38 | Not So Happy Christmas

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Sitting on the couch with my legs tucked up into my chest, I sat in between Ron and Hermione as we stared down at Harry, who had just come in gushing about the fact that he and Cho had kissed after the lesson.

"Well, how was it?" Ron asked right away.

"Wet." Harry sat on the ground in front of the crackling fireplace. "I mean, she was sort of crying."

Ron laughed, not being able to control himself. "That bad at it, are you?"

"I'm sure Harry's kissing was more than satisfactory." Hermione defended her friend. "Cho spends half her time crying these days."

"You'd think a bit of snogging would cheer her up." Ron chuckled.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's stupidity once again. "Don't you understand how she must be feeling? Well, obviously she's feeling sad about Cedric...and therefore confused about liking Harry and guilty about kissing him...conflicted because Umbridge is threatening to sack her mum from her job at the Ministry and frightened about failing her OWLs because she's so busy worrying about everything."

"One person couldn't feel all that. They'd explode." Ron scoffed.

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon..."

It was silent for a few seconds before we all bust out laughing, purely for the fact that the four of us hadn't had a good laugh in I can't even remember how long.

Once everyone had gone to bed, I decided to stay up a little bit later and study for my OWLs. Not because I wanted to or because I respected Umbridge in the least, but because no matter how much I hated everything going on, I was still concerned about my grades.

However, I didn't get very far into studying before Ron came downstairs with a shaking Harry by his side. "Harry." I jumped up. "Ron, what happened."

"Get McGonagall," Ron told me.

Dropping my books to the ground, I ran off to find McGonagall. Once I located her, she escorted the three of us down to Dumbeldore's office. Apparently, Harry had had a dream about Mr. Weasley being attacked, but...it wasn't really a dream at all.

When Ginny, Fred, and George walked in, all wrapped in housecoats with worried looks on their faces, Dumbledore finally spoke. "In the dream, were you standing next to the victim...or looking down at the scene?"

"Neither. It was like I..." Harry answered. "Professor, will you please just tell me what's happening?"

Ignoring Harry, Dumbledore walked over to the paintings on his walls. "Everard, Arthur's on guard duty tonight. Make sure he's found by the right people. Phineas. You must go to your portrait at Grimmauld Place. Tell them that Arthur Weasley is gravely injured...and his children will be arriving there soon by Portkey."

"They've got him, Albus." another painting spoke. "It was close, but they think he'll make it. What's more, the Dark Lord failed to acquire it."

"Oh, thank goodness. Next, we need to-"

"Look at me!" Harry yelled, the collar of his shirt drenched in sweat. "What's happening to me?"

Walking in, Snape looked around at everyone in the room. "You wished to see me, headmaster?"

"Oh, Severus. I'm afraid we can't wait." Dumbledore said. "Not even till the morning. Otherwise, we'll all be vulnerable."

With that, Snape grabbed onto Harry's arm and dragged him out of the room, leaving me confused and the Weasley's heartbroken. Thankfully though, Mr. Weasley would be okay, or so the painting had said. I wasn't quite sure just how trustworthy paintings were.

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