The Mask of Anarchy

The Mask of Anarchy

*Most of the characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. However, the characters of Alethea Presaepe Pollux, and the Shade
sisters are my own creations. If any of the characters remind you of anyone you know or any of the events sound familiar....
they aren\'t what you think. The characters I have created belong to my sisters and myself. So, if you simply want to
complain....bugger off. Thanks!! *^_^*
-The Kins*

Chapter One: A Sad Day for \'Mione

Ron was gone.... Hogwarts had never loooked so grim to Harry as it did at this moment. Hermione had been silent ever since
the funeral had started. Harry simply sat next to her while Dumbledore gave his speech, but by the end of it Hermione had
started to sob silently. Harry did not feel like comforting anyone. He stared forward, sinking into his fury at Voldemort
and the fates. If only Ron hadn\'t been so stubborn...he\'d still be alive to laugh and get into trouble with Harry and
Hermione. At this thought Harry remembered that Hermione was probably taking this day harder than any of them.

It had been a very rough year for Hermione. Towards the end of their fifth year, Ron and Hermione had started dating.
Hermione was not certain about dating such a good friend, but it wasn\'t something she could avoid. Ron\'s affection for her
was only too obvious....well, to everyone but her. Even Harry had known. Ron cared too much for her in the end. That was the
reason he was gone, thought Hermione as Dumbledore addressed the mourners on the dangers of the Death Eaters.

Harry\'s cold attitude had been troubling to everyone lately. He spent much of his time these days alone by the lake. Even
the giant squid avoided his gaze whenever possible. Hermione had seen him sitting beneath the tree that had become the trio\'s
favorite place to be outsde of the Quidditch pitch. Harry was so unapproachable. Hermione was worried; she was certain Harry
was concocting some plan to avenge his friend, and she was certain he would not include her. Those two had never let her do
anything too dangerous.

Both Harry and Hermione were awakened from their musings when Dumbledore stopped talking. The silence in the room was only
emphasized by the occassional sniffling of Molly Weasley, barely audible through the cloak of Aurthur who sat stone-faced
clutching possessively to his wife. An old witch from the wizarding funeral home stood and asked if there were any others
who would like to say something in memory of the deceased. No one stood, but everyone glanced at Harry in hopes that he would
say something. Harry didn\'t move but stared at the stone floor as though avoiding the eyes of those he could sense knew what
he was thinking.

Fred and George stood after a moment\'s hesitation. \"Ron was one of the best brothers anyone could ask for,\" said Fred.

\"He could be a nusance from time to time,\" added George.

\"But what brother isn\'t?\"

\"We are all going to miss Ron\"

\"But we shouldn\'t sit here and drag on the sadness...we should look to the future and focus on the task at hand.\"

There followed soft mutterings of agreeance from many of the mourners. Everyone stood and began to form a line in front of
the closed red and gold wooden box that held the remains of Ronald Weasley. The line moved slowly across the front of the
Great Hall and filed out of a side door into the
Entrance Hall. Once the line had finished its procession, the old witch from the funeral home lifted the small box and
carried it swiftly out. The mourners stood and watched as the box was placed in a carriage and driven toward Hogsmead to
the wizarding cemetary.

The Great Hall was refurnished by the professors, and the guests piled in. Refreshments were served, memories shared, but no
one approached the small table where Harry and Hermione sat quietly holding hands without speaking. Hermione\'s tear-stained
cheeks said enough of her agony at losing her first love, but Harry was, as ever, unreadable. His face was darker than the
night sky reflected on the ceiling.

Hardly any time had passed since the funeral ceremony, and all the people attending began to filter out. Soon enough, the
only ones left were the Weasleys and the Hogwarts faculty. There were uncomfortable gances towards Harry and Hermione\'s table
as each of them decided to take their leave. It seemed as if everyone had one excuse or another to avoid speaking to them.

The rest of the night passed without event. Harry and Hermione retired to their rooms after the Weasleys had left for
Hogsmeade. The Weasley\'s were put up in rooms at the Hog\'s Head, along with some others present at the funeral. Harry and
Hermione were staying in the Gryffindor dormitories until the next school term actually began, only two weeks away. They
weren\'t the only ones either. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom were also staying, as well as the Patil
twins. All of them went to bed without saying much, but they all slept fitfully.

The next morning dawned cold and rainy. The students all rose quietly and proceeded to the Great Hall for breakfast. As it
had been the Christmas of their third year, Harry noticed that all the house tables had been removed with a smaller round
table in place of them. At this table sat Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and a younger, unfamiliar witch with long
reddish hair and tiny wire glasses. The others presumably hadn\'t risen from bed yet, but no one asked otherwise. Dumbledore
invited them all to sit down at once and dig in to the meal on the table before them. As each of them sat down, plates and
cutlery appeared as if out of thin air. McGonagall was in deep conversation with the unknown witch when she looked up
suddenly as if she had just noticed the students had joind the table.

\"Oh dear, I am sorry. Students, this is Alethea Pollux. She has applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position here
at Hogwarts,\" said McGonagall quickly addressing their curious gazes.

\"Nice to meet you all,\" replied Alethea. \"I hope you all are feeling somewhat better. I heard about your friend.\"

\"Thank you,\" said Hermione. \" It is nice to meet you, too.\" Her voice sounded pleasant, but her face showed her upset at the
mention of Ron. The students did no more talking after that, but Professor McGonagall and Ms. Pollux talked animatedly to
each other. Most of those at the table seemed to realize that talking was the last thing the students were interested in
doing. Everyone finished their food and went their seperate ways.

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The weather outside was warm, but Hermione\'s heart felt cold. Standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she watched the
orange and red leaves fall silently from the trees. She wanted to go for a walk by herself, away from the pitying stares.
She stepped over the threshold of the forest and wound her way through the trees.

Away from the castle, her tears flowed unchecked. Sobbing, she found herself in a small clearing. The golden sunlight peaked
through the colored trees. Hermione sat on a fallen tree and cried. She couldn\'t stop the memories of the past few days as
the flooded her mind. She remembered the last time she saw Ron and his goofy smile. The last time they visited Hogmeade. The
last gift Ron had given her, a book. Remembering the book brought a new wave of memories. The book had been a collection of
Hermione\'s favorite poems, by both wizards and muggles.

Ron\'s body, or at least part of it, had been found in a black bag behind some old crates in Diagon Alley. An old wizard had
found it while looking for his pocket sneak-o-scope that had rolled away from him. The Ministry of Magic had searched only a
few hours when they found the rest of his body outside Borgin & Burkes in an old wand box. Hermione had heard that the box
was discovered when one of the ministry officials lifted it, and it began to leak a blackish red goo. The only reason anyone
knew it was Ron was due to the large amounts of red hair, and the larger pieces of skin were covered in freckles.

The dripping box had an old bit of parchment tied to the top that couldn\'t be traced to any suspects. The authorites from the
Ministry thought the paper may have been a letter of some sort. All it contained were a few lines of a smudged poem and the
letters M-I-O-N. The lines of the poem were as follows:

I met Murder on the way---
He had a mask like a Castlreagh---
Very smooth he looked, yet grim;
Seven bloodhounds followed him:

The letter was given to Hermione as the letters resembled her name. The handwriting was not Ron\'s. Hermione knew his
handwriting very well, but the Ministry of Magic would not listen to her when she told them. Hermione feared the Order of
the Pheonix was recieving the loudest message from You-Know-Who that they had ever gotten before.

Hermione walked up to the castle slowly. She pondered the poem that had been so carefully picked out. She knew it to be a
muggle poem, but she couldn\'t guess who wrote it or even how she knew it was a muggle poem. These thoughts haunted her all
the way to the common room.

Her first thought upon entering her room was to get out the book that Ron had given her. She flipped absently to the first
poem. It was the \"Mask of Anarchy\" by Percy Shelley. There were the four lines from the letter making up the second stanza
of the poem.

Hermione\' s fears had been realized, even though she wasn\'t certain she had been thinking them. She knew for sure that the
person who killed Ron knew about the book.

\"Why else would it be the very first poem, and who possibly knew about the book?\" she thought to herself. Quickly, she
gathered all of her things a headed straight for the library to look up the significance of the poem.