Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

’Is she really…dead?’ came Ginny’s voice from Harry’s chest. Harry inhaled slowly. Ginny noticed this and looked up. Her big brown eyes were red from all the crying and they were still shining from the salty tears, which were still making their way down her cheeks. The look in her eyes, the sadness that they showed, it was exactly the way Harry felt. He swallowed hard and nodded. The reflection of the hurt he was feeling, which were so clearly showing in Ginny’s eyes, was breaking his heart even more than he thought was possible.

‘Look, Gin,’ Harry started as he let go of the red-head. He pushed he chin up, making her eyes meet his. ‘I’ve got to go back to the ministry. I need some back up info; I need to know what really happened, why it happened. I have to.’ He gave her a quick, assuring kiss on the top of her head before he started to make his way through the corridor, towards the elevator.

After only a few steps he stopped, turned around, and made his way back towards Ginny. Reaching her he swooped her up in a quick hug he whispered; ‘Look after Ron, will you?’ Ginny nodded slowly, wiping her tears away and Harry let go of her once more. Harry sighed as he shot a quick glance at Ron. Looking at this raven-haired boy, you could tell that the state of his best friend worried him, a lot. Making up his mind Harry wandered over to, what hours ago had been one of the happiest people he knew. Now he was standing there, looking at the girl he loved, sunken into a deep sleep from which she would never wake up.

‘Ron?’ said Harry doubtingly. Trying to get some attention from his best friend, he placed his hand on Ron’s right shoulder.

‘Yeah?’ sighed Ron, without moving a muscle. Harry swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had been growing in his throat, and let out a, not so steady, breath.

‘Look mate,’ Harry started, as if he didn’t really know what to say. ‘I’ve got head back to the ministry. You know, got some work and things to read up on. Will you be okay?’ Ron nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed upon Hermione, through the glass windows. ‘Just don’t go and do anything stupid, okay?’ said Harry caringly and gave Ron’s shoulder a squeeze, before he started to move himself towards the elevator.

‘Stupid question,’ he muttered under his breath, only for himself to hear. ‘Stupid bloody question, “will you be okay?”. Of course he bloody won’t. ‘Mione just died, no one’s going to be okay. Bloody stupid.’ Harry kept mumbling these things to himself as he walked down the corridor, slower then he had ever walked down any corridor before.

This time it didn’t feel like the world around him had lost its speed, like everything had started to move in slow-motion. This time around Harry didn’t want to hurry, he didn’t want to run towards the elevator or walk fast throughout the corridor. He needed his time, he needed to not hurry.

After an eternity the doors closed, and Harry was again trapped inside the elevator. The banging and the hissing noises that one of the few, partly, technological objects in the wizardry world was making made no impression what so ever on Harry. The feeling had had rushed over him when seeing Hermione lying there was still welling over him. But it was starting to dilute. It was starting to mix with a feeling that Harry, by now, was far too used to. Anger. When in the mind of Harry Potter, anger and hurt were mixed together; the result was never too positive for the ones to have caused it. But Harry was no where that stage just yet. The thing that worried him was that he knew that the possibility of Ron being in that state was far too big.

The elevator doors made their annoying opening noise and the female voice announced that they had now reached the Ground floor. Harry stepped outside of the, he noticed, rusty doors, and walked slowly over to the markings on the floor that clearly stated where the disapparating area started.

The raven haired auror trainee opened his cloak to reach for his wand, resident in his inner robe pocket. But when Harry closed his fingers around the piece of wood, that to the muggle eye was no more than just a stick, there was a flash of light. Within a nanosecond Harry had turned around, a firm grip secluded around his wand and a sign of deep concentration spread eagerly across his face. His deep green eyes searching for whatever could have given away that kind of flash. Deep in concentration Harry was bothered by another flash and a squeaky voice.

‘Mr. Potter, is it true sir? Hermione Granger murdered? Residence attacked? Any comments Mr. Potter?’ came the high pitched voice from somewhere around him. Harry sighed. He couldn’t do with reporters. Did they even know the word privacy, or were their vocabularies not developed on that level yet? ‘They ought to get themselves a dictionary,’ thought Harry as he flicked his wand and disappeared right under the nose of the owner of the squeaky voice. Making the reporter stare, gaping, with such a shocked expression on her face, on the empty spot where the-Boy-Who-Lived had just been standing. Not quite believing that anyone would actually disapparate from a chance of appearing in the next issue of the Daily Prophet.

Just outside the ministry of magic there was an alley, a narrow, dark almost unrecognizable alley. The ally wasn’t longer then seventeen feet long, and it was about six feet wide, tops. It ended in a cul-de-sac, and in the far left end corner a dustbin was placed. It was next to this that Harry appeared, from thin air.

Brushing the dust off his robes he looked around, studying the alley closely, making sure that there was no one to be seen, no one to be seen by. After having made himself sure that no one, or nothing, were looking at him he slowly put his wand back into his left inner-robe pocket. But his fingers stayed wrapped around the piece of wood, you could never be too sure. So with his right hand clutched around his wand, he used his left hand to somewhat close the edges of his robes together, in an attempt to hide his hand.

While slowly letting out a breath Harry started to move slowly towards the main street, in which the ministry was placed, underground of course. It didn’t take him long to walk out through the short dead-end alley, and he was out on the street within a one or two minutes. The sudden sight of sunlight made Harry squint, and he let go of his wand just so that he could cover his eyes with his hand.

After crossing the one-way street Harry opened the door leading to, what looked like an old closed bakery shop, only to appear in the entrance hall of the Aurors’ headquarters. This time there was no reason for him to take the normal tour through the entire ministry, taking a shortcut was much easier. After all, no one would see him, no one would ask any questions. If he was to walk through the Ministry he was sure that he would at lest get a dozen of questions about…it.

The security guard shot him a look, recognizing him at once he asked no questions and let him walk through the security doors with a nod. Harry nodded back slightly and watched the doors before him as they opened up. Walking through them he soundlessly thanked himself for choosing that way over the ministry way. Pulling his hand through his hair, Harry was now taking big steps as he made his way down another long corridor. Reaching the end of the corridor he found himself facing a door. Opening this Harry found himself back in the long corridor he had walked through, just that same morning.

When making his way towards Lupin’s office Harry met no one. This surprised him slightly, during this time of the day there were usually at least a dozen people, Aurors as well as trainees walking down the corridor in various directions. But now, there was not one single person there.

‘I’m sorry Harry.’

The voice almost made Harry jump. Catching his breath and clutching his chest Harry turned around, doing his best to make a smile appear on his face. When recognising the owner of the words the so-called-smile disappeared, and Harry nodded gratefully.

‘Thanks Jeff,’ mumbled Harry sullenly and turned around to continue making his way towards the office of his old, and current, professor. The young black man, by the name of Jeff Connors, was too an auror trainee. Being one year ahead of Harry, but not quite as gifted as the young Mr Potter, he showed great talent whatsoever and nothing seemed to bother him more than the thought of someone he respected, in any way, being cross with him. This wasn’t all that good, considering his choice of career. The late nights, the lack of presence and the constant situation of being in danger, often caused people to get crossed with you, no matter what you did or said. Either because you seemed to put yourself in danger, or because your loved ones ended up being there with you. Harry was used to it; he had been in danger all his life, well at least since being introduced to the wizardry world. And being friends with him, you had to get used to the constant danger that was brought to it. For all he knew it was this danger that was the cause for his best friend’s death.

Harry was staring at the door which was the only thing between him and Lupin’s office. It was strange how that door was bothered him. He had brought is hand up to knock, at least three times by now, but he hadn’t knocked. He had brought his hand up just to drop it seconds later. Harry looked from his right hand, to the door, and back again. Shaking his head he brought his hand to the handle, hesitating Harry pushed it down and let the door glide open.

Lupin was sitting in his chair by his desk, looking surprisingly much like Professor Dumbledore, with that odd special look that Dumbledore saved for tragic situations. Closing the door carefully behind him Harry moved slowly towards the desk. Lupin seemed to be studying his every move, but did not utter a word. Not until Harry had sat himself down in the chair, facing Lupin, did he speak.

‘How is he, Harry?’ asked Lupin worriedly, his sympathy and caring showing in every inch of his face. There was no doubt that the fairly old man was talking about Ron. Who else could it be?

‘Hermione just died,’ stated Harry, even though it was a known fact to both men in the room. ‘By the look of it, he’s never been worse. But you can see that, can’t you. It’s not like he’s ever lost her like this before.’ Lupin nodded sadly as Harry finished. But by the look he gave the trainee there was something else that the older wizard wanted to know.

‘He’s gonna do something,’ started Harry, clearly understanding what it was that Lupin wanted to know, both professionally and personally. ‘I know the look. I’ve seen it before.’ At this Lupin was focusing on every word that Harry was letting past his vocal cord, out of his mouth. Every word that entered the room was picked up and studied closely by the old Marauder.

‘He’s gonna do something, something stupid.’