CHAPTER FOUR: Momentum

Part 2

The welcoming feast this year was an exercise in restraint. Fellow Gryffindors kept asking about Hermione. Harry ignored the questions, pretending not to have heard them, but mere minutes into the banquet his patience was running thin. He'd had enough by the time Lavender started loudly speculating about a secret boyfriend that Hermione couldn't bear to leave behind. He was about to silence her, but Ron beat him to it.

"Hermione has a family matter to deal with," he said. "So maybe you should stop yapping on about things you know nothing of."

Lavender and Parvati glared at Ron, mouths agape in surprised outrage. Harry tried to see it from their perspective - Ron was hardly a gentleman, but he had never been so rude to a girl before. Apart from Parkinson, that is. And Ginny, though sisters seemed to fall under a different set of rules. Manners aside, the exchange warned everyone else away from the topic of Hermione's absence.

Harry wasn't hungry and just moved his food around on the plate until Ron nudged him in the side.

"Feast is over. Let's go."

They stood up and joined the river of bodies exiting the Great Hall, where the current split in two: Slytherins and Hufflepuffs moved towards the dungeons, while Gryffindors and Ravenclaws started their usual climb up to the moving staircases. When they reached the first floor, someone sought them out at the rear of the crowd of Gryffindors, where they trailed a fair distance behind second years.

"Hey, guys. Good summer?" Dean asked.

Harry spotted a prefect's badge pinned to his robe. He had been wondering who would get it. Neither him nor Ron were exactly role models.

"That would depend on your definition of 'good'..."

"It sucked," said Ron. "What do you want?"

"Forget I asked," said Dean, rolling his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office. Classes don't start until Monday. Did you crash a car into the castle this time?"

Ron's expression darkened and he jammed his hands into his pockets. "I don't suppose this could wait until tomorrow?"

Dean shrugged. "Afraid not. He made it pretty clear you should leg it there right now."

"Yeah, we get it," Harry said. "And congrats on the badge, I guess."

Dean grinned at him. "Yeah, it was a complete surprise. I was sure you'd get it, actually."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not really one for sticking to the rules. You deserve it."

It was a hollow compliment, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "Thanks. I'll see you later."

Harry glanced at Ron. "How much do you want to bet Snape will be there?"

"No bet," Ron said. "I don't have any money to lose."

Harry's thoughts drifted as he and Ron walked towards Dumbledore's office. Malfoy had no Dark Mark. He had been so sure...

Absence of evidence didn't mean evidence of absence. Just because Malfoy wasn't Marked didn't remove him from the suspect list - a list that, so far, only featured one name. According to Sirius, one of the senior Death Eaters would have been present, but the initiate did all the work.

Before he knew it, they stood before the gargoyle, realising only now that Dean hadn't given them a password.

Ron tilted his head. "So... should we name all of Honeydukes' stuff alphabetically, or..."

The gargoyle then moved on its own. Ron looked at him quizzically. "How does he do that?"

"We passed a few portraits on the way here," Harry said. "Although I've always wondered about the gargoyle."

"Isn't it just a statue?"

"It's Dumbledore," Harry said, shrugging.

They ascended the spiral staircase to the heavy oak door. Harry could have sworn the griffin ornament glanced at him before the door opened before them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Please, come in."

There were two chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, but there was also Snape in a corner, trying to merge with the bit of shadow cast by one of the bookshelves. Harry didn't need to talk to Ron to agree on not exposing their backs to Snape. They moved to the opposite side of the room.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said. Ron maintained a watchful stare on Snape, apparently having decided Harry should do the talking.

Snape grimaced at them from his corner. "Typical."

"Severus," Dumbledore said with a hint of reprimand. "We are here because of a letter Professor Snape received shortly before the welcoming feast. In this letter, Pansy Parkinson claims you attacked her and her friends on the train, unprovoked. Is this true?"

"Sure, snakes cry and run to Snape," Ron blurted out. "What about every time Malfoy came looking for a fight?"

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley."

"Don't bother, Headmaster," Snape said. He turned to look at Ron. "If such incidents ever took place, you should have reported them to your Head of House, as any sensible student would have done."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "It doesn't matter. Parkinson's claim is false."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

He met the Headmaster's eyes. "It wasn't unprovoked."

"Miss Parkinson wrote that you came into the compartment and after a brief verbal exchange started casting spells - without warning."

Harry looked at Snape crossly. "Why don't we invite Miss Parkinson to join us? In fact, let them all come. Can't they speak for themselves?"

"They are not at fault here, Potter."

"I disagree," Harry said venomously. "We have two bodies to back up our words."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop below freezing.

"Mr. Potter-" Dumbledore began.

"We were interrogating a suspected Death Eater," Harry interrupted. "That's not a school matter as far I'm concerned."

Snape took a step forward. A grimace flashed through his face when he stumbled, though Harry was sure he'd have missed it if he hadn't been watching the man. "Do you have any idea what-"

"No, and that's the problem," Ron snapped. "We have no idea because you're a shitty spy, and now Hermione's parents are dead!"

Three wands were drawn in a blink of an eye and just as quickly, they were out of their owners' hands.

"That is quite enough," said Dumbledore. He hadn't moved from his position, but his wand now rested on the desk in front of him, along with three others. "We can resolve this without violence. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, have you found any evidence indicating that any of the Slytherins you attacked is a Death Eater?"

Harry glared at Snape. "Not yet."

"Then the incident was an unprovoked attack on your fellow students. You will both serve detention with Professor Snape, at the time and place of his choosing. Furthermore, twenty points will be deducted from Gryffindor, for each of you. Lastly... if another such incident takes place, your punishment will be decided by the school governors."

"And what if Malfoy attacks us?" Harry demanded.

"If any student attacks another, they will be punished accordingly."

"Great," Ron muttered.

"Did you say something, Weasley?" Snape asked.

Ron's eyes narrowed when he looked at the man. "No... Professor."

"Monday. I will expect you in my office at eight," Snape said before collecting his wand and sweeping out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. Harry squinted. No, he didn't imagine it. Snape was favouring his left leg.

"That was bloody unfair, Professor," said Harry as soon as the door closed.

"How so?" asked Dumbledore. "No one granted you authority to interrogate suspected criminals. You attacked other students and so you shall be punished."

"Great. Can we go now?"

"In a minute. I haven't told you about the last part of your punishment yet." Dumbledore merely waved his hand and both their wands sailed gently towards them. "You will also serve detention with me."

That... is something new, Harry thought.

"I shall see you here on Sunday, at eight o'clock in the evening. Please, be punctual. You may go… unless there is something else you wish to tell me?"

They exchanged a glance.

"No, Professor," Harry said, "We'll see you on Sunday."

Downstairs, the gargoyle closed the passage behind them.

"Is this always how those things go?" Ron asked as they started the trek to the Gryffindor Tower.

"No. Usually there's more sweets," Harry said. "Say… did you notice something strange about Snape tonight?"

"His hair was even greasier than I remember, but I don't think that's what you mean," Ron said. "A little trouble walking, wasn't there?"

Harry nodded. "At the last meeting of the Order, Sirius said that maybe he'd pay Snape a visit."

"You think Sirius did that to him?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow as a hint of a smile curled his lips.

"Yes. And if I'm right, Snape must be really pissed. He won't let us get too close to Malfoy, not when he has to put on his one-man show for Voldemort."

Ron scoffed. "Malfoy is an idiot. He'll come to us. He always does."

Harry glanced at Ron. "He's never been hard to provoke…"

Ron gave a dark smile. "Maybe it's a good thing Hermione's not here yet."

~~oOo~~

It was Harry's first time beginning school with a weekend. He wasn't complaining. Not having to rush in the morning allowed him to collect his thoughts when he woke up. Yesterday had been mentally exhausting.

Ron's bed was empty and there were sounds coming from the bathroom. The others were still asleep. Harry dug through his trunk, not really knowing what he was looking for. Everything had gone exactly not the way it was supposed to. The letter he'd written to Snape in the summer, if it would have had any effect, was likely discarded after the affair on the train. He sat on the floor with his back to the bed, combing fingers through his hair. Just once he had wanted a year at Hogwarts without constant hostility in Potions, but that chance was now lost. And Hermione wasn't at Hogwarts – that was just wrong.

"Morning," Ron muttered, coming out of the bathroom, damp hair clinging to his forehead.

"Yeah..." Harry stood up, eyes falling to the bedside table, where his wand rested. "We've nothing to do today."

"Right. And?"

"We could get some practice in before Moody shows up."

Ron livened up at the suggestion, then frowned. "I thought we aren't supposed to go down there on our own."

"Hang the rules."

Ron nodded and collected his wand. "Alright. I'll be downstairs."

Ron left the dormitory. Harry glanced at the other beds. Curtains on all three were drawn. His roommates were rarely up at this hour on weekends. He wondered if they had any idea what was really happening out of sight. Wasn't Neville's grandmother friends with Dumbledore? He was sure she wasn't in the Order, but he imagined she must be suspecting something. He didn't know much about Dean and Seamus' families, apart from the fact that Seamus was Irish and Dean a half-blood.

It was a sobering thought - he had been sharing a room with them for four years now and he barely knew them. They played Exploding Snap sometimes and complained about Snape over Potions essays, but he had few close friends. Between Hermione and the Weasleys, he'd never felt inclined to expand his social circle.

Well, he thought, if I wasn't always busy trying not to get killed…

"Are coming or not?" Ron stood in the door. "I got bored waiting. Are you alright? You seemed miles away."

"I may have been," Harry said.

They left the tower and quickly made their way downstairs, using several handy shortcuts. They bumped into Fred and George into one of them.

"Hell-lo!" George hollered at them from the opposite end of the tunnel.

"Hi, guys," Ron said. "What are you up to?"

"'Up to'?" Fred asked with indignation. "Do you know us at all?"

"Carry on, gentlemen," Harry said as they passed each other. The twins each tipped an invisible hat to them and disappeared behind a corner.

"This passage connects to the one that leads directly to the dungeons," Ron pointed out. "I hope they covered the entrance to Slytherin dorms in Itching Powder."

Minutes later they landed at the bottom of the slide in the entrance tunnel. The basilisk found them just as they reached the door.

"Hello, Master," it hissed. "You haven't visited for some time."

"I'll be here much more regularly from now on,"

The basilisk tasted the air. "The others have come and gone, but they are… uninteresting."

"Yes, I don't imagine they're very talkative."

The basilisk glanced at him with one eye and blinked, letting out a muffled, rumbling sound.

"What's it doing?" Ron asked in a whisper.

"I think he's laughing," Harry said, surprised himself.

Ron stared at the enormous serpent unconvinced. "Laughing?" he repeated in a deadpan tone. "Let's just go before everything I believe turns out to be a lie."

Harry snorted. "I'm sure food will taste just as good regardless of whether the basilisk has a sense of humour."

"How do you want to do this?" Ron asked. "Prim and proper, as dueling guidebooks teach?"

"For a start." Harry drew his wand. "I don't mind beating you in a fair fight first."

"You sure talk a lot."

Dumbledore had drawn a dueling circle on the floor of the Chamber, a thin line clinging to the stone, not unlike the age barrier that had protected the Goblet of Fire. Harry took a position opposite Ron and assumed a relaxed stance. As Sirius had proved to him, rigid postures worked well enough in the competitive circuit, where rules mattered - but that wasn't what Sirius was teaching him.

Ron didn't wait for him to begin.

"Stupefy!"

The spell flew forward and met a shield with a bright flash. Anticipating the next spell, Harry instinctively stepped to one side, still having to block Ron's follow-up stunner. Immediately, Harry cast a Bludgeoning Hex, but Ron's defence held against it.

Harry slashed his wand downward. "Incendio!" A sheet of flame, shaped like a scythe, rushed toward Ron, but met a shield. Fire exploded into a thousand sparks, but Harry didn't let it disappear. He pulled the sparks together and then pushed, pouring his will into the spell. A wall of fire hurtled back towards Ron, separating the duelists by sight.

"Obscuro," he said clearly, but quietly and a cloud of thin smoke burst forth, hiding the arena completely. Harry crossed the distance quickly as Ron dispelled the last flames and aimed at Ron's chest, standing at arm's length. "Expelliarmus."

Ron's wand shot from his hand beyond the circle. He stared at Harry, fingers grasping at air. Harry bared his teeth in a grin. "How about that?"

He turned around to walk back to his spot but his legs were swung out from under him. He slipped and fell, then looked up to see Ron smiling triumphantly, pointing the yew dragon heartstring wand at him.

"Petrficus Totalus."

Ron's spell, cast with a foreign wand, worked poorly, only slowing Harry down instead of paralysing him, but it was enough to render him helpless.

"Weasley one, Potter zero." Sirius walked into his field of view, looking down disapprovingly. "What did I tell you about showing your back to the enemy?" Sirius asked and flicked his wand.

The spell let go of him. Harry stood up and snatched his wand from Ron. "As I saw it, I'd already won."

"That's not what it looked like from where I was standing. Here." Sirius handed Ron his own wand. "You got cocky. Isn't that big head of yours too heavy to drag around?"

"Very funny," Harry muttered.

"It was a little funny," Ron said.

"Where's Moody?"

Sirius rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Busy with something else. We'll try something different today. Ron – it's teamwork practice for you."

"And what am I doing?" Harry asked.

"Fighting us both," said Sirius.

Harry blinked. "Are you – I mean you can't seriously-"

Sirius' mouth curled into a smirk. "Get your arse to the other end of the chamber. We'll see how fast you really are."

~~oOo~~

As it turned out, reflexes alone didn't guarantee victory against multiple opponents.

"You're learning to react to immediate threats," Sirius commented after the third match. "As Moody would put it, you're only a mild disappointment today. Again."

Sirius limited himself only to spells that a Hogwarts student could be expected to know, but even when he slowed down, Ron's flanking attacks were enough to keep Harry on his toes. There was no room for error. Each mistake was twice as costly against two attackers.

This time, Sirius conjured a few dozen glass marbles and threw them haphazardly on the floor. "Material for transfiguration. Show us what Dumbledore's been teaching you."

Harry looked at the nearest few marbles, his mind infuriatingly blank. Dumbledore's lectures didn't lend themselves to quick interpretation.

"Begin!" Sirius' voice rang out from the other end of the Chamber. Ron immediately opened with a volley of jinxes. Most missed by several feet at this distance, but Harry still had to conjure a shield. Nervously glancing between Ron, gleefully casting spell after spell and Sirius, advancing at a leisurely pace, Harry's mind raced to come up with a strategy.

Hopefully someone will fix the floor.

"Tonare!"

The downwards aimed bludgeoner tore a shallow trench through the floorstones.

"Accio!" The broken stones jumped up and towards him as he pointed his wand at the nearest opponent. "Depulso!" The banished debris flew towards Sirius, who deftly sent it hurtling to the side, but in the moment it took him to do so, Harry summoned two of the glass marbles. Working faster than he ever had with Dumbledore, he transfigured each into a more-or-less straight wall and angled them to form a rudimentary barrier.

Momentarily hidden from view, he conjured a gout of flame and let it linger behind the wall as he circled around the nearest of the serpent pillars. He came out from behind it to see Ron and Sirius blow apart his transfigurations. Ron fired into the dissipating fire just as Harry caught him in the back with a well-aimed stunner. Ron collapsed, knocked out, but Sirius reacted in time to shield himself.

"Tonare!"

The bludgeoner hammered on Sirius' shield, forcing him back a step. Harry moved forward, another incantation on the tip of his tongue-

-two spells clashed between the duelists. Harry flinched as the spells canceled each other in a bright flash, his hand shot up to shield his face…

His right hand was jerked back by the force of the disarming spell, he lost the grip on his wand and then nothing – and then he saw Sirius' face, only upside down.

"Not bad," Sirius said.

Harry sighed heavily. "I thought I had you."

Sirius grinned at him. "Not for a while yet, Potter. Take pleasure in the small victories."

Ron pulled him up to his feet. "You got me though. I thought you were playing with fire behind that wall."

"We're done for today," said Sirius. "I'd love to stay longer, but rats won't catch themselves. Keep working on nonverbal casting. It's the biggest improvement you can make relatively quickly, if you practice."

"How's Remus doing?"

A dark shadow appeared on Sirius' face and was gone just as quickly. "As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. We're both criminals now."

"They still think he helped Greyback escape?"

"It'll get worse before it gets better. The vote is tonight and that law will pass."

"How can you be sure?"

Sirius grimaced. "There's no way it won't in the current climate. Umbridge is Fudge's left hand - few will dare to give her the finger and none of them are swing votes. Don't worry about it. Focus on what you're doing here. I'll let you know if I need you."

"What about Crouch?"

Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. "As I said, I'll let you know if something comes up." He turned to leave, but turned around. "One more thing - Umbridge isn't here to teach anyone anything. She will try to bait you and spin things in her favour. Keep your tempers on a short leash."

"She can't be worse than Snape," said Ron.

"I mean it, boys. Don't let her get to you."

With that, Sirius left them alone in the Chamber.

"She can't be that bad, can she?" Ron wondered.

"We'll find out soon enough. One more match before lunch?"

"You're on."

~~oOo~~

Dumbledore was already waiting for them when they approached the gargoyle.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," he said, correcting the glasses that had slipped too low on his nose. "I see that you got my note. It's supposed to be a chilly evening."

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said for both of them.

"If you would each take my arm," Dumbledore said.

"Where are we going, sir?" Harry asked, the question escaping before he could stop himself.

"I have something important to tell you. The location will provide necessary context." Dumbledore smiled, but there was no joy in that smile. It was an expression Harry had seen a few times on Remus' face whenever he mentioned Harry's parents. "I can only hope that you'll listen… and hear what I say."

The apparition was much swifter and less unpleasant than when Sirius brought him along - or maybe he'd got used to it, as Sirius said would happen in time. They landed in a dark grove of spruce trees. Soft light broke on the needles, spilling through in bright flecks that covered his jacket. Nearby, there was a well-walked path leading outside the grove.

Dumbledore went first, followed by Harry and Ron at the end.

Harry frowned. Something about this place seemed familiar. "Wait, this is…"

It was the Godric's Hollow cemetery. The memories of his first visit were still vivid.

"Where are we?" Ron whispered above his shoulder.

"Godric's Hollow," Harry replied, just as quietly.

"Quite so," said Dumbledore. "Follow me."

Dumbledore led them to the wizarding quarter. It looked almost exactly the same, except there were more fallen leaves this time. Harry fought an instinct to turn around and walk away. If Dumbledore brought them here so could lecture them over his parents' graves…

But the Headmaster stopped well before they reached Lily and James Potter.

Three names etched in dark gold stared back at him from the headstones with an intensity they hadn't possessed have the first time.

"Percival and Kendra," Dumbledore said, looking down at the larger grave. "My parents. And here… Ariana."

Harry only now noticed that there were no dates under the names.

"Who was she?"

Startled by Ron's question, Harry shook off a sudden chill dripping down his spine and straightened the collar of his jacket. The cold wind swept over the Dumbledores' graves, as if wanting to add the drama.

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back. "She was my sister."

All three of them were content to let the ensuing silence linger for a long moment. Harry tried to find the right words for his question – wasn't that why they were here? - but everything he came up with just seemed rude…

"Sir… you said you wanted to tell us something important," he tried at last, omitting the question entirely.

Dumbledore took something out of his pocket. "I suppose both of you have one of these?"

The Headmaster smiled at them kindly from a chocolate frog card. His tipped hat didn't find into the frame.

What does the card have to do with-

Then it hit him.

"Professor… is this about Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore tore his eyes away from the graves and looked at him with that sad smile. "I wish it was about ten pin bowling, but alas. Few people know this, but Gellert Grindelwald and I are very old acquaintances. I met him the summer after he was expelled from Durmstrang."

"Expelled..." Ron repeated slowly. "What did he do to get himself kicked out of Durmstrang?"

"Durmstrang isn't nearly as sinister as its reputation suggests, but it isn't what I would call a friendly place," Dumbledore said, looking at them kindly. "As any school, it has rules and Gellert exhausted his teachers' patience. He was expelled and told to never return. At the time, Europe was… turbulent. He made his way to England, reconnected with his aunt. That is how we met."

Dumbledore's robes twirled around his ankles as he paced leisurely down the path. "I was young and arrogant. Brash. Stubborn." He turned around to look at them again, but there was no smile this time. All emotion gone from his face, the Headmaster seemed haunted. "In many ways, not unlike yourselves. Gellert's beliefs aligned with my own and we became fast friends... It didn't last."

Silence fell over them again and Harry didn't dare interrupt. They stood in the evening chill, cold, but not moving. The moment turned into a minute, then two. Slowly but surely, he settled into a stoic patience, content to observe leaves dance in the wind. Next to him, Ron seemed hypnotised by the names etched into the gravestones.

It was a long time before Dumbledore spoke again.

"We had… a terrible disagreement. Wands were drawn… Ariana, such a gentle soul, was caught in the middle of it. My younger brother, Aberforth, was there as well. Three wizards, each convinced the other two were wrong… it didn't take much. Just a word, and my parents' garden became a battlefield." Dumbledore seemed to stumble back and fell heavily onto a bench by the path, eyes fixed on his sister's name. He took a deep breath. "Gellert fled, my sister was dead and my brother threw me out. It's been so many years… Aberforth never forgave me."

"Professor… your brother, he's- he's not here," said Ron.

"He's doing well. We speak sometimes… But I've carried the guilt ever since."

Harry couldn't help noticing parallels, even as a part of him screamed inside, begging him to stop.

Dumbledore stood. "Revenge is often righteous," he said, "but it poisons everything it touches. It always comes at a price – most times, that cost is too high. I understand how you feel, boys."

When he said it, Harry had no choice but to believe him.

"Don't repeat my mistakes."

Sleep refused to come that night and he knew he would be tired and cranky in the morning, but it seemed trivial. Dumbledore's last words had burned themselves into his thoughts, making him question every motive that had pushed him towards Malfoy.

He hated it.

"Harry?" Ron's voice broke through, jerking him back to the dorm from wherever he had been.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking- and it's crazy, but I can't stop…"

"I think that was the point."

"Do you think… that means that Grindelwald killed Dumbledore's sister? Is that what he was, you know, implying?"

"I don't know, Ron."

Three wizards… my sister was dead.

Harry closed his eyes and a scene painted itself beneath his eyelids. Ron was next to him, facing Malfoy, and between the three of them stood Hermione.

"I don't know."

~~oOo~~

Amidst the usual morning bustle, Harry and Ron sat opposite each other at the Gryffindor table, in an impenetrable space of their own. It suited Harry just fine.

Aside from several hello's, no one spoke to them, repelled by the uninviting mood they were projecting. The two of them weren't really talking either, each absorbed by his own thoughts. Then someone sat down next to him, dropping a Daily Prophet on top of his scrambled eggs.

"Have you seen this garbage?"

Well, almost impenetrable.

"Good morning, Ginny," he said, summoning a crooked smile onto his face.

"Hi, Harry. Hi, Ron. Have you seen this?"

"Seen what?" Ron asked, looking up from his plate with wandering eyes.

"Read," said Ginny, dropping the Prophet on top of Harry's plate, then leaned over and stole some of Ron's bacon.

"Hey!"

"Wake up, brother."

Harry tapped the paper with his wand and the eggs stuck to it fell off.

NEW LAW MAKES UNREGISTERED WEREWOLVES CRIMINALS, proclaimed the headline. Below was a picture of Cornelius Fudge in front of a crowd of reporters, speaking in the Wizengamot Assembly.

"We knew there was a good chance it would pass," Harry said, passing the Prophet on to Ron.

"That doesn't make it better," Ginny said.

"No, it doesn't, but we can't do much about that right now. We should focus on things we can do here."

"That doesn't sound like the daring Harry Potter who slays basilisks," Ginny said.

"We could storm the Ministry, but I doubt we could convince the Wizengamot to repeal what they just passed."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him and grabbed the paper from Ron's hands, who had apparently been engrossed in the article.

"What the hell, Gin!"

Ignoring her brother's protests, Ginny leaned in towards Harry and their lips touched briefly and then she was gone. Harry looked across at Ron, who was eyeballing him like he would a garden gnome.

Harry coughed into his fist. "Yeah…"

"Are you dating my sister?"

"...I'm not sure."

Ron stared at him for a long moment and Harry's eyes started watering because he refused to blink.

"We'll be late for Potions," Ron barked, grabbed his bag and started walking towards the Entrance Hall at a brisk pace, his half-eaten breakfast forgotten. Harry caught up to him just before they entered the dungeons.

"Come on, mate. I'm not going to-"

"Talk to me in five minutes," Ron interrupted him and quickened his pace further.

They were among the last to arrive at the classroom door. As usual, Slytherins and Gryffindors aggregated into two groups on opposite ends of the hallway. Their appearance momentarily silenced the hushed conversations. Malfoy sneered at them from behind his housemates, content to let them show their back to the Gryffindors.

"What's up, guys," said Dean. "You look beat."

"Late night," Ron muttered.

"Were you sneaking around again?" Parvati accused. "You could have lost us points."

Harry rose an eyebrow. Ron's remark must have stung if she was bringing up first year. "Don't worry, Parvati. We're much better at sneaking around now."

"Be silent," a familiar voice cut through the dank air of the dungeons like a scythe. Snape jabbed his wand at the classroom door and it flew open. "Inside."

Harry pulled Ron in right after the Slytherins and sat directly behind Malfoy and Nott.

"It's the third time we've seen you together, Malfoy, Nott," Harry said quietly. "Are you an item?"

"What are you doing there anyway, Scarhead," Malfoy muttered, his head half turned. "Not going to hide at the back?"

"It's so I can watch you. Very closely."

"What was that, Potter?"

Harry looked up at Snape. "I said I want to observe Malfoy, sir. I think I'll learn a lot by watching the best student in the class."

Snape's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Then I shall expect your grades to improve dramatically, or you'll be in detention until the OWLs."

"Of course, Professor."

As Snape moved on – still with a slight hobble – Ron elbowed him in the stomach. "Are you insane?" he whispered. "What if he does put us in detention until the exams?"

Harry smiled slyly. "Dumbledore won't allow it and he knows it. Now shut up, we shouldn't talk here."

Throughout the two-hour period Malfoy kept glancing at them, clearly uncomfortable at having him and Ron just behind his back.

"You should watch your potion, Malfoy," Ron hissed at him.

Harry jabbed Ron's hand with his knife and looked at him.

"Fine, fine," Ron muttered, still glancing at Malfoy's back.

"How are we doing?"

Ron sniffed at the smoke rising from their cauldron. "It's green, if that's what you're asking."

"I don't think it's supposed to be dark green, though. Or smoking."

Ron shrugged. "Beats me. We did every step right."

"How sure are you of that?"

Ron looked at the potion, then at the recipe and back at the potion and frowned. "Now I'm not so sure."

Harry swept the leftover mint leaves from his own textbook. He moved the tip of the knife down the list of ingredients as he scanned it, making sure they hadn't missed anything. Recalling the brewing process, he grew impatient as the mistake was nowhere to be found, until the knife stopped at the bottom of the list.

"Oh, blast it."

Mint leaves, two ounces (chop with a silver knife)

It was always the little things.

"Mint leaves," Ron read out loud. "Did we use too much?"

"Wrong knife. It was supposed to be silver."

"Why would it matter what kind of knife you use?"

"Because, Mr. Weasley…"

Harry watched with resignation as Snape vanished their potion in front of a very satisfied looking Malfoy.

"...silver is a highly reactive substance and many concoctions require its touch, even if it is not a listed ingredient. A fact you have clearly failed to assimilate in your first year." He wrote something down in a notebook. It was't hard to tell from the quill's deliberate, slow movements what their grades were. "Perhaps you and Mr. Potter require a remedial session. Eight o'clock sharp, in the classroom. Don't be late."

Shortly after, they began the trek up to the Defence classroom, trailing a ways behind the other Gryffindors.

"He gave us the same detention twice," Ron said, "just so he could stick it to us in front of everyone."

Harry was wondering. "You know… we could just not show up. He won't drag us into detention himself and what else can he do? Take points? Honestly, we've got bigger concerns than the House Cup."

Ron stumbled as he almost walked into a suit of armour. "You know this would mean war. He won't take prisoners."

"Probably," Harry agreed.

"Hermione will kill us."

"Also possible."

"Eh, we can try it once."

Harry looked at Ron to find him grinning, and smiled back.

~~oOo~~

"Good morning, class."

Unlike in Potions, this time they sat in the row furthest from the front of the room. Dolores Umbridge entered when everyone was already seated and barely spared anyone a glance until she wrote her name on the board.

There was a murmur of muttered greetings.

"Oh that won't do," Umbridge said. "Let's try again. My name is Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge. Good morning."

The class chorused an exaggerated 'good morning' and a smile stretched Umbridge's toad-like face. "That's better. As your… one of your teachers, I expect to be addressed properly."

Harry winced when she cleared her throat - a familiar, unpleasant sound.

"I see that everyone has a copy of Slinkhard's Defensive Magical Theory. I'm sure you will find the author's observations insightful. The Ministry's highest priority coming with my appointment to this position is creating a safe environment for learning…"

Umbridge droned on as Harry quickly skimmed the book's first chapter.

-theory behind defensive magic-tried and true techniques-the moral implications of spellcraft-

"So, much ado about nothing, then," he muttered.

"Hem hem."

He looked up. Umbridge was looking straight at him.

"Am I boring you, Mr. Potter?"

He shut the book and leaned back in the chair. "Not at all, Professor."

"I must be mistaken, then, because you didn't seem to be paying attention."

Lie or stay quiet? he thought. Decisions, decisions…

Umbridge made the choice for him. "Please repeat what I said before I called on you," she said, somehow sounding stern through her sickly sweet tones.

"I wasn't listening," he admitted.

"So you lied before."

"I apologise," he said flatly.

"Just as you've been lying for months."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Ron kicked him under the table. He tapped a new roll of parchment with his quill. Scribbled at the top was one word: don't.

So Harry stayed silent.

"You have demonstrated reckless, selfish behaviour," Umbridge said, slowly approaching. "I will not tolerate disruptions in my class. I think a detention is in order. See me in my office tonight at eight."

"I can't Professor," he said. "I have detention with Professor Snape at eight."

Umbridge looked at him with a mixture of glee and anger. "Tomorrow then. For now, pay attention, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

~~oOo~~

As it was nearing eight, Harry couldn't help but grow nervous. They were set on not going to Snape's detention, both to pull the man's strings and see how far they could push him. Still, defying Snape always had consequences. Harry tried to sit down with one of the books he'd taken from Grimmauld Place, but decided he probably shouldn't study volumes full of Dark magic in front of other students. Staying in the dorm wasn't an option – he wasn't in the mood to answer his roommates' questions – so he and Ron settled down in the Common Room for a game of chess. Ron beat him swiftly twice and he was well on the way to winning again.

"Check."

Harry scrutinised the battlefield. Ron was slowly surrounding his king. "Rook to d-four."

The rook charged one of Ron's bishops at full-speed, shattering it into several pieces. Harry looked at his watch.

"Stop doing that," Ron hissed at him. "Knight to d-four."

His remaining rook joined joined the broken bishop among other scattered casualties.

"Doing what?"

"Checking the time. Rook to g-one. Check."

Harry racked his brain for an escape path, but the king was cornered and he had no piece in position to protect it. He was losing anyway. He toppled the king and the remaining pieces waved their tiny fists at him, protesting an early surrender.

"I can't sit here," Harry said. "Grab your jacket. We're going to Hagrid's."

"It's getting late, though."

"Curfew isn't for a while and we'll take the Cloak. Let's go."

Ron reset the chessboard and followed without protest. Harry stuffed the Cloak into a large pocket – he didn't know if it was a magical property, but the Cloak always seemed to fit in pockets, though only barely.

They were halfway down to the Entrance Hall when someone stopped them on the fourth floor.

"Detention on day one. Well played."

"We've only done it twice. It's harder than you think."

"Although we never had two at the same time."

"Fred. George. How are you guys?"

"Oh, just out for a walk," said one of the twins. "As you do."

"Right," said Ron. "Slytherin has quidditch tryouts tomorrow and you're wearing cloaks, so you were in the dungeons or outside."

"And you're going outside," observed the other twin.

"Alas, some clever devil disabled the fireworks we had installed at the Slytherins' front door to wish them a fruitful semester. We thought we could leave some more in their locker room. They do like quidditch, Slytherins."

"We're going to see Hagrid," said Harry. "Wanna come along?"

The twins' eyes widened as they shared a look.

"Not that we haven't skipped detention before…"

"But that was Filch."

Harry bared his teeth in a bold grin. "There's always the first time."

"They don't have their OWLs yet, Fred."

"There's bound to be werewolves about. Someone should watch over the boys."

"Yeah, whatever. Let's get moving before we run into a giant angry bat," said Ron.

Harry kept nervously glancing at his watch as they crossed the silent Entrance Hall. Few students roamed the castle at this hour. Fewer still left it an hour before curfew. He wasn't worried about getting back inside. There were several hidden doors that Filch rarely closed for the night, seeing as hardly anyone knew about them.

They slipped out through the front gates into the courtyard, empty save for an owl perched upon one of the low walls.

"Why, if it isn't Potter. Are you walking your Weasleys? I've heard they need lots of exercise."

Malfoy approached from across the courtyard, flanked by Nott and several older Slytherins. Most drew their wands, but Malfoy and Nott were relaxed. The owl beat its wings in indignation at being disturbed and flew off.

"Regrettably, I don't have a witty retort for you," Harry said, nonetheless sneaking his hand towards his wand, "so why don't you just move out of our way."

Malfoy tilted his head. "Aren't you and Weasley – pardon, I meant Weasel, specifically – supposed to be in detention right about now? Trust me, you don't want to make Snape wait for you."

"I trust you about as far as I can kick you," Harry shot back. "Move, before I move you."

Malfoy's demeanor changed in a blink of an eye. "Careful, Potter," he said in low tones, "at some point jokes come to an end."

Harry walked up to Malfoy and looked at him with a dangerous smile. "You had the numbers last time too. It didn't end well for you then. What makes you think you can take us now?"

Harry had his wand in his sleeve, but at this distance Nott's wand was on his throat by the time he pointed his at Malfoy. Then Nott's wand flew out of his hand.

"You just can't help yourself, can you, Harry?"

The new arrival stepped out of the shadow, a wand in each hand. Harry smiled at her.

"Hello, Hermione."