Author's Notes: Oh look. Ginny is concerned about Harry too.
In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a favorite amongst the classes for Slytherins, besides Draco who could find reason to be offended by a flobberworm if he wanted.
"Look at the state of his robes," he would say to Harry in aside as they walked out of Professor Lupin's class. "You would think on Hogwarts' salary he would be able to at least afford second-robes that weren't so tattered."
But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied red caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From red caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.
During Arithmancy, Harry had been placed into the 'Extended Learning' group with Hermione and a few other Muggle-borns. They began advanced lessons in algebra and geometry while the rest of the class worked on their basic arithmetic. It wasn't very difficult to Harry. The lessons were structured so that he could get the homework done in class after he finished the class work.
Harry's least favorite class was Potions, and not because of the easy, detail-oriented course-load; as a Slytherin, Harry was treated as superior to other Houses, but Harry could not shake off the hypocritical and unfair behavior of the Potions Master. in addition, the bullying adult had continued being particularly vindictive towards Neville.
Of course, Harry interceded when the bullying was too vicious to be allowed; the only positive change with the greasy-haired git was that Harry wasn't given detention for his cheek, so long as he was making a polite suggestion rather than confronting the adult head-on.
When Harry remarked on this to Theodore, he learned that Neville's boggart had assumed Snape's form. It was Draco who went further, describing how Neville had cast the Ludicrous Charm and placed the Snape-boggart into clothing that sounded uncannily like Mrs. Longbottom's.
Harry had laughed terribly hard at this. Draco appeared outraged that his godfather was being laughed at. It certainly explained why Snape's eyes would flash dangerously at the mention of Professor Lupin or boggarts, and why he'd targeted Neville. Not that it excused the adult for any of his nasty, childish behavior, but it would certainly help Harry in avoiding this particular pitfall with Snape.
Meanwhile, the hours spent in Professor Babbling's stifling room deciphering anagrams and runic circles was also something Harry dreaded. He tried not to trouble himself about who would be trapped next in her Runic Patterns. Ever since the first class, the students had desperately looked for an obvious clue to avoid Theodore's fate. Harry had taken to simply picking a new seat each time since the students who remained in the same seat over and over again —like Hermione—were more likely to be caught. By the fifth week of school, the first week of October, nearly half of the students had dropped out as Professor Babbling had predicted. Even though she was treated with respect bordering reverence by Sally-Anne, Theodore, and Zabini, Harry couldn't like the Ancient Runes professor.
Hermione, at least, was in agreement with Harry. "It's not right the way she teaches us. The Runic Arts aren't to be trifled with so frivolously. One of these days, someone is going to be sent to the infirmary!" Harry hoped the Gryffindor wouldn't drop out of the class; he missed seeing her when they didn't share the same class, even when he didn't say a word to her. He'd sent her letters, but her responses hadn't been as put together as they normally were. Apparently, her workload was very hefty. Harry thought she might be doing far more school work than was really necessary to pass her classes, but forgave her for what was a minor personal failing.
As for Care of Magical Creatures, very few liked it after the first action-packed class. The lessons had become dull, not that Harry particularly minded. The class was now spending lesson after lesson learning to look after flobberworms. He rather preferred boring creatures over dangerous ones. Poor Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence and was constantly looking to Harry for permission. The professor must feel so guilty about the hippogriff's attack that to make amends he tried to subordinate himself to Harry, a mere student. Harry of course never had anything bad to say about his lessons, which seemed to miff the Gryffindors.
"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" Ron's loud voice complained, after they had all spent another hour poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' slimy throats.
"To get a common ingredient to thicken potions and an important component in Sleeping Draughts, you idiot," Draco muttered under his breath. Harry gave him a wry smile, appreciating that he, for once, didn't bait the quick-tempered Gryffindor. Across from Harry, Goyle and Crabbe exchanged a look.
Sally-Anne as usual was silent and observant as she progressed on the task Hagrid had given them.
With the start of October, Harry had something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable it more than made up for his unsatisfactory classes and his left arm that occasionally twinged even after Madam Pomfrey had removed the sling and bandages. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Team Captain, had called practice to get the Slytherin team ready for the new season.
There were seven people who could actively play during a Quidditch match: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, globe-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot high hoops at each end of the field for ten points each; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two leather balls that were Enchanted to zoom around and attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch (a winged, walnut-sized ball Enchanted to evade capture) which ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points. Besides those required seven fliers, a team could have reserve teammates on standby.
Marcus Flint was muscular and broad-shouldered with shifty grey eyes and a protruding overbite. He was supposed to have graduated last year, but as Harry had understood it Flint had failed too many of his N.E.W.T.S. and had to repeat a year.
"Alright, listen up," Flint's voice boomed, "Malfoy tells me that Hogwarts is rumored to host the Triwizard Tourney next year, and we all know that there won't be any Quidditch matches if that's the case."
Harry wasn't sure what the Triwizard Tournament was, but it must be rather important if Quidditch was cancelled for it. Hogwarts students were absolutely mad about Quidditch.
"Montague and I have changed the line-up," Flint continued, "Pucey, you'll be on Reserve this year so Warrington can get some experience in as a Chaser. Montague, I know you're ready to be Captain, so I'll let you call most the plays this season. Then you'll be good and ready to be Quidditch Captain next season. Malfoy, this year I want you trained as a Keeper so you'll be able to step in if something happens to Bletchley. Derrick and Bole, I want you to keep an eye out for a pair of younger housemates who'd make decent Beaters, and start training them off-broom. I expect Wood's desperate to win the Quidditch Cup for his house since he'll be graduating at the end of the year, so Urquhart—" Flint looked at the newest addition to their Quidditch Team. "You're here in case we need another Chaser." Flint pumped his right fist into the air. "Let's show those Gryffindors what it means to be the best Quidditch team in Hogwarts!"
They screamed their assent.
Full of purpose, the Slytherin Quidditch Team started training sessions, every Friday and Saturday evening. The weather was getting colder and wetter, and the nights darker. Unlike last year, Montague said it would be good for them to continue practicing in not-so-perfect conditions, so that no amount of mud, wind, or rain could slow them down during a match. As Slytherin's Seeker, Harry had happily suited up with the set of Quidditch pads Daphne had gifted him. Despite the pads being surprisingly flexible and lightweight, Harry had to spend agonizing hours re-calibrating and re-orienting himself on his broom; in addition to the pads, his left shoulder-blade pulled whenever he made a sharp turn or dip. Just those slight differences made his final approach vector to the Snitch slower or less reactive and Harry wanted nothing to prevent his catching of the Snitch. Fortunately, none of his teammates seemed to have noticed his predicament.
One evening after returning his broom to Flint after a particularly rough training session where he'd had to dodge Bludgers, Harry went back to the Slytherin common room. He was looking forward to sitting quietly in front of the roaring fire to warm his freezing limbs and stretch his stiff, sore body, except he found the common room buzzing excitedly.
"What's happened?" Harry asked Theodore, who was sitting close to the roaring hearth at the center of the room. His roommate was reading Unfogging the Future.
"First Hogsmeade weekend is on Halloween," Theodore said nonchalantly.
"Excellent," Draco said gleefully from behind Harry's right shoulder. "That Firebolt in Three Hoops is mine."
Quidditch pads creaking, Harry slumped into the empty chair closest to the fire next to Theodore, his high spirits at improving his flying performance in Quidditch ebbing away.
"Once Black's caught, I'm sure you'll be allowed to go," Theodore said to him quietly. Harry wondered if his friend might be a Legilimens, too.
"I can always order it by owl," Draco said indifferently, "And I've already been to Hogsmeade plenty of times."
Harry looked at them with a blank look. "I can keep myself entertained, thanks. Besides you'll miss the opportunity of lessened adult supervision if you don't go, Draco."
"You know me so well." Draco's teeth were very white when he smiled, likely thinking about harassing the students he didn't like. "I'm going to get myself cleaned up and go to bed. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Theodore and Harry responded.
Still smirking, their roommate went up the tower stairs.
A few weeks later, on Halloween morning, Harry awoke before the rest of his roommates and did his usual exercise-and-stretch regime. By the time everyone was ready, Harry went up to breakfast. He felt off, but did his best to act normally. He'd spent the last week enduring several excited conversations of what his housemates were going to do first once they'd made it to Hogsmeade. Harry saw that Draco and his two pawns were speaking to another older year. Harry wondered what he was up to. Was the other teen covering his bases before he bullied or simply seeking information? Draco often talked to their older housemates during mealtimes; he'd done the very same thing last year.
Towards the end of breakfast, Ginny Weasley surprised Harry by popping up beside him; she seemed oblivious to the hostility from the Slytherins sitting around him. "I heard you can't go to Hogsmeade, Harry. I know someone who could forge—"
"You're not very smart, are you?" Tracey laughed. "If that was truly an option, we would have already suggested it. It would be too easy to verify Professor Snape's signature, so the chances of Harry getting caught and given detention is nearly certain. And, the professor's already warned the prefects that Harry is not to be seen in Hogsmeade. So he can't very well sneak out either, can he?"
Harry might've snuck out if he'd gotten his magic cloak back from Snape. Unfortunately the Death Eater would know what Harry was up to the moment he asked for his priceless family heirloom back. Harry had already tried to use the Summoning Charm on it to no avail.
Face reddening, Ginny frowned. "Look, you. Can't you see he's depressed? Have any of you tried to cheer him up?"
Harry thought he was hardly depressed.
"You've spent an awful lot of time staring at him," Daphne said, appraising her.
"Have not. Anyone with eyes can see it."
"Not unless they're a Legilimens, which you aren't." Daphne grinned with the look of someone who was about to impart an embarrassing secret. "Admit it; you're madly in love with him."
Tracey, Pansy, and Bulstrode laughed at that announcement.
Every part of Ginny's pale skin from her neck up turned scarlet. "I am not."
"Is that so?" Pansy said with a leer. "I heard you made Seeker for Gryffindor's team. Did you think it might make you stand a head above his other admirers?"
"I loved Quidditch before I even met Harry, and I love it now! Unlike someone with a birdbrain like yours, no boy would make me go silly enough to like what I don't!" Ignoring the mocking noises from Pansy and her friends, Ginny Weasley stormed away. She was completely unresponsive to the nasty taunts of Slytherins down the table.
"Rawr," Bulstrode uttered and the other three laughed uproariously at that.
Harry sighed and poked at the rest of his steak with a fork.
"We'll bring you sweets back from Honeydukes," Sally-Anne offered, looking sad on Harry's behalf.
"Or," Theodore said, "I could buy something for you from Three Hoops."
The last thing Harry wanted was pity from his friends. "Don't worry about me," he said in what he hoped was a casual voice, "I want you both to have fun without worrying about me."
"We want you to have fun too," Sally-Anne insisted.
"I'll read or something."
Thankfully, they were used to this response from him and dropped it at that.
He accompanied them to the Entrance Hall where Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, was addressing the third years. By her side was Argus Filch, the Caretaker of Hogwarts, who was checking off names against a long list. He accepted signed permission slips from the students who'd waited the last moment and wrote their name onto the list.
"Remember, these visits to Hogsmeade are a privilege. Should your behavior reflect poorly on our school in any way that privilege shall not be extended again," Professor McGonagall said primly.
"Those with permission, follow me. Those without, stay put." Filch looked nastily in Harry's direction. Harry obediently went to stand on the steps.
"Staying? Are you that scared of passing the dementors, Potter?" Finnigan's voice cut through the crowd.
"I'd be careful if I were you Finnigan," Draco shouted, "I bet that banshee was wailing for you!"
"That's enough, Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall scolded.
Harry's housemates and other friends—Neville, Ron, and Hermione—waved good-bye and then he watched them walk past the fountain in the courtyard. He turned and listlessly made his solitary way through Hogwarts, having no destination in mind.
"Hey, Harry." It was Ginny. She stepped next to him, keeping in step with him.
"Hi." He continued walking unenthusiastically down the corridor.
Ginny walked with him. "Where're you going?"
"Library," he said.
"Oh."
Halfway there he changed his mind. There wasn't anything in particular he wanted to work on right now. He sighed.
"What are you sighing about?"
He looked at her. She had a bright, encouraging smile. Harry thought she might not leave him alone even if he ignored her. "Do you really like Quidditch?"
"Yes," she said with the air of a person used to being doubted.
"You're the only girl I know who does," he said, turning to climb another staircase. He thought vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig.
"I noticed there weren't any girls on the Slytherin Team. Ron thought it was because your house had rules against it."
"No, there's no interest. There weren't any girls at the tryouts." Now that it came to his attention, he remembered that every other House had girls on their teams. "Maybe their parents don't let them," he said.
"Maybe," she said. "So, where are we going?"
"Nowhere at the moment."
She chuckled. "Okay." When the silence stretched too long, Ginny then began to talk at length about how difficult it'd been to get her brothers to play informal Quidditch matches at home with her. At first, they hadn't wanted to because they saw a weak little girl without any skill instead of someone who was passionate and eager to learn. "Years later, when I became good at scoring points, Fred and George changed the rules or gave me handicaps," she said proudly. "I'm sure they meant to bully me out of wanting to play but it made me a better flier instead, and I liked the challenge."
"What's your favorite position?"
"Chaser, but I'm nowhere near the skill compared to the others, and they needed someone small and skilled on a broom to compete with you. You fly like you were born on a broom."
"Thanks. It's one of the only things I'm good at."
Ginny laughed at that. "Ron says you're good at Potions, too."
"It helps that I don't have a hostile Potions Master breathing down my neck every time I brew." He glanced at her. "And it's not that different from cooking something that requires the directions to be followed precisely. Except with more wandwork."
"You cook?"
"I did," Harry hedged, wishing he hadn't brought it up because she appeared excited for some reason. As they were walking along another corridor, a voice called out from one of the rooms. "Harry? Ginny?"
Ginny paused before she asked anything, and they both peered through the open door. They had made it to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, without even noticing.
"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," came Professor Lupin's warm voice.
"You aren't. My friends are in Hogsmeade." Harry attempted to say this like it didn't bother him at all.
"I thought he might like company," Ginny said.
"Ah," the professor said, considering them for a moment. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken a delivery of grindylow for my third-year classes."
Harry had already seen the creatures outside the Slytherin common room's windows and read about them in Newt Scamander's reference text. So when he stepped into the professor's office it wasn't with surprise when he saw a large tank of water.
Ginny made a noise of disgust at the sickly green creature with little horns on its head and face, octopus tentacles where the legs should be. Reminded of Ra-ee-ahtri's pet, Harry thought the water demon looked mostly harmless. At the moment, its face was pressed against the glass in between long, spindly fingers pulling faces at them.
"You shouldn't have much difficulty with him, Harry, not after the kappas last week. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle," Professor Lupin said, surveying the solitary grindylow thoughtfully.
Having possibly overheard Professor Lupin, the grindylow bared its green teeth in a threatening manner and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in the corner.
"We've just dealt with Nogtails," Ginny said. "Might be a good idea to have a white crup just to keep them away."
Harry didn't remember what those were, though he knew they were a type of Dark creature.
"Yes, largely harmless unless you want to grow food," Professor Lupin said agreeable. "Would either of you like a cup of tea?" Professor Lupin looked around until he found a kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."
"Okay," Harry said awkwardly.
"Yes, please," Ginny said with more enthusiasm.
Professor Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand, and a blast of steam issued from the spout. "Have a seat." The professor took the lid off a dusty tin. "How do you take your tea?"
"Two lumps of sugar," Harry answered.
"Two lumps, and a great dollop of cream."
"Your classes going alright?" Professor Lupin made Ginny's tea first and then Harry's.
"Yes," Ginny said. "This year is going much better than last. It helps that I made it on the Quidditch team. Any frustrations I have can get worked out during practice."
"That would do it," the professor agreed, setting the cups of prepared tea in front of her and Harry. "And you, Harry?"
Harry took a sip of the tea, warming his icy fingers. He didn't need to talk about the upcoming court case over who was going to be his legal guardian or his spat with Snape.
"I apologize if this sounds forward, but you look as if you need to share what's on your mind," Professor Lupin said.
Harry fished around his head, thinking of what might be relevant... and then remembered what he'd heard on the train, what Harry now heard in his dreams. He glanced at Ginny and suddenly the words locked in his throat. "It's nothing."
"If you want to talk to him alone, I can go," Ginny offered.
Taking another swallow of tea, he set it on the provided saucer and turned the cup. "It's not that important," he said to the table.
Setting the tea cup down, Ginny stood. "Thank you for the tea, Professor Lupin."
"You're very welcome, Ginny."
"See you around, Harry."
"Yeah," Harry said, distracted. Once she had gone, he fumbled with his cup. The silence grew intense.
"You know, it's quite alright if you don't want to share," the professor said amiably.
Harry stared at the surface of his tea. "I want to talk about… how I heard someone scream on the train."
The adult was an excellent listener. He waited instead of prompting Harry.
Watching the steam rise from his hot drink, Harry took a long breath. "It was a woman," Harry told the teacup. "I'm fairly sure she was my mother, the night she was murdered..." Harry looked up at Professor Lupin whose expression showed a complicated mix of loss and wariness. "I've never told anyone, but after Voldemort's spirit attacked me two years ago I think a memory came to the surface. I heard him tell my mum to step aside. She wouldn't, so he killed her. Then he came for me." Harry took a sip of the tea to wet his dry lips.
There was a long pause. Harry expected that most people wouldn't know what to say to that and would change the subject.
"I'm sorry that you've experienced something so terrible," came the professor's soft voice. "You were just a toddler when it happened."
Harry found that he was the one lost for words. He looked up into kind grey eyes.
"You know… The very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately."
He lifted a hand to his forehead.
"Not by your scar, but by your eyes." Professor Lupin looked off distantly. "They're your mother's, Lily's, eyes."
"I…" Harry knew that his mother had the exact shade of green he had, but that meant that—
"Yes," Professor Lupin nodded, standing. "Oh, yes. I knew her." He paced over to his small suitcase of books, his hands clutching at the spines. "Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was."
Harry listened attentively.
"Not only was she a singularly gifted witch… she was also an uncommonly kind woman," Professor Lupin told the window.
It was not the first time Harry had heard that his mother was brilliant at magic and known for her kindness. He grimaced knowing it was Snape who'd told him that. Harry preferred to think of the talking mirror's description of her: Beautiful and full of love for Harry.
The professor seemed lost in thought for a moment and then said, "She had a way of seeing the good in others even, and most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves."
Harry felt a bitter smile curve his lips as he took another drink of his cooling tea. That happy-sad feeling he'd first experienced in front of the Mirror of Erised clawed inside his chest like a hippogriff's talons. He missed his parents terribly, even though he'd never known them.
"And your father, James, and I were friends… and he on the other hand… he… Hm." Professor Lupin chuckled, turning to look at Harry fondly. "He had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed on to you."
There was a knock on the door before Harry had thought to defend himself.
"Come in," Professor Lupin called.
The door opened and in came Professor Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.
"Ah, Severus," the DADA professor said smiling, "Thank you."
The greasy-haired git set down the smoking goblet on the desk in front of Professor Lupin, his eyes wandering between him and Harry. Harry scowled at him.
"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" Professor Lupin said pleasantly, pointing at the window.
"Mesmerizing," Snape said without looking outside. "You should drink that directly," he told Lupin as if Harry weren't there.
"Yes, yes I will."
"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued, "should you need more."
"I'll take some more tomorrow. Thank you, Severus."
Snape turned to Harry. "You have detention. Now."
"What have I done this time?" Harry bit out.
"You did not attend lunch."
Instead of arguing on that point, Harry asked, "Why are you personally delivering potions to Professor Lupin?"
"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted this potion for me since I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex," Professor Lupin answered.
"Why—?"
"Potter, that is none of your business."
"It's alright, Severus. He's only curious." Professor Lupin gave Harry a smile. "I've been feeling off-color and this potion is the only thing that helps. I'm very lucky to be working alongside Potions Master Snape since there aren't very many who could brew it." As Professor Lupin took a sip and shuddered, Harry fought the urge to knock the goblet out of his hands. He trusted that it was not within the Death Eater's benefit to poison Harry, but he was not so sure the same case could be applied to Professor Lupin who held the very teaching position Snape wanted. "Pity sugar makes it useless," the professor added, taking another gulp of potion.
Snape's hand grasped Harry by the shoulder and began to pull him backwards from the room. "We will be on our way, professor."
Harry thought that Snape's behavior was very odd.
"I'll see you at the feast later," Professor Lupin said.
Once they'd left the office, Snape swung the wand he'd already had in hand at Lupin's door, closing it slowly.
Harry blinked. Snape only ever took his wand out if he meant to use it… or if he felt there was some danger. "You're acting strangely," Harry said, narrowing his eyes, "Paternal, even."
Snape snorted and flicked his hands in the direction of the dungeons. "Move," he said snidely, "And collect your schoolbag before you enter the Potions lab for detention."
Harry deliberately dragged his feet, not particularly enjoying the thought.
Once he fetched his bag and made it to the dungeon classroom, Snape set Harry to work brunoising cod liver.
After nearly an hour of that, Harry placed the tiny cubes of liver into a jar and then into a cupboard that had a Cooling Charm on it. He then cleaned up his station. Standing a good distance away, Harry finally asked the Potions Master, "Where are Lucy and Sam? It's been several weeks already."
"How should I know?" Snape answered with a severe look. "Pull out your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and turn to page three hundred ninety-four."
"Are you ever going to return my Invisibility Cloak?" Harry pulled it out, along with a blank piece of parchment and his writing tools.
"You missed your window of opportunity."
"You said you would give it to me after I spent the night in the infirmary!"
"No, you specifically asked for it to be returned the day after I received it, that was the only day I would have willingly returned it to you this year," Snape said, obviously relishing his use of a verbal loophole. "Now, turn to page three hundred ninety-four."
Harry slammed the book open, flipping to the page specified. Draco's greatest fear, the dog-like creature, appeared on the page. "Werewolves? But we just covered kappas," Harry said, puzzled.
"You will write an essay, to be handed in to me, on how to distinguish between the werewolf and a true wolf, the ways you recognize an un-Changed werewolf, and lastly how to kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject and I want them by the second Monday of November. Do you understand?"
"I don't."
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Don't be smart with me. Tonight is hardly the night to test my patience."
Remembering it was the Thirty-First of October, the night that Harry's parents had been murdered and Voldemort had been destroyed, Harry met his black eyes steadily. "I don't understand why you want me to learn about them all of a sudden."
"Because they are dangerous," Snape hissed out, his yellowed teeth bared.
"Only one night out of the month," Harry argued, gesturing to the open book. "Otherwise, they're just like everyone else."
Snape snorted. "I want two rolls of parchment by Monday."
"What?! But I only have two days—"
"And if you do not, I will assign twice as many detentions for each day the essay is late."
"You are a bastard," Harry growled.
"Detention for your insolence," Snape said already appearing as if he was thinking of more important things, "Tomorrow."
As Harry ground his teeth down, the greasy-haired git slowly stalked to his classroom office, leaving the door open. Cursing under his breath, Harry began to read the chapter on werewolves.
"There you are!" Theodore said, his head poking into the Potions classroom. "The Bloody Baron said you were down here. What'd you do?"
"I lost track of time and skipped lunch," Harry said, frantically writing another sentence on the strength and healing ability of un-Changed werewolves.
"What's he assigned you?" A large bag was set on the table next to Harry but he didn't even look up.
"Two rolls of parchment to be turned in by Monday," Harry answered, adding another sentence about the protein intake requirements of an un-Changed werewolf.
Theodore's shadow fell over him. "Werewolves, huh."
"What do you mean, huh," Harry said, taking the moment to rest his cramped hand. He'd managed to write half a roll already.
"Well we both can detect them, can't we? No need to know any of this," Theodore said as he gestured to the drying ink of parchment.
Harry blinked and then pushed his hand through his fringe. "Merlin, I forgot to put it back on."
"Yeah, it would be nice to wear it with dementors circling about the grounds, wouldn't it?" Theodore teased. "Why'd you take it off?" His friend sat on the stool next to him.
Harry hesitated, took out his wand, and then cast "Muffliato." Theodore's blue eyes looked at him with question. "I smuggled in a breeding pair of Lionsnakes."
Theodore gave a surprised laugh. "What!? Bloody hell, that's amazing. How did you get them? A breeding pair even!"
"Longbottom has an established colony of them in the forest surrounding his home, courtesy of his parents," Harry said, brightening at Theodore's impressed tone. "I'm not sure where Lucy and Sam are at the moment; they should turn up eventually."
The color drained from Theodore's face. "Wait, please tell me the headmaster knows."
Harry gave him a look. "Of course he does. I wouldn't want them eviscerated by the wards."
Theodore relaxed. "Oh good. He's probably helping them get situated. Want to go ask him when you're ready for a break?"
Canceling the spell, Harry grimaced. "Maybe next weekend. I have to get this done by Monday."
His friend looked at the parchment with a sympathizing look. "Well, I'd let you, but I thought you might want to know that the Halloween Feast starts in about fifteen minutes."
Standing up, Harry quickly gathered his things and shoved them into the schoolbag. He paused by Snape's office. The wizard was staring off as if he could peer straight through the stone of Hogwarts' foundation. "Professor, we're going to dinner."
Snape looked up. "Very well." His tone was oddly subdued and lacking any heat.
Harry almost asked him what was the matter but Theodore pulled him away. "Don't push your luck. He looks like he'd down a bottle of Firewhiskey if he wasn't our Head of House."
Shrugging, Harry climbed the stairs to the Entrance Hall and then crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the enchanted ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.
The food was delicious as usual. Harry kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful talking animatedly with Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, who sat by another professor who was dressed in Muggle clothes and was reading a book that had a picture of Stephen Hawking upon it. Harry assumed she was the Muggle Studies professor. Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, was chatting with a bushy-haired professor with thick glasses, reminding Harry of Goyle's frizzle-haired McGonagall-boggart. She must be the Divinations professor who was obsessed with the 'Inner Eye'.
On the other side of Madam Hooch, Professor Hagrid was drinking quite a bit, and the flamboyantly dressed Professor Dumbledore smiled every time Harry met his twinkling eyes. Beside the headmaster, Professor McGonagall, the Transfigurations teacher, was engaged in conversation with Professor Sprout, who sat beside Professor Vector, Professor Babbling and Madam Pomfrey.
When the dessert course came out, Harry noticed that Snape had finally joined the other staff at the High Table. Snape didn't touch the food that had appeared in front of him and hardly looked at the Slytherin table. Instead, the Potions Master's eyes kept flicking toward Lupin more often than Harry thought was normal.
The feast finished with an entertainment provided by Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables doing formation gliding. The Bloody Baron was ballroom dancing above the Slytherin table with another female ghost Harry didn't recognize. Despite the bright silver blood down the front of his robes, the Bloody Baron looked very lordly.
It had been such a pleasant evening after the grind of essay-work that Harry's good mood couldn't be spoiled by Finnigan who shouted at Harry as he left the Great Hall with Theodore and Sally-Anne, "The dementors send their love, Potter!"
"Finnigan hasn't yet figured out that the reason he's been to the infirmary so often in the past two weeks is because he can't keep his mouth shut," Theodore said under his breath with a dark glint in his eye as they went down the stairs, surrounded by other Slytherins chatting to one another. "How unlucky does a bloke have to be to find mildly hexed and cursed objects keyed to him?"
"Theo…" Harry said and then decided that criticizing him might make him do it even more.
"What? Bullies don't stop unless they're given ample motivation to."
He sighed.
"It's much better than whatever Draco's planning," Sally-Anne said.
"What's he planning?"
They stepped off the staircase and onto the stone floor leading to the Thin Lady's portrait.
"He's gathered up a group of Slytherins to corner Finnigan and his ilk next time we go to Hogsmeade."
Of course Draco would wait until Finnigan was in Hogsmeade to avoid Harry's inevitable intervention. "Theo, can you make sure it doesn't go too far?"
"Sure," Theodore said, "But you might want to talk to him yourself. He'd listen to you."
They stopped at the edge of a crowd. The Thin Lady looked at them all with pursed lips.
"Make way!" Prefect Gilbert said, pushing through the crowd. "Why haven't you let anyone through yet?" He asked the portrait.
"You must return to the Great Hall, immediately," she said sharply. "On Professor Snape's orders."
"You heard her!" Prefect Farley said, but when no one moved she called out, "You in the back! Go back upstairs!"
"What's going on?" "Why do we have to go back?" "I'm tired!" Despite sounding frustrated, they obediently went back upstairs.
Not ten minutes later, they re-entered the Great Hall, noticing that all the other students from other houses were there as well. The Slytherins watched apprehensively as Professor McGonagall and Caretaker Filch closed all the doors.
"I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice carrying over the hushed heads of the students in the Great Hall. "I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl in authority. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately by one of the ghosts. The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. You are not to leave this room."
"Where are we going to sleep?" Draco hissed next to Harry's ear.
About to leave the hall, the headmaster paused and said, "Oh yes, you'll be needing…" One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls. Another wave and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.
"Sleep well," Professor Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him.
The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly.
"Harry!" A young voice cried out. "Harry! Sirius Black attacked the Fat Lady!"
Harry turned and saw Colin Creevey, a second year Gryffindor, with his camera hanging from a leather strap around his neck. "Who's the Fat Lady?"
"She's the portrait who holds the password to get into Gryffindor Tower," Creevey said, his eyes wide. "There were great gashes in the painting she stayed in as if he'd slashed it apart with a knife! And some chunks of it on the floor. It was a mess! I'll show you a photo of it once I've got it developed."
"Thank you, Creevey," Harry said. If Sirius Black was after Snape, why hadn't he attacked the Thin Lady in the Slytherin Dungeons? What did the madman want that was in Gryffindor Tower?
"I told you before, Harry! The name's Colin!" He chirped.
Grinning in amusement, Harry shook his head some.
"Hey, you're pretty," Creevey said to Sally-Anne, fingering his camera. "Could I take your photo?"
Harry had never seen Sally-Anne so red before. He clamped his hand over his mouth before he started laughing.
At her hesitant nod, the Gryffindor snapped her picture. "And you aren't bad-looking either," he announced to Theodore.
"Be my guest," Theodore said, taking a gallant pose and smiling in a relaxed manner. Soon the short Creevey was done, fearlessly pushing his way out of the cluster of Slytherins. "I like him," Theodore told Harry. "Can we keep him?"
Before Harry could answer, Prefect Simone Dedworth yelled over their heads. "Everyone into their sleeping bags!" She'd made prefect last year and was heads taller than anyone else.
"Lights out in ten minutes!" Prefect Ivan Renshaw, a fifth year, called out.
"Harry, the prefects have laid us out by year. I can show you where we're to be," Pansy said, Tracey and Daphne flanking her.
Harry nodded. Right away he noticed that his house had chosen the only windowless area of the Great Hall, a deep corner next to a side door which the headmaster used to enter and exit the Great Hall. The seventh, sixth, and fifth years were part of the outer circle, followed by fourth years, second years, and first years. Third years, for whatever reason had been placed in the innermost circle along the wall, and Harry's sleeping bag had its head pointed towards the corner, horizontal to the wall. Draco was already sitting on the sleeping bag beside him and Theodore took the empty one at Harry's feet.
"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Draco asked him after Harry had taken off his boots.
"Dumbledore obviously thinks he could be," Harry said as he crawled into his sleeping bag, fully clothed.
"But do you think he is?"
Harry shrugged. "I think when he failed to get what he wanted, he fled."
"How do you think he got in?" Tracey whispered over Crabbe's thickset shoulders.
"Apparation?" Harry suggested.
"You can't do that in Hogwarts, unless there's a Runic Pathway keyed to the wards or you're the headmaster," Theodore said.
"But Dobby did," Harry said.
"Elf Magic is different from our magic," Draco said matter-of-factly. Harry pulled up the sleeping bag to cover his chilled arms. Harry had never thought of that before, there being different kinds of magic. He'd always assumed that the magic used by Magical Creatures was the very same he used.
"Black could have Polyjuiced himself," Daphne offered.
"The dementors would have seen straight through that," Theodore said. "They're surrounding Hogwarts grounds. Black couldn't have snuck in either; Filch knows all the secret passages, he would've told the headmaster to make sure that they'd be covered with heavy Alerting Spells."
Stumped, Harry and his year-mates fell silent in thought.
"The lights will be going out in a few minutes. If you need to use the toilet, go stand by Prefect Dedworth or Wynch," Prefect Farley informed them.
Draco and a few others got up to use the loo, but Harry remained where he was. Harry turned over on his right side, feeling the chill from the stone wall in front of him. Head Boy Weasley on the other side of the hall was screaming at the top of his lungs about not talking; Harry thought that was a ridiculous proposition without drugging them all with Sleeping Draught.
Then the candles went out all at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about, and the enchanted ceiling, which was scattered with a breathtaking amount of stars. That and the whispering that filled the Great Hall, Harry felt as though he were camping outdoors. He was equally sure that he would not be able to sleep in a room crowded with nearly three hundred students.
When Harry's year-mates returned and bid him good night, Harry feigned sleep. He noticed that a different professor would reappear regularly to check in with the Head Boy or Head Girl.
Very early in the morning, or deep into the night, when everyone was breathing deeply, Harry sat up, leaned against the wall, and admired the full moon that had risen in the ceiling and streamed in through the tall windows, cast upon the Ravenclaws. It was about this time that the doors parted slightly and Professor Dumbledore strolled in. He chatted with any prefect who were awake as he made his way towards inner sanctum of the Hall. Harry quickly lay down and pretended to sleep as the headmaster drew nearer.
"Any sign of him, Professor?" Head Girl Penelope Clearwater asked in a soft whisper.
"No. All well here?"
"Everything's under control, sir."
"Good. There's no point moving everyone now that they've gone to sleep."
Harry heard the door closest to them creak open and more footsteps: Snape's footsteps.
"Headmaster?" Harry kept quite still, listening hard. "The dungeons have been checked and secured. The others have finished their search as well. No sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle."
"I didn't really expect Black to linger." It sounded to Harry that Dumbledore truly trusted Snape. Harry wasn't sure why such a powerful wizard could trust Snape so deeply when the world was just a chess game to him.
"Remarkable feat, don't you think?" Snape asked as they drew closer to the knot of sleeping Slytherins. "To enter Hogwarts castle on one's own, completely undetected…?"
"Quite remarkable," the headmaster agreed.
"Have you any theory as to how he managed that?"
"Many. Each as unlikely as the next," Professor Dumbledore said.
So, the adults hadn't figured out that Black was an Animagus. Harry opened his eyes a fraction and saw that the two wizards and a young witch were standing in the moonlight. The headmaster was looking towards Harry from where he stood at the edge of the seventh-year Slytherins. Head Girl Clearwater's face was blank, but attentive.
Snape though looked positively rigid with anger. "You may recall, Headmaster, prior to the start of term I expressed concerns about the appointment of—"
"Not a single professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black enter it," Professor Dumbledore said with tone that made it clear that the subject was closed. "I'm convinced that the school is safe. I will inform the dementors that our search has not turned up Black."
Harry watched the headmaster turn and walk out of the hall. Snape stood in the faint silvery light with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he, too, turned and left.
Draco shifted beside him, and Harry glanced sideways. Harry saw reflected light in the barely open eyes. Draco smiled. Without a smile back, Harry rolled onto his less tender side and stared at the dark wall. What was that about? He wondered.