Dawn Rivera

The Unbreakable Vow

Snow is swirling against the icy windows once more. Christmas is approaching fast. Hagrid has already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel have been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glow from inside the helmets of suits of armour and great bunches of mistletoe have been hung at intervals along the corridors. Large groups of girls tend to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry and Danny go past, which causes blockages in the corridors; fortunately,my hey are able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes

Ron, who might have once found the necessity of these detours a cause for jealousy rather than hilarity, simply risks with laughter about it all. Although I much prefer this new laughing, joking Ron to the moody, aggressive model I have been enduring for last few weeks, the improved Ron comes at a very heavy price for two people I know. Firstly, Harry and Danny have to put up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, who seems to regard any moment that she is not kissing Ron as a moment wasted; and secondly, Harry and Danny find themselves, once more, the best friends of three people who seem unlikely to ever speak to each other again.

Hermione and I's timetables are so full that Harry and Danny can only talk to us properly in the evenings, when Ron is in any case tightly wrapped around Lavender that he does not notice what Harry and Danny are doing. Hermione and I refuse to sit in the common room while Ron is there, so Harry and Danny generally join us in the library, which means that our conversations are held in whispers. They are not too pleased, however, that Zacharias is always there.

"He's at perfect liability to kiss whomever he likes," I say, while the librarian, Madam Pince, prowls the shelves behind us. "We really couldn't care less."

We raise our quills and dot some 'i's so ferociously that we puncture holes in our parchment. How dare Ron hurt Hermione like this? And since Hermione is hurting over Ron, Danny is hurting over Hermione. Harry and Danny say nothing. I think their voices might soon vanish from lack of use. They bend a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making.

"And incidentally," says Hermione, after a few moments, "you need to be careful."

"For the last time," says Harry, speaking in a slightly hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour silence, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape of Slughorn have taught me in - "

"She's not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," I say, giving his book a nasty look as though it was rude to me, "she's talking about earlier. We went into the girls' bathroom just before we came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work - "

"Why didn't you confiscate them, then, Hermione?" demands Danny.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," says Hermione scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince," she gives the book another nasty look, "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you - that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbles Harry.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," I say grimly.

We hitch up the long rolls of parchment on which we were writing our Arithmancy essays and continue to scratch away with our quills. Harry and Danny watch us.