Hey everybody! Wow, I look back at all the chapters I do before I do the next one, and I have to say: so far, the moshing scene is my favorite. Okay, second, I will say this one more time: I'M SORRY FOR ALL THE AMERICAN JOKES!!! I'LL STOP NOW! Geez… ('Tis feeling scorned). And the Hippie chick wasn't an American joke… it was my Grandma…

On a happier note, some of you shared your moshing experiences with me and it's weird how one action can mean so many different things to so many different people. Here is the chapter.

Harry groaned and put a cold hand to his throbbing head. Why was it throbbing? Last night…

Wait, he hadn't drank anything last night… he specifically remembered only drinking the bottled water that the bands had thrown at the crowd. But then again, he had been moshing… his head had been bashed around a bit… along with the rest of his body.

Hmm, that made him wonder: what was the total damage? Sitting up he groaned again at the 'crunch' noise his clothes made.

"Eww…"

That was when he first realized how dull everything sounded… and that high pitch ringing… Ugh… today wasn't going to be a good day. What was that smell… it was like, disgusting, sour, apple-ish. Eww, it was him. So that's what a shit load of dried sweat smelled like. Rolling over (Cruunch!) he lifted himself up and winced at the amount of strain his muscles were under.

Ah, red and gold. He must be in his dorms… how'd he get here? Hermione… yeah, Hermione probably had the guys sneak him up… Well, first things first: a shower and change of clothes, this was disgusting. He slowly made his way to the showers to do before said things (he was very sore, so it took a while). After the shower he felt a little better, the smell was gone, and the warm water had loosened his muscles… at least that's what it felt like. Move ability without wanting to stop every five steps is a good thing. He began to get dressed, but was interrupted halfway through.

"Come in." He called in a horse voice. Man, it was dull sounding.

"Hey Harry. Blaise sent us some love in a bottle," She threw him some pepper up potion, "says to use it the proper way, and wants to know if you've got any gilly weed left from that hippie lady last night. Apparently he already smoked all of his."

"How did he already smoke it all? I barely remember getting mine…" Hermione only shrugged. "Tell him thanks for the potion and that I'm only going to give him enough to split a bowl with me." He said buttoning his shirt.

Last night, right before they had decided to head back, Carol had given them about a pound of dried Gilly weed.

"Like muggle pot, but two times effective and three times less detectable." She had said with a wink.

"Anyway, I'll see you at breakfast."

"Right, thanks Mione."

He tenderly made his way down to the great hall where he ignored the coffee and other morning beverages in preference of a large dosage of water for his scratchy throat.

"Harry!" he heard Ron suddenly say.

"What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for ages Mate. You missed the announcement."

"Dumbledore usually doesn't make announcements at breakfast. What was it about?"

" Some new Professor. Apparently, he got his license in America. Only got here at five, we won't see him till dinner apparently."

"Really? What's his name and what's he going to teach?" he asked reaching for a huge stack of pancakes.

"Overton or sumthin' like 'et. Teachin' 'stronomy." Said Ron, mouth full.

"Overton you said?" asked Harry forgetting his pancakes.

"Yeah, Pr'fess'r Overton. Why?"

"No reason…"

Hermione was subdued all morning. By lunch, she seemed to have convinced herself that it was a different Overton.

"Why should I get all worked up over it? He wasn't Magical. And there's loads of people with the name Overton, besides, Ron wasn't even sure what his name was." She had said to him. Harry wasn't quite sure though.

After that she tried to act normal, at dinner that act was shattered.

"If I could borrow you attentions please." Said Dumbledore standing, "Everybody please give a warm welcome to your new Astronomy Professor, Professor Overton."

Hermione froze where she sat. There, standing next to the Headmaster, was her Isaiah. His hair was a little shorter than she remembered and a small tuft of facial hair clung to his chin. He was wearing deep purple robes and stood like a teacher. He stood there like he wasn't the same person who had ditched her, with barely a word of good-bye, so that anytime she saw a motorcycle or went swimming her heart would ache and the scars on her back tingle, like they were remembering with her. She couldn't take it anymore.

She stood up and he saw her, a look of shock crossed his composed features. She turned and left the great hall, her eyes were burning and the staircase seemed miles away. McGonagall called out for her to stop, but the words were lost on Hermione, just as they were on Harry a minute later as he stood up and fallowed her.

Ooooo... a cliffy! I am a wicked soul….

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Lbw.