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Chapter 5: Pride and Passwords

By the time Harry had finished his explanation, the sun had risen high in the sky, warming the air and causing both Harry and Hermione to become drowsy. Despite the consistent and blissfully normal discussion that they were having, it wasn't long before they both fell into a peaceful sleep, leaning against the tree with Hermione's head resting on Harry's shoulder. It also wasn't long before they found themselves being shaken awake by their red-headed friend.

"Ron?" Harry said, jerking upright nervously and causing Hermione to wake abruptly. She lifted her head from his shoulder and also seemed a bit apprehensive. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Ron answered in a rather toneless voice. "Just woke up and saw you both weren't there. When I went down and asked Mum if she knew where you two had gone, she said she hadn't seen you come down." Ron was silent for a few moments, and Harry felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in his best friend's eyes. "Mum's been wanting to see you properly since… well, since there wasn't much opportunity before. So I came looking for you." He turned his attention to Harry, a slight frown on his face. "How're you feeling, mate?"

"Er - pretty good, I guess," Harry answered. It only made him feel guiltier that Ron was asking about his well-being - Ron was the one who deserved sympathy. "I went by Madam Pomfrey's earlier today."

"That's good…" Ron trailed off distractedly before shaking his head and continuing. "So I figured we could go get some lunch or something."

"Yeah, that sounds - er - good," Harry said, barely masking the slight surprise in his voice. He knew that at any other time Ron would have been furiously jealous upon finding himself and Hermione in a situation such as this, but in the wake of Fred's death it apparently seemed unimportant.

After Harry had pulled himself to his feet and pulled Hermione up with him, Ron turned and began the trek back to the castle, his friends silently flanking both his sides.

Once they had reached the entrance hall, Ron turned and entered the Great Hall. Harry gulped nervously when he saw the rest of the Weasleys sitting at a single table that was situated in the center of the Great Hall; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, Bill, Percy, Charlie…and Ginny. Fleur sat next to her husband. Harry glanced over at Hermione to find her looking at him out the corner of her eye, weighing his response. She gave him an encouraging smile and shrugged feebly. `You had to do this sometime,' her expression seemed to say.

By this time they had reached the table, and Ron cleared his throat to announce their presence. "Hey, Mum."

Everyone looked up from his or her mostly untouched food and Harry felt their gazes upon him. Mrs. Weasley immediately stood up from the table and embraced Harry in a hug. "Oh, Harry, it's so nice to see you. How're you feeling?" she said, pulling back and holding him at arm's length.

"I feel fine, Mrs. Weasley. I've already been to Madame Pomfrey and everything." Harry couldn't help but notice the signs of exhaustion etched on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"So thin, though," she said, putting her hand on his cheek. "All three of you, really. And naturally you'll need to get a haircut. It's gotten so long. Of course, Ron needs one as well." She touched a lock of Harry's black hair distastefully. "Anyhow, Harry, are you hungry? There's plenty of food."

Harry knew he couldn't refuse. "Yeah, I guess I could eat a bit."

"Wonderful. Just help yourself to anything you'd like." Mrs. Weasley sat back down and Harry sat down in the empty spot next to her. Hermione and Ron followed his example and sat down next to him and across from him, respectively, though Ron seemed as though he would have preferred to sit next to Hermione.

Lunch was a silent affair, as Harry suspected it would be. He kept his eyes glued to his plate for the most part, though occasionally sneaking peeks down to where Ginny sat at the other end of the table. The solemn mood throughout the table was almost more than Harry could take. The Weasleys were never so silent; Mrs. Weasley should be fussing over Bill's hair, Percy should be trying to engage Mr. Weasley in a boring conversation, Ginny and Hermione should be talking animatedly, and Fred and George should be making jokes while secretly planning a prank to play on Ron. But he knew that it could never be that way again.

Harry's hands began to shake at the thought of Fred, and Hermione reached up and placed her hand over his, soothing him and causing the tremors to recede slightly. Before long Harry stood up from the table. "I think I'll go take a shower."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Weasley said, rising with Harry. She sniffed faintly before enveloping him in yet another hug. "We are so proud of you, dear," she said softly.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

***************

Harry was still fighting his emotions as he climbed the staircase, heading back to the common room. He walked blindly, allowing his feet to carry him along the familiar path. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't realize he had arrived at the portrait hole until the Fat Lady cleared her throat loudly.

"Do you intend to come in or not?" she asked, though in a much warmer tone than she usually used when students loitered outside of the tower.

Harry was about to say yes when he abruptly changed his mind; the prefects' bathroom appealed to him much more at the moment than the showers in his dormitory.

"No thanks," he said, then turned on heel before the Fat Lady could get a word in edgewise. He descended two of the flights of stairs he had just climbed and entered the corridor on the fifth floor. Once here, he found the statue of Boris the Bewildered and counted the doors to left of it, stopping in front of the fourth one. It was then that he realized that he had no clue what the password was.

He stood dumbly in front of the doorway for several minutes, wishing that a portrait guarded the room instead of, well, a door. He was sure a portrait would understand his dilemma and allow him to enter, but the door would be a different matter entirely.

Harry racked his brain for a possible password, struggling to remember the phrase that Cedric had told him in fourth year in hopes that, for some reason, it had not changed.

However, his efforts were fruitless. In a sudden burst of brilliance, he began reeling off the names of every chocolate, fudge, licorice, cake, toffee, lollipop, and any other sweet he had ever encountered since he had come to Hogwarts.

"Er…Lemon Drop?"

He tried the handle tentatively; it wouldn't budge.

"Acid Pops? Drooble's? Sugar Quill?"

Harry tried the handle once more, but the door remained stubbornly closed. He let out a growl of frustration.

"Cockroach Clusters, Ice Mice, Jelly Slugs, Blood Pops, Bertie Bott's, Flossing Stringmints, Fizzing Wizzbees, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Chocolate Frogs…"

This went on for some time until Harry's extensive knowledge of sweets came to an abrupt end. Now he was beginning to feel immensely irritated.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, "What else would they use for a password? Uh… Fawkes. Owl. Phoenix. Hippogriff. House Elf. Mandrake. Polyjuice. Threstrals. Honeyduke's. Oh for the love of Merlin OPEN UP YOU BLOODY PIECE OF-"

"Mr. Potter, I don't believe curses will be very effective in opening the door. A few hexes, perhaps a charm may do the trick."

Harry whirled around and came face to face with a smirking Professor McGonagall.

"Professor! I was just, er, trying to-"

"Get into the prefects' bathroom? No need to explain yourself, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, turning to the door. "Pureblood Supremacy." The door gave a distinctive click as it unlocked.

Harry gave her a strange look.

"I haven't had a chance to change the passwords yet," McGonagall explained. "Though from what I heard of your little tirade, our previous passwords seem to have lacked some originality."

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