A dish best served cold

15

Harry and Luna sat in the Great Hall, finishing up breakfast and talking about the Hogsmeade trip today. Despite the threat of attack on Thursday, the lack of follow through took the edge off, and the staff felt it prudent to allow the visit to Hogsmeade to give the students something to take their minds off of everything that was going on in the world. Harry wasn't so sure it was a good idea in general, but it did provide a way to deal with the third of the Troublesome Trio. Ron and Hermione were currently stashed safely away in a secret location that only he knew.

Harry spoke softly to the blond, who was currently sitting next to him. "You remember the plan?" She nodded, a wicked gleam in her eye indicating that she was going to have plenty of fun with this. Harry continued, "And if it fails, or something happens, and we have to use plan B, you're sure you're okay with that?"

Luna turned to him and gave him a heavy look. Her eyes and face were calm, everything about her demeanor pointed to her being at peace. "She's been allowed to live long enough as it is. This trip is the perfect opportunity to do away with the final pest." Her voice promised violence, cold and sharp, like a sword. "And even if I can't do it myself for some reason, it needs to get done one way or another. That's all there is too it."

He nodded, glad that she cared more about results than she did about methods. He turned to Lavender and Neville, and asked, "You two have the potions?" A pair of nods answered him. "And you remember what to do, right?" Two more nods. "Good. Well, I think this will be a very enjoyable and productive day, don't you?" he said to them all.

Bright smiles answered him. Excitement flowed through his veins. Good things were on the horizon.

If only he knew.

-HPHPHPHPHP-

Ron Weasley looked around, grimy walls surrounding him on all sides. The only light in the room was coming from a lit wall sconce. He checked himself over after getting a grip on his senses, and found that his hair was still in the same hideous state as before. He was dressed in nothing but heavy wool pants, and a woolen shirt. Not even any underwear, which he realized was going to be quite uncomfortable on his sensitive bits later. Already he was starting to sweat. And itch. He had no shoes, and the floor was rough and jagged, making moving around very painful on the feet. His necklace was also gone. This made him very uneasy. Knowing that his mind was protected 24/7 was not a big deal at the time, but now that he had to go without, it was very disconcerting.

He didn't have his wand. He didn't have anything. Just his body, his mind, and this room. And of course, these damn clothes. Not wanting to take them off, but really needing relief from the heat, he decided to take the shirt off, but leave the pants on. When he went to pull it off, however, it wouldn't budge. He was stuck. He sat down dejectedly, forgetting the floors texture, slamming his ass into a particularly large bump.

"ARGH!" Grabbing his backside and rolling around on the floor in pain, he tried to think of anything but the awkward pain. As he sat up, moving with caution so as not to hurt himself again, his stomach gurgled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in a while. Looking around, he spotted food in the corner of the room. Hobbling over slowly, he grabbed the plate and started shoveling.

Then he spat it out violently. It tasted like ash, and was absolutely horrid. I wasn't actually ash, so technically it was still edible.

He sat there eyeing it for a while, reluctant to put such nastiness in his mouth, but suffering under the hunger pangs. Finally, he gave in, and started gobbling with unmatched speed, hoping to eat at enough of a pace that he wouldn't taste much of it. After three chicken thighs and a giant heaping of mashed potatoes, the plate was still full, and he was still quite hungry. He finally noticed that there was a glass of apple juice next to his plate, and slammed it back, grateful for something to wash down his food with.