Hello! Welcome to the sequel to There's Another River on the Other Side. Enjoy...

The river ends between two hills

(Follow the drinking gourd)

There's another river on the other side

(Follow the drinking gourd)

Harry was doing something. He didn't know what it was he was doing, only that it was important. This did not narrow things down, as Harry had a depressingly high number of important things that needed doing.

It wasn't his fault. Harry was in the library, but Madame Pince was not. She had stepped out of the library, something Harry had never known her to do before, and the library erupted into chaos. Apparently no one else had ever seen Madame Pince leave the library either.

We've seen her outside before though, Harry thought, rather crossly. Logically, they should know that sometimes Madame Pince was not in the library. But no, they thought they just had to scream about it. Not that Harry could understand what they were screaming. He couldn't focus, not on what he was supposed to be doing, not on what they were saying, not on the significance of Madame Pince leaving, and it was all thanks to these… students. Harry couldn't figure out what else to call them. They were acting like First Years, but they weren't all First Years, they were from every year, and that shouldn't matter

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he could vaguely acknowledge that he was overreacting. Or rather, he was underreacting to Madame Pince's departure. It was true that she had never left the library unattended with students inside before.

Also in the back of Harry's mind was the thought that his negative reaction to the other students conducting an impromptu party might be due to him being older. But he refused to give that thought the validation of actually thinking it.

Harry sighed, and with nothing better to do, checked the time. It turned out that was the best thing he could have done, as he had a class in three minutes.

Eyes wide, Harry stuffed his parchment into his bag, hoping that whatever important thing it was wasn't too important. He made his way through the mob, finally picking up snatches of phrases.

"-didn't mean to stop him-"

"-really messed up okay, you just can't-"

"-and she wasn't even ready for History-"

"-is the timeline imploding? Because-"

Harry glanced around, trying to find the source of each of the rather alarming phrases, but no one looked suitably alarmed, so he kept going. There were a few Gryffindors starting a conga line- no, that was a Ravenclaw at the head. Harry had never been so delighted to be wrong.

He made it out and ran to Defense, all thoughts of Madame Pince and perplexing conversations and Houses and conga lines pushed firmly out of his head in favor of, finally, focusing.


Professor Essen Tod confused Harry on the best of days. Not because her teaching was difficult to understand, but because he couldn't figure out what her agenda was. She was so timid, and always reporting to the Ministry, and had at first supported bullying Slytherins… but then she had stopped, and the Slytherins claimed she was leading reforms in the Ministry. Actual good ones that were necessary.

So Harry hoped his Defense class would shed some light on exactly who Professor Tod was. He slid into his seat just as the bell finished ringing, hoping she wouldn't notice. She did, sending him a raised eyebrow before very pointedly writing something down. Harry slumped in his seat and slid a glance to his left, where Ron and Hermione sat. Ron shrugged sympathetically but Hermione's face was carefully neutral. Harry couldn't blame her for disapproving though, considering he actually wanted to come to this class.

"Today," Professor Tod announced, "we will talk about defending against unplanned attacks. Would anyone like to try to define what I mean by unplanned attacks?"

For once, Hermione's hand didn't shoot into the air. She looked thoughtful. She did raise her hand after a few seconds, prompting Harry to realize that he probably should have been thinking about the answer rather than gazing expectantly at her. He slid an embarrassed glance at Ron, but Ron was also staring at Hermione. It was a very different stare than Harry's. He smirked, and then realized that most of the class had been side-eyeing Hermione the entire time she'd thought through the answer.

"Yes, Ms. Granger," Professor Tod said. Had she also been anticipating Hermione's hand? She had.

"By unplanned, do you mean not pre-conceived?" Hermione asked.

"I do," Professor Tod allowed, "but there is another element to it."

She waited, but no one answered. "Control," she finally explained. "Unplanned attacks are uncontrolled attacks."

The rest of the lesson was mostly discussion, which Harry had never expected to enjoy- Defense classes were supposed to be useful, and applicable to real life, which meant they should include actual defense practice. But the discussion did seem relevant- it was about magic, after all, and Harry currently had a vested interest in how magic worked.

Professor Tod closed the discussion and let her class begin packing up. As they turned in their seats to pick up their bags and put their possessions in order, she told them, "The most common unplanned attack is accidental magic. When done by an underage witch or wizard, the magic is not usually considered an attack because it's at a level that is easy for trained adults to control. When accidental magic is done by someone trained, however, there is very little control involved on anyone's part, and can be very dangerous- to everyone."

Harry would have liked to think about that, but in the flood out the door, he had to devote his focus to pushing through the halls. He had an appointment.


For once in his day Harry arrived on time to something. He smiled at the First Years who came trickling out of the Potions classroom, and they smiled back. It was a Hufflepuff-Slytherin class, but it wasn't just the Hufflepuffs smiling at him. The Slytherins were, in fact, coming up to him.

Harry never would have suspected in his own first year that he'd come to enjoy hanging out with Slytherins of any and all ages. But escorting the younger Slytherins around, and consequently spending time with the older Slytherins, had become comfortable in both routine and company.

The trip through the dungeons from Potions to the Slytherin common room wasn't particularly long, but Harry wasn't willing to let the First Years fend for themselves. Hogwarts could be a dangerous place when certain people judged by House. Also, they had specially asked him to walk them, and he couldn't refuse.

At the stretch of stone that was actually the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Harry made his usual show of covering his ears and allowing the First Years to giggle at him while one whispered the password. He stepped inside with them without hesitation. Knowing his place was very satisfying.

His particular place in the Slytherin common room was at a corner table used almost exclusively by the Slytherin Eighth Years. Harry dropped his pack by an empty chair- he wouldn't go so far as to call it his, but it was always empty and he did sit there a lot- and sat down. The occupants of the table- Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy- didn't bother to look up, seemingly engrossed in their own projects. Harry rummaged through his bag and came up with the parchment he'd been staring at earlier. It was blank. Harry still had no idea what he was doing with it.

As if on cue, Malfoy glanced up. "Are you working on finding my wand?"

He wasn't, but he knew he should be. "Um…"

"Or is that about the Sorting Hat?" Zabini interjected.

It wasn't, but Harry had at least been thinking about that, and when he had the time he wanted to look at the connection between silent wandless magic and accidental magic. "Well, actually-"

But Pansy had her own ideas. "Are you finally working on your Quidditch strategies?"

"What?"

Harry wasn't the only one to say it; Malfoy seemed thrown as well. Pansy shrugged.

"Well, you signed up for the Eighth Years' team but I haven't seen you practice at all. You have a game coming up and I thought you might like to not embarrass yourself in it, but if you just don't care…"

"Of course I care about Quidditch," Harry replied heatedly. He then realized that he'd really been missing it. He'd have to put it into his schedule.

Malfoy was muttering. "Quidditch, how did we forget about Quidditch…"

Harry wholeheartedly agreed, but out loud said only, "We did have a few other things going on."

This was an understatement, but the Slytherins accepted it with some amusement. Political agendas and kidnappings and unjust trials did count as a few other things, as far as they were concerned.

And those few other things provided Harry with the escape he needed. "Actually, it's for my official statement." He had no idea if that had been his original intention for the parchment, but it was one of the many things he was supposed to be doing.

"You haven't finished that yet?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

He had a point. It had been a week since the trial following Harry's kidnapping, and he'd had plenty of free time in the first few days while recovering from magical exhaustion. Malfoy had had the same time, and had probably used it wisely, but Harry couldn't help himself. "Have you?" he shot back.

Malfoy looked away.

"You haven't. You actually haven't," Harry said in shock, checking Blaise and Pansy's faces to make sure they were as surprised as he was. They were, so he shook his head at his blank parchment. "You hypocrite."

Malfoy huffed. "Well? If that's what you're doing, where's the letter asking for the statement?"

Malfoy and Harry had both received very official letters from the Ministry, which (insincerely) apologized for their treatment, and requested that they send in written statements instead of testifying in person, out of concern for their health. Malfoy had muttered ominously at that, and Harry had to agree with the sentiment, even if he couldn't understand anything Malfoy was saying.

The letter was necessary to the process of writing the statement because it included a long list of very detailed questions that Harry had not even attempted to read through, let alone memorize. He wondered if he should feel slighted that Malfoy had just assumed that Harry hadn't memorized them. It was technically possible.

Harry went through his bag in silence, knowing full well that the letter was back in Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to stay in the Slytherin common room a while longer that evening, and leaving meant there would be no guarantee of getting in again that night, as he relied on other students to open the door for him. That meant that in order to stay, he'd simply have to work on something else.

He continued his show of looking through the bag, and when he finally, inevitably, came up empty, he shrugged at the Slytherins with false innocence.

"I was sure I had it earlier," he told them blithely. "I guess I'll just have to-"

"Go get it?" Malfoy suggested.

"Ah, no, I'll work on-"

"No, you brought it up, and I'd like to compare answers," Malfoy said.

Harry let out a laugh, partially out of desperation. "It's not a test."

"But I'll be graded," Malfoy countered, and Harry knew that past the wordplay, he was right. The Ministry would pick over Malfoy's every word to make sure he didn't try to obscure the truth or contradict Harry's version of events in any way. And they'd both have to be careful that they didn't portray Malfoy as evil. Harry decided he should probably leave out the part of the narrative where he himself had been convinced Malfoy was going to let him die.

Harry sighed. "So, I'll meet you tomorrow?" he asked, picking up his bag and getting ready to leave.

"No," Malfoy said slowly. "You'll come back with your letter and we can work on it." He spoke as if it were obvious, and Harry hated that he'd have to state the obvious- the true obvious, not Malfoy's idea of obvious.

"I don't have the password," he said, fidgeting with his bag. "No one's going in and out, I won't be able to come back."

"It's 'six snakes slither silently'," Malfoy told him matter-of-factly.

Harry looked at him. He looked at Blaise and Pansy. They all had straight faces.

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. This would be an incredible practical joke, but he didn't want to be the butt of it.

They all nodded, very seriously. Harry considered this, then marched over to the door and stepped outside.

He immediately turned around. "Six snakes slither silently," he told the wall grimly.

It opened. Harry looked inside to see the Eighth Years' lips twitching. Deciding to leave his bag, since he'd be able to get back in to it later (and maybe he should have brought it with him when he didn't know that for sure, but oh well, what's past is past), Harry turned and began the trek up to Gryffindor Tower.

His world was turning on its head. The First Years might have been laughing at the password, not at him, he was freely given the Slytherin password, and the Slytherin password was a silly tongue twister.

Word count: 2257

(Consistent formatting? Consistent chapter length? Consistent anything? Nah... that is, hopefully later when I have more time.)

Please review! I love hearing what you think, both about the story and about the quality of my writing. Thank you!