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Chapter 13

Sorry

"Ha!" Ron shouted as he captured Harry's king. "Checkmate!"

Harry was caught off guard for the eighth time that evening. "How?!"

Ron leaned back in his armchair, seemingly content. "I suppose I'm just that good."

Harry threw a bishop at him. 

They sat like that for a while, until both realized they still had a Potions essay due for Snape. Ron had suggested they take a break and have a round of chess, but it had somehow spiraled into a whopping eight games, all of which Harry had lost, a fact he was sure Ron would never let him live down. 

Pulling their rolls of parchment back to them and dipping their quills into their ink pots, Harry and Ron began to write, occasionally asking one another questions about the topic. 

"What does dittany do again?" Ron asked him.

Harry drew a blank. "Dunno, I haven't gotten to that part yet. Must be somewhere in 1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi."

Ron pulled out his copy and began rifling through it. "Here it is!" He showed Harry the page, which had a picture of the plant in question. "Apparently it heals wounds and stuff like that."

"That's not all," a voice behind them startled them both.

Harry and Ron whipped around to find Hermione sitting at the table behind them. "Quit being a know-it-all would you?" Ron said, disgruntled.

Harry kicked him lightly in the shin. "Let her finish."

Hermione beamed at him. "Well, it heals wounds by making fresh skin grow over them, making them seem several days old in a matter of seconds. It can be applied onto the wound in question or if the wound is shallow, it can be consumed."

"Woah, that's amazing." Harry flipped to the next page in the textbook. "And nearly word-for-word with the textbook."

He looked up. Hermione had a little tinge of blush on her cheeks. "You'd better write that down, it'll really impress Snape for your essay."  Then she walked off to the girl's dormitories, clutching her own essay.

"Thanks!" Harry called after her.

Harry wrote down what she'd told them, though he noticed Ron didn't, probably in spite that Hermione had supplied them with the information, which he seemed to think was too good for him. At last, after proofreading their essays, they once more had some downtime to themselves. 

"Harry, mate, isn't that your owl?"

He looked at the window, and sure enough, there was Hedwig, tapping a foot against the glass. He went over and opened it, and Hedwig hopped into the common room. He untied the scroll attached to her leg, and she settled herself on the armrest of Ron's chair, clearly intending to bring a response to someone else. 

"Wonder who this is from," Harry said, unfurling the scroll of parchment. His eyes scanned the paper, and he rolled it up once more. He was just about to make his way to the dormitories when Ron called him back.

"Well, who is it?"

"Oh, sorry, it's from Miles."

Ron scowled. "What does he want?"

"Just to meet tomorrow."

"I don't reckon you should do that Harry." Ron's expression was grim. "He was okay before, but hanging out with those snakes might have changed him."

"What are you saying? Miles would never hurt me or anything like that."

Ron shook his head. "Do whatever you want mate, but keep my words in mind." He packed up his essay and brushed past Harry, who stood still, shocked.