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There was a cloud of noise that had settled over the Great Hall. A din of forks and knives clanking, and people talking, and eating. It was the first day of the school year, and there was a general excitement. Everyone was happy to be able to perform magic without setting off the Trace. And they were generally excited to be back at school.

Hermione couldn't concentrate. She turned over another leaf in her book, "Practical use of charms" without having taken in a single word on the previous page.

She only wanted to study, was that too much to ask?

Finally she gave up, and trudged up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Ron gave her an anxious look, but she assured him that she was fine.

Something was wrong, and it unsettled her so much that she turned to look. Where was Harry? She swept her gaze over the Great Hall, but either she just missed him, or he wasn't there. But he had been there a moment ago, hadn't he? Yes, he had just said that he had to go to the bathroom, right?

Well, if that was all...

But she knew something was wrong, and it unnerved her to no end. She would like to check up on him, but she couldn't go barging into the boy's bathroom, and she didn't want to.

And then she crashed. The floor was the sky, and the walls were upside down. Her book went flying every which way.

It took her a moment to regain her bearings, and then she realized that she was lying on the ground, and someone was extending a hand to help her up. She looked up and saw Luna.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, vaguer than normal. She didn't even seem to notice Hermione, except for the fact that she was offering to help her up.

"No, I should have payed attention to where I was..." Hermione broke off.

Luna wasn't listening. She was standing quite still, and had a look of extreme concentration on her face. "A dog!" she cried suddenly. Hermione took a step back, afraid that Luna had finally gone completely nuts. "A... a... Oh, as soon as I remember it's gone," she complained. "Do you know?" she turned to Hermione. Her blue eyes bored into her brown. "About the dog? Did you see it, too?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione muttered. She just wanted to get to her room and study, and now here she was, stuck talking to Luna about stupid dogs. "I've seen loads of dogs."

Luna frowned. She twisted a strand of her long blonde hair around her finger, whispering to herself words that Hermione could barely hear. "Black, I'm sure of it. It was a black dog. But what does it mean? Whenever I think of it my brain goes all fuzzy."

Alarm bells started up in Hermione's head. Those were the symptoms of the Obliviate spell! When the victim started to remember, the spell would force their brain too go fuzzy and make them forget the details, and important things, if the victims were able to remember anything at all. Eventually they would forget everything about it.

But Luna was already going down the stairs, still speaking to herself. Hermione shook it off. Luna was probably just imagining things. After all, she was a bit... strange. Hermione looked out over the Great Hall again, but the seat next to Ron was still empty. She was growing more worried by the second. "Luna!" she called, but only as a last resort.

Luna turned. "Yes?" she answered, but it seemed like she was speaking to herself again. Hermione ignored this.

"Have you seen Harry?"

Luna frowned, trying to remember. "No, I haven't. Is anything wrong?"

"Oh, no." Hermione felt awful lying to Luna, but she didn't want to have to talk any longer to the strange girl. Luna fixed her with a strange expression, and for an instant Hermione panicked, imagining that Luna knew that she was lying.

But then Luna turned away.

Hermione looked over the banister again, and saw Harry there, next to Ron.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and went up to her room to study.

Ron was drifting in and out of sleep. He wasn't tired, really. He was just bored. He would probably spend the night lying there in bed, which; while quite comfortable, was boring nonetheless. He shifted again for the umpteenth time, staring at the ceiling. Seamus's light snores, and Dean's breathing filled the room. Harry's quiet breathing came from above him.

Ron frowned. Harry didn't sound sick, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something had been wrong at breakfast that day. Either Harry had simply needed to use the bathroom, or... or he had thrown up.

But he wasn't sick. Ron was sure of it. If he was, it would show. Ron knew the signs, because he had so many siblings who were constantly coming up with fevers and flues. Shivering, or burning up. Looking pale. Tired. Not hungry. Throwing up.

But if Harry hadn't been sick, then why did he throw up?

After a few moments, Ron shook aside this notion. Harry had probably just had to use to loo. And, anyway, he was fine now. So what did it matter?

Creak

Ron froze, listening intently. Nothing.

No, there was something. Some sort of noise. What was it? He turned, but saw nothing. He was probably just imagining things. After all, he was quite tired. Most likely he was halfway dreaming.

Ragged breathing.

Ron gasped. Something, someone, was there. Right there. In the black, where he couldn't quite see. He strained his eyes, afraid of the hidden.

Sirius Black was standing over him. And he was holding a knife.

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