasted trapdoor, which could accommodate only one student at a time lowering himself on the ladder, Hermione never would have been cut off from Harry and young Ron. As it turned out, she hadn�t been quick enough to dive under the trapdoor when Harry stepped onto the ladder, and it was another fifteen minutes before she could get to it and have enough time to climb down it (thankfully, Neville had taken an inordinate amount of time doing so, thereby keeping the door open; the poor boy had grown scared of heights, no doubt thanks to his many mishaps at Hogwarts, most of which involved being far off the ground in some fashion).

By the time she had escaped Trelawney�s wretched tower, she had lost track of Harry and young Ron completely. They could have been halfway to Hogsmeade by then, if they had so decided; Divination was their last lesson of the day, and given the way Harry had been lately, it would not have surprised her at all if Harry had found a way to convince Ron to throw caution to the wind (not to mention fend off his unwanted chaperones) by sneaking down into the tunnels to go into the town.

But Hermione had a feeling that even if by chance Harry did bring up the idea, there would have been a certain something that would persuade Ron not to go along with it. Or rather, a certain someone.

And she was right.

When she walked into the library, there they were, all three of them: Harry, young Ron, and her younger self, sitting at their usual table, with the customary pile of open books and parchment and bottles of ink surrounding them. But there was one rather noticeable difference, of course. Ron�s fifteen-year old self had an arm loosely draped over her shoulder, hand laced was with hers, thumb lazily sweeping over the arch of her hand.

Hermione had to smile to herself as she watched them. It was relief to know that that part of history hadn�t changed after all, even with all of Ron�s not-so-subtle nudges (prodding was more like it, as far as she was concerned) to his younger self.

From a distance it seemed all three had been sitting there in silence, content to work on homework until dinner time, but as she approached, she heard their hushed voices, and she realized that in fact, there was a very animated discussion going on.

�I�m telling you,� she could hear her younger self was saying, �there�s something not quite right about him.�

Hermione�s stomach lurched. She didn�t even have the first clue what they were talking about, but could already sense that whatever it was, it couldn�t be something good.

Young Ron shrugged without even looking up from the Astronomy book he was perusing. �He seems all right so far.�

He. Oh, this did not sound good at all.

�Better than all right, even,� he went on. �Blimey, he�s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we�ve ever had, other than Lupin!�

Oh God... Hermione gave an involuntary shudder beneath the cloak. So they had been talking about Ron.

�All right, he�s a good teacher, I�ll give you that,� her younger self said thoughtfully. �Really good. And yes, he�s been really nice, helping us with the Fidelius charm, but... I don�t know... there�s just something that isn�t sitting right with me...�

She turned to Harry, whose head had been bent low over a book in all this time. He looked to have been reading, but Hermione knew better; she�d been watching him carefully all this time and noticed that he�d had his eyes trained on the same paragraph for the last five minutes at least.

�What do you think, Harry?�

Harry looked up cautiously, eying the both of them as if he were well aware that choosing a side in this argument (or what was starting to take shape as one) would not be the smartest thing in the world to do. Pity the fool who would be the one to trigger their first fight as a couple, after all.

After a while, he said quietly, �I think... you may be onto something.�

Young Ron straightened in his chair. �What?�

A chorus of shushes came from a nearby table, and Ron scowled back at them, then returned his gaze back to Harry.

�Look,� Harry began to explain, �you have to admit, there are some things that don�t quite add up with him.�

�Like what?�

Young Hermione eased herself off Ron to look up at him. �Like the other day, for example... he said something about being chased by Mrs. Norris once when he was younger.�

�So?�

�So... Ron, you said Mrs. Norris was here when Charlie went to Hogwarts,� she said. �She�s got to be nearing twenty years old, if she�s not over twenty already. How could she possibly have been around when Professor Weasley was here?�

�Well... perhaps Filch had another cat before her that he called Mrs. Norris too,� young Ron said. �And perhaps that was the Mrs. Norris that chased him around school once.�

�But Ron,� Harry said, �that�s another thing. If he had gone here, wouldn�t that mean that he�d gone to school with your parents? Don�t you think it�s odd that they�ve never mentioned him before?�

It seemed that was finally enough to give young Ron pause. By now, Hermione was more than horrified by the direction of this conversation; she could only stand back and watch their faces carefully, holding her breath and wondering just what would happen if just one of the trio decided to take this thought any further than it had gone already.

And then young Ron came to her rescue.

�Oh come on, you two,� he said, �there�s nothing to worry about!! You can trust a Weasley.�

She should have known her younger self would have a quick reply for that remark.

�If he even is a Weasley,� she said darkly.

�What else could he be, Hermione? Have you looked at him? Blimey, he could be my twin if he had a few years taken off him!�

But it seemed her younger self had an answer for that as well. �There is such a thing as Polyjuice Potion, remember?�

Suddenly, a roguish grin materialized on young Ron�s face.

�What�s this all about, anyway?� he said. �I thought you fancied him...�

A furious blush broke out all over her younger self�s face, so red that she threatened to blend in with Ron�s bright hair. It was not a look Hermione was especially fond of for herself, and she felt her own cheeks get hot at once.

�Oh, don�t be ridiculous!� her younger self finally sputtered, after recovering her voice. �Honestly, that imagination of yours...�

The grin only widened; he must have known he�d hit a bull�s eye.

�Right,� he said. �It�s not like you�ve ever fancied a teacher...�

Her mouth fell open in preparation for a retort, but he cut her off before she could even get the words out.

�It�s all right, love,� he said. �You don't have to worry. I�m not jealous or anything.�

Most unfortunately, Harry had chosen that specific moment to let out a rather obnoxious laugh--which quickly transformed into a hacking cough as soon as Ron shot him a dagger with his eyes.

�I�m very secure in your love for me.�

�How very lucky for me, then,� her younger self said dryly, having now regained most of her tattered dignity. �Look... whether or not I fancy him is not the point, anyway. The point is, he may be a perfectly wonderful professor--he may even be a perfectly nice man--but that doesn�t change the fact that I think he�s hiding something.�

Young Ron�s eyebrows shot upwards. �Hiding something?�

�Yes,� she said. �I know you like him, Ron, but I�m telling you--something is not right with him. And with things the way they are, maybe...�

She glanced worriedly at Harry, then turned back to young Ron.

�... maybe you should ask your parents about him. Just to... well, you know... make sure he really is all right to trust...�

Hermione felt her throat close at the words, trapping the air inside her lungs. Oh no... Oh God, no... that would be the last thing they could afford to have happen...

�I already did,� young Ron said matter-of-factly.

Oh God...

�Owled them this morning,� he said, �to tell them about the good marks I got from him on the werewolf essay. And besides, I�m sure Fred and George have told them about him too by now. I mean, they practically worship him.�

�Oh, well... good...� Her younger self didn�t sound relieved at all, though. In fact, she sounded even more worried than before. �I... suppose that�s settled, then. We should probably get back to studying...�

Hermione didn�t stick around to hear the rest of their conversation. Before any of them could crack open another book, she had already run straight out of the library, darting in the direction of Ron�s office.

And as she did, Hermione couldn�t help but wonder how in the world they were going to get out of this mess.

�I�m really worried, Professor...�

Dumbledore did not respond to Ron straight away, only giving his long, silver beard a few thoughtful strokes. For a long time both men sat there like this in Dumbledore�s office, Ron facing him, numbly watching him as the light snoring of the sleeping headmasters and headmistresses in the paintings droned on above his ear.

And the silence between them was driving him mad.

There was so much to be said at that moment, and yet no of the words would come to him. Every day that Harry had managed to come away unscathed was a miracle indeed, but Ron knew full well he was living on borrowed time, and that the Harry of the future--his best friend--was counting on him to put an end to this once and for all.

At length, the headmaster let out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry with it the very weight of his thoughts.

�The danger is getting closer,� he said, his voice somber but not grave. �But we mustn�t panic, Ronald. Voldemort will make his presence known soon enough, and then... we shall be ready.�

But Ron didn�t feel ready. Not by a long shot. He wanted to tell Dumbledore this, to shout it out at the top of his lungs, but there was something about the calm, serene glow of the headmaster�s eyes that stopped him. This was, after all, the greatest sorcerer in the world--the one who had defeated Grindelwald and before whom even Voldemort cowered in fear.

And yet somehow, Ron still felt ill at ease.

�So we�re just waiting for him to pounce, then?� he said. �And we�ll all be sitting like a bunch of right lemons in the meantime?�

�The Ministry is working hard to contain the danger outside of Hogwarts-�

�With all due respect, sir,� Ron said, �history hasn�t exactly remembered Cornelius Fudge as an effective Minister. At least not in the history I remember. Voldemort hasn�t exactly been shy in letting us all know that he intends to get to Harry one way or the other.�

Again, Dumbledore sighed. �I know-�

The door suddenly burst open, and Ron turned his head to see who had just walked in, shocked to see Harry standing there, clutching some sort of a book, his eyes filled with a kind of wild panic as they met his gaze.

�Harry,� Dumbledore said, getting up from his desk.

�Professor... I�m sorry, I don�t mean to burst in on you like this, but...� Harry seemed to be approaching the desk carefully, abruptly stopping on a step when Ron himself rose from his chair. �I really need to speak with you Professor. It�s urgent.�

Dumbledore nodded reassuringly at Ron, then walked over to where Harry was still standing, staring straight at Ron. Dumbledore put a hand on Harry�s shoulder and glanced down at the book he was carrying, and he seemed to understand everything at that moment.

�Ah,� he said, then he looked up at Ron. �I think Professor Weasley might be able to help you with this, Harry.�

Harry�s eyes widened. �No!! I... Professor, it�s you I need to talk to-�

�It�ll be all right, Harry,� Dumbledore said, cutting him off with a nod. He looked back at Ron. �Professor Weasley, I�ll leave you to it then?�

Leave him to what?

Ron gave him a bewildered look, which Dumbledore seemed to ignore, because he patted Harry on the shoulder and then slipped out of the office.

�Wait... Professor-�

Harry turned back to face Ron once more, backing down a few more steps, but never breaking the eye contact. Ron suddenly felt as if he were a thief who�d just been caught in the act.

�Everything all right, Harry?�

�Stay there!!� Harry shouted, thrusting his arm out without warning, his wand pointed right at Ron�s chest.

Ron nodded slowly. �All right,� he said. �Just... just take it easy, all right?�

�Who are you??�

Ron held his breath. �Sorry?�

�I said who are you??�

�You know who I am, Harry... I�m... Professor Weasley...�

�No you�re not!!�

Ron started to move towards him again, but Harry responded by raising his wand higher.

�I know you�re not really Mr. Weasley�s cousin!� he said, holding up the book he was clutching. Ron could now see that it was a yearbook. �I looked through this... I looked through years and years of these... You�re not in any one of them!!�

�Look, Harry, I can explain-�

�Just tell me who the hell you are!!�

Ron took another step, but this time Harry advanced with his wand, pushing the tip of it right into Ron�s collarbone.

�I�m not afraid to use this thing,� he snarled. �If I have to use an unforgivable curse, I will-�

Ron held up his hands. �I believe you,� he said, chuckling softly, in spite of himself.

The laughter seemed to throw Harry off, but he kept the wand trained on Ron.

�All right,� Ron said at last, �you�re right. I�m... not exactly who I said I was...�

This seemed to unnerve Harry to the core. He gripped his wand even tighter, jabbing it painfully into Ron.

�I knew it!!� he said. �I knew it!! Hermione was right!!�

�I�m not here to hurt you, I swear-�

�Why the bloody hell should I believe you??�

�Because-�

Ron�s hand flew to his ribs, where Harry had pushed his wand in so painfully that it knocked the wind out of him.

�Because,� he wheezed, �I�m... your best friend, Harry...�

Harry�s eyes widened, filling immediately with a mixture of fright and fascination. After a few heartbeats, he brought his wand down.

�What??�

Ron glanced down at Harry�s wand, watching it in case Harry suddenly decided to aim it at him again.

�Look closely,� he said.

Harry began to back off and shook his head. �What�re you on about-�

�Harry, look at me. Just look.�

He stood frozen in his spot. For a moment, Ron thought he was going to flee, or else curse him right then and there, and indeed, Harry�s fingers had already begun to twitch around the wand�s grip, but then they seemed to relax, and at last, Harry stuffed the wand back into his robes.

�Ron...?�

He blinked a few times, tilting his head and scanning Ron�s entire face. There was recognition there, Ron could tell, but he seemed to be finding it impossible to believe his eyes.

Not that Ron could blame him in the least.

�It�s me, mate,� he said, nodding. �I�ve come to help you...�