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Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On the rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Side Note: Slight change in review. See below.

Author's Note 2: So sorry about the long period of waiting. My laptop is finally fixed, so updates will come regularly again. I can only promise a span of two weeks, due to how hectic my schedule is.

Full Summary: The summer following the Triwizard Tournament has been hard for Harry. To make matters worse, his two best friends have finally gotten together and begun to unknowingly edge him out. Feeling more abandoned than ever, he is surprised to find company in three unexpected people, one of whom seems to share and understand his pain, as his life twists and turns further...

Disclaimer: Mme. Joanne Rowling owns the series as a whole, and I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review or feedback accusing me of plagiarism will be automatically deleted. You will be given credit where credit is due, rest assured.



Chapter 3: A Long Haul

Harry suspected at the beginning of the next morning that nothing about the day was going to go right. He felt that he was not wrong when he woke up to find Seamus rushing out of the room and Dean looking uncomfortable. Ron was already gone as well, presumably to go see Hermione before classes started. Sighing, he put on his glasses and quickly got changed, avoiding everyone's eyes. He wasn't in any mood to deal with his peers right now, especially Seamus and Ron, who were both annoying him in their own way, to his aggravation.

As though he could read Harry's mind, Neville piped up, "Yeah, that Ron has changed a bit, hasn't he?"

Harry couldn't stop himself from nodding, but he pushed it out of his head; he didn't want to think about Ron and Hermione right now.

"You go on downstairs, Neville. I'll be down in a minute."

Neville nodded and left, seeing that Harry needed a minute. He was all too aware of how Harry felt about his old friends right now; or, rather, how he thought he felt. Neville wasn't stupid: he could see plainly that it was a conflict in Harry's mind that would not end soon, and he was going to respect his friend's wishes and give him his privacy; it was the least he could do for Harry.

As soon as Neville had left, Harry picked up the two-way mirror and spoke into it: "Ginny Weasley."

The mirror began to shine again, as it had the night before, and Ginny's face appeared in it again; she looked bleary, her hair rather messy.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked with a yawn. "I'm just getting ready to go down for breakfast."

"It's nothing," Harry assured her, "I just wanted to make sure the mirror worked at all times." He dropped his voice, the traces of paranoia he had inherited from the false Mad-Eye Moody rising up within him. "Keep it with you all the time, all right?"

"They're a banned set of items in Hogwarts, Harry," Ginny told him. "Sirius mentioned them once. I think he's used stuff like this before. He said they're not allowed to be used."

"I know that, but you don't have to make it obvious," said Harry, who wanted to make sure that he had a communication link with his friends this year, just in case. He didn't know when he had become so paranoid. "Just re-shrink it and keep it in your pocket, Daphne's letter said it would warm up if one of us tries to contact the other."

"All right," Ginny said in agreement. "I'll see you downstairs."

Ending the mirror-call, which was what he had decided to call it, Harry quickly got changed and headed downstairs.

He walked down to the common room, where a few fellow students were seated all over, talking amongst themselves. Fred and George were setting up some kind of message on the notice board, and Ginny and Neville were sitting in the armchairs by the fireplace, waiting patiently for him. Noticing Harry coming down the stairs, she smiled and walked over to Harry, just as Fred and George finished their bulletin and left out the portrait hole, with Neville following her.

"Seamus rushed out of the room almost like lightning," she said, rolling her eyes. "He must be really, really jealous of you, Harry." This didn't concern Harry at all, so he shrugged his shoulders and didn't reply. "Well, at any rate, Ron ran down to breakfast about ten minutes ago as well, if you're wondering where he is."

She gave him a knowing look, and Harry understood that she didn't want Neville to be bothered about it. He personally agreed fully. He had no problems with Neville, but he really wasn't close enough to his clumsy friend to tell him everything that was bothering him. Just the unimportant stuff, not pertaining to Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, would do for now.

Forcing a smile, Harry said, "Let's go down to breakfast."

The Great Hall was packed upon their arrival, and Harry was grateful that he wasn't being stared at – well, not by too many people, anyway – as he walked over to the Gryffindor table. He passed right by Ron and Hermione, who didn't even look up or notice him pass by, and headed right over to where Fred and George were sitting with Lee Jordan, discussing something together in undertones.

"Hey, mates," said Harry quietly, not wanting to draw attention and start another row with Seamus or anyone else. "Mind if we join you?"

The twins and their friend looked up, surprised.

"Aren't you usually with Ron and Hermione during meals and, well, everywhere else?" Lee asked.

Harry grimaced a little, and it was all Lee needed to see, apparently, for he shuffled over to make room.

"Well, I can't refuse the kid who's both a friend, the Boy Who Lived, the guy who warned everyone about You-Know-Who coming back, and Fred and George's private investor all in one go," said Lee, grinning up at Harry. "Go on and sit down, Harry. You too, Ginny, Neville."

"We're discussing business with the joke shop," Fred said with a grin, as the trio sat down, "so you may as well listen, anyway, being our business partner and all."

"Business partner?" Ginny asked, frowning at Harry. "What's he talking about, Harry?"

"You didn't tell anyone?" George asked Harry, sounding a little incredulous. Harry gave him a look, which George seemed to understand the meaning of, for he added, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing. The less people who know, the less chance Mum has of finding out, and if she finds out before we're ready to take off, we might as well kiss this idea good-bye."

"Find out about what?" Ginny snapped, sounding annoyed now. By now, Neville was leaning in as well, curious as to what the five were talking about.

"Harry gave us the money to start out business with pranks and gag products," Fred said proudly, beaming at Harry. "His Triwizard winnings. One thousand Galleons. Gave it to us at King's Cross back in June, when we had just pulled into the station."

"You did what?" Ginny blurted out. "You gave up one thousand Galleons for some prank jokes and gags, Harry?"

"Keep your voice down!" whispered Harry irritably, not wanting others to hear about this, "and of course I did, I don't need the money and this is Fred and George's dream idea. I've got more than enough money without those winnings, far as I'm concerned. 'Sides, your twin brothers have always been there for me when I've needed them; I'd be a pretty bad friend to not do it."

"We tried to refuse him, when he gave us the money on the train," George said seriously, his face blank, though they could see the amusement in his eyes. "He threatened to hex us if we didn't take it. He was quite adamant about it."

"Yes, the chap seemed quite anxious to be rid of that heaping sack of gold," Fred added, no trace of a smile whatsoever. "Wouldn't take no for an answer, that one. We thought he was going to beg us to take it, but we decided to spare him and let him part with it. Wouldn't want to see one of our best mates on his knees groveling to us."

"Though it would be funny to see the Boy Who Lived doing just that," piped up George with a grin, and both twins started laughing.

"Oh, shut up," snapped Harry, though he too was grinning.

As he looked away, he saw their new professor, Aiyasis Anashi, walking through the door alongside the staff table with his cane and taking a seat for breakfast. He caught Harry's eye and nodded curtly at him, his gray eye seeming to pierce Harry's own eyes with its strong glare. His brown eye seemed unable to see. Harry looked away, a little disturbed by the sight. It was as though there were two people staring at him through one set of eyes.

He quickly forced the little exchange out of his mind, helping himself to some bacon. Turning to Neville, he said, "So which classes do you think we'll have today, Neville?"

Neville smiled.

"I'm willing to bet that Potions and Divination will be among the first ones, just to spite us."

Harry smirked at the thought, ducking his head. It was common knowledge that Harry and Professor Snape hated each other, and had since Harry's very first Potions class, four years ago now. Snape had been cruel to Harry from the moment he had laid eyes on the boy, and Harry had hated him right back, his resentment for the man growing with each year. He had learned that his father and Snape had been enemies in their school days, just as Snape had hated Sirius, Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed Harry and his parents and sold them out to Lord Voldemort. That hatred had carried on from father to son, it had seemed, and Harry was quite certain he would never like the seemingly unlikeable Potions master. As for Neville, he was simply so terrified of Professor Snape that he performed poorly in the class out of fear, and Snape would insult and degrade Neville just because of that.

Then there was Divination, the most irritating subject taught in Hogwarts that Harry knew of. With Potions, the subject was fine, as Snape and the Slytherins were the only problem; in Divination, the problem was both teacher and subject. Harry found that he simply could not figure out how he was supposed to perform well in the lessons when he had no idea how to, and Professor Sybill Trelawney made that ten times harder by predicting the untimely death of Harry, in different and exaggerated ways, almost every single lesson. If he could have, Harry would have dropped the class almost instantly, but it was too late now, and Harry was glad that he would finally be done with Divination after the Ordinary Wizarding Levels were over. He never wanted to see Professor Trelawney ever again after this year.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he said, "Well, we can at least hope that we don't have Binns first. That would be terrible, but it would at least give me reason to sleep in on Monday mornings."

"Too true, mate," George said sympathetically. "We were glad to be done with that class after fifth year. Such a snooze-fest with that old ghost teaching us, that was."

"Dropping Muggle Studies was a pretty happy time for me," admitted Lee Jordan, a pleasant mist covering his eyes.

"Why you even took that class was beyond me," laughed Fred. "Aren't you half-Muggle yourself?"

"Well, yeah, but it would have been interesting to see the Muggle ways from the wizard point of view, don't you think?" Lee said defensively.

This reminded Harry painfully of Hermione's answer when asked why she had studied Muggle Studies in third year.

"Besides," said Lee, "I got an Outstanding on the OWL. Easiest exam I ever took. Still can't believe most of the questions on that exam were about Muggle televisions and computers and such. There's nothing difficult about those things."

Fred and George had bewildered looks.

"You went right over our heads there, mate," Fred said, brushing over his head with his hand to make his point.

"What's a computor?" both twins said together.

Harry laughed, as did Lee.

"Computer," Lee emphasized, "and it's a – well, never mind. Harry or Hermione can explain it to you, I think."

Both twins looked at Harry immediately, who threw up his hands and said, "Hey, I barely remember myself. The Dursleys didn't exactly give me my own computer, remember? All I had was Hedwig and the clothes on my back, mates."

"He's got a point there," Ginny said quietly, looking a little downcast at the subject. She had not quite gotten over the issue of Harry's upbringing when Harry had told her about it, though Harry had assured her that it wasn't that big of a deal. He might have been neglected by the Dursleys, but he had never been physically abused (except for Dudley, who had considered Harry a personal punching bag) by his aunt and uncle, and so he didn't really care. He didn't like the Dursleys and they didn't like him; that was that, no questions asked. Ironically, I wasn't allowed to ask questions anyway, he thought with amusement.

"Again, it's nothing to worry about," Harry told her calmly. "Trust me, I might not like them all the time – heck, I ran away from them two years ago – but they're my family, and I have to respect that. Just not my aunt Marge, though, I'll always hate her. Voldemort can have her."

He said this sarcastically and with a bit of a laugh, but everyone around him seemed to draw back a little, as though intimidated at the idea of Harry willingly giving over his aunt to Voldemort. Quickly looking for a change of subject, Harry asked, "So, who's the team captain this year, mates?"

"Angelina," said Fred immediately, grasping at the change of subject instantly. "She's the oldest person on the team right now, since Oliver left year before last. She's having a full tryout sometime this week, I think. On Friday, maybe?"

Harry nodded. He liked Angelina, who was a dedicated Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He wondered who was going to be the new Keeper for their team, as Oliver Wood had been the original Keeper and had graduated at the end of Harry's third year.

As though he had read Harry's mind, Fred added, "We're not just looking for a new Keeper. We might need a new Chaser as well. Katie injured herself over the summer, and she might not be able to fly for a while. Until we know for sure, though, we're just looking for a backup Chaser. Angelina and Alicia are still going to be Chasers, we're still going to be Beaters, and we hope to hell you'll still be Seeker, so it won't be too bad."

"We're the team that never falls apart," George said with a grin. "Aside from Wood, all of us have been on the team since you got to Hogwarts, Harry. But seriously, don't you dare leave the team until you graduate, or at least until after we leave. You're the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen since Charlie, and you're probably even better than he was now."

Harry blushed, ducking his head. "I can't be that good."

"Oh, you are," Ginny said with a grin, seeing Harry's embarrassment. "He was even telling me last summer when he was here. He was going on and on about how the great Harry Potter was a terrific Seeker, and so much better than he was."

His face's color now resembling the ketchup on the table, Harry said in a feeble voice, "Er, thanks, I guess."

"Aw, look at that, George," Fred said, catching on to Ginny's idea, "our little Harrykins is blushing."

"If your face gets any redder, Harry, can we dip our hashbrowns into it?" George smirked.

"All right, all right, enough!" Neville said, torn between annoyance and amusement. "Leave Harry alone. If his face gets any redder, we won't be able to see his nose and eyes." The group as a whole laughed at this, and Harry, his face now resembling the Weasleys' hair, ducked his head.

"Ah, you're right, Longbottom, ol' chap," Lee said, grinning from ear to ear. He looked away and added, "Oi, here comes McGonagall. About time. Dunno about you lot, but I want to know where I'm going to be on Monday mornings, in case I ever want to sleep in."

Professor McGonagall soon reached them, handing each of them their schedules, but before she continued on she looked at Lee and said, "Detention, Mr. Jordan. Next Monday morning. My office. There will be no sleeping in, or conspiring to do so." She continued on, leaving Lee to gape at her like a fish out of water.

Fred and George burst out laughing, while Ginny reached over and closed Lee's mouth for him, whispering, "Flies, Lee, flies."

"You just got pranked by McGonagall, mate!" George managed to choke out, doubled over in his seat. "Now that is priceless!" And sure enough, when they looked over to where Professor McGonagall was standing, she had a bit of a smile on her face, her eyes showing faint signs of amusement.

"Well, looks like you were right, Neville," said Harry grumpily, who was looking over his schedule at the Monday column, ignoring the exchange about Professor McGonagall. "We have Snape today, after Flitwick's class. No Trelawney, though, we have her on Wednesday afternoon, and Binns tomorrow morning. Blimey, I hate having that class in the morning."

"Oh, well. At least we have a free period after lunch," Neville said in what he hoped was a cheerful voice. "We have that Anashi guy today, too. Last lesson of the day."

"Let's hope he's better than some of our other Defense professors have been," Harry said bitterly, remembering how every one of his professors in that class had been like. With the exception of Remus Lupin, all of them had tried to do him in at least once in their own ways; Quirrell had tried to kill him, the fake Moody had tried to have him killed by sending him to Voldemort, and Gilderoy Lockhart had tried to wipe his memory clean. All three had met their own end in one way or another.

"The fake Moody was pretty good, though," Fred said quietly, having finished laughing at his friend. "He at least knew what he was talking about, like Remus did."

"Quirrell and Lockhart were idiots, though," George remarked. "Quirrell was afraid of his own damn shadow, and Lockhart was too busy talking about himself to actually teach us anything."

"Quirrell wasn't really a paranoid fool," commented Harry, "he was just acting like one because he had Voldemort sticking out of his head underneath that turban. He showed me that when I went after the Philosopher's Stone at the end of my first year, after meeting him at the end of the line, where the Mirror of Erised was."

"He was still feigning fear too much to teach us much," Fred said persistently. "He taught us the Bat-Bogey Hex, and that's about it. And we still regret that, because Ginny's the only one we know who bothered to master it enough to use it on anyone who annoys her."

Ginny grinned, twirling her wand around in her fingers over the table, and Fred and George both gulped simultaneously and cowered a little in their seats. It was quite a fact that the Weasley brothers who were still in England were all terrified of their little sister and her Bat-Bogey Hex.

"We should probably head to class, Neville, Charms is on the fourth floor," said Harry, standing up and stretching a little. "We'll see you later, guys."

"Hang on, I'm coming," said Ginny, standing as well, "I've got Muggle Studies, and that's upstairs too."

As they walked towards the door to the Entrance Hall, Harry caught Daphne's eye. She smiled at him, holding up the miniature mirror and pointing at it, and Harry nodded, understanding the silent message. He noticed that Ginny had missed it.

Elbowing her lightly, he whispered, "Keep your mirror handy. Daphne wants us to talk to her later on." Ginny nodded to show she understood.

As they walked to the door, Harry heard a voice shout out, "Wait up, mate!" Forcing himself to not groan out loud, he waited at the doors for Ron and Hermione to catch up to him, though he did not stop walking. Ginny and Neville did not move aside for Harry's two friends, though it was clear that Ginny was not happy that they were present. Neville, not knowing the fully story between Harry, Ron and Hermione from the summer, merely said, "I'll see you in Charms, mate," and trotted off.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, staring at Harry as they walked, her and Ron holding hands. "You didn't sit with us this morning or last night, and you didn't save us a seat on the train."

Harry merely grunted, keeping his eyes forward. He normally found that thinking about something that made him happy was the best course of action for keeping his patience; somehow, Daphne seemed to float into his mind, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch, though he did not smile. He didn't want to give his friends the satisfaction of seeing that something made him happy: he was far too bitter to them at the moment thanks to their neglect of him over the summer.

"Harry?" Hermione asked again.

"You mad at us, mate?" said Ron, looking confused as to why their friend wasn't answering them.

Surprisingly, though Harry had managed to keep calm, Ginny lost her temper first.

"You two are clueless!" she snapped, spinning around to face them. "You don't even realize it, either!" Turning to give Harry a quick hug – which Harry returned, much to Ron's shock – and a swift kiss on the cheek, she said, "I'll see you at lunch, Harry," and stalked off to her lesson alone, her nose in the air.

"What the hell was that about?" Ron blurted out, looking more confused than ever, though there were signs of red in his ears – never a good sign with Ron Weasley.

Not wanting to start a fight, though restraining his patience with great difficulty now, Harry did not reply. He merely watched Ginny go, wishing more than anything that she had stayed with them. Neville didn't know the full story, but she did, and Ginny was probably the only one right now who could keep him calm in Hermione and Ron's company.

"I'm sure she's fine," Hermione said assuringly, giving Ron's hand a small squeeze, "she's probably just nervous about the coming year, what with You-Know-Who back and nobody believing it."

Harry was gritting his teeth now. Desperate as he was to keep his temper in check at his friends' collective ignorance, however, he merely said, "I know why she's angry, and you're right, she'll be just fine and peachy. Come on, we're going to be late for Charms if we stay here."

Ron stared blankly at him.

"Since when do you care about being late for class?" Hermione asked in awe. "I mean, I'm usually the one getting you two to hurry up and get there on time."

"Since we have OWLs this year and I want to do well," Harry answered without looking at her. "Now come on, let's get there before Flitwick decides to put us in detention."

He continued to walk towards the Charms corridor, and Ron and Hermione followed, neither able to understand what had caused Harry's sudden change in attitude, but neither wanting to second-guess it in case he lost his temper with them; they knew exactly how tempermental their best friend could sometimes be, especially under pressure.


Professor Flitwick's Charms lessons were usually interesting, though this particular lesson had made Harry want to bang his head against the table in front of him several times. The aged professor had spent nearly half the lesson lecturing the class on the importance of the OWLs, and had spent the rest of the lesson re-teaching the class levitation, something they had learned almost immediately in their first year.

"That had to be the most boring lesson Flitwick has ever taught," Harry said with a groan when he left with Neville, whom he had sat with during the lesson to avoid further questioning from his two other friends, two hours later. "Blimey, I hope Snape doesn't lecture us about the same thing. My head might fall off from boredom."

"Careful with that, Harry, you won't be as famous if you die," Neville said with a grin; he had become unusually confident while with Harry, though his confidence was lacking when around others.

"Eh, the hell with my fame. Merlin knows I don't need or want it."

Neville nodded, having heard all of this the previous night.

They walked down to Potions quickly, neither wanting to lose house points from Snape on their first day back. It was something that would inevitably happen, but it was still nice to know that they could try to prevent it. As they entered the dungeons, Harry saw Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass walking together. He caught their eyes: Zabini nodded to him while Daphne smiled. He smiled back, not quite ready to let Neville know he was friends with Slytherins. He didn't know Neville well enough to know how he would react, and if he was anything like Ron, he would likely go ballistic.

Soon they were in the corridor leading into the Potions room, where some of the other students were waiting, Malfoy amongst them. He looked over at Harry and grinned maliciously.

"So first the Weasley girl and now Longbottom?" he said with a sneer etched into his face as though from stone. He disregarded Harry's narrowed eyes and Neville's clenched fists. "It's incredible how you can find such dismal company, Potter. How can you sleep at night knowing that your only friends are all blood traitors?"

"I take sleeping potions," Harry said coolly. A few people laughed, Zabini and Daphne amongst them; the other Slytherins flashed glares at them. "What the hell do you want me to say, Malfoy? That I'm ashamed of myself for siding with people who aren't arrogant bigots?"

"Watch what you say, Potter!" Malfoy said dangerously.

"Or what?" Harry stood his ground, his hand in his pocket, clenched around his wand. "How many times before you finally get the fact that you can't scare me, or intimidate me, or even bully me, Malfoy? I grew up with all of that. I don't fear it."

"Aw, did poor little Potter get bullied by his nasty Muggle relatives?" Pansy Parkinson cooed in a cruel, sardonic tone, and the Slytherins laughed maliciously. "No one cares about your supposed situation with your relatives, Potter. Nobody pities you anymore. Get over it."

"That's fine with me," shrugged Harry. "I don't want or need pity, especially not from the likes of you."

Any further comments towards him were cut off as the door to the classroom opened and Professor Snape walked out, his usual sneer on his face.

"Getting along, are you?" he asked the students at large coldly. When none of them answered, he raised his eyebrows and said, "Since I have a feeling I know exactly what transpired while you were waiting, ten points from Gryffindor." There was a splutter of indignation from all of the Gryffindors present at these words, and Snape's sneering smirk grew as he said, "Five more points for your ridiculous whining. Now, into the classroom before I make it thirty points even."

The Slytherins smiled triumphantly as they entered the classroom. As Harry passed by, he locked eyes with Snape. It was impossible to tell whose gaze held more loathing.

"Potter," Snape greeted with a nod, his tone sarcastic.

Bottling his fury, Harry nodded back.

"Professor," he answered, keeping the sarcasm out of his tone lest he receive detention.

Avoiding any further confronting, he walked across the room and taking a seat next to Neville. To his relief, Ron and Hermione were further down the classroom; he would be safe from them for another lesson. His eyes immediately focused on the front of the room as Professor Snape took his place in front of the class, his shadow leering over everyone present.

"Before we begin," Snape began coolly, "you will notice that we have a visitor in our class today."

He waved his hand carelessly at the back of the room, and everyone's heads turned to see Dolores Umbridge sitting on a stool in the back corner, a clipboard in her hand. They turned back to face Snape, who continued, "You will be expected to treat her with the same respect you would treat me with, or face the consequences. You will not be warned twice."

He waved his wand at the blackboard, where instructions appeared.

"This is your assignment for this lesson," he said coldly. "You have an hour and a half to complete it, starting now. Instructions are all on the board. Begin."

As the class scrambled to begin the potion, Malfoy passed by Harry, hissing, "You'll never be better than me, Potter. Get used to the idea. I'll always be one step ahead of you."

"Snape won't always be around to save your skin, Malfoy," Harry hissed back, not looking at the arrogant pure-blood who seemed bent on bringing an uproar out of him. He would not allow that to happen; he'd be damned if he let Snape try to ruin his life this year because of this pompous idiot.

"I don't need him to," sneered Malfoy. "I'm more than capable of handling you myself."

"If I recall, Draco," Harry said, emphasizing Malfoy's first name sardonically, "the last time you challenged me to a wizard's duel, you didn't even show up; you sent Filch after me. Then, the last time you confronted me, I scared you off. Now, do you really think the odds are in your favor, Malfoy?" He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think so, either. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a potion to complete, and you're not going to ruin this for me this year."

Malfoy merely sneered at Harry before walking back to his own table to work with Theodore Nott, another Slytherin, another arrogant pure-blooded son of a Death Eater. Harry took the remaining ingredient he needed and walked back over to his cauldron, where Neville was waiting. He prayed that Neville wouldn't botch things up this time.

Sighing, Harry began his work on the Draught of Peace, wishing he could just leave and go back to his dorm. His head was still aching for some reason, and it wasn't helping his concentration. Nevertheless, he focused all of his effort on getting his potion just right so that Snape would have no good reason to fail him. He'd likely fail Harry just because it was Harry, but he didn't care. He got his own personal satisfaction out of knowing that he could do the work, even if he wasn't graded fairly for it.

"Hem, hem."

He had been adding powdered moonstone when he heard the noise, which he did not recognize. He looked up briefly, then, shrugging, he went back to his work. Two clockwise stirs, one counter-clockwise stir ...

"Hem, hem." The noise was back.

Harry looked up again, irritated at the distraction. He was going to lose track of what to add or stir next if that noise didn't stop, and he needed to get the potion just right if he didn't want to fail the lesson – again. Slowly, he put in the exact amount of powdered moonstone, just as the instructions indicated –

"Hem, hem!"

He finally turned around, about to yell at whoever was behind him for bothering him with that infernal noise, when he realized that it was Madam Umbridge, who was standing there staring at him, an eerie smile on her toad-like face. She seemed to be scrutinizing him, and he didn't like it one bit, though he was unsure of whether or not he had a reason to not trust her. Probably so, as she had voted against him at the trial.

"Er, can I help you?" Harry asked politely but quietly, unsure of what the 'High Inquisitor', whatever that meant, wanted with him.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, you can," she said in a sickly sweet voice, completely contradicting what Harry had thought would be a croak from the most toad-like person he had ever seen. "I was wondering if I could, perhaps, ask you a few questions pertaining to your classes?" Her sickly smile widened, stretching almost from ear to ear.

"Er," Harry mumbled, not completely sure how to say no, "could it wait for a few minutes, ma'am? I have one last step to perform in the potion before letting it simmer for seven minutes, and then I'll be able to speak freely with you."

He made sure to choose his words carefully, not wanting a reason for the woman before him to hate him unnecessarily, and Dolores Umbridge seemed to see this.

"Of course, of course," said Umbridge in her high-pitched voice. "Take your time, dear. I can wait."

As Harry finished the last step before letting the potion simmer for seven minutes, he told Neville to watch the potion and then turned back towards Umbridge, whose smile seemed almost kind now. What is this woman playing at? Harry wondered to himself. She's definitely loyal to Fudge, and Fudge wants my name tarnished. So why is she acting nice? He mentally berrated himself. Of course ... she's acting.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I understand that you have been coming to Hogwarts since nineteen ninety-one, when you were eleven years old?" Dolores Umbridge asked, looking down at the clipboard as though for emphasis.

"Yes," Harry replied, wondering how this wasn't common knowledge to her.

"You have since completed four years of magical education?" Umbridge asked, though it was more of a statement.

"Yes ..."

"You have discrepancies with some of your professors?"

This question caught Harry off-guard, though he figured he should have expected it.

"With one professor, yes, but not with the others, especially not certain ones, such as my head of house and the headmaster," he replied carefully, choosing his words with caution. He wouldn't put it past this woman, who he had limited knowledge of on the whole outside of knowing that she worked for the Minister, to pull a fast one and twist his words; Rita Skeeter had done just that only the previous year.

"Professor Snape, I imagine, would be the discrepancy," Umbridge pointed out – again, it was a statement and not a question.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Why is it that you and Professor Snape do not get along, Mr. Potter?" asked Madam Umbridge, her highly girlish voice quickly grating on Harry's nerves, though he restrained the urge to let himself lose his patience. One false move, and the Minister would have the perfect reason to have him expelled, something that he would never let happen ...

"He's hated me ever since he first laid eyes on me," Harry said calmly, deciding on the truth. "He and my father were enemies in their own schooldays, and his hatred of my father carried on to me. I only hate him because he hates me."

This was true: he wouldn't have a problem with Severus Snape if the man had never had a problem with him, but after everything Snape had put him through in the last four years, Harry could not ever feel anything but loathing towards the hateful head of Slytherin house. But he was not about to let this woman use this against him.

"I see, I see ..." Umbridge made a note on her clipboard, and then continued. "Have you any discrepencies with the students of Hogwarts, Mr. Potter?"

Harry had to stiffle his own laugh, which drew Neville's attention, though he focused on watching the potion simmer, a process that was four minutes in now.

"Only with every Slythe –"

He stopped himself suddenly. A year ago – heck, two days ago – he would have said that he disliked every single Slytherin in Hogwarts, but he had to remind himself that things were different now, that he was friends with two students from Slytherin. Daphne and Zabini floated into his mind as he reworded his answer in mid-sentence.

"With most of the Slytherin house," he replied, "as they all seem to hate me for reasons I'll never understand."

If Dolores Umbridge noticed his slip-up, she did not comment. Instead, she made another note into her clipboard, humming under her breath, and finished by saying, "Very well, Mr. Potter, that is all I need to know. Thank you for your time, my dear."

Harry flinched a bit, but stiffly replied, "Thank you, Madam Umbridge," before turning back to his potion, which had a minute left before it would finish simmering for the seven minute countdown. As he got ready to start the final instruction for the potion, the looming shadow of Professor Snape hung over the two teenagers and their potion.

"So, Potter, Longbottom," he sneered, "let me see your obviously incorrect potion and how far along it – "

He broke off, seeing the potion at exactly how it was supposed to be at that point, before pointing a finger at Harry, who raised an eyebrow at the gesture; Severus Snape was not a man who easily lost his composure, and Harry was baffled at how he had done so right now.

"I cannot find a flaw to this potion, Potter!" he spluttered, and Harry had just given an inward cheer when Snape barked out, "You and Longbottom obviously cheated!"

"What? We didn't – "

"SILENCE!" Snape yelled, attracting the attention of everyone in the Potions laboratory, including Draco Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge. Neville's indignant splutter fell flat. "Cheating with Potions is a serious offense, Potter, and can lead to serious accidents! I'll have you expelled for this, you hear me, boy?"

"You'll do no such thing, Professor Snape!" barked a voice from the doorway.

Everyone turned where they sat and stood to see Professor Anashi leaning against the door frame, his arms folded, his gray eye focused on Snape. As always, his brown eye seemed to be unfocused, unblinking, and for the umpteenth time Harry wondered exactly what was going on in Aiyasis Anashi's mind and head.

"I don't remember issuing an invitation for you to join my class, Anashi," Snape hissed angrily, his nemesis' son forgotten momentarily as he turned to face Professor Anashi fully.

"I don't remember asking for an invitation, either," Anashi said simply, standing up straight and walking into the room, his arms still folded. His long, elbow-length brown hair seemed to float a little behind him. For reasons nobody seemed sure of, his cane was absent. "I'm only here because I needed a quick word with young Mr. Potter, and I'm curious as to why you're jumping to the conclusion that he cheated his way to a perfect potion, Severus."

"My reasons for suspecting false brewing are none of your concern –"

"Of course not," snapped Professor Anashi, his cane suddenly appearing in his hand as he leaned down a little. "But they are Headmaster Dumbledore's concern, Snape, and you'd better know that I'll be here to make sure there's fair judgment passed in any and all classrooms."

"Are you threatening me, Anashi?" Snape spat.

"Consider it a warning," Anashi said indifferently, turning around on the spot and walking towards the door. As he stepped out of the classroom, he turned and said, adressing Harry, "Come see me after your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Potter, and we will speak then." As soon as Harry nodded, he turned around without another word and disappeared around the corner.

Snape spun around to face Harry, clearly livid.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor for your cheek!" he snapped, before turning on the spot and walking up to the front of the room.


"My cheek?" Harry blurted out twenty minutes later as the class filed out of the room for lunch, everyone rushing from the room the moment they had given their samples to Snape. "I didn't even say anything! Why can't Dumbledore just ban him from taking points? It's a wonder we win the house cup every year with that git taking points left and right from everyone in Gryffindor!"

"I know, mate," Neville said a bit irritably, having listened to Snape berate him yet again as they had handed him the samples to their potion (though not before Harry had put an Impervius charm on their samples, in case Snape tried to 'accidentaly' destroy them). "He's bang out of order."

Harry merely nodded, wanting to eat quickly so he could get to use the two-way mirror, but as Harry and Neville crossed into the Entrance Hall and headed towards the Great Hall, a voice stopped him.

"Harry, wait up!"

Harry, who had had it with both the people who were making snide remarks towards him, and Ron and Hermione coming up to him and asking him what was wrong, spun around and was just about to make a rude comment when he saw that the person who had spoken belonged to neither group.

"Er, hi, Cho."

Cho Chang caught up to him, smiling at him, though just like in the Great Hall the previous night, he did not feel the sensation in his stomach that he had always felt when he saw her ever since third year, when he had met her. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't be friendly towards her.

Taking the hint that this conversation was intended to be between the two alone, Neville continued into the Great Hall, after assuring Harry that he would save him a seat, to which Harry was very grateful; if he could avoid another confrontation with Ron and Hermione being clueless as to the problem, he would. He wasn't ready to talk to them about it. Not yet.

"How are you, Cho?" he asked politely, leading her to the side of the hall so as not to impede the marching of students heading for the Great Hall.

"I'm all right, I guess, all things considered," Cho said, a brief flicker of sadness crossing her face, but she brightened up quickly. "And you, Harry?"

Harry could not pretend that he knew much about Cho outside of what everyone else knew, but she seemed to be nice enough, and Harry had realized over the summer that he had very few friends in other houses; much of his time in Hogwarts had been spent in the constant company of Ron and Hermione. He could see the immediate flaw in this now that he really thought about it. The Hat was right: it was about time Harry made some new connections, to try and build inter-house relations. He had made a good start with Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini from Slytherin, after all, and he was on good terms with some members of the Hufflepuff house.

Somehow, for reasons unknown to himself, he knew he could trust Cho at least marginally. They were connected in one way, after all: both had known Cedric Diggory and were still saddened at his death at the hands of Wormtail.

"I'm OK," he said quietly, looking around the hall. "Could be better, but I'm sure I'll be all right."

Cho nodded. She was staring at him in a way Harry had never seen her stare at him before, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"Harry, the reason I wanted to talk to you was because ... well, you see ... I ..." She broke off, unsure of how to word her question. The look in her eye told Harry everything: she was worried as to what his reaction would be when she voiced what she wanted to say. Harry decided that whatever it was, he could deal with it.

"Go ahead," Harry said in an assuring tone.

She smiled at him, though her smile was edged with sadness, as she finished, "Harry, I was wondering if we could talk some time ... about Cedric."

Harry stared at her blankly. This had not been what he was expecting.

"About Cedric?" he asked a little hoarsely.

"Yes," said Cho, who looked worried now, though sadly determined.

Harry thought about it, unsure of what to say. On the one hand, he didn't want to ever think about that fateful and terrible night in the graveyard of Little Hangleton ever again – reliving it by telling Professor Dumbledore at the end of the last term had been hard enough. On the other hand, he knew that Cho and Cedric had been romantically involved in the six months between the Yule Ball and Cedric's death, that he himself had harbored a crush on Cho even before then, and that he had been the one who had watched Cedric die, who had even told Cedric to take the cup, not knowing it was a Portkey until it was too late. Sighing inside, he knew that it was only fair to Cho that he allow her to talk about Cedric with him. This was about more than just his feelings, this was about hers as well.

"All right, Cho," he finally replied with a nod. "I can do that."

"Really?" Cho exclaimed, happiness sparkling in her eyes for the first time since before Cedric died, as far as Harry knew.

"Really," Harry said, knowing that this was something that had to be done. It would be worse if Cho simply brought it up at the worst of times, but if they could get it out into the open beforehand, it would be much easier on both of them, and save them both a lot of emotional strain. Who knows, maybe we'll even become friends. I need some friends from Ravenclaw.

"Oh, Harry, thank you!" Cho cried, throwing her arms around Harry's neck and hugging him tightly. Not being someone who had much experience with physical contact, having been neglected by his aunt and uncle for two-thirds of his life so far, Harry's hug in return was quite awkward, though he knew it was because at the moment, he barely knew Cho. It would change soon, he promised himself.

"It's no trouble," Harry assured her, stepping away. He turned around as though to walk away, but looked back over his shoulder as he added, "I'll tell you when we can meet some other time. I'll see you later, Cho."

"See you, Harry."

She scurried off to the staircase, heading towards what Harry presumed to be the Ravenclaw common room, and he walked on into the Great Hall, where lunch had already began. He dropped down in his seat next to Ginny feeling oddly cheered up; it was as though a great weight was going to drop off his shoulders soon.

"What's got you so cheery?" Ginny asked, looking amazed at the smile on Harry's face. She knew that he rarely smiled anymore.

"Oh, it's nothing," he assured her, looking pointedly at Neville, who got the hint and did not add to the discussion. "How were your classes, Ginny?"

"They weren't bad," Ginny said wearily, "but some of the people in those classes are bloody annoying, especially that Harper, from Slytherin, going on like an idiot in Muggle Studies ..."

Harry listened to her talk, occasionally exchanging a glance with Neville, who looked bored with the talk and was wolfing down some mashed potatoes, apparently in a rush. This caught Harry's interest momentarily; Neville, the shy, quiet boy that he had known for four years, was never in a rush, at least not as far as Harry knew ...

"What's the hurry, Neville?" Harry asked, unknowingly interrupting Ginny in mid-sentence.

Neville froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Er, well, I'm meeting someone in the library," Neville said quickly, before shoving more food into his mouth in an obvious ploy to get himself out of the conversation. Harry did not miss this and, deciding that Neville would tell him eventually (whenever that was), let it drop.

Ginny, however, didn't share Harry's sentiments.

"Who are you meeting?" she asked, staring at Neville oddly.

"It's, um, nobody," he said quickly through a mouthful of ham.

"Drop it," Harry whispered to her, but she ignored him.

"Who are you meeting, Neville?" Ginny asked again, her curiosity blinding her to the fact that she was being rather nosy.

Neville did not reply. Instead, he fixed Ginny with a stare that almost made her lose her resolve. Since when did Neville, of all people, stand up for himself? And why was he so dead-set on not telling her? They were friends, after all.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, before throwing down his fork and hurrying off.

Harry watched him go, wondering what in the hell had happened just now. Ginny was frowning after him, seemingly aware of something that Harry wasn't, though he didn't think it was his business to pry. Thinking about this suddenly reminded him of something that had happened on the Hogwarts Express the previous day, and this time, he wanted to know.

"Er, Ginny," he began, and when Ginny looked at him, he asked, "why were you staring at that bloke from Ravenclaw angrily on the train yesterday? You looked really angry with him."

This seemed to catch Ginny by surprise, as well as make her forget about her curiosity about Neville.

"Oh, him?" When Harry nodded, she said, "It's nothing. His name is Michael, and he and I were seeing each other last term."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise: he had never known this.

"I didn't tell any of you because I didn't need Ron, Fred or George on my back about him," Ginny added quickly, as though she had read Harry's mind. "Especially Ron. He'd go all protective brother on him and beat him to a pulp just because he was dating me. It doesn't matter anyway, though, as we aren't together anymore."

"What happened there?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

"The jerk didn't write me at all," Ginny replied. "When I was at home during the summer, he didn't send me one letter, and he didn't reply to the one letter I sent him. So I sent one last letter telling him I was done with him, and he finally replied saying he didn't care."

"Not a very friendly bloke, is he?"

"No, he's a git. He didn't even know why I was staring at him angrily. He just gave me that stupid blank look when we were in that compartment, remember? I don't know what happened. I mean, we went to Hogsmeade together, shared a few kisses, and danced at the Yule Ball –"

"I can see why you didn't want Ron to know," Harry interjected, picturing Ron's face if he ever heard that someone had been snogging his younger sister. He quickly decided that if the rift between them ever mended, this was not something he would share with Ron.

"Yeah," she said with a slight laugh. "So what do you have next, after lunch?"

"Free period," he replied, "then Defense with that Anashi guy."

"Huh," Ginny said, casting a look at Professor Anashi, who was, like the previous night, sitting back in his chair, eyes closed and arms folded. His hair hung over his face a little, blocking it from sight. He appeared to be meditating.

"There's something off about that guy," Harry said quietly. "Something strange. Whenever he looks at me, it's like there's two people looking at me through one set of eyes."

"I know what you mean," Ginny whispered, staring at the meditating man at the other end of the hall with furrowed eyebrows. "Maybe he's two people?"

Harry laughed, knowing that Ginny was only kidding, but he did not object: he had learned not to be surprised at things that happened in the magical world.

"Well," said Harry, staring at Professor Anashi suspiciously, "I'll find out in a few hours, I guess. I have his Defense class later on this afternoon, after my free period. He wants to speak to me after class anyway, so I may or may not find out what he's up to. I've learned to not trust any Defense professor, Remus being the exception."

Ginny nodded, and after a few minutes had passed, they stood up to leave the Great Hall.

"There's something else about that Anashi bloke that strikes me as curious as well," Harry told Ginny as they left the hall; as they passed the Slytherin table, he signaled for Daphne and Zabini to come, though he made the signal as inconspicuous as possible, and they must have received it, for they stood up to leave just as Harry and Ginny reached the doors. "He seems to really, really bother Snape."

"Oh, Harry," said Ginny exasperatedly, rolling her eyes, "every Defense professor we've ever had has bothered Snape in some way or form, and that includes Remus."

"Not in that way," Harry argued, remembering how Snape had looked after Anashi had left. "He took thirty points from Gryffindor for my cheek when I didn't say a damn word. I think Anashi intimidates him."

"Maybe," said Ginny unconcernedly, "but if he does, that's probably a good thing, isn't it?"

"It could be," muttered Harry. "Then again, it could be a bad thing if he singles us out as well."

"We'll see," she replied, making it very obvious how little she cared.

As they walked out into the courtyard, into the square in front of the Entrance Hall, Harry noticed Daphne and Zabini following them. They turned a corner and waited next to a pillar, and sure enough, the two Slytherins turned the corner a few seconds later, and they were all together again.

"Hi," Harry said quietly, grinning at Daphne, who smiled back.

"Hi yourself," she said easily. "Are you enjoying my present?"

"Very much, thanks," said Harry, still grinning, as he held up the shrunken two-way mirror. "This is brilliant, it's like the wizard version of a telephone. Where did you get it?"

"It was originally what my sister and I used to talk to each other whenever we weren't together, back when we were closer," Daphne explained, pulling out her own mirror. "My parents gave them to us. We asked if there was a way to connect a set of two-way mirrors with another set, and they connected the two sets, and that's how we've each got one, so that we can all talk to each other at the same time."

"Incredible," Harry remarked.

"Indeed it is," said Zabini curiously. "When she first showed me this mirror, I have to admit that I was quite skeptical about it, but it is an incredible thing. There are no wizard telephones, so this is possibly the next best thing. Not to mention a Muggle telephone doesn't usually have a built-in camera, meaning that this beats a telephone in the long run."

"How do you know all that?" Harry asked in amazement; he had not yet met a pure-blood that knew much about Muggle technology.

"My step-sister, who is seven years older than I am, married a Muggleborn," Zabini said simply, as though the question, and by extension Harry's curiosity, did not matter to him. "He has a lot of Muggle trinkets himself, and I've seen and used much of them simply because I was curious as to how they worked. There is nothing in my mother's home that is made with Muggle technology, after all, since she is a pure-blood."

Harry nodded, not bothering to argue about pure-blood views, as he knew that even his friends, Ginny included, shared them.

"And how are you, Ginevra?" Zabini asked suddenly, taking Ginny's hand and brushing his lips against it.

Her face as red as her hair, Ginny smiled nervously and said, "I'm, um, good. How – er – are you, Blaise?"

That's strange, Harry thought, his eyebrows furrowed a little. She wasn't this nervous last time we were all together. What's changed? Blaise isn't acting differently ...

"I am quite well, Ginevra," Zabini said, flashing her a smile that made her, if anything, more nervous than before. Harry raised his eyebrows but did not comment; he would ask her later. "So, Harry, how is your first day back so far?"

"What did Madam Umbridge have to say during Potions?" Daphne asked curiously. "I saw her talking to you during the class. She seemed ... too friendly to me."

"She was," admitted Harry, "but I think I can guess why. She wants to get a rise out of me without attracting unwanted attention, and without letting people know she hates me as much as Fudge does right now." He stood up. "Let's walk and talk."

"I'm guessing you don't want to give her that satisfaction?" Daphne said as they walked, trailing a little behind Ginny and Zabini, who were walking arm-in-arm as they had on the platform; both were a little embarrassed by their behaviour. "Umbridge, I mean."

"Not a chance," Harry said immediately, "the Ministry and the Prophet all think I'm crazy enough without mouthing off to the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. They'd have a field day. I daresay I get enough unwanted attention without that. Not to mention I wouldn't put it past Umbridge to try pulling a fast one ... I know enough about Fudge to know that he'd do anything to silence the idea that Voldemort's back, even if it means breaking his own laws."

"Very well-reasoned," said Daphne, nodding her head. "I've been thinking the same thing. Why would Umbridge single you out in Snape's class just to get some background history? But then I thought, maybe she doesn't care about that. Maybe she just wants to see you blow a fuse. The Daily Prophet is going on about how bonkers you are."

She closed her eyes momentarily.

"My uncle works for the Prophet. He's one of the main believers in that paper that you're an attention-seeking nutter. He didn't need Fudge to push his influence to write all that; he was willing to do it himself. My parents are going along the same line of thinking – my mother, anyway; my father is neutral to the whole thing – but Astoria believes you. Even though you're in Gryffindor and she's in Slytherin, she's quite taken with you. Not as taken as she is with Draco Malfoy, but the notice is still there."

Harry didn't know what to say to this, so he did the one thing that made sense to him, and kept his mouth closed. In reality, he didn't really believe it was possible for someone to fancy both him and Malfoy at the same time. It didn't seem right to him; then again, nothing involving Malfoy ever seemed right.

"I just wish that Voldemort would hurry up and make an open move against the wizarding world," Harry said quietly, not looking at Daphne as he spoke; his eyes had darkened a few shades. "He's doing exactly what Dumbledore thought he would do: he's staying in the shadows, making moves in silence, until the right time, which could be years from now for all we know. He can't very well walk into the Ministry, anyway; he looks like a human with the face of a snake."

"He does?" Daphne blurted out, astounded. "I figured he'd look like he did before you beat him the first time!What ritual did he use?"

Harry looked puzzled; what did that matter?

"Some kind of potion that used his father's bone, a Death Eater's hand, and my blood," he replied, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the scars made by Wormtail into his forearm, where the blood had been taken from. "It brought him back to a body. The only things he has are flesh, blood, and a skeleton. He's using my blood."

Daphne looked sickened.

"That's an incredibly Dark ritual," she said, her face white.

"It's Voldemort we're talking about," said Harry slowly. "He's an incredibly Dark wizard."

They walked in silence for a few moments. Harry couldn't understand it; just this morning he had been ecstatic at the thought of being able to talk to his newfound friend, and now that he was walking side-by-side with her, he had no idea what to say to her. It was like being around Cho all over again. Surely he must say something, but what? He didn't have enough experience with girls to know how to act around them – he had considered Hermione a sister when they were still good friends, so she was the exception – and Vernon Dursley would sooner admit that his son was indeed a fat, spoiled bully than sit down and give Harry "the Talk."

As though she were reading his mind, Daphne piped up, "You still with me, Harry?"

He blushed a little.

"Just lost in thought, that's all."

She smiled, but did not comment. He was grateful for that.

Harry wasn't sure how it happened, but somewhere during their conversation they had ended up back in the Entrance Hall. He was suddenly concerned that someone – especially a Slytherin – would notice that he and Daphne, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin – were walking around and chatting like friends. He found that he didn't really care all that much.

Apparently, Daphne didn't, either.

"Want to go to the library for a bit?" she suggested. "Nobody will bother us there."

"Sounds good to me," Harry said with a nod. "What about you, Ginny, Blaise?"

"I have to get to my lesson in a few minutes," Ginny said with a sigh. "I don't have a free period until Wednesday. I've got Charms next."

"I shall walk with her to Charms," Zabini said quietly, looking at his red-headed friend with an unreadable look in his eyes: was it fascination? "Shall we go, Ginevra?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ginny again, as Daphne forced a giggle and Harry rolled his eyes a little.

"We shall indeed, Blaise," she said, giggling as she grabbed his arm again.

"We'll see you two later," Zabini called over his shoulder as he and Ginny walked away, heading for the fourth floor.

The moment they were out of sight, Daphne snorted and said, "They fancy each other."

"Hm?"

"Isn't it obvious to you?" she asked, looking at him with surprise.

"I grew up without any of this," Harry said, not wanting to talk about his life with the Dursleys, who had been less than kind to him.

"Oh." Her eyebrows rose a little. "Anyway, I can see it when they look at each other. He's obviously smitten with her – he's never been this outgoing with any girl he's been around, as far as I know – and I can tell that she's harboring feelings for him as well, but isn't really sure about them yet."

"How the hell can you tell all this?" Harry blurted out.

She smiled. "Woman's tuition."

Harry quickly decided he didn't want to know.

She laughed. "Come on," she said quietly, "let's go to the library, get to know each other a little better." She grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, and he quickly fell into step beside her, neither noticing the dark looks that passed over two fellow students as they watched them go from the side, out of sight.



That was the strangest experience I've ever known,
Harry thought to himself as he walked down the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, thinking back to the last few hours he had spent with Daphne in the library. He touched the cheek that Daphne had held a few times and kissed once. Merlin, I wish I understood women better, 'cause I'm baffled. Neville seems all right with them, though; he was certainly enjoying himself with that blond girl he was with in the library.

Daphne walked a little ways behind him, smirking a little. He knew exactly what she was so cheerful about, and he felt a bit of resentment, but not towards her; he would give his fame and fortune to read a woman's mind for a day. He briefly considered talking to Sirius or Remus about his issues, but quickly decided that he'd rather keep all of this private for the time being.

He stopped outside of the Defense classroom, noticing that he was one of the first ones there. Only Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Theodore Nott were there so far. Nott smirked as he saw Harry coming, and stood up to face him.

"How's the scar, Potter?" he taunted, his hand casually in his pocket, though Harry knew he was holding his wand. "Feeling a little ... nutty?"

"You'd know, I s'pose," Harry said nonchantly, walking over to a spot isolated from the others and dropping into it. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at Nott. "Why do you lot get such kicks at poking fun at me, anyway? I'm really not all that interesting."

"No, you're not," Nott said with a sneer, "and that's why it's so easy. You won't even defend yourself, you coward!"

"Says the boy who hides behind Draco Malfoy as though Malfoy were a shield," Harry said in a dismissing tone, and Nott's sneer curled into an ugly look. "The only cowards here are you and Malfoy, Nott, and it baffles me to see that you'll never see that. Maybe if you spent less time making fun of me and more time actually improving, you would see it and get over it, but I'm sure Lord Voldemort will actually be dead before that happens."

From her place along the other end of the wall, Daphne snorted a little, though she covered it up with a tiny cough. Nott took no notice.

"You'll get yours one day, Potter," was all he said before turning around and walking towards the wall, leaning against it.

"I'm sure I will," Harry muttered under his breath.

In the next ten minutes, more students began filing into the corridor, and soon enough Neville came to join Harry, who had stood up.

"All right, mate?" Neville asked, as the door to the classroom opened and everyone began filing in.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, ending the conversation before it began. "Come on, let's get in there now or we'll get cruddy seats."

All of the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were soon in the classroom, and Harry and Neville took seats in the second row, though their professor was nowhere to be found. To his slight surprise, Parvati Patil dropped into a seat next to Harry; as far as he knew, Parvati wasn't fond of him because of the whole issue at the Yule Ball. The moment she smiled at him, however, Harry knew something must be up, though he said nothing for the moment.

"Hi, Harry," Parvati said brightly. "Hi, Neville. How were your summers?"

"Er, good," said Harry uncertainly, while Neville didn't reply.

Her smile faltered slightly, but it came back just as brightly within moments.

"I guess you're wondering why I'm suddenly talking to you again when I'm supposedly angry with you, aren't you?" she said bluntly, staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well ... yeah," Harry admitted.

"Well, I've thought about it over the summer, and I decided that you didn't mean to neglect me during the ball. I could tell that you were interested in someone else – that Chang girl, wasn't it? – and besides, it wouldn't be fair to Ronald, who was sitting and sulking beside my sister. She hasn't forgiven him, by the way, but she did give him attention because he was part of the second task."

Harry frowned at the mention of Ron.

"Yeah, well ... I'd rather not think about the tournament," Harry said shortly. "Sorry, just a lot of bad memories."

Parvati nodded in understanding, still wearing the same unreadable expression.

"For what it's worth, though," Harry added, "I'm really sorry about not paying you more attention at the ball."

She looked surprised.

"Oh, don't worry about it!" she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm over it now! I've been over it since the second task! Just remember that next time there's a ball at Hogwarts – and hopefully that's soon, because it was really fun! – you owe me a dance, whether you like it or not this time!"

Harry grinned.

"Sounds fair to me. I'll try to avoid stepping on your toes when that happens."

"You were fine during the ball, don't worry," Parvati assured him.

"Thanks, Parvati."

Any further conversation between the two was cut off as the door to the office above the classroom opened and Professor Anashi stepped out, tying back his back-length hair in a long ponytail. His two eyes seemed more mismatched than ever. He came to stand in front of the class, his gray eye looking over the room.

"I will start with attendance," Anashi barked, and one by one he called the names of everyone in the class. After determining everybody present, he banished the list with a wave of his wand and clapped his hands together, his gray eye narrowed. "Before we begin, let me make a few things perfectly clear. You will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir', no exceptions. I am not going to warn you every time you step out of line. If I have to warn you past one time, you're out of the class. I don't have time, patience or energy to deal with idiots. Understood?"

The class nodded in unison, dumbstruck by this.

"Very good," said Professor Anashi gruffly. "Now, let's get into the lesson quick-like, because we're wasting time otherwise. Let's begin with one basic fact. You will have to learn some of the Darkest magic ever known to be able to find acceptable defenses against them, because you will one day find yourself having to face it. I don't know what this class's collected opinion is on the matter, and I don't rightly care, because whether you want to accept it or not, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, has come back."

Most of the class gasped. Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering what the weird-eyed man was playing at. It almost sounded as though he were part of the Order; he acted and sounded a lot like Mad-Eye Moody. There was also the fact that he was able to say Voldemort's name without fear or regret, or even a twitch ...

"Oh, calm yourselves!" snapped Anashi, leaning on his cane. "You're going to have to get used to the fact that Lord Voldemort has returned, that he will collect Death Eaters and Dark creatures alike, and that one day you may end up on the receiving end of their favorites: the Cruciatus curse, the Imperius curse, and the Killing curse.

"These three curses, which Professor Moody told you last year are the Unforgivable Curses, are said to have no defense to them. That is a load of tripe!" he barked out suddenly, and half the class jumped in their seats, especially Ron. "There may not be a spell to defend against these curses, but just because one's fired at you doesn't mean you should stand perfectly still and wait for it to hurt, control, or kill you!

"What you're going to learn this year is advanced defensive spells, spells that go beyond simple Shield Charms and Disarming Charms. You will learn how to create shields from thin air – this will be especially useful when you learn advanced Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall – and you will learn how to conjure solid shields, which can take the force of any spell without harming the castor! Any questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one!" shouted a voice from the back of the room. "Why are you teaching us Muggle defenses? This is a magical school!"

Anashi's eyes, both of them, narrowed with dislike.

"And who are you, laddie?" he barked.

"Theodore Nott!" yelled out Nott, as though affronted that Professor Anashi did not know this.

"Well, Mr. Nott, I'm not sure if I got my message into your narrow pure-blood mind, but when we have reached Christmas you will discover exactly why "Muggle defenses" are helpful in a duel! You would be shocked to find out that even Lord Voldemort uses them, when faced with the Unforgivables himself!"

"Oh, please!" Nott scoffed. "The Dark Lord would never resort to such crude and pathetic ways of –"

Exactly what Voldemort would not do was not discovered, as Nott suddenly found that he could not speak. He opened and closed his mouth, but no sounds came out. Nott quickly raised his wand to fix the problem when it was yanked from his hand by an invisible force and sent flying across the room, and into the outstretched hand of a livid Aiyasis Anashi.

"Detention, boy! Seven o'clock tomorrow evening with Mr. Filch!" He put the wand on a desk, waved his wand, and a long string tied it in place to invisible indents in the wooden desk. "You won't be getting this back until the end of the lesson, Mr. Nott, so consider yourself finished for the day. Get into my office; you will be taking notes in there while I continue with the lesson."

Nott didn't move.

"Now, Mr. Nott!" snapped Anashi.

With a look of purest loathing, Nott picked up his things and walked to the front of the room, up the steps that led to the landing above the classroom, and through the office door, slamming it behind him.

"Spoiled brat," muttered Professor Anashi, before turning back to the class and continuing as though he had not been interrupted at all. "Now then, we will begin by discussing what I will be teaching you. As you undoubtedly know by now, the Ministry refuses to accept the idea that Lord Voldemort is back." A large amount of flinching passed through his words, but Anashi ignored them. "Our esteemed Minister is instead imposing Educational Decrees on us, in the hopes that everything you learn is decided by the Ministry, and them alone."

He reached into the inside of his robes and pulled out a list.

"On here is everything that the Ministry has decided they want me to teach you," he said slowly. "A list of spells for beginners to magic." Wordlessly, he set the list on fire, letting it turn to ashes before him. "That is bollocks. You will not be learning the basics. I've had word from Professor Remus Lupin saying that he taught you everything a third or fourth year should learn about Dark creatures, while I've heard that your last professor, a madman disguised as one Mad-Eye Moody, taught you a lot of Dark curses and the defenses to them.

"What you're going to be learning is a lot like last year, as this is war."

There was no reply, though the students collectively shrunk back.

"You need to learn things that are truly despicable if you want to survive this war," Anashi said tonelessly, his gray eye seeming to twinkle. His brown eye was, as ever, blank and seemingly unseeing. "You need to learn to protect yourself from the worst curses imaginable. There are Dark rituals and Dark magic the likes of which you've never heard of – and I would be a fool to attempt to show you under a normal circumstance – but this is war, and Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters will not show mercy to anyone who opposes them, whether pure-blood or otherwise. I fought alongside some of the bravest wizards in history in wars before this one. I would know."

"What do you mean, sir?" Hermione asked.

Professor Anashi smiled, though it looked a lot like a grimace.

"In the war of the forties, when Lord Grindelwald was still gaining power outside of magical Britain, task forces were gathered together to stand against his Dark forces, which were known as the Dark Seekers. No, I do not mean the term Seeker that one applies to the wizard sport, Quidditch," he added gruffly, and a couple of students chuckled weakly. "When Grindelwald was ascending to power, terrible things took place. You see, Lord Grindelwald was not like Lord Voldemort in any way, though it is speculated that Grindelwald took Voldemort under his wing, seeing an unnaturally talented Hogwarts graduate who had already dabbed a bit into Dark magic of his own. Oh, yes," Anashi said fiercely, "Lord Voldemort was a troublemaker even in school, though he was so secretive and quiet about it that nobody thought he was behind anything that happened. The Chamber of Secrets incident, which was blamed on one Rubeus Hagrid, was opened by a Parselmouth, and there are only two known Parselmouths in the world right now, with one of them sitting in this room. The other, as everyone knows, is Lord Voldemort.

"Grindelwald did not operate as Voldemort did. He did not act in secret, attacking from the shadows and killing people individually. What I'm talking about is a full-scale war. Thousands of wizards and witches fought in battlefields, from open fields to streets in wizarding communities themselves. Many people died in these wars. Many more were injured, whether permanently or otherwise.

"I fought alongside the forces that struggled against the Dark Seekers, and I was there to bear witness to the final battle between Lord Grindelwald and our own headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. That was a battle between two of the fiercest and seemingly most powerful wizards in history, greater, perhaps, than the founders of Hogwarts themselves. The battle went on for days, until Grindelwald was finally defeated. Dumbledore did not, however, kill Grindelwald. The Dark Lord of the last generation was locked away in Azkaban prison, and remains there to this day. It is unknown if and when he will finally die."

Professor Anashi broke off from his tale, looking a little weary, and then clapped his hands together.

"But that is all beside the point, as you all know. What I'm here to do is teach you everything you need to know about defensive magic, and how to conjure defenses. That will lead up to the end of this term, and after that we will be working on other things, though I will not be confiding them to you until January.

"Any questions?" Anashi barked.

The class all shook their heads.

"No? All right, then ... on with the lesson!"

It soon became apparent that Professor Anashi was a lot like the imposter Professor Moody had been – which, in the class's opinion, was a good thing. He showed them all kinds of curses and jinxes that they had never heard of before, as well as the counter-curses and counter-jinxes to some of them, claiming that others had no magical defense. He then did what the fake Moody did the previous year and performed the Cruciatus Curse in front of them, only this time it was performed on a snake instead of a spider. About three-quarters of the way into the lesson he had them copy down the names of the spells and their definitions, getting them to detail exactly how each spell could be used, and then list the definitions to them. Finally, when the bell was about to ring and Anashi was just showing them how a Stunning Spell could be used in more ways than simply Stunning an opponent, he banished all of the test subjects.

"Your homework: an essay fifteen inches in length on all of the ways, both good and bad, a Disabling Jinx can be used, to be handed in next Monday," Professor Anashi barked out to the class as they were getting up to leave. "Your next class will be purely practical; you will not need your books."

He watched them leave one by one, and then added:

"Potter, a word before you go, please!"

Remembering that Anashi had asked to see him while in Potions earlier that day, Harry nodded, taking extra time to pack away his things as his classmates left. Once he was ready, and after assuring Parvati and Neville that he would talk to them later, he walked to the front of the room to see Professor Anashi, who beckoned him into his office.

The office looked much like it had when Barty Crouch Jr, disguised as Moody, had inhabited it. There was a large Foe-glass, though it was not cracked, hanging in the same place the last one had, and three Sneakoscopes were set up around the office in a large triangle around the room. There were several portraits added as well, some of wizards Harry recognized, others he didn't. One such portrait hung, the largest of them all, behind Professor Anashi's desk.

Professor Anashi gestured for Harry to take a seat, doing likewise at his desk. Nott had apparently been sent off as well.

"So, Harry Potter ..." Anashi began, looking over a long parchment. "I've had a letter from Remus Lupin telling me how well you've done in previous classes with Defense Against the Dark Arts, even with not-so-good professors. You've had Gilderoy Lockhary, Quirinus Quirrell, Remus, and someone who Polyjuiced Mad-Eye Moody, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, unsure of where Professor Anashi was going with this.

"I'm not even going to comment on Lockhart's classes, as they were a pathetic waste of information sent to me," Anashi said bluntly, and Harry grinned despite himself. "Quirrell was all right in the sense that he taught you lot things, though with the bloody mess he was, and his alliance with Voldemort, he was probably less than favorable. Lupin was probably the best professor you'd had to that point, and the fake Moody was definitely good with what he knew, though he spent far too much time teaching you lot the same things over and over again.

"I'm guessing you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this, right, Potter?"

"Yes, Professor."

Professor Anashi smiled, the first true smile Harry had seen him put up, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You see, I've heard all about your little escapades over your last four years of Hogwarts," Professor Anashi said, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Anashi laughed. "Don't be so surprised! Professor Dumbledore trusts me with information he would not entrust with the rest of the staff, even his most beloved, though in this case, it's practically common knowledge with every professor here: you've taken down a troll, fought off a possessed wizard bent on taking the Philosopher's Stone and killing you, slain a full-grown Basilisk as a boy, destroyed a possessed diary that would probably have sapped the life out of young Miss Weasley forever if you had failed to, discovered the innocence of your godfather, conjured a corporeal Patronus that effectively fought off over a hundred Dementors at once, took part in the Triwizard Tournament at the age of fourteen and clearing each task marvelously if not a little luckily, and fought off Lord Voldemort at the strongest he'd ever been. From what Albus has told me, you even called Fawkes the phoenix to you in a time of great peril."

Harry nodded, his face going red. He knew that he had done all of this, but it felt so strange to hear it from the mouth of another. He didn't like being praised.

"Don't be modest, either," continued Professor Anashi, as though he had read Harry's last thought. "You deserve the praise you get. You've defended Hogwarts more than any professor, with the exception of Dumbledore himself, ever has."

Harry, who was quite unsure of what to say, kept his mouth closed. He honestly had no idea how to reply to the man before him who, only hours before, he had believed to be suspicious and slightly unnerving.

"Er, thanks," he finally said.

"Not at all, Potter, not at all!" Professor Anashi said cheerfully, his gray eye fixed on Harry's green ones, though the latter pair did not look back. "But with that said, we come to the real reason I've called you here. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up, meeting Professor Anashi's mismatched eyes for the first time since walking into the office.

"A proposition, sir?"

"Yes, my boy, a proposition," said Professor Anashi simply, "and you can say no to it if you want, it's purely your choice. I wonder if you would want to take private lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts under my wing, outside of regular lessons."

Harry looked perplexed; the idea had not fully hit him.

"P-Private lessons, sir?"

"Good lord, boy, you can speak more than three words per sentence, can't you?" barked Professor Anashi, snorting a bit. "I'm offering to teach you that which I learned in the war against the Dark Seekers, Potter. Tell me, are you interested?"

"Well, yeah!" Harry spluttered, the full force of the offer hitting him now, "but where would I get the time? There's lessons, and it's OWL year ... there's Quidditch ..."

"I'm aware of all that, Potter," said Professor Anashi, rolling his eyes. "I've arranged it all with Professor Dumbledore. He's willing to let you drop one class in exchange for private lessons with me. Is there a class that you want to drop?"

"History of Magic," said Harry, not even giving it a thought; there was nothing, nothing, that could make him want to drop anything else over that dismal subject.

"Good, good," said Anashi, smiling at his new apprentice. "Now, off with you. I've got lessons for tomorrow to plan out." He led Harry to the door, showing him out. "Good night, Potter."

"Good night, Professor."