Harry Potter and the Blind Seer of Durmstrang

Chapter 5

September 1st dawned sunny and warm, as if August had forgotten that it was supposed to give way to fall. Sunlight streamed in the window across Harry's face and he enjoyed the warmth on his skin.

"Get up, sleepyhead," said Ron, tossing a pillow at Harry. "Today's the day!"

"I'm awake," said Harry lazily, placing his hands under his head and stretching on the camp bed that was crammed into Ron's little bedroom.

Ron jumped out of bed and began busily tossing clothes into his trunk. Harry heard the slap of a magazine. He supposed he ought to pack his own trunk, but he lay still for a few lovely minutes more, stretching like a cat in the patch of sunlight, pulling his pillow over his eyes to block the brightness.

"Oh no, you don't," said Ron, jerking the pillow away from him and attempting to roll him out of bed. The pain in his eyes at the flash of light, blinding even through closed eyelids, put Harry into an unexpectedly cross mood.

"Oh stop," he said grumpily and sat up, eyes still closed, fumbling for his glasses on the floor under his bed. Only after he had found them and put them on did he open his eyes, squinting a little as a headache crawled up his forehead.

"We have to pack," said Ron, still bouncing around his room like an India-rubber ball.

"No kidding," said Harry sourly, but Ron ignored his tone.

"Did you hear? The Chudley Cannons are looking to recruit Tommy Blevins next season as Keeper," he said with delight. "That should give them..."

"Oh, who cares about the Chudley Cannons? They'll never be a decent team and you know it," burst out Harry before he could stop himself.

Ron stopped short and stared at Harry, who still sat on the edge of his bed. "What's eating you?" he asked in dismay.

"Nothing," said Harry sulkily.

"Well, you needn't run down the Cannons," said Ron with a sniff and flung himself out of the room and down the stairs with thunderous footsteps. Harry sat for a few more minutes listening to the ghoul in the attic as it gleefully banged on the pipes. He decided today probably could not get worse and he got up.

Three hours later, he stood with Sirius on Platform 9 ¾ waiting to board the train.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Harry asked anxiously, and Sirius laughed.

"Should I be the one asking you that question?" he asked dryly.

"Yes, err, well," Harry said awkwardly.

"I'll be fine, Harry," Sirius assured him. "Remus will stay with me and we're already making plans to begin looking for that rat, Pettigrew."

In spite of Sirius's cheerful words, Harry could hear an underlying tone of fatigue in his voice, and Harry noticed that his godfather seemed to carry himself carefully, as though in pain. Harry wondered what he could do from Hogwarts besides simply worry.

"Have fun, then," said Sirius, a bit too heartily, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Where's Weasley? Thought he'd be right over here."

Harry shrugged. The truth was that Ron had been avoiding him all day, ever since he'd made the crack about the Cannons. At the moment, Harry hardly felt sorry about it; although, in the back of his mind, he knew he'd regret it later.

"You'd better get on," said Sirius as the whistle sounded, long and shrill over their heads. He handed Hedwig's cage to Harry and watched as Harry turned to board the train.

Harry pushed his way into the first compartment he could find and sank with a sigh on the bench seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He hoped Ron and Hermione would come and find him, but he wasn't counting on it, not after Ron's anger that morning.