"Mm, I'm awake." Harry's voice was calmer than he had expected. He pulled his legs out from under the covers, sat on the edge of the bed, and bent down to tie his shoelaces. They were black leather, worn fuzzy from being tied too many times. His fingers looped them once and pulled tight, then looped them again and pulled tight.
He needed time to think, but he did not have time. Ron was already sitting up in bed, his hair a bird's nest, his eyes half-open like a lamp that had not fully lit yet.
"What are you getting up so early for? There's no class." Ron yawned so widely that Harry could see down his throat.
"I'm going—I'm going to breakfast. You go back to sleep." Harry got to his feet, yanked his school robe off the back of the chair, and threw it over his shoulders. He moved a little faster than usual—fast enough for Ron to notice.
"You're acting weird today." Ron tilted his head at him, a probing glint in his blue eyes. "Are you hiding something from me? Hm? Why are you so sweaty?"
Harry clenched his hand at his side. His gaze swept over the pile of bedding by the pillow—the diary was still tucked beneath it. He could not leave it here.
Neville could wake up at any moment. Dean could wake up at any moment. Seamus had moved out, but his bed was empty, and he might come back for something at any time. Harry needed to take it with him. But he could not take it in front of Ron. He needed Ron to leave first.
"What could I possibly be hiding?" The corner of Harry's mouth twitched. He tried to smile, but the expression never took shape. His lips