"Tara, there's someone I should get you acquainted with." Dumbledore's head appeared in the doorway and winked mischievously.
She looked up, put her quill down and stood up: "Of course, sir."
"Dobby is very very happy to meet Miss Dumbledore." The house elf ran into the office and bowed low.
"You've got it confused, elf." Mumbled Tara and wondered why Professor Dumbledore wanted her to meet an elf the likes of which worked invisibly in the castle.
"Dobby is a very special elf." Said the Headmaster, as if he were reading her thoughts.
"Dobby is a friend of Harry Potter – is Miss a friend of Harry Potter as well?" Dobby asked.
"Eh – I've met him…" Tara said, unsure what to say.
"Excellent!" Squealed the creature. "And what does Miss think?"
"He's– eh– interesting?" Replied Tara, even more unsure.
"And does Miss know who else is Dobby friends with?" Squealed the elf and jumped at her working desk, so excited he was.
"Yes?" Asked Tara. The whole conversation was very awkward, she didn't know how to react. She has never seen such a daring elf before.
"Miss' papa!" Cried Dobby. "Dobby often comes into the inn, Miss, and helps Mr Dumbledore clean and cook and feed the goats!"
"Oh! How kind of you!" Exclaimed Tara. Her attitude was completely changed now, she liked the adventurous elf. She shook his hand cordially and the elf looked as if he would faint from pure excitement.
"Dobby gets paid, Miss!" Cried the elf.
"Truly? How extraordinary!" Said Tara, smiling.
"And you'll be giving him his salary, Tara." Said Professor Dumbledore, very amused by their encounter.
"Just a minute, Dobby, I'll go get the school cash box, and I'll give you your salary." Tara said with a gentle smile and as she retrieved the wooden box, she asked: "And how much would that be, young worker?"
The small elf swelled with pride and said: "A galleon a week, Miss!"
"And for a month? How much would that be?" Tara asked jovially, trying whether or not the elf could count. Turned out he could.
"Four galleons, Miss!" He squealed and stretched out his palm. Four gold coins fell into it and he clasped it against his clothing, squeaking: "Four galleons! Dobby has earned four galleons!"
"Use them well, Dobby." Tara gave a soft laugh and watched the elf with keen brown eyes: "What will you do with them?"
"Dobby buys socks, Miss. Socks are Dobby's favourite clothing, Miss." Replied the house-elf.
"Buy a nice pair and use it well, Dobby." Tara gave a soft chuckle and took her quill again.
"Miss looks tired. Miss has circles under her eyes. Miss would do good to visit her papa. Dobby knows a secret passage. Does Miss want to see?"
"By all means, Tara. You look awful." Said Professor Dumbledore and Tara noticed he enjoyed the situation greatly: "Go and visit your great-grandfather."
Tara let herself be guided by the small figure of a house-elf. He took her through the corridors and passages, and as she thought he was going to take her into her own rooms, he guided her into the Room of Requirement. He zigzagged skilfully through the piles of junk and rubbish and when he finally stopped and Tara could catch her breath, she was standing in front of her great-grandaunt Ariana. Having known the girl since forever, Ariana gave a gentle nod and opened the portrait.
"Thank you, Dobby." Said Tara as she watched the waving elf from the closing portrait hole.
-oOo-
Her papa couldn't be more surprised to see Tara walk with Ariana in the portrait. Having slumbered in his favourite armchair, he jumped up and rubbed his old eyes in disbelief as he saw her approaching. When his great-granddaughter stepped out of the portrait, he held out his arm to help her.
"What's the matter?" He asked anxiously.
"Papa, I don't know myself." Tara gave a chuckle. "One second I was giving Dobby his salary, the next he was dragging me through the castle towards Ariana's portrait that was in the Room of Requirement."
"There is her portrait in the castle?" Aberforth was astonished.
"Well, I suppose there is – I wonder who might have put it there."
"I think I know who that might have been." Her papa growled and, seeing his great-granddaughter after such a long time, he couldn't resist giving her a warm embrace.
-oOo-
"Why? Tell me one good reason why I can't see Professor Dumbledore." Harry said stubbornly.
"Mr Potter, stop commanding me or else I'll start commanding you as well." Tara said sourly.
"Then tell me!" Harry slammed his fist on her desk and Miss Henley jumped up from her seat.
"Harry, I strongly suggest you calm yourself down!" She cried, her cheeks flushed. "You're interrupting my work! I've told you, I don't know why Professor Dumbledore won't see you, but he's terribly busy – I'm practically running the whole school right now –"
"But I have something important to discuss!" Harry retorted, probably louder than he should have, as he realised seconds later.
"If you stop bothering me this instant, I might help you myself." Tara said sharply.
"Si- My godfather told me about an aunt of mine. I hadn't known about her, she's supposed to be my mother's twin sister. I've been raised by my mum's other sister, Petunia Dursley, and she's been one of the meanest people I've ever known. I would really – it would mean so much to me if you could tell me where she lives, or her name, or something." Harry nearly pleaded. He could see the secretary woman frown. What was her problem now? He wondered.
"I'll look into the school registry and I'll let you know." She answered him, and it seemed to Harry that her voice got colder and that she was much less enthusiastic about helping him than before.
"Did Harry shout at you again, Tara?" Dumbledore asked softly. "You must excuse him, sometimes I have a feeling that the boy's like a timebomb –"
"No, sir… May I have a minute?" Tara's brown eyes were fixed on him.
"By all means!" Dumbledore beckoned her to step into his luxuriously furnished office. Although he was her superior, she had been to his office a very few times so far. So whenever she stepped in, she couldn't help but admire its majestic beauty. But not today. Today she felt dirty and guilty. She wished the portraits weren't listening, because she knew they would judge her mercilessly.
As she sat down, she blurted: "I have to tell you, sir. I've been wanting to tell you for quite a long time now, hoping you could tell me how I could possibly redeem myself."
"Tara, this looks serious." Dumbledore studied his niece's face thoughtfully. She didn't know she was his great-niece, of course. But maybe that was his reason for hearing her out most eagerly. He hoped that he could be good enough to her that she would accept him later, even though Aberforth, after all those years, would not. But he had a long way to go now, and now he had to focus on making his niece trust him, he reminded himself.
"You've heard about the Rose case, have you, sir?"
"Yes, Tara, I've been the one who helped the Ministry wizards secure her in her Muggle house. What of it?"
"Sir, I'm going to reveal a grave, dark secret to you. Something even my papa doesn't know. If he knew –" Tara suddenly had giant tears invading her eyes, "he would have renounced me forever!"
"I'm sure he would not, Tara." Dumbledore said softly and patted her hand.
"As you probably know, Harry Potter has two aunts. They are both Muggles, not Muggle-born witches like his mother. His aunt Petunia has taken care of the boy since his first year of age – Heaven bless her for that."
"I don't think it's particularly due to any divine powers Petunia has been taking care of him, but go on." Said Dumbledore. He had his own reasons to judge Petunia, and he didn't want to get into that right now. So he resolved to let Tara speak. He might tell her later.
"And his aunt Rose – you don't even wish to know what happened to her, sir!" Tara wailed and hid her face behind her hands. "You see, Rose loved Harry more than anything else in the world. Being his mother's twin sister, she probably had even a deeper attachment to him than any other relative could have. She studied Muggle school to become a Muggle healer – doctor, that is – and she was the one who delivered baby Harry to this world. And of course, when Harry was just a year old toddler, his aunt was spending his first Hallowe'en with him." Tara furiously wiped her eyes. "We all know what happened that night. The problem was that Rose witnessed it too, hidden under James' Invisibility cloak. I worked at the Department of Mysteries at that time, sir, and I'll tell you all exactly as it happened, because it is all more than enough for me – I will risk going to Azkaban for it, because I can't bear it any longer."
"Out with it, my dear." Dumbledore patted her hand gently
"My job at the Department of Mysteries was the brain division, as we called it. We studied human minds of wizards and Muggles alike, and we tried to unlock its hidden secrets. You know, I've always being fond of the matter myself, probing the human mind until – no, that's another story. When we reached the half-collapsed house of the Potters, Harry had not been there – already in your care, probably – but there was the poor wretched soul of his aunt, wrapped in her brother-in-law's cloak, foaming, eyes popped out and completely out of her wits. We, the team of the brain division, instantly knew that this damage is far beyond any St. Mungo's ward that existed at that time. This wasn't a spell damage, so they wouldn't have treated her anyway. We took her to the Department of Mysteries and made her a prisoner there." Tara sobbed, overtaken by the weight of her actions. "Not that she would have known, really, she went positively mad. Crazy. Her eyes were spinning and all she did was foam, shake the bars of her cage and shriek. It was terrible, terrible!" Tara took the offered handkerchief and blew her nose noisily. "I couldn't see her like that, sir, I could not! She was worse than an animal, worse than an Inferi, worse than a Dementor. She was beyond anything you could imagine. No one had the heart to kill her, and there were debates as to what we should do with her exactly. All imaginable memory spells were tried on her, potions, therapies – yes, even Unforgivables. No one had the slightest idea how to help the writhing creature of a woman that we saw everyday when we came to work. But we all knew we couldn't leave her like that much longer. I was very interested in the field at that time, I specialised in short-term memory and brain twisters – illusions, that was, and despite the widely-discussed fact that an Obliviate could relieve her of her pain, no one dared to do it. It was such a deeply rooted event, it totally paralysed her, you should have seen… But anyway, I was the most daring of them all – or maybe the most compassionate? I don't know. But I knew that we had to act quickly. They have already held her captive for more than ten years, sir, ten miserable years of unsuccessful experiments, and during those few months I've worked with her as an intern research specialist she was getting worse and worse. So I did it." Tara inhaled deeply and said: "I Obliviated her. I tried to be as much careful as I could, but the experience was so strong I couldn't get it out for a good couple of hours. Entering the mind of a lunatic and probing it… You have no idea…" Tara shook her head and her face was as white as a piece of chalk. "Finally, I did it. I did the strongest memory charm that anyone could ever conjure, and was ready to rip her mind into pieces to get it out." Tara breathed out. "And I did. Not only that, I had to remove all memories of a sister, brother-in-law and a little nephew. Anything about Petunia, too, and about Mr and Mrs Evans, and Hogwarts… Anything that could make her remember her past was undesirable and dangerous. Sir, you cannot imagine… You have no idea… Taking a madwoman and messing with her mind, I was lucky to get out of it unharmed… There were only breadcrumbs that remained, and I greatly feared that her brain would collapse altogether. But Rose was strong. After I have removed almost everything of her past life, I had to structure a new, artificial life and bury it deep into the various layers of her long-term memory. Sir, I really cannot explain to you how anxious I was, because you just don't mess up with someone's mind like that. Only for me it was possible. My father taught me – well, that's another story. The gist of it was that I could go deeper than anyone else. Try it, go and find a Memory-charm specialist of St Mungo's, he'll tell you that removing distant and deeply-rooted memories is impossible. But not for me, sir, not for me. When Rose opened her mouth, it was clear she had no idea who she was. I made her believe she was a general practitioner – a Muggle doctor. However, when she opened her mouth, I realised something went terribly wrong. Rose had her short-term memory all messed up, and try as I might, it wouldn't get better. This is the point you stepped in, sir, when you helped us place her into a home and confuse her neighbours that nothing unusual had happened and that Rose had been living in the street her entire life. You've seen her, sir. You can recall for yourself what a forgetful mess she was. But to me, it was like the sight of Paradise, because she could talk and behave like any other human being. It was the ultimate bliss for me. You understand, right? The sight of her mad self in our cage was so pitiful that I risked destroying her mind altogether just to release her from her pain? Tell me, sir, what you would have done?" Tara finished, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Even death would be more merciful than such agony… I had no idea…" Dumbledore whispered.
"And about five years later, her nephew comes prancing into my office and demand his poor aunt's address – do you understand what a turn he gave me?" Tara said, almost accusingly.
"Tara, you must never give him her address or any other information about her." Dumbledore stated firmly.
"Exactly. People or items from the past might act as triggers, and then – I believe her mind could really give way, sir. But he comes here at least once a week, I'm losing my patience. He hopes to speak to you so that he might get it."
"He must never be left alone with me in my office, I've told you that." Dumbledore said sternly.
"I know, sir. But I'm worried he could get the address elsewhere." Tara added. "That is the core of my worry. That is why I told you my deepest secret. If my papa knew, he would have been disgusted by my own boldness. Wrecking a poor soul's mind forever just because I could… Just because I'd researched things I shouldn't have in the first place… Just because one twenty-year-old witch chose to mess up with people's brains." Tara finished bitterly.
"I'm sure your great-grandfather would understand, Tara." Dumbledore's arm was squeezing her to his side. "It was – how do the Muggles call it? It was in one of their books, I think –"
"Sophie's choice?"
"Exactly. Are you keen on Muggle literature, Tara?"
"Yes, I find it relaxing."
"Well, Tara, you asked me for redemption. I believe I have no power to grant you freedom from your own haunting thoughts, not I, out of all people – I could use that forgiveness myself. But there's some advice I could give you, Tara. The power to forgive lies within you. You and you alone have to come to terms with your past and you have to forgive yourself. No one else can do that for you."
"If only I could see– If only I could see that she's happy. That would clear off all my doubts."
"You know that's impossible, Tara."
"Yeah, I know." She hung her head low. "Sir? Would you mind not telling anyone else? I– I don't want to be looked down at. No one knows how hard it was to make that choice. No one knows how she suffered in her cage at the Department of Mysteries all these years. I shouldn't have told you what had happened there at all, I could go to Azkaban for that–"
"You won't go to Azkaban for telling your own uncle." Dumbledore gave her a soft smile and patted her shoulder reassuringly. She looked at him astonished, her big brown eyes filled with shock, her lips slightly parted in silent wonder.
"Aberforth didn't want me to reveal it, but I just couldn't help myself. We all have faults to confess and I was grateful you chose to confide in me."
"Sir, you– you can't be serious– Did you know that, when you hired me?"
"No, Tara, I didn't know. It was Aberforth who stormed in here one night and told me."
"But I've asked papa many times – he has always told me you two weren't related–"
"Aberforth blames me for something which happened long ago."
"Does it have something to do with my great-aunt Ariana? Is that why you put her painting secretly to the Room of Requirement?"
"Tara," Dumbledore gave a soft smile and his eyes beyond his half-moon spectacles glistened, "you're one of the most observant people I had the pleasure to know. We will move the school registry secretly from Minerva's office to yours, don't worry, everything will be fine."
-oOo-
"Papa?" Said Tara. It was a warm Saturday evening in the beginning of October and she was knitting silently in front of her papa's fireplace in their small kitchen that also served as a living room. "Are you sure you and Professor Dumbledore aren't related?"
"Why are you asking me such stupid questions again?" Aberforth growled, being woken up from dozing. "I've already told you million times. We're not."
"But yes, you are." Tara retorted, putting aside her knitting. "He told me himself!"
"What?!" Cried Aberforth and jumped to his feet. "He didn'!"
"Yes, he did. He said you told him. Why were you lying to me, papa?! Why were you lying to me all these years I've spent with you?!" Her accusing tone pierced his heart through like a blade. Her silent hot tears of anger almost made him want to cry too.
"I didn't want him to hurt you." He mumbled, not looking at her crying face. "He's the reason Aunt Ariana is dead."
"He said he wasn't sure which spell it was–"
"That doesn' matter. Grindelwald was his friend. He took him into our house."
"No one can assume responsibility for their friends' actions." Tara said. "If you only knew how deeply he regrets it!"
"I don' believe that." Spat Aberforth.
"Yes, he does. I can't even recall how many times have I been summoned into the Headmaster's room and found him in a desperate state, begging me for sitting up with him a little. 'It was all my fault' he kept saying, and I didn't know what he meant, so I learnt to approach these midnight states of delusion with a grain of salt. But now I know his regrets are real, papa, please, have mercy on him, he even can't sleep because of that!"
"He only started to act like that after he had told you you were his niece." Insisted Aberforth.
"No, he's been like that since I've started working there. Please, papa." Tara knelt in front of her papa's armchair and took both his hands imploringly into hers. "I'm not saying what he did wasn't wrong. All I'm saying is that people should be allowed to regret their past crimes and atone for them. If only you knew how much he wishes to get on well with you again. Especially when he found out about me." She smiled gently.
"I'm– eh– I'm goin' to think about that." Said Aberforth evasively, already halfway persuaded by his great-granddaughter whom he couldn't deny anything on the world. "Hasn' he asked you to plead with me?"
"No, that's entirely my foolish idea." Tara gave a soft smile.
"He doesn' deserve you, my darling." Aberforth said affectionately, stroking Tara's hair gently. "I don' want to reconnect with him mainly because of you. I…" His voice was husky. "I don' want to lose you too." He said and blew his nose into a handkerchief.
"I'm not Ariana, papa." Tara said firmly. "I can control my magic. I can fend for myself. If someone attacks me, I can fight for myself. And uncle Albus has learnt his lesson."
"Time will tell me." Murmured the old innkeeper. "In the meantime, you can tell your dear uncle that Potter is plotting a secret army."
"What?!"
"I've overheard him arrangin' a meetin' with those kids in my pub. He thought I was crazy so never paid me much attention. They're callin' themselves 'Dumbledore's Army' and they're plottin' somethin' against an Umbridge woman or a thing like that."
Tara stroke his cheek: "Thank you for telling me, papa."
-oOo-
It was very, very unusual for Tara to be so hastily summoned in the middle of the October night. She even didn't have time to dress up. She quickly ran to the Headmaster's office. The candles were lit and there were people talking.
"And there it was, attacking Mr Weasley!" Harry breathed out, shaking. He was all sweaty and confused of his dream-like vision. It was the first time Professor Dumbledore had ever admitted the boy into his office. It couldn't escape Tara's notice that her uncle avoided eye-contact when speaking to Harry Potter. She stood there in her nightgown, anxiously watching.
"You called, Headmaster?" Severus appeared noiselessly at the doorway next to her.
"Severus, it has happened." Dumbledore said plainly. Harry got confused. What was "it"? Did it mean that Dumbledore anticipated the attack? Why on earth didn't he prevent it, then. Harry was furious with the old man. Furious with his cowardice. The old fool wouldn't even look him into his eyes.
"Severus, could you?"
"Headmaster, I think Miss Henley would be more authorised to do it. After all, she has spent many years researching, hasn't she?"
"Tara?" Dumbledore said, not turning towards them.
"What's going on?" Harry asked furiously. He was panting and sweating. There was a man, a dying man, they had to something, they had to get him out of the corridor…
"DO SOMETHING!" He bellowed. Everyone jumped. He could hear the vicious woman of a secretary saying: "Calm down, Mr Potter."
"Where were you whilst you witnessed the attack?"
"I-I think– I wasn't there, sir, it's been just a dream." Said Harry. He couldn't have teleported to the Ministry of Magic, attacked Mr Weasley and then teleported back to Hogwarts, could he?
"Of course, Mr Potter. We all know it was just a dream." Said the secretary. "Professor Dumbledore wants to know whether you watched as a spectator or whether you were watching from Mr Weasley's point of view."
"I-I was the snake." Said Harry helplessly. Ronald Weasley and Professor McGonagall cast him disbelieving glances.
"Minerva, could you go and wake up the rest of the Weasley children?"
"Tara?" Dumbledore bid her as the door banged shut after Professor McGonagall.
"If the possessor has excellent control over the animal, it might be possible for his mind to be present as well." Said Tara. "Although we don't usually study things like that. It would require an extremely unusually strong bond with the animal and we have not found such a strong wizard– But there is a theoretical presumption it could be possible, especially if the subject has been known for possessing minds in the past."
"If he could have done it with Quirrell, then why not with the snake?" Said Snape.
"I DID NOT CONTROL THE SNAKE!" Bellowed Harry.
"Miss Henley, why don't you take Mr Potter to your office for a cup of hot chocolate?" Asked Dumbledore calmly. When he saw Harry opening his mouth in protest, he added: "I'll take care of everything else."
Harry found himself being dragged into the adjacent office. Miss Henley seated him into one of the plush armchairs rather roughly, and conjuring a cup of steaming cocoa covered with whipped cream, she said kindly: "You've had a terrible nightmare, Harry. It's just right for you to breathe deeply and calm yourself down a bit."
"But I don't want to rest, I want to help–" Harry stammered, but Miss Henley silenced him mercilessly by thrusting the cup into his hands and ordering him to have a sip. He obeyed, finding the beverage surprisingly satisfying. He swallowed a few more cups and found out he felt much better now. He didn't even know why he was so insistent on helping – it would have been much better to crawl into his warm bed and sink into sweet slumber!
"Now, Harry," Miss Henley bent towards him across the table and giving a warm smile, said: "Remember the dream. Replay it in your head, I want to see it."
Not really knowing why he obeyed this strange woman, he complied. Maybe because she gave him such a delicious cocoa – would she give him more if he obeyed?
"Don't close your eyes," he could hear her voice, "look at me."
The instant his green eyes met her brown ones, he found her gaze imbibing into his. The next thing he knew, he was sucked into his own head, repeating the dream. Miss Henley walked next to him, watching silently, as his slick scales slid on the floor. He could see Arthur Weasley dozing on the ground… He wanted to attack him, he so desperately wanted to dig his sharp fangs into his warm body…
-oOo-
There was a light tap at his classroom door. Unusual, he thought, I rarely get disturbed during my lessons. If it is not the insufferable Ministry Inquisitor, that is. As the door opened, he could see the pretty little head of Dumbledore's secretary peeping shyly into the classroom.
"Um, I… Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you." She stammered, and she wished she could do anything but talk to the disagreeable professor. He turned around from the blackboard and casted her a very, very stern look.
"I am not available now, Miss Secretary." He said dryly.
"But sir, he said it was urgent and that I was to fetch you."
"Fetch yourself what you like, Miss Secretary, but some people cannot go wandering the castle whenever they please." He retorted and was more and more disagreeable.
"I can watch the classroom for you, sir, until you return." She suggested shyly and could see his dark eyes flicking dangerously in her direction.
"Very well then." He said with a wicked smile and walked swiftly amongst the cauldrons, his cloak billowing after him. "Sleeping Concoction. You surely know on what page you can find it, or how to prepare it, because, as you said, you could watch the classroom." He finished with a smirk and a few Slytherin students gave an amused chuckle.
"Of course, Professor, Intermediate Potions, page 457." She answered with a blush and a faint smile. His wicked smirk froze on his lips and he flicked his eyes after her one more time before he exited the classroom.
"Continue watching your potions!" She yelled anxiously. "Give them a stir when they start to turn pink and don't let them turn red!"
"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" Snape asked politely, but his years of experience told Dumbledore the man was cross. No wonder, Snape hated being disturbed in whatever he was just doing, and Dumbledore was sure the man would blame his secretary for the disturbance and disorder in his class when he would return.
"The connection between Harry's mind and Voldemort's is getting stronger. I need you to teach him Occlumency, Severus." The old man said.
"Do you think I don't have enough work?" The man smirked. "I wouldn't count teaching Potter privately as one of my favourite pass-times, Dumbledore."
"Severus, please." The man looked at him helplessly. "With Voldemort's free access to Harry's mind, we're all vulnerable. Especially him. Can you imagine what the Dark Lord could make him do? You and I are both aware of the exceptional powers of persuasion he has. He could convince him of anything and the poor boy's mind is too weak to resist, we both know that. If that's not enough, remember Ginny Weasley."
"Alright." The man grunted and gritted his teeth. Dumbledore gave a smile and nodded. The tall slender man turned around and walked out of his office. They have grown to understand each other very well. So well that Severus knew he couldn't offend Dumbledore with his behaviour. The old man knew him too well.
When he walked back into his classroom, the pupils were at work. Miss Henley was pacing between the cauldrons with a shy smile and observed the endeavour of the students. He casted a few glimpses at their potions and could see only few which didn't meet his expectations. She clearly gave them advice, he thought, something which he would have never done. Now he would have to give them exceptionally good marks. I'll find a way out of having to mark their potions, he thought, I won't give them good grades.
"Professor?" She gave him a very nice smile and fixed her eyes on him. I got this, her eyes said. I got this and you have nothing to do about that.
"Miss Henley." He said curtly and held the door for her in a silent hope she would leave immediately.
"They are a very good class, they've all managed their potions very well." She gave a wide smile again and looked round the class in a patronising way.
"You don't teach this subject, Miss Henley, I do." He almost snapped at her. "As a person from outside, it's obvious you're quite lenient. Your words of praise are not at all adequate."
Her smile froze, she understood that he wasn't going to let her win. She walked swiftly towards the door he was holding, and said: "I still consider the majority of the potions well-made. Good day to you, Professor." She walked out of the class swiftly, leaving him in charge of closing the door after her. He banged it shut and walked towards his writing desk, his cloak billowing behind him. The class got completely silent, they all saw Miss Henley had angered him greatly.
"I won't be marking your foolish attempts today. Consider yourselves lucky, you were left in charge with an incompetent individual – that is to the reason of why you won't receive your marks. Potter, stay behind, your potion was the worst of all. I'll probably have to teach you how to chop your moon petals properly, it seems you can't even hold your knife right."
Harry put on a sulky face and reluctantly stayed behind. Ron looked utterly bewildered because he liked the lesson and could see nothing wrong with it. The only person as sulked as Harry was Hermione who felt greatly offended – she believed she managed to brew an exceptionally good Sleeping Concoction, even Miss Henley said so, and all her efforts were wasted.
"Tuesday, 7 p.m., my office. You'll be taught what the Headmaster thinks necessary for you to learn."
Harry's eyes glistened with excitement: "Does it anything to do with Vol-"
"Shut your little mouth and be off!"
