The Merging

by Shaydrall

To Harry Potter, Fifth Year seemed like the same as any other. Classmates, homework, new dangers, Voldemort risen in the shadows… the usual, even with a Dementor attack kicking things off. But how long can he maintain the illusion that everything is under control? As hope for a normal life slips away through his fingers, will Harry bear the weight of it all... or will it crush him?

21. Don't Let Go

"I like the new school years. Even with everything that happens, they make me feel like I'm getting a new chance at being a regular student. Not that it ever ends up working out." -Harry Potter to Ron Weasley, The Hogwarts Express. September 1st, 1996.

~ Chapter 21: Don't Let Go ~

Harry stumbled slightly as he exited the door of the dorm, clutching at his chest with a grimace of discomfort. It was a meaningless gesture in the end. It wasn't physical pain; it was something far deeper. Snape's sleeping potions had helped keep him relatively stable during his sleeping hours of the summer, but just one night off of them and the difference was noticeable. It looked like he'd need to bring it up with Dumbledore sooner than he hoped. It wasn't like he was too worried about the condition while he was back at school. Stella would more than make sure he was bled dry of magic by the end of each day. However, it wasn't as if this fixed anything. Merely a bandage to his wound.

"You alright, mate?"

Ron had finally emerged from the room behind him.

"Wha- yeah, I'm fine, let's get some breakfast," he responded quickly, moving to the spiral steps. He scolded himself for being so morbid first thing in the morning. Students at Hogwarts used magic almost as often as breathing. The idea that he'd get anywhere near what had happened during the summer was rather silly. He would be fine.

"Any guess about our classes for today?" asked Ron, taking up an easy stride behind him. A late start on a class day was never something to spur Ronald Weasley into action, that was for sure. "I'd put a galleon on Defense."

"Why's that?" chuckled Harry, raising his eyebrows at the note of absolute confidence in the ginger's voice.

"Snape's teaching it, why else?" he replied with a shrug. The portrait swung shut behind them and they headed off to the grand staircase. "You know, I'd even bet he's our first or second class. Don't even think I need to go as far as the snakes being there, that's just a given at this point..."

"It's not going to be that bad, Ron. Snape's just kind of evil and enjoys students suffering. Considering our past Defense professors I'd say that's par for the course. Besides, Snape actually knows stuff."

"I swear sometimes I really do think your brains got scrambled during those 'remedial potions' classes."

"Yeah, yeah..." Absolutely no one in Gryffindor could understand why Harry was suddenly so tolerant of the ex-Potions professor. Not that it mattered. "So tell me, Quidditch Captain, any plans for the new season? The team took a pretty big hit."

"I've been coming up with plays since I got the badge," said Ron with a nod, absently rubbing it with his sleeve. "We'll take everyone by surprise."

At the end of the previous school year, Harry had been pulled aside by Professor McGonagall and, following a small speech, offered him the team captaincy. She'd told him that she knew that he would be responsible about it, and given the three remaining members of the team, he had the best leadership skills. Katie was a great Chaser, but she'd made it clear from the beginning that she wouldn't ever take the position. Unfortunately for the woman, he'd declined without hesitation. That really only left one option, and it was one that McGonagall didn't seem too thrilled about. Harry, however, had ended up convincing her that giving Ron a certain measure of responsibility would certainly help him in the long run, and still be good for the team. He knew she wanted to keep winning, after all.

And so the figurative bullet was dodged. All the work that came with leading the team was something he simply did not have the time for; and now after two years of playing very little Quidditch, not much interest in either. He was still debating whether or not to play. He could fly whenever he wanted to. Then again, he wasn't exactly too eager to have to deal with the backlash of actually not playing.

"We'll probably have tryouts at the end of the week," Ron was saying. "I'll book the pitch as soon as I can too. Don't need the snakes getting all the good times."

"That's for sure," Harry agreed.

They arrived in the Great Hall a few minutes later, discussing the potential candidates for different positions on the team. Hermione, as they'd both suspected, was already sitting at the table with space on either side of her. The two boys had long since learned that Hermione Granger was not one to be late for breakfast.

"Morning, Hermione," they said, slightly off beat as they slid into their seats. Ron immediately piled his plate high with food while Harry did the same, albeit at a more refined pace.

"Good morning, you two," she replied, sipping her tea. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry let out a small breath, eyes fixed on the girl's brown curls. Her words seemed slightly hesitant, as if she were going over them numerous times in her head before speaking them. They'd kept interaction on the train to a minimum as well, if unintentionally, with barely a word between them. No doubt she too was still thinking about that day at the end of the summer.

In the end they were both eager to put the event behind them. While it was a testament to their friendship - in fact, they'd probably come out of it closer than they'd ever been before - it still hadn't erased that lingering bit of awkwardness between them.

Harry gave her a small smile and began to work on his meal while Ron asked the girl about their schedules around a mouthful of eggs. They had been rather late getting down, after all. One withering glare and reprimand later and it was business as usual between them all.

"I've got them right here," Hermione said, pointing to the small stack of parchment that contained her own as well. "Professor McGonagall left them with me a few minutes ago."

"Do we have Snape this morning?" Harry asked at once.

"Yes, second period," Hermione confirmed, tapping the second box under the Monday column. It read 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' in McGonagall's impeccable handwriting.

"You owe me a Galleon, mate," Ron chirped happily from the girl's other side.

"No I don't, you git, we never made the bet," Harry shot back, scanning over the remainder of the day. They had double Potions right after lunch and a free period after that as the block was taken up by Divination. The period directly after Defense was also free, as it was a Muggle Studies class.

"Look at all this spare time," Ron said gleefully. "We've got between two and three free periods a day! Pity you're still taking all those classes, Hermione."

"I doubt that you'll be as free as you think," Hermione said easily. "Just because we don't have any important exams at the end of the year doesn't mean we won't be getting a lot of work. We're N.E.W.T. students now. We'll be doing advanced material that would be standard for anything we'd use it for beyond Hogwarts. We're talking the real deal now, and that is going to take a lot of work." Having finished her tea, Hermione neatly extricated herself from the two boys and grabbed her bag from under her seat where she'd stowed it. "I'm off to Runes. See you later."

They watched her walk off in silence before Ron finally spoke up. "I don't know how, but she makes being smart look really hot."

"...I don't even know where to begin on that statement," Harry said. Shaking his head, he turned to his friend. "And for the record, she'd kill you before you even got close."

To Harry's surprise, Ron laughed.

"No kidding," he said. "She can be right scary when she needs to be."

"Wait, but I thought - "

"Well I did," Ron continued in some embarrassment, "but I've moved on from it. Plenty of fish in the sea, you know?"

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly at the statement. Ron had just glanced past his shoulder, looking at a group of girls sitting a little further down the table. All at once Harry was grinning, leaning in conspiratorially.

"You've been up to something... haven't you?"

While Ron's expression remained level enough, his ears were beginning to turn a telltale red. "No, I - " He cut off for a second before leaning in a bit as well. "Promise not to tell Hermione?"

"Course I won't, come on then."

"...I made out with Lavender a couple of times at the end of last year." He smiled a bit at the memory.

"About time, mate," said Harry, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

Ron just gave him an accusing look. "You make it sound like I'm way behind you. Who've you been snogging, then?"

Immediately Harry was hit with a number of memories that showed just how far ahead of the ginger he actually was when it came to girls. One girl in particular.

Yeah, he wasn't going to share that. Ever.

"Does it?" he said evasively. "Come on, let's go do a little flying, I've been away from my broom for too long."

Xx~xX

Harry blinked as they entered the Defense classroom. It was wildly different from any of his previous years, and there had certainly been some variation in the room's design. While the distinctly darker-than-normal atmosphere permeated the room, the most obvious difference was that the room was at least three times as big as it had been earlier. It was still shaped more or less like a lecture room, with tiered seating; however, the number of available seats was at least double what he was normally used to. There were five rows of four seats on each side of the main path to the base of the room. The bottom of the room where the teacher's desk normally sat was a large open area that reminded him instantly of a dueling space. The spiral staircase that connected the room to the Defense professor's office was tucked away in the corner, and there, standing on the landing was Snape himself, observing the class as it entered.

"Move along, Potter, you're blocking the door," came a growl from behind him.

Harry just stepped to the side to let Malfoy through, who was flanked by the rest of his Slytherin cronies, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott among them.

"There sure are a lot of seats in here," said Hermione, looking around as they took chairs near the center. They'd found her waiting for them at the entrance of the classroom, reviewing her notes from the previous class.

"Looks like all the houses are combined," said Ron, nodding to a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were now entering. "I'd expected it, but still, this is a N.E.W.T. course. I wonder why the class is so large..."

The three settled into silence as every seat was filled. Harry glanced around at the artwork that decorated the walls. Every single painting was of something truly dreadful. There was even a picture of someone who was clearly being held under the Cruciatus Curse. He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of being perpetually held under the curse forever, trapped in a painting. Once the final seat was filled the door closed with a snap and Snape made his way down the staircase, coming to stand before them all.

"Welcome," he began, his voice quiet, though easily carrying through the room. It might be a different subject, but that meant nothing. "To Defense Against the Dark Arts. I will tell you now that any experience you have had in a previous," he sneered, "incarnation of this subject has been wholly worthless. Until today you have never been properly taught in this classroom. However," he paused and gazed around the room evenly, "in what seems to have been an act of god, a number of you have all received Outstandings on you O.W.L.s."

Harry could tell that the members of the D.A. were feeling quite pleased with themselves. Not all of them had gotten such high scores, but with the non-stop begging he'd had about continuing the D.A. from its old members during the train ride he doubted a single one of them had gotten below an E.

"The remainder of you have scraped somewhere between and Poor and Acceptable, with the occasional Exceeds Expectation. While I would normally not wish to take anything lower than Exceeds in this particular subject, the Headmaster is well aware of your disadvantage and has asked me to allow an exception this time, hence why you are all here."

A number of the students seemed unsure of whether or not this was a good or a bad thing. Considering what they were likely in for, Harry figured it could probably go either way.

"Now, regardless of your previous education, I expect a high level of work from all of you. No less than I would if I were still your Potions professor. In this class we will be covering the advanced coursework of the N.E.W.T. curriculum. If you need to review old material it will be on your own time. No doubt before long many of you will be wishing you were still taking your O.W.L.s again instead. I know I do already."

A good number of the class shuddered. Snape really had a way of making you fear things.

"Now, the Dark Arts... are many, ever changing, and unyielding. They have always been and will never disappear. Would anyone care to guess why?"

"Maybe because they're evil?" said Seamus impulsively.

"How very like a Gryffindor to speak of a thing such as 'evil'." Snape's voice was as unimpressed as ever. "A point from Gryffindor for forgetting to think. Tell me, Finnigan, do you find your wand to be evil?"

"No, Professor," he said quickly, clearly regretting his earlier response. It was less the lost point than Snape's unwavering attention.

"And why is that?"

"Uh, because it's a wand?" he half asked.

"Very true, and if I were to take your wand and bring a blissful end to this conversation we are having, would you then consider it evil?" Snape continued.

"Well, no, but - "

"So I ask again..." Seamus cut off as Snape moved close. "Why is it foolish to consider a wand evil?"

Silence permeated the class. Even the Slytherins had no interest in getting themselves run over by the Professor. "The reason is because it is a tool. Wands and the spells they cast are no more than tools to the witches and wizards who wield them. The Dark Arts are overwhelmingly comprised of means to harm and control others. The reason they will always exist is because we do. Humanity will never cease to harm itself, and so the Dark Arts are eternal." He paused to let this sink in. "Therefore to counter them, we must be as flexible and inventive as the Arts themselves. To be rigid is to break, and make no mistake..." His eyes swept across them all, cold as ever. "You will break."

"Now, before we begin, you will be splitting up into groups of four. These groups will last through the entire year, so do try not to aggravate one another too much. Each group has already been made, so those of you hoping to be with your friends can kiss that silly little wish goodbye. You'll note that there are ten total rows of four seats each. It doesn't matter where you sit specifically, however each row is for a single group. You may all come down now to find your group."

Snape moved to the center of the room and waved his wand at the board at the back of the room which was suddenly filled with lists of their names. The room was instantly filled with the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling feet as everyone moved down to break into their groups. Harry decided to hang back, letting the rest of the group surge ahead as he leaned on a first row table. He held back a grin as many in the group began to groan in almost physical pain. If this had been truly random then he might have cared, but honestly this was Snape they were talking about here. No matter how much better he and the man tolerated each other these days it still didn't change Snape's almost supernatural skill of making things as unbearable for his students as possible.

"Harry, you're in my group," came a soft female voice, pulling him out of his reverie. He looked up and saw light skin and a good amount of wavy brown hair framing a small face with equally brown eyes. Her Hufflepuff tie was crooked, making him grin slightly.

"Evelyn's sister, right?" he said at once, tapping his own tie and nodding at her. She blinked and glanced down at her tie, straightening it at once.

"Ah thanks, yeah I'm Megan Jones," said Megan, shaking his hand lightly. They'd never really talked before this. "Eve talks a lot about you." Harry raised his eyebrows at this, crossing his arms.

"She does, does she?" he said interestedly. Evelyn was the quietest of the five Gryffindor girls of his year. It was often easy to forget she was about, what with the heavy contrast that Parvati, Lavender, and even Hermione provided.

"Oh, I don't mean like that," she said quickly. "Well, not really. She likes her house a bunch."

"Relax, I'm not going to bite you, or her for that matter." He laughed at her discomfort. "If it bothered me whenever people talked about me I'd have gone mad the first day I stepped into this castle. So who else is in our group?"

"I am," said Lisa Turpin, moving over to join them from the crowd. Apparently he had the right idea staying put and out of the way as Snape looked like the group was giving him a headache. Harry looked at Lisa, another girl that he rarely interacted with apart from a couple of nods or a random question. She was a lot like Hermione in that she almost radiated studiousness. It was no wonder that she was always second in the year, just behind Hermione.

"Good summer, Lisa?" asked Harry, deciding to just skip formalities this time. The Ravenclaw nodded.

"It was all right, all things considered. Yours?"

"I was busy," he said with a shrug. "It's been a little crazy lately, you know?"

"I hadn't noticed," she deadpanned. Her sarcasm was well understood. The news these days was anything but normal. "In any case, I thought you'd be happy to know that Malfoy isn't in our group."

"Wonderful, though I honestly didn't expect it," he said. Snape knew better than to tempt fate like that. No doubt Malfoy would end up getting himself killed or something equally as bad. "Is it bad?"

"About as bad as it gets," said Pansy Parkinson, coming up between Lisa and Megan. Harry raised his eyebrows at the other two and they nodded.

"Well, you win some and lose some I suppose," said Harry with a shrug. "Welcome to the team, Pansy."

"Don't talk like you know me, Potter," she snapped. "Just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone too."

Harry made to reply but Lisa interjected quickly, expecting a fight.

"Can we do this later? We need to get seats and I do not want to sit in the back."

Harry shrugged and led them to the second row on the left which was still empty. He took the second seat while Megan and Lisa moved past him taking the fourth and third seats respectively. Pansy hesitated before taking the aisle seat grudgingly. They sat in silence as the rest of the groups were sorted out. He didn't really pay too much attention to who was where because this would no doubt be the hot topic of the evening among their year. He could get the details later.

"Now that you've finally managed to find your groups I will explain their purpose," said Snape, returning to the head of the room. "These groups, like I said earlier, will persist throughout the year. You will do all class projects, of which there will be many, in these groups. You will also eventually begin facing off with other groups in mock combat to put your spellwork to practical use. I am well aware that most if not all of you have never done this before. To that all I can say is that I don't really care." He looked at them hard. "You will strive to do well in my class or you will fall behind in failure. If you cannot defend yourself in this classroom then there is no way you will be able to defend yourself elsewhere under any circumstance. Now," he waved his wand again and the large blackboard was filled with new words: Non-verbal spell casting. "What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Only Hermione and Lisa raised their hands, a lone pair of souls in a sea of those intimidated by Snape in general. He pointedly looked around as if waiting for someone else to raise their hand but eventually was forced to make a pick. It was pretty obvious that this was a regular thing for all the Houses.

"Very well, Miss Turpin?"

"To begin, you have an element of surprise as your opponent won't know what spell you are casting unless they recognize it from its color or something similar," she said immediately. "However spells are also more quickly cast when silent."

"Adequate," Snape said with a nod. "By casting a spell aloud you are only helping your enemy win. As defeat in a battle against the Dark Arts often means death, this places non-verbal casting quite high on our list of things to accomplish, regardless of its importance to your personal growth. Of course, as with most things, not all wizards can do this. In addition to an intrinsic knowledge of the spells cast, it is a question of concentration and mental power which some decidedly lack. Now, pull out your copies of Advanced Defensive Magical Technique and open to chapter four. Read the first five pages on the basic theory and application behind non-verbal spell casting. You have ten minutes."

As a low murmuring filled the room, Megan leaned over so that she was almost in front of Lisa. "Harry, I hate to do this to you but I hope you'll be able to help me out in this subject. You're by far the best in the year here, that's what everyone says at least. Plus, Defense is my worst class. Like... so bad... I barely scraped an A on my O.W.L. and I thought I actually did well." She looked highly embarrassed at admitting it to him. Lisa however winced as she went to take out her book.

"Um... mine too," she muttered apologetically, though loud enough that they could all hear her. It was pretty rare to hear Lisa admit she was less than stellar at anything. Even more so if it were true. Suddenly getting a sinking suspicion, Harry instantly turned to Pansy who tried to ignore him at first but when he didn't look away she glared at him.

"What!" she hissed.

"You're abysmal at Defense too, aren't you?" he asked bluntly. Pansy went pink, contrasting nicely with her dark hair.

"I am not!"

Harry just gave her a pointed look before she sagged in defeat.

"Worst class," she grumbled.

Harry just let out a rough sigh, drooping onto the table.

x~x

"Alright, meet me back here in the Defense room at eight-thirty tonight. I need to see what you three can do if we're going to get through this year together." Harry slung his bag over one shoulder and looked at his group mates, waiting for confirmation. The three responses he got back were rather predictable.

"Sure, Harry, I'll be here," Megan agreed at once.

"As long as it doesn't take too long then it won't be an issue," said Lisa. "We've already gotten quite a lot of work in Runes."

Pansy said nothing, as she'd immediately turned her back on the three of them and walked off.

"You've got nothing to lose, Parkinson," Harry called after her.

The girl just kept walking.

"What are we going to do about her?" asked Megan, looking concerned. Lisa had a similar expression on her face. They'd be graded as a group for everything important, after all.

"I'm not too thrilled about it, but it'll work out in the end," Harry replied.

"If you say so," Lisa said skeptically, shouldering her own bag and heading out. Megan shrugged and walked over to a couple of her Housemates so they could leave together.

A minute later and there were only two people left in the now-silent room. One sitting at a large desk off to the side, scratching away at a piece of parchment, the other standing in front of it, waiting impatiently. It was a rather familiar scene for both.

"Potter, if you have something to say, please say it," Snape said in a bored voice, not looking up from his writing. "Loitering is a bad habit."

"Fine, fine." The Gryffindor took a second before asking his question. "Did you seriously put me with the three worst Defense students in the entire class?"

"Would you like the short version or the long one?"

"Short?" Harry posed, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes."

He just sighed, shaking his head. "So what was the long version then?"

Snape finally put his quill down and met Harry's eyes. "I'd imagined it would be amusing to watch you deal with it for a full year. That, and conversations like this do make my days considerably brighter."

Harry just gave Snape a flat look, his right eyebrow twitching slightly.

"You are evil."

"And you are the most proficient duelist in the entire student body," Snape countered, now a bit more serious. "I gave you three students who would benefit most from your assistance, however much you are willing to afford them."

"Well, at least that makes sense," Harry agreed. "But seriously - don't you think I've got enough on my plate as it is?"

"As the Headmaster always says, I'm sure you'll pull through admirably," the man drawled, looking back over his writing. "That aside, your personal education in this class will be separate from the others. We cannot afford to hold you back for an entire year surrounded by children."

"That just sounds like a lot of trouble," Harry muttered.

"I am aware that you do a great deal of dueling practice on your own, though how eludes me. However as long as you practice what I ask and master it I care little for your methods. I will assess you every few weeks with a duel."

"Sounds good to me." Harry was grinning now. A chance to put Severus Snape down was highly attractive. With luck he was a good duelist.

"Now if that is all..." Snape gave him a single nod and returned to his work, not looking up until after Harry had closed the door behind him. An evil grin had alighted on his face not out of place among the portraits that lined the walls.

After all, despite how much more he respected the boy, a chance to put Harry Potter down was highly attractive.

Xx~xX

"Time's... up!"

The excited shout from Slughorn was met with a mixture of disgruntled sounds and sighs of relief, the majority belonging to the former. The long brewing session had been the hardest any of them had ever done, and for one...

"Ron Weasley, I hate you." Hermione's tone was rather resigned. Ron had accidentally nudged her as she was adding an ingredient halfway through, so her already-not-entirely perfect potion was ruined beyond repair. At least hers wasn't releasing musical notes like Ron's was every time a bubble popped atop the orange goo he'd concocted.

Perhaps this really wasn't the best idea after all.

In any case, Harry knew Hermione had long gotten over the fact that she wasn't going to win the potion. He on the other hand had actually made practically no errors at all.

"You're at the right step, certainly, but I won't deny you've brewed a highly average potion, Harry," Slughorn commented with amusement. Perhaps it sounded harsh, but Harry could see the tugging at the corner of the man's mouth to indicate his true mood. "More the father than the mother here, I'd say."

"Potions hasn't exactly been my forte, but I'm glad I made it through all that chaos," he replied, sinking back onto his stool. His back was rather sore from all the tense movements. "I think I'll keep my day job getting into terrible and deadly situations, though."

Slughorn just let out a bark of laughter and moved on, inspecting the next potion. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were still going back and forth.

"What was that whole thing from earlier, anyway?" she asked, packing her stuff away. They'd be released once a victor was chosen.

"Oh yeah." Ron threw the shelf of old potion books a miffed look. "The book I picked was completely written over. Half the lines were straight crossed out, I could barely read the bloody thing. Little scrawled writing like a deranged girl. Swapped it first chance I could. You know what I could have done with all the time I wasted trying to read through that rubbish?"

"Well, whatever it is, I doubt it would have helped this much," Hermione laughed, Vanishing the contents of both her and Ron's cauldrons. Ron just shook his head.

"Well, I believe I have decided who our winner is," said Slughorn with a smile, turning to face them all. "I'm well aware of where most of you should be when it comes to your skills, but mishaps are as much a part of the game as everything else. It was a pretty close call, but the victory goes to..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Miss Davis! Good work, young lady, I'm highly impressed."

"Wha- thank you!" Tracey looked at the small bottle with wonder, clearly astonished she'd actually won. Daphne was grinning to her right, likely thinking about ways to get the girl to share, while the remainder of the students in the room shot her varying looks.

"Try not to use it all at once and remember what I said about it at the beginning of class," Slughorn warned. "Now, I'll see you all next time. Off you go."

"You both go ahead, I need to talk to Slughorn about something for a minute," Harry muttered to his friends.

"Alright, see you at the common room," Ron nodded, heading out into the dungeons. Hermione gave him a curious look but followed all the same.

Once everyone else was gone, Harry closed the door, drawing the Professor's attention to his guest.

"Harry, something I can help you with?" he asked. He was currently levitating one of the display potions to a counter on the side of the room made to hold potions at different degrees of completion.

"A couple things, actually," the Gryffindor said with a nod, pulling his own wand to help. The Amortentia slowly floated over to land next to its fellow. He eyed it warily before forcibly moving himself out of range of its scent. "Amortentia doesn't smell like things you love does it? I mean..." he broke off as Slughorn gave him quite the surprised look. Clearly he hadn't been expecting the topic. "Can it change? People can be in love with more than one person over their lives. And what about familial love? Does it work that way too?"

Slughorn let out another big-bellied laugh, taking a seat against a nearby stool that creaked slightly under his substantial weight. "Haven't got a clue, do you? I'd never thought when we were talking on the train that the great Harry Potter could possibly be deficient somewhere. Those poor girls have no idea, do they?"

"Very funny, Horace," Harry shot in annoyance, careful not to call him Professor Slughorn. The moment he'd done it on the train he'd been called out for it immediately.

"There is no such thing as a true love potion," the man explained. "It's just the illusion of such. Amortentia simply is the best there is such that it might as well be the real thing. As far as the smell though, no. The potion simply provides your brain with the most pleasing scents you know. And yes, that can extend from soothing to physically arousing. As we live life I'm sure that changes and you are of course in no way bound to what you are smelling. So just because you are attracted to something doesn't mean you love it at all. Or her, I should say," he added with a wink.

"Right, thanks," said Harry quickly. "I, uh - "

"What do you need?"

Harry paused at the question. "How did you know I needed something?"

"Please, Harry, after all we talked about yesterday I think I can read you a bit better than when we first met, yes?" Slughorn replied with a very self-satisfied smile.

"Fine." Harry's wand was suddenly directed at the door, a basic privacy ward in place without any effort. He looked at Slughorn, who suddenly looked like he realized that the situation was a lot more serious than he'd originally thought. "I need the Horcrux memory."

Serious indeed.

The man nearly choked at the boy's words. "Harry, what- Dumbledore put you up to this, didn't he?" Slughorn was suddenly aggressive and accusing. "He's already seen the memory in its entirety, so you can just go and tell him - "

"Horace."

Such heavy emphasis on his name silenced him at once.

"I know everything, and so does Dumbledore," he explained, leaning against a table with his arms crossed. "Voldemort has Horcruxes, we're both sure of it. But we just want a little more proof. The final piece of the puzzle. You have it."

"It's not about the proof!" the Professor practically shouted.

"Are you about to tell me that you're responsible for the way that Tom Riddle turned out?" Harry asked, still fairly calm. "That because you gave him information, you helped him become who he is today?"

"Didn't I?!"

Harry almost stepped back at Slughorn's roar. He was bubbling with anger now, though his attention was no longer on the teen before him.

"My foolishness allowed Lily's sacrifice to mean nothing! My blindness allowed that wretched boy to become the most powerful Dark wizard this country has ever seen. So excuse me for rightly thinking that to be so!"

"Well, if you think that, then why don't you do something about it?" Harry snapped back.

"Because I'm - " Slughorn cut off, his anger gone, replaced by something far smaller. "I'm afraid, boy. I've been an interest of Death Eaters before and those were not good days."

Harry bit down the urge to curse. Behind those words lay a place of great frustration for Harry in general. But he put it aside, forcing himself to remain neutral. He needed that memory.

"You're being too paranoid," Harry argued, shaking his head. "And too hard on yourself. Dumbledore has shown me dozens of memories of Riddle, and if I've learned anything it's that he could make anything possible if he put his mind to it. If you didn't give him the information he would have found out somewhere else. You aren't the only one who knows about Horcruxes after all."

"Yes, but - "

"And my mum's sacrifice meant something!" Harry continued in a stronger voice, overriding Slughorn. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Slughorn said nothing.

"So stop blaming yourself, stop worrying, and give me the memory," Harry finished. He let out a small sigh. "Honestly, Horace, I'm trying to kill the guy, you know?"

A moment of silence was followed by the potions master getting to his feet with a small groan and walking over to a cabinet. As he shuffled around he said, "Would it have killed you to be a little more delicate about it? I'm not young like you are, you know."

"Uh, sorry about that," Harry said, now feeling a bit self-conscious. "I get worked up pretty easily about stuff."

"I can see that..." A minute later and Slughorn was holding out a small vial with a silvery memory within it. "Here."

"Thank you." The genuine gratitude in Harry's voice was quite clear. "Now we can move forwards without any doubts."

"As hopeless as it may seem at times I'll do my best to rest my faith in Dumbledore's plans," Slughorn said gruffly. "This wouldn't be the first time he'd have orchestrated a miracle, as crazy as it may seem."

"Yeah, he's a bit out there," Harry agreed. He turned to leave but Slughorn stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Something else for you."

Harry looked down at the small bottle that had been pressed into his hands.

"Even the best plans need a bit of luck, don't you think?"

Xx~xX

"How long are you going to stare at that thing?"

Tracey tore her eyes away from the golden potion for a second to meet her friends'. They were rather impatient looking at the moment.

"I'm just thinking," she replied, looking back at the potion. Liquid luck. Twelve whole hours of it.

"About guys, no doubt," quipped Millicent, slipping on her shoes for dinner. The girl just loved to prod.

"Oh, get stuffed," Tracey shot back, though she hadn't looked away from the potion. Hopefully no one had seen her cheeks redden slightly at the girl's words.

A snort of humorless mirth drew their attention to Pansy. She was eying the bottle with a strange mixture of derision and desire.

"Please, she'll need more than luck to land herself anyone in her lifetime."

"Pansy!" Daphne snapped, shocked at the attack.

"I'll get a boyfriend long before Draco ever starts liking you again," Tracey said coolly, not even looking at the girl. The words had hurt, but she wouldn't let it show. "We all heard what he said on the train."

As she wasn't looking, Tracey didn't see the emotions that flashed across Pansy's face. She still heard the door slam when the girl made her rather abrupt exit however.

"Bitch."

"Tracey, that was uncalled for," said Millicent, rubbing her forehead at the situation. "She's really torn up, you can understand that."

"Still doesn't mean she gets to take shots at me like that," Tracey snapped, looking over at her Housemate. She let out a huff and turned away. "I'll apologize after dinner, but not until then."

"All right, I'll go talk to her," said the large girl with a nod, making her way out of the room as well.

Silence followed the sound of the door snapping shut for the second time. Tracey's attention had returned to the potion. It wasn't that fascinating or anything but...

"Ugh... I can't believe this..."

Tracey was standing in front of one of the mirrors in the carriage's girl bathroom, poking her left cheek lightly with a finger. It, and the right one, were equally flushed pink.

"Why are you getting like this? He's Harry. Barely in the room with him for thirty seconds and look at me. He isn't interested in me." As if repeating it would mean something.

"Tracey? You all right?"

Daphne entered the bathroom to find her friend washing her face vigorously.

"Sorry for running off like that, Daph, I felt really hot all of a sudden," Tracey answered, drying herself off. Her whole face was pink from the rubbing.

"Oh," Daphne blinked a few times before smiling. "Well, as long as you're fine. Let's get back to the compartment before Pansy kills the guy. Hopefully he left."

"That's for sure," agreed Tracey, following her friend out.

And he had left, returning the compartment to a scene of misery and lost thoughts.

"That was totally uncalled for," Daphne was saying, glaring at the closed door. "She needs to stop taking her depression out on others." The girl turned to her friend. "And you need to stop being so easily forgiving."

Tracey finally put the bottle down, letting her head drop onto her pillow with a soft thump. "I suppose I can understand why she's so upset, though," she said. "Draco basically said he was through with her and she's trash to him now. I know that it's silly to think about stuff like love at this age, but if she didn't love him then I don't know what love is."

"She didn't love him, Tracey," Daphne said quickly, taking a seat on the adjacent bed. Okay, so maybe she wasn't the best source of information on what exactly love was either, but even if she didn't know what it was, she sure as hell knew what it wasn't. "She worshiped him. Did whatever he told her to do. Talked about everything he said like it came from Merlin's own mouth. I don't think they had sex, but if he wanted it she was probably on her back in a heartbeat. It was just... too much."

"Well then what made her like that?" Tracey posed, uncomfortable with the entire conversation.

"How should I know?"

They both sat in silence for a while, thoughts wandering. Daphne's eyes caught where Tracey's had gone once more and she found herself speaking once more.

"You are thinking about a guy, aren't you?"

Tracey's eyes met her friend's for a second before she looked away. "Yeah, I am."

"Don't leave me out of this, who is it?" Daphne prodded, clearly highly excited.

"I'll thank you not to pry, but someone definitely not interested in me," Tracey responded tersely.

"Well, it happens to all of us at some point," Daphne nodded. "But you know, Tracey, my love," she had leaned in with a sly grin on her face. "That is what the potion is for... don't you think?"

Tracey was unable to resist a giggle, finally sitting up and moving to stow the luck potion securely in her trunk. She hesitated before the lid closed fully. Oh, but the possibilities... and the problems.

Maybe having the potion was actually more trouble that it was worth.

Xx~xX

Harry was making his way to the seventh floor corridor, his feet lightly carrying him without much thought. Long walks through the castle had always been times for some of his less pressing thoughts to take a pass in his mind, and today was a repeat offender.

Wandless magic.

His apparent success with stunning and reviving Hermione at her home was, as he'd soon discovered, a complete and utter fluke. After over an hour of talking at Hermione's they'd both gladly returned to what had happened earlier, and possibly to recreate the results. Suffice it to say that they were still trying by the time the Grangers were supposed to have returned to the house that night with zero success. Hermione's joke about him needing to be aroused to do it sort of died half way out of her mouth and they both agreed it was time to call it a night. Harry had learned a lot that day, and one of the biggest things was -

"Oh how cute..."

"I know, isn't he adorable?"

Harry just rolled his eyes as the two second year girls passed him in the opposite direction. They'd stopped to watch him for a little while before continuing. In any case, the biggest thing he'd learned was -

"Aww, look at him -"

"Do you think he'd mind if I touched him?"

It was at this point that Harry was darting away, not eager to let those evil hands get any closer than they already were.

Freakin' girls...

"Mate, check it out, it's - "

...and guys. Harry didn't even give that last pair a chance to get close.

Finally he reached the blank stretch of wall that marked the entrance to the Room of Requirement. However, he wasn't requesting a new Room but one that was already in use. Three quick lines before the wall and he was through, feeling the rough stone beneath him and distinct smell of fresh air as -

"Well now, what do we have here?"

The ground suddenly pulled away from him as firm hands hoisted him up. He was a good four or five feet up before he stopped moving, his legs swaying slightly. Stella was looking at him with her head tilted slightly to the side, blue eyes tied to green.

"You know very well what you 'have' here, Stella, now put me down," he replied steadily. Of course, that's not what she heard.

"Mrow."

"Why thank you, Mr. Kitty, I'm very well today," she replied blithely, using her thumb to rub under his chin. He resisted growling, but only just. Being treated like a cat was still something that bugged him to no end.

Why couldn't he have been a bear or something?

"Do you really have to do that?" he asked her, shifting back to human form and giving himself a small shake. He was still getting used to the transformation.

"Of every observation I have made between human and cat, this seems to be the most pleasing," Stella said, now sitting against a tall stool that had appeared for her. "For the human of course," she continued, seeing Harry's blank stare. "It appears that cats prefer to be fed above all else."

"Trust me, Stella, that goes for human boys too," came a voice from behind the woman, drawing both her and Harry's attention. Narcissa was approaching them from the other side of the small square in the outdoor setting the Room was providing. This was the second time Harry had been in it, the first being when he'd introduced both women the night before.

"Hey, Narcissa," said Harry with a smile, letting her wrap him in a light hug. "Are you settling in alright?"

"Of course," she replied. "It feels nice to be outside, even if it is artificial. Who would have thought something so magnificent existed within these walls?"

"Yeah I know, I was pretty blown away when I first showed up here," Harry said.

"So what brings you here today?"

"Just came to talk to Stella about training and to visit you and the others," he answered.

Narcissa just gave him a crooked smile. "I appreciate you doing that but you're at school now. Normally I wouldn't be seeing you until the winter holidays so don't feel obligated to visit me here until then. You're better off ignoring I'm here. It's for safety after all," she added.

"I - yeah, but still..."

"Harry, don't visit me in the trunk unless it's either something really important or a weekend," Narcissa said flatly. "Understood? Give a woman time to be on her own."

"Uh, yes," he said quickly, a bit disappointed. He felt wrong just ignoring her after being around her so much over the summer. Besides, it felt... odd.

"You know, most teenage boys can't wait to get away from overbearing adults," Narcissa said with interest.

"You're not overbearing!" Harry said quickly, not wanting her to think anything of the sort. "I'll visit you on the weekend if I get the chance, all right?"

"That's fine. Thank you, Blackie."

"Sure thing, Palescale."

The two simply glared at one another while Stella watched in interest. Eventually she decided to speak, as neither was continuing. "Harry, will we continue our training from where we left off?"

Pulling his attention away from Narcissa, who was still mouthing "Blackie" at him, he replied, "Yeah, I need to up my skills if I'm going to be able to take on Bellatrix again, forget about Voldemort. If that was her not six months out of Azkaban, who knows how much better she'll be the next time we meet. Not tonight though, we can start tomorrow."

"That is acceptable," Stella nodded. "I believe that you have sufficiently mastered deflecting incoming spells to move on."

"Thank god for that..." Harry muttered. "And I caught that!" he shot over his shoulder at a retreating Narcissa, who was just chuckling. The trunk was sitting under a tree not too far away. "Anyway, I'll see you later."

"Until then, Harry."

Closing the full-sized door behind him (he'd entered the room through a cat flap), Harry began walking to his final destination of the evening, Dumbledore's office. Being a cat was admittedly a mixed bag. On one side he'd been very excited about being able to transform, not to mention the side effects of being a cat Animagus: his hearing, sight, and sense of smell had improved by small but notable amounts. Narcissa suggested that his movements might have improved somewhat as well, but he'd have to judge something like that over time. He'd certainly not tripped or fallen since achieving it, but he wasn't necessarily clumsy to begin with. Maybe Stella would be able to tell?

Overall he'd only had one problem with the whole thing. He was small. Not tiny, but definitely smaller than the average cat. And that didn't even cover the fact that he was just a regular cat. Would it have really been too much to ask to be a tiger or something? At least something bigger than Sirius in his dog form. The moment his Godfather found out what his animagus form was he'd laugh until he cried.

"Ice Mice."

The gargoyle moved aside, giving him access to the revolving staircase. He knocked twice before entering, closing the door securely behind him.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly from his desk. Unlike all the other times Harry had been there the desk was completely clear of what it normally held and instead had what could only be described as a large sandbox on it.

"Professor... are you playing with sand?" Harry asked after a second, looking down into the box with amusement. He half expected to see a small sand castle and plastic shovel. Instead he found himself looking at what was unmistakably a miniature version of Hogsmeade. It even had little sand people moving about. "Okay, that's actually pretty neat. What's it for?"

"This," Dumbledore explained, sticking his wand into a pile of sand outside the village limits. Out of it rose...

"You aren't seriously - "

"Ho ho, go get them!" the Headmaster prodded in enjoyment.

Harry watched blankly as the large sand T-rex stomped its way into the village and began causing mass panic, eating sand villagers and stomping on buildings.

"You missed the one from earlier," Dumbledore said lightly, making another T-rex. "I had most of London set up."

"I got the memory."

The showstopper worked just like Harry had hoped it would. Within seconds the desk didn't have anything on it and the Headmaster was looking at him seriously.

"Truly?"

In response Harry pulled the vial from his pocket and handed it over. "It took some convincing, but here you go."

"I hope you didn't hurt the poor man," Dumbledore added dryly. Once upon a time he'd have not even thought of joking about such a thing with the boy.

"Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was found lying outside his cell this morning. The bars were bent with magic."

"What?!" Sirius jumped to his feet, standing before the head of Albus Dumbledore that floated in a green fire. "He was killed?"

"More or less," the Headmaster replied. "He was kissed. Amos just told me in person ten minutes ago. He just left back for the ministry. They're increasing security again."

"But how-?"

"No one knows. The wards detected no one," he explained. "The other Death Eater prisoners all reported the same story, but it's been dismissed as nonsense. Honestly-"

"No…"

Dumbledore looked up to see Sirius looking at his hands in horror.

"He couldn't have."

"What is it Sirius?" Dumbledore's tone was as serious as it had ever been.

"I -" The man broke off for a moment before meeting the Headmaster's eyes. "I made Harry a portkey to Azkaban two days ago."

It seemed that time was no longer.

"No, he's perfectly healthy," Harry replied, shaking his head. "So what's next?"

"Well, I would like to watch this with you first," Dumbledore began, "however, from tomorrow forward we shall be actively seeking out the remainder of Voldemort's Horcruxes. If we are right then that means that there are only two remaining, most likely Hufflepuff's cup and another item that once belonged to either Slytherin or Gryffindor. If I had to make an educated guess, it would be more likely that Tom, as a descendent of Slytherin, would choose him over Gryffindor."

"So you still think that Nagini was a Horcrux?" Harry asked. He'd been skeptical. "I still can't see Voldemort doing something so stupid."

"Not stupid, Harry, risky," Dumbledore corrected. "It's possible that whatever he meant to use for the Horcrux of your death was lost to him that night and he felt rushed for time when he returned, still obsessed with the power of seven. Still, it is not fully important at this time. You should just know that we will take occasional trips from the school to attempt to find the other hiding places."

"Do you have a lot of leads?" Harry asked. Who knew how long this would take?

"Actually, not many more," Dumbledore admitted with a small frown. "I've exhausted a great number of my list by now, so either we get lucky or we will be truly in the dark as to their whereabouts. Still, I feel that we are on the right track."

"Sounds good to me," Harry nodded. "Now - "

"Your training - yes, I haven't forgotten," the Headmaster said with a smile. "You are curious as to what I will be teaching you, am I correct?" At Harry's eager nodding the man just laughed. "Well, I will certainly enjoy a duel or two with you; however, I will be focusing the majority of our time on your understanding of magic and your developing sensory abilities. I rely heavily on my own and know what a boon they can be."

"Excellent!" Harry was eager to begin.

"Just understand that we will not be meeting more than once a week," Dumbledore continued. "I will be wanting you to work on whatever we do in between the meetings. And no, we will not be starting tonight."

Harry just closed his mouth, about to ask that very thing.

"Patience, Harry. Nothing good comes from rushing." Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, watching him with that trademark twinkle in his eyes. "Now..." He shook the vial with the memory slightly. "Care to take a short dive with me?"

Xx~xX

Bellatrix let out a ragged breath as she fell to her knees. Her arms felt like lead, her legs even heavier. It was an effort to even keep her wand pointed ahead of her.

"Mas-ter..."

"Defend yourself!" Voldemort barked, flourishing his wand once more. Spells of a deadly nature arrowed at her, fully intent on ending her struggle to live.

Bellatrix's wand moved up to deflect the first spell, bringing with it a swath of transfigured earth that formed into a wall to protect her left side. She deflected two more before rolling against her cover, fully using it to keep herself from collapsing.

"Excellent."

The word was soft but her ears caught it all the same.

"You are my most excellent fighter, Bellatrix," Voldemort said. "Time and time again you go beyond your limits to prove your worth to me. I do not even remember how many hours ago we began this exercise and I am still confident that in your current state you could beat any reasonably skilled opponent."

"I am... unworthy... of your praise... Master..." she spoke between deep breaths.

At this Voldemort laughed softly. "Of course, of course," he said, lifting the woman to a standing position with his wand. She became momentarily fearful he'd release her to stand on her own, which would certainly result in her collapsing to the floor, but instead he drew close and took hold of her left arm, pressing his fingers on her Mark. Bellatrix winced, half-expecting pain to shoot through her body, but instead she felt warmth, returning some strength to her exhausted limbs and color to her face.

"Master - "

"I've told you before, the Mark is much more than a simple means of calling my faithful," he said. "Only the new one has a solitary use. Can you stand?"

"Y-yes," she managed to get out, despite wanting nothing more than to say no. His face was rather close to her own, and her breath was coming in short, measured gasps. The way her heart was fluttering, it made her remember what she felt when she first met him, all those years ago. He could be so cruel at times and yet at others so gentle. Perhaps there was some hope yet...

Voldemort released her and moved away, heading for the door. If he'd been aware of the woman's feelings he gave no notice. "Come then, Bellatrix. I believe we have a meeting to attend."

"Yes, Master," she said quickly, making to follow him. She'd only gotten a few steps when she remembered exactly what state she was in. "Oh, I - "

"If you wish to clean yourself, do so and join me in the study," Voldemort added, leaving the room.

"Thank you, I will," she replied gratefully, closing the door to their dueling space behind her and moving tenderly in a different direction. Bellatrix had taken to sleeping in her sister's room, and the adjoined bathroom was precisely where she was heading. Her master would tolerate her absence for twenty minutes or so, as he had done on previous occasions. If there was anything she needed to know he would tell her.

"Ahhh..."

The hot water of the bath did wonders to her aching muscles. The energy the Dark Lord had given her had only lasted a short time after all.

"I'd imagine he could take it away, if he wanted," she mused, running a finger over her Dark Mark. It still bothered her greatly that she was being denied the new Mark. Already a number of the newer Death Eaters had it and were using it to great effect. Why didn't he trust her with it? She could destroy so many more of his enemies with it, after all.

You are my most excellent fighter, Bellatrix.

It was nice. The amount of time they spent in each others' presence, the way he complimented her, touched her... like he truly cared for her. It was almost like they were in an actual relationship. She was not blind, though. The Dark Lord saw her as a tool. A very useful tool, but a tool nonetheless. But she was perfectly content with that, if only because he could see her worth like no one else could. If finding her way into his heart meant being the perfect tool then that was what she would be. That was what she was being. She was unquestionably his most faithful, his most capable. It was only a matter of time before he started seeing her on a new, higher level. She unshakably believed this above all else.

There were very few things in the world that she truly loved. The Dark Lord and her sister Narcissa were the only two people. All that was left was her insatiable lust for battle. There was nothing, nothing, like a heated duel. To think that Harry Potter, of all people, would be one of the few to have gotten her so excited. She'd heard James Potter compared with people like the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, though she'd never gotten the chance to fight him. Perhaps it was in the boy's blood?

"I hope to see you soon, Harry Potter..." she grinned, focusing back on scrubbing her body. It wouldn't do to keep her master waiting, after all.

x~x

Meanwhile, Voldemort was in a fairly unpleasant mood.

"Fenrir, for the last time, we cannot simply let the migrant packs loose on the public," he said darkly, reminding himself over and over why exactly he needed to keep the mongrel alive. "We do not have the kind of support we need to survive the retaliation we would bring upon the movement."

"You promised me that there would be action taken to help integrate werewolves into society," Fenrir argued back. "And what has been done so far? Nothing!" A crash followed the statement, the man's fist breaking a vase on a nearby table. Voldemort watched in interest as the cuts the werewolf sustained began to close very slowly, a clear sign that the full moon was close.

"Only a fool would expect such drastic results overnight," the dark wizard said coldly. "I've already brought Britain to its knees once, I can do it again. You must. Be. Patient. It is only a matter of time before I bring the more powerful dark creatures under my control. The Dementors and giants are only the beginning."

"I can hold my people back for only so much longer, Lord Voldemort," Fenrir warned. "Make something happen or I will take matters into my own hands, as I had always been intending to."

Voldemort frowned, eyes locked with the man's before him. Unknown to the werewolf, Voldemort was peering right into his surface thoughts, easily seeing his plans. Of course, the Dark wizard had been under no illusions when he'd gone about recruiting Fenrir Greyback. The man wanted nothing more than to turn as many people as possible, his own sick interest in children aside. He saw Voldemort as a way to get his people in the best position they could be before launching an all-out attack on Britain. It was either that or just go on the offensive as they were, a risky move overall.

So yes, they were using one another. Voldemort would be certain to kill the lot of them before they could do anything of the sort to his kind. They had no place among the society he envisioned. And it was important. There was no way he'd settle for being immortal in a cesspool of half-breeds and Muggle-borns.

"I cannot promise anything at the moment..." he began, making Fenrir growl, "but perhaps we can look at a few targets that I would have no issue letting go to bolster your numbers. I'm sure you could always use more females at least?" Yes, better to placate the animals before they got out of hand.

As the Dark Lord expected, his words caused Fenrir to smile in a rather excited way. "Well, now you're talking, My Lord. I'm all ears."

Xx~xX

"Harry, are you listening?"

"Of course I am, Luna," said Harry quickly, bobbing his head once in the affirmative. "You were saying about that new type of Snorkak your dad saw."

"Well, of course he didn't actually see one," she corrected, wagging her finger as if he were being thick on purpose. "Snorkaks are invisible. If he actually saw one then it wouldn't be a Snorkak, would it?"

"I suppose not," Harry agreed, her logic not lost on him. Of course, her logic made anything potentially real. A fitting way of thinking for someone with such an unspoiled imagination.

They were currently at the Ravenclaw table eating lunch and surrounded by a good three feet of space all around. The House had mostly dropped their wariness of the Gryffindor after the summer, but that still didn't mean they were eager to get chummy with the one who had removed them from the House Cup the previous year. Especially when he was with Luna. Best not to tempt fate.

Oblivious to it all, Harry was letting himself soak in the thorough description of the Snorkak that Luna was now giving him, complete with her own ideas about bits her father didn't know yet. Despite being about the most bizarre things imaginable, lunch with Luna was probably the most normal thing he did at Hogwarts, apart from classes and homework. Given that they really only got to spend relaxed time together at meals, particularly with this being her O.W.L. year, he couldn't help but be grateful that it was still a part of his days. It was almost as if it all helped him stay fixed to his life and not get lost in what was waiting for him beyond the castle walls.

And so he nodded here, asked questions there, and altogether enjoyed himself with the good company. It was moments like this he cherished, reminders of a life he used to have at school every day. Just going class to class, spending time with his friends, and hoping he'd get good grades on his assignments.

Unfortunately, if the past few weeks of school were any indication, this year was only going to get more hectic.

To start with, he'd rejoined the Quidditch team. Not something he'd been enthusiastic about, but the exercise would do him some good and be a nice break from all the training he was putting himself through. Nothing like a nice fly to clear his head, after all. The only issue with that was that Harry had flat-out refused to go to more than two practices a week, half of what Ron was scheduling. Not his finest moment of team spirit and selflessness, but he, and Ron after about two hours of arguing, understood that he had way more important things to be doing. It wasn't like he'd lose his edge.

Besides, it was that or flat out quit.

His training was, as last year, a free-form beast that wove about his classes and other chunks of spare time. He only dueled Stella in the evening, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be looking into new spells, tactics, and his own special interests in magic in the other hours of the day. There was only so much school work could do to satisfy his interests, particularly with his knowledge of certain areas of magic now bordering graduate level material.

The mini DA sessions he'd been holding with his Defense group had turned out being immensely entertaining, if only partially productive. They were a nice way to wind down. Pansy only showed up one out of every three times, and even then just sat and watched in silence, but Megan and Lisa interacting was pure comedy. Lisa was uptight about practically everything, getting frustrated when the simple things went wrong and whenever Harry did something stupid. Megan, on the other hand, was as easy going as any reliable 'Puff, and her reaction to most events in the room usually drove Lisa up the wall. What was good, though, was that they both really wanted to improve, and it showed in the amount of work they put in.

Harry gave a small start, coming out of his thoughts as he felt the unmistakable heat from the small mirror in his pocket. He never went anywhere without it.

"Luna, sorry to cut you off but I've just remembered something I need to take care of," he said, extricating himself from the bench and grabbing his bag.

"That's fine," she replied pleasantly, giving him a warm smile. "I'll talk to you later then."

"Great, see ya!"

Harry made his way out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase, turning into the first unused classroom he saw.

"You called, Padfoot?"

"Eh... not quite."

Harry blinked for a moment before focusing on the small face that was reflected in the mirror.

"Nym!"

"Hey, Harry," came the soft reply. She looked extremely worn out.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern, automatically bringing the object closer to his face. The last time he'd even seen her was at the inauguration where her friend was killed. They'd never gotten the time to talk since, even though he'd sent her a letter to ask that they meet up. The woman's Auror and Order duties made her all but completely unavailable.

"I've been better," she replied, attempting a small smile that seemed fairly empty.

"Is there something wrong?" he continued, unwilling to accept that it could be brushed off like that. "You know if you need help with something I can leave the castle no problem-"

"Harry, shut up for a moment, will you?"

Harry's mouth closed, taken aback.

"I've been busy lately, clearly, but I just wanted to say hi to you," she said, running a hand through her hair. "You know, to see you. Sirius gave me the mirror because it was faster than an owl. Handy thing, that. School been well?"

"Yeah, it's nice not thinking about O.W.L.s again," he said with a nod, casting about for something else to talk about. "Have you heard about the new teaching changes?"

"Yes, Slughorn must be making Potions a lot more bearable. How's Snape in Defense?"

Harry paused for a second before answering. "Well, he's still an evil git at times, but classes have been pretty interesting. We do non-verbal practice all the time, but he's done lectures on the 'culture' of the Dark Arts, whatever that means, that are pretty interesting. We're also in mixed House groups for the whole year. All the sixth years are in the class." Frowning, he continued, "You know, I think all of my classes are doing group work."

"It's a pretty big cornerstone of the N.E.W.T. courses," Tonks explained with a nod. "It's not just about you learning material, but being able to apply it in a group setting. Job prep at its finest, I suppose. You work with annoying people no matter how old you are."

"That's for sure," Harry agreed. "What about you, though? You've been so busy lately. You'll run yourself into the ground if you aren't careful."

"Well, I'm not dead yet," she chuckled, making Harry frown. "Sorry," she apologized. "I - I'll be taking a break soon. Can I see you in October? It'll give me something to look forward to."

"Definitely!" Harry said quickly. "We can do something fun."

"Fun?" the woman repeated suggestively, making Harry blush, but she only laughed. Her features had brightened notably from when she first began speaking. "I'd like that."

Silence stretched between them for well over a minute before Harry spoke once more. She was just staring at him, her eyes occasionally moving slightly away from his own before they returned.

"Uh, Nym? Are you sure everything is all right?"

Tonks just let out an annoyed huff of air, expression now rather grumpy. "Dammit, Potter, I need sleep. Can you quit asking me already?"

"Sorry, I - "

"I'm gonna go," the metamorph continued, shaking her head slightly. "First Hogsmeade weekend, don't forget."

And with that her face disappeared.

Harry slowly replaced the mirror in his pocket, sinking into the nearest seat and looking at the ceiling with a slanted expression, sighing heavily. Wonderful. He'd only wanted to help her and instead pissed her off.

If there was one thing that Harry felt he had no real grasp of, it was their relationship. Could he even call it that? At times it felt more like a game than anything. An addicting game at that; one they both loved to play. So it was easy to say they were interested in one another. But could what they'd been doing for the past year be called something serious?

In all honesty, he wasn't really sure. He had nothing to go off of besides his own gut feeling, and the problem was that he couldn't trust that this time. This wasn't something he could just talk about with Ron or Hermione. And what if it wasn't? He'd never been able to shake the feeling that Tonks was just in a different league than he was.

Man, he really sucked at this relationship stuff.

"I don't mean to intrude, but..."

Harry, who had slowly slumped down onto the desk in depression as his thoughts ran out of control, moved his eyes slightly to the left to the source of the male voice:a painting of an unassuming wizard seated at a table.

"What, I'm trying to sulk here if you didn't notice," Harry grumbled.

"Yes, well, I'm terribly sorry to hear that, but..." The man truly did look apologetic as he spoke. "You see, watching you sit here in silence is somewhat awkward, and I don't want to anymore. Can you leave?"

x~x

"Damn paintings... think they're so important because they're 'eternal'... next time I'll introduce Mr. Incendio, yeah..."

Thirty minutes later Harry could be found wandering the corridors near the kitchens, Marauder's Map in hand, but not really looking at it. He was still rather focused on everything he'd do to that obnoxious painted prat. What he was actually supposed to be doing was using his free period to look for Helga Hufflepuff's portrait, but there was really no luck to be had there. So far he'd spent about ten solid hours looking to no avail. Initially he'd thought it would be easy. He'd marched down to the kitchens and tickled the pear, gaining him entrance to what must be his destination. Suffice it to say he'd been rather disappointed.

There was only one portrait in the whole of the kitchens. Paintings of food were numerous, but only one with a person. On the side wall, close to eye level above a shelf filled with spice jars, sat a medium sized frame with a rather attractive witch in it. Curves in all the right places. However, two things had instantly dismissed her as a potential Helga Hufflepuff in his mind. Firstly, she was sleeping at a small wooden dining table where he could see her whole body, as opposed to the other three founders, who had all been painted in grand looking seats that focused on their torsos.

The other was the sheer amount of alcohol that filled the space behind her.

Harry knew what a household bar looked like. This honestly looked closer to a liquor warehouse more than anything. Bottles of every shape and size littered shelves, cabinets, and countertops, making an impressive display. Then there was the fact that the snoozing woman was holding an empty shot glass in her right hand while her left was hanging loosely at her side, barely keeping an almost empty bottle of something from fully falling to the floor a few inches away. Empty bottles littered the floor in the background.

Yes, the Hogwarts portraits came in all shapes and sizes indeed.

So, in an effort to find the Founder sooner rather than later, Harry had begun scouring the area with the Map. He knew that the kitchens was just a potential lead on her location, but the Gryffindor had a gut feeling she was down there and so he didn't leave when the search turned up nothing. Even asking Dobby if there were any secret rooms in the area that might not be on the Map ended up nowhere. Where on earth was this woman?

"Hey, sexy, didn't see you there."

Harry just gave the alcoholic a flat look. He was back in the kitchens again, where he always ended up, and this time sitting near the sleeping witch. Previously sleeping woman, now.

"I'm zero for one with the flirts in my life today, so can we just not go there?"

Instead of getting riled at the rather aggressive reply, the woman just shrugged, apparently not bothered by his mood. Her lack of reaction actually helped to cool the teen's attitude and he just leaned back in his seat. As she wasn't talking he decided to try for a more normal conversation.

"What are you drinking?" he asked, motioning to the bottle in her hand.

"No idea, honestly," she answered, glancing at the label with an uninterested eye. Her words were pretty clear, though it was just as clear that she was inebriated. "All the same to me. Though every once in a while I find something that really knocks me out."

"You know, I thought for a bit that you wouldn't ever wake up," he said, chewing on a piece of spiced bread. The house elves always gave him something when he entered, no matter how many times that was in a day.

"What else is there to do than drink and sleep?" she asked, as if he were stupid.

"Maybe you should have thought about that when you got yourself painted," Harry answered, rolling his eyes.

"Used ta have a nice chair," she replied, as if stung by his words. "Dunno what happened to it honestly. I moved in here a while ago." The woman went to pour herself another shot only to realize that she'd finished yet another bottle. She tossed it over her shoulder where it vanished out of sight at the edge of the frame. A second later and she had another one, pouring it before reading the label.

"Why on earth would you want to spend all your time in there?" Harry asked, now a bit curious.

"Y'know it sucks cuz none of this stuff ages," she said, not even paying attention to the question.

"Yeah, I've got Transfiguration, I'll see you tomorrow," said Harry, grabbing his bag. Most of the conversations he had with the woman went like this.

"Cheers," she replied with a wave, downing her shot with the ease of long practice. "Man, that stuff is good."

"Ugh, I'm never going to find this woman," Harry groaned, trudging out of the kitchens. Well, at least he had a session with the Headmaster to look forward to that evening.

So far he'd had two sessions with the old man, and both had been a wealth of random information on sensory abilities and other bits from different magic disciplines. It had been a great number of years since Dumbledore last taught Transfiguration, but Harry had no doubt that the classes must have been an experience.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," said the Headmaster with a smile as Harry finally entered the office that evening. "How are your classes going so far? I know that it is a common misconception that sixth year is easier than fifth."

"They're going pretty well," Harry answered with a nod. "Potions is actually fun, though still pretty hard. Herbology is really dangerous, you should seriously look into what's going on in there. My O.W.L. level Ancient Runes class is a fair bit confusing but still interesting; I can see why Hermione loves it so much. Wand classes these days are really easy, but the extra theory and practice I'm getting isn't a bad thing. Defense is a pain, though..."

"Yes, I've been rather pleased with how Severus has been teaching his classes," agreed Dumbledore, making Harry chuckle at the juxtaposition of their words. "As I understand it, you've also begun to meet again for continued Occlumency training?"

"Yesterday," Harry nodded. "Snape thinks - "

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Professor Snape thinks that I can really reach the top so we're going for it," he continued, rolling his eyes at the correction.

"Wonderful!" Indeed, Dumbledore looked most pleased. "I hope that you both continue to work together on something, even if it is menial. The bond you both are forging is not something to be taken lightly. Now if you would remind me what you learned last time...?"

"Magic can be split into two main groups, living and non-living. Cast spells are a weird middle ground but more easily classify with the latter," he responded in a bit of a monotone.

"That's all?" asked the man.

"I filtered the crazy things out," Harry elaborated, knowing the list felt rather short for what they did each week. "Why anyone would need to know the magical applications of earwax is beyond me, but you can use it to- "

"Thank you, Harry, I believe I know what our topic of discussion for today shall be now," Dumbledore interrupted before the boy could continue. "Like the previous sessions we will spend a good amount of time working on detecting enchantments in objects, however we will also begin you on attempting to detect the casting of spells."

Harry just gave the Headmaster a wide-eyed look.

"Sense spell casting?" he repeated, not even having thought about such a thing before. "You mean tell when someone is actually in the process of casting a spell, right?"

"And sense the spell itself, yes."

"Okay, now that sounds ridiculous," Harry said. "Spells are fast. Even if you could tell it was coming - "

"You wouldn't be able to react?" Dumbledore completed with a small smile. Harry recognized that smile. He was always wrong when Dumbledore smiled like that. "I've seen more than my fair share of wizards dodge out of the way of spell fire by the skin of their teeth, you included. Our sixth sense for magic is more than able to detect and process an incoming spell with far greater speed and precision than our other senses. Of course," he added, holding up a hand to stop Harry from interjecting, "we are talking about an extremely developed ability here. It would take years of dedicated training to reach such a level, not to mention an extremely advanced sensory ability. Even my proficiency in the skill is average at best."

"Have you trained for it like you just said?" Harry asked.

At this, Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I've devoted almost all of my time honing my skills at understanding magic in objects. As a result, I'm rather better than most."

"No kidding, you read every spell I cast on those things last time without even touching them. Or looking at them for that matter," Harry responded, shaking his head.

"Indeed, though I should say that, while you have a greatly expanded knowledge of spells for a sixteen-year-old, it is still far less than most who reach even a quarter of my age," the Headmaster chuckled.

"You could at least try to sound apologetic when you say stuff like that," Harry said, disgruntled. He took no offense, of course. He'd long understood that Dumbledore's words were always given with positive meaning, even to his enemies.

Dumbledore merely continued speaking. "In any event, you can surely imagine the benefit of being completely aware of your surroundings regarding magical attack. There is almost nothing better to keep you alive in those sticky situations."

"So is this what we're going to end up working on, mostly?" Harry asked, curious what Dumbledore was planning for the long term.

"No, as I said before, we are looking for magical artifacts of a Dark nature, therefore being able to sense and undo their protections is imperative to us. As you are not trained in curse breaking, nor is it reasonable to train you in such, we will work primarily on your sensing ability. Once we have destroyed all of the Horcruxes, we will be able to focus much more on dueling. In the meantime, our dueling work will be shorter considerably, as will any special topics you are curious about."

"Well, it'll give me something to work for at least," he said, deciding it was better than nothing. He suddenly grinned, tilting his head slightly to the side. There was no harm in trying, right? "How about a little demonstration before we start then? Two minutes?"

The Headmaster laughed, tugging at his beard slightly. "Very well, very well. Two minutes." And with that the man's wand was pointed at Harry's head, tip glowing blue.

Moving on nothing but instinct and self preservation, Harry managed to fall backwards, allowing the spell to pass an inch over his head. He shielded himself as he rolled, feeling it take a couple spell hits but holding, thankfully. Now back on his feet, Harry had all of his attention focused on the man before him, still sitting at his desk like they were having a light conversation.

There was a moment's hesitation...

Both wands moved at the same time, red and blue spells bouncing off of one another in mid air and hammering opposite walls, much to the rising alarm of the already panicking headmasters and headmistresses in their portraits. Still, the sound was oddly distant to Harry, who only had eyes for Dumbledore's wand. There was no way he'd last in this close space. He needed to put distance between them.

"Dilao Spatium!" Harry snapped, his voice hushed as he took a precious moment to spin his wand around in a small circle.

The result was immediate. Dumbledore's office seemed to grow by three times, the walls pushing out in every direction, the distance between the two combatants increasing greatly.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called, still content to sit at his desk while they dueled. "But the removal of one problem merely presents another."

Which was exactly the case, as now Harry was mentally fighting the room which wanted nothing more than to return to its natural size. Could he hold it up for another minute or so while taking on the best duelist in Britain?

Dumbledore's next two spells were already inbound, but the distance gave Harry the extra fraction of a second to prepare and deflect them with his own wand, returning with two Stunners of his own, for all the good they did. A shadow at the corner of his vision had Harry turning to slash at an animated piece of furniture intent on knocking him down. His spell turned the attacking table into a sock.

It was, understandably, to his astonishment when the sock bowled him over with the weight of a full-grown man. The thing hit the floor with a great thud as he coughed, winded from the impact. Still, he never stopped moving, surviving another round of Stunners from Dumbledore and ducking behind some partial cover. A tap of his wand extended it to completely cover his body, another making it transparent from his side only.

Unfortunately it was at that moment his Expansion Charm destabilized, returning the room to normal in a half a second. This brought him rather uncomfortably close to Dumbledore's desk, though he was still in cover. The Headmaster was just sitting there, patiently waiting.

"I must say, you did very well considering the abruptness with which I began the altercation," said Dumbledore, nodding appreciatively. "However, your two minutes have expired."

"Have they?" Harry said in disappointment, getting properly to his feet only to be instantly taken down by a well-placed transfiguration on his clothing. Within a second he was unable to move, trapped in a cocoon of fabric.

"No, not for another twenty-three seconds," said Dumbledore, looking at his watch.

"I don't even know why I try..." Harry muttered, waiting for the Headmaster to reverse the spell. Dusting himself off, he finally took a seat for the first time all meeting. "You're a cheater."

"You relied on information given by an enemy," corrected Dumbledore. "Your fate was well deserved."

"I'll get you eventually," Harry said, unwilling to let it go. As one-sided as that had been, Dumbledore was just as exciting to duel as Stella or Bellatrix, though his style was distinctly different from the women's. Not what had happened. The duel itself was rather boring. No, it was the feeling of standing against someone so skillful. After all, there was nothing like a good duel to get your blood pumping.

Xx~xX

"Before you go, I'd like to remind you that at the end of the month we are having the first set of group duels..." Snape's drawl could be easily heard over the small movements of students packing up. "I will be assessing each of you for individual improvement and your effectiveness as a team. Do not disappoint me."

Tracey let out a small breath as Snape called the class to close. She'd never have imagined that a Defense class at Hogwarts could get so difficult. If it weren't for the D.A. she'd have probably broken down from the hopelessness of the situation.

"Do not disappoint me..." the Hufflepuff girl in front of her whispered in a sinister voice, pretending to brandish her wand. "Pitiful students, you've failed for the last time! Avada Kedavra!"

A harsh snort of laughter drew Tracey's attention to the Gryffindor of the row. The one who was half making her fidget in nervousness. But she needed to do this. If she didn't break out of this phase she'd never get close to being her old self around him again.

At least that's what she kept telling herself.

"Miss Jones, I can hear you," came Snape's drawl from his desk. He wasn't even looking up at them. "Ten points from Hufflepuff. And five from Gryffindor, Potter."

"Wha- what for?" he said indignantly.

"Just getting a head start on our next class. Don't make it more."

Tracey couldn't help but giggle at the sight of the teen palming his face. The majority of the Slytherins were laughing as it was, with the Gryffindors praying for Snape's early demise. Of course, it didn't really matter when Snape docked them points. Whatever subtractions actually went through were always counteracted by the sheer force of nature that was Hermione Granger, who probably earned a fifth of the House's yearly points on her own.

Tracey hung back as she packed up, telling Daphne to go on ahead. Either Daphne didn't know what was going through her head or she was just keeping quiet about it, because she shrugged and left right away. After that, it was simple enough to wait outside the doorway for him to emerge. He always talked to Snape for a bit after class.

Though she probably shouldn't have stood directly next to the door.

"Ahh! Tracey, you scared the hell out of me." Indeed, he'd nearly dropped his bag.

Tracey actually did drop her stuff, his shout of surprise startling her just the same. Hastily grabbing it up she said, "Hey, Harry. I'm really sorry about that."

"It's all right," he said. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes, you always stay after to talk to Professor Snape, so I figured this would be easiest," she replied.

"Oh," he said, looking somewhat surprised. "So what's up?"

"Do you want to eat lunch with me?"

Harry looked at the girl in renewed surprise, her face having gone a little pink at the sudden question.

"Sure, but unless you want to sit at the Gryffindor table - "

"Not in the Great Hall," she added quickly, cutting him off. "Obviously. I meant somewhere... else. Just us two, like we did during the summer. I could use the break from the rest of the school."

"Oh, why didn't you just say so?" Harry grinned. "What're you tiptoeing around for, anyway?"

At this Tracey just gave a small huff, crossing her arms. "I don't know about you, Potter, but I've got a reputation to keep."

Harry just snorted in amusement. "Yeah, same here."

"I was thinking of a couple places, but uh," she paused, giving a small awkward laugh, "they're probably a bit lame, now that I think of it."

He didn't need to hear her list of decidedly suspect places she'd come up with. Astronomy Tower? Down by the lake? Ugh, instant death by embarrassment, how did she ever think that was okay? Admittedly she hadn't thought this through much anyway, as she wasn't sure how they'd get the food for the outing to begin with. But apparently this wasn't an issue to Harry.

"It's all right," he said. "I've got a good idea anyway. Why bring the food somewhere when you could just go to where it all is, yeah? Meet me off the side of the grand staircase a little before lunch starts."

"Where it all is?" Tracey repeated. "Are you talking about the kitchens?"

"Have you been there?"

"Of course not, who has?" she shot back. The kitchens, honestly.

"Uh, loads of people I'd bet," he replied. "Anyway I'll see you in a bit then, yeah?"

Tracey smiled widely. "Yep."

x~x

Elsewhere, watching stealthily, were two sixth year girls. Harry had just left in the opposite direction, while Tracey stood there watching him go. They took this as their cue to leave.

"You see what I mean?" said one. She tapped herself on the head with her wand, dispelling the Disillusionment Charm. "And I'm still getting over how you can cast that..."

"It's not as hard as it sounds, you know - "

"Hermione."

"Daphne. See how clever I am, saying names like you are?" Hermione chuckled as she dispelled the charm on herself. "Now really, why did we just spy on your best friend?"

"I just want support that I'm not going crazy."

"Daphne, just because she asked to get lunch with him somewhere other than the Great Hall doesn't mean that she fancies him," Hermione said patiently, shaking her head.

"So the fact that she moans his name in her sleep doesn't mean anything?"

Hermione froze, looking at the Slytherin in shock. Daphne was just laughing at her expression.

"Oh you..." She continued down the corridor with a huff. Daphne trailing behind her.

"Why do you think she's been avoiding him recently?" she pressed. "She positively fled from him on the train. I don't think she could hold it together at the time. It's actually pretty cute. And that isn't counting the little things here and there during the whole second half of fifth year. I'm telling you she's got it bad, it just took a little while for her to realize it!"

"So what if she does? Are you bothered by it?" asked Hermione in curiosity.

"Of course not," Daphne said at once. "She's my best friend, I want her to be happy!"

"So then why are you getting so worked up about it? Harry could use the cheer too, honestly."

Daphne let out a small huff. "I'm worried he's going to do something dumb. Tracey's never been the most confident girl out there. What if he..."

"Makes it seem like he's still interested in you?"

"Yes!" Daphne jumped on the girl's words at once. "He did ask me out a while ago so it's possible. Tracey likes him. I-"

"Like Tracey?"

" - want to hurt you."

Hermione giggled, making Daphne sigh. Knowing that she was at her limit for fun, Hermione gave the girl a straight look.

"Look, stop worrying about it so much," she said, swatting lightly at the situation like it was a small fly. "Give it a little time and who knows what might happen. Harry's not as hopeless as he used to be with girls anyway. Maybe he'll surprise us. See ya."

Hermione made to leave but Daphne stopped her by putting a hand on her arm.

"All right, all right, I'll say why I really wanted you to tag along," she said grudgingly.

Hermione grinned internally. She knew she'd get it out of her eventually.

"Will you..."

x~x

"The school kitchen is down here?"

"Sure is," Harry nodded, leading the way down the corridor covered in food paintings. "You'll see why when we get in."

"Well, at least the art is appropriate," she observed. "What's up?" They'd come to a halt.

"We're here," said Harry. They were standing in front of a huge painting of a bowl of fruit.

"Hidden entrance, right," muttered Tracey. "So how do we get in?"

"Tickle the pear."

"Tickle the pear?"

"The pear." Harry pointed at it, clearly enjoying her confusion. "Tickle it. Go on."

Feeling silly, Tracey reached out and wiggled her fingers over the painted canvas. To her surprise, and immediate amusement, the pear let out a small giggle, twitching in place before turning into a doorknob. Getting an encouraging smile from the Gryffindor, she grasped it and turned, opening the door and releasing a wave of warm and wonderful smelling air.

"Merlin's pants..."

"Never seen so many house elves at once, yeah?" Harry asked.

"Right in one," she replied.

"Welcome back, Master Harry," said a polite female house elf, bowing before them. "Are yous to be eating lunch with us today?"

"Yes, I'd be happy to," he said with a nod. "I brought a guest today."

"Of course, welcome Missus. We be putting yous at the table yous be sitting at always," she continued. Harry was about to interject, but it was too late, the house elf already walking off. "This way Master and Missus."

Well, with any luck she'd be asleep.

"So they make the food along the edges and in other connecting rooms and send it... up?" Tracey asked, having only half paid attention to the conversation between Harry and the house elf. The tables were becoming more and more packed with food as the house elves continued to pile it on.

"Got it in one," said Harry. "So no one in Slytherin has bragged about being there? Seems like something someone would do."

"Most Slytherins stay in the common room because we're more comfortable there. You know how it is in this place," the girl said.

"I suppose so," Harry shrugged. "We can't all have a Fred and George in our Houses."

"People would be pranked so much they'd end up calling it Hogwarts School of Mischief and Misery," Tracey joked.

They both had a good laugh at this, taking their seats at the table they were led to. Their food and goblets were already there, looking like a miniature version of the tables it was situated next to. Slightly above them on the wall was a large painting of a wooden table and single chair, the entire back of the room made up with what could only be bottles of alcohol. It was empty.

"Thank god for that," Tracey heard Harry mutter, the Gryffindor looking at the painting with a grimace.

"So you come down here a lot?" asked Tracey in curiosity, letting a house elf fill her cup with something to drink by standing on a chair next to her. He finished with a small bow and hopped off, back to work with the others.

"Yeah, it's a nice change of scenery," he replied, leaning against the wall with a small smile. "They're all pretty fun to watch, too. Especially when there's an argument."

"House elves argue?" The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. It just seemed like such a weird idea, they way they always were tripping over themselves to be useful to their masters. She didn't want him to think she was so ignorantly prejudiced like that. Especially when he seemed to like the creatures.

Harry, however, just nodded, apparently not offended. "Yeah, it seems weird, right? I mean, they work so well together in teams. But with this number there's no way to avoid an argument or two once in awhile. Their group leader straightens it out pretty quickly and it's business as usual." He shook his head. "Anyway, it's been ages since we last talked. How are your classes going?"

"They're alright, I suppose," she answered, taking a couple of gulps of her drink. Tart but a bit fruity. "We've got less homework than last year but the material is harder in general. I dropped Arithmancy because it was giving me a headache, but I kept all of my other classes. Even with one less class though I feel like I do less of what I used to do. Like look at the clouds, or throw rocks in the lake. I feel preoccupied, I guess. But as for classes, my favorite is actually Potions now."

"Can't say I share your favorite, but I will agree that Potions is more enjoyable now," said Harry. "Not easier, but he's fun to listen to. Always with a ridiculous story. And he doesn't play favorites, even though he used to be Head of Slytherin."

"Did he? I didn't know that," said the blonde.

"Speaking of potions..." Harry leaned in conspiratorially.. "Have you thought about what to use that Felix for?"

"I - use it for? No, not really," she answered a little too quickly. Looking for something to do, she quickly brought her goblet to her lips, downing the rest of it in as refined a manner as she could, knowing Harry was watching her with suspicion.

"I see..."

"So what's your favorite class so far this year?" asked Tracey, returning the subject to classes. The moment the sound of the empty goblet hit the table, another elf was there to fill it. Not wanting him to climb up again she brought it down to his level.

"Defense for sure," he replied, making the girl look at him like he was an alien.

"But Snape is teaching that class! I thought you hated him."

"Not really. Not anymore," Harry corrected himself.

"What changed with you and Snape?"

"I - We just understand each other better, I think. We don't antagonize one another any more and I think it's been working out well. He still takes points from me because he finds it fun, but other than that... not awful. Maybe we both grew up a bit?"

"Well, I guess that's good to hear then," she said with a smile, earning one from him in return. "How's your group in Defense? Mine is as average as average gets. At least I was lucky enough to not have to be with anyone from my house. Way more cons there than pros."

"That's for sure," Harry agreed. "On the outside my group is really good, but in reality I've got the three sixth years with the worst practical Defense marks."

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" she asked with a wince. There were a bunch of people not in the DA. And there's no way they could be worse than Crabbe or Goyle."

"No, Crabbe and Goyle are actually pretty good at practical Defense, though they're better at causing damage than fixing or preventing it." Harry sighed before continuing. "I know all this because right after the first class where we got our groups I went to Snape and asked him straight out. He told me he gave me the worst Defense student from each House and to get them where they should be. We've been meeting every week in the evenings."

"So that's where Pansy goes off to every once in awhile," said Tracey in understanding. "We've asked but she just says it's a walk. Considering what's been going on we've been giving her space."

"Yeah... have you started on the project yet?"

x~x

Harry quietly watched the house elves work. It was impressive to see then still working so furiously, even though lunch was nearly over. But now he just let them go somewhat out of focus, his mind elsewhere.

Earlier he couldn't place the feeling he got from the girl he was eating with. The one that just made him want to open up. But he'd struck upon a thought that hadn't left his mind in the past ten minutes, and the more he considered it, the more he realized how right it was. Tracey was like Tonks. It wasn't particularly a new thought he'd had. He'd compared them well more than once before, but then it hadn't meant much. Now? Considering what Tonks did to his emotions, being around another girl who could affect him so easily made him a bit nervous.

"I like this..."

Harry's attention refocused on the girl in front of him. She'd pulled the tie out of her hair and was running her fingers through it lightly.

"Sitting here, I mean," she added quickly. "With you. Not my hair. I like this too, though, of course."

"It looks nice." The words came without much thought, though his brain registered them all the same.

"Thanks, I take good care of it," the girl smiled, seemingly distracted by it. She suddenly giggled, putting a hand to her mouth. "Your hair looks like a dragon licked it sometimes. Especially in the mornings before Hermione tells you to fix it."

"It's better than it used to be," he defended, automatically trying to flatten his hair. A lost battle.

Tracey just giggled as she watched him toy with his hair to no avail. It was only another few seconds before she was speaking again.

"Do you really like my laugh?"

Harry just blinked.

"You said you did," she continued, smiling at the memory. "Said it was nice."

Harry couldn't help but blush a bit. It had been a rather forward statement to a girl he'd interacted so little with before. She could have easily walked off, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

"Well, yeah - "

"I wasn't creeped out," she insisted, leaning forwards in earnest. "I was really pleased, but I didn't know how to react to it. And I was being so rude to you, too."

"You don't need to apologize for that," Harry grinned, waving it away. "I did just randomly come up to you when you were focused on something else. And that's good because it was supposed to be a complement."

"It was a good day," Tracey mused, leaning on her hand as she remembered it. "We went shopping together, too. I'd never done that with a boy before, or anything else really."

"Really? That's surprising." Harry scratched his cheek. "You give me the impression of being pretty popular in general."

Tracey just laughed, sipping at her drink lightly. "No way, you're thinking about Daphne. It must be rubbing off on me after being her friend for so long."

"That's not true, Tracey, you're selling yourself short," Harry said easily, shaking his head.

The blonde just shrugged at him, though she was smiling slightly. They fell into silence once more and time dragged on, Harry leaning against the wall and Tracey on the heel of her palm, eyes closed. She seemed to just be relaxing in the pleasant atmosphere of the kitchen. Harry's mind was on the girl.

'Seriously, this did not end up where it started...'

But she wasn't saying anything and for now that was perfectly fine with him. Eventually he checked his watch, noting that they had under ten minutes until their next class started. Potions with the other sixth years.

"...Tracey?"

No reply. She was just sitting there, leaning on her hand with her lips slightly parted. She'd never put her hair back in its tie either so it fanned out, falling on either side of her face past her shoulders. Fortunately she didn't have her plate of finished food directly under her.

"Uh, Tracey?" he repeated, moving to give her a light tap. Slowly she tilted forwards...

"Wahh!" Quick with his wand, Harry conjured a fluffy pillow for her head to fall lightly onto, her breathing light and steady. "She's... asleep?"

The sounds of stifled laughter made him turn around. There, lounging in her usual spot, was the drunk, her hand over her mouth.

"You're really something, boy," she said, holding back her laughter. "A real knockout!"

And at this she dissolved into laughter again.

Harry, looking from the woman to Tracey, quickly picked up the girl's goblet and brought it to his nose.

"Is this... Is this wine?!"

"That should be a fun one to explain away," the woman continued between her giggles.

"Wha - " Realization suddenly hit him and he turned to the woman, furious. "What the hell did you do!?"

But she was gone, her laughter getting dimmer as she ran off among a forest of painted food.

Sitting back down, Harry just let his forehead hit the table with a dull thud. So Tracey got drunk and fell asleep. They had Potions in five minutes.

"I'm sooo dead."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Chapter complete! Let me know what you think with a review. I'll answer any questions you have for me. Don't forget to fave and follow =)

~ Chapter 21: EXTRA ~

"Sometimes you're just fucked. What, don't look at me like that. It's true." -Sirius Black to Harry Potter, when he was being decidedly unhelpful at some point in his life, summer 1996

xxx~xxx

"All right, Harry. No big deal here. Just three minutes until Potions starts and Tracey fell asleep stinking wine. Totally cool. Totally cool."

Harry's absently nodding head returned to the snoozing girl sitting across from him, almost immediately drooping on his shoulders once more.

"Totally not cool."

What the hell was he going to do? He wasn't about to leave her here, but the thought of trying to move her somewhere was more than daunting. Not only would he need to avoid everyone and anyone who would want to know why he was carrying an unconscious student, if anyone found out that Tracey had been drinking she'd be in a great amount of trouble. Alcohol wasn't tolerated at the school in the hands of the students, majority or not.

Of course that wasn't to say that he wouldn't be in a ton of trouble either, but he'd likely get off easier.

So, he needed to get her to a place that could excuse her from class, and any investigation that could follow, and also not be out of place for a student to be sleeping. That really only left her dorm or the Hospital Wing. Given his lack of willingness to break into the Slytherin common room with an unconscious Slytherin student, that pretty much just left him one choice. Not that he was complaining. The Hospital Wing was the best option anyway. Once he'd dropped her off he'd make up an excuse for him being late to class. Perfect.

So… how exactly was he going to carry her? Even having the Marauder's Map didn't prevent him from running into people, just give him the opportunity to avoid them. Being weighed down with a person, physically or magically, would render that ability basically moot.

"I guess holding her would be better. People react pretty badly to the whole mobilicorpus thing anyway." Not to mention it was actually a difficult spell to maintain without practice. Anything that targeted a person like that would want to slide off of them like water.

"Um, could I get some help here?" he posed to the room at large, looking about at the scurrying house elves. At once four stopped by his knee.

"What do yous be requiring of us, Master Harry?" the lead one squeaked.

"Could you help me get her on my back?"

It took a little maneuvering, but with the assistance of a little house elf magic Tracey was securely tucked against his back, her head resting on his right shoulder, legs sticking through the loops his arms were making. He was more than aware of the fact that he could feel the weight of her chest pressing into his back through her open robes, and was determinedly not thinking about where his hands were. Bad thoughts! Bad!

Wasting no time, Harry set off into the corridor, praying he wouldn't encounter any of what he figured would be his first obstacle: Hufflepuffs. Their dorm was a stone throw away from the kitchens after all. Additionally there were very few doors and side passageways on the Hufflepuff side of the sub levels. He'd almost made it to the Entrance Hall when he heard a burst of garbled sound, mixed with the laughter of a couple students. They were just leaving the Great Hall.

Straight or right. Straight or right. Straight or right.

Making his way to the edge of the room, he poked his head out and saw that the students were walking thankfully to the right of the staircase, which would lead them to the dungeons. Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry gave Tracey a small jossle to make sure he had a good grip of her before walking as swiftly as possible to the staircase. He found himself grinning at the sheer absurdity of what he was doing. It was a bit thrilling, actually.

He'd almost made it to the top when the door opened again, admitting a great deal more students to the Entrance Hall, coupled with an equal amount of sound. Panicking, Harry made a split second decision.

"Dobby! Do something colorful!" he hissed, breaking into a small jog and hoping upon hope that Tracey didn't wake up.

The loud crack of Dobby appearing was quickly overcome with a multitude of bangs, spraying color into the air that clouded any view of the upper half of the steps.

"Brilliant!" Harry whispered, continuing down the corridor to the moving grand staircase. As it had been doing for many months, every staircase he needed to use was already waiting for him in the proper position. Adrenaline was keeping him moving fairly well, which was a good thing too. Tracey wasn't exactly the lightest girl he'd ever carried.

Note to self, never say that ever. Ever.

"Harry Potter is all right?" said Dobby excitedly, now jogging at his side, clearly pleased to help.

"Excellent work, Dobby, I'll buy you a new pair of shorts when I get the chance," he said, grateful for the elf's quick assistance.

"Harry Potter is too kind!" Dobby cried out, making Harry wince.

"Head back to the kitchens, I'll talk to you later," Harry said quickly, knowing that keeping the house elf around was bound to do him more harm than good. Dobby just vanished with a crack that echoed through the entire grand staircase.

Once Harry reached the fourth floor, he slowed down considerably. It wasn't like he needed to rush anymore, the really dangerous parts had been at the beginning. Besides, now he was at least five or ten minutes into fourth period, which meant that the halls should be void of almost everyone. So he walked with an easy pace, shifting the girl once more on his back to keep a good grip on her. His arms and legs were definitely tiring out anyway, so it was good to be close.

Taking a deep breath, Harry suddenly noticed something that had been nagging him for a little while now. Tracey smelled really good. Vanilla? Whatever it was, he was getting the aroma from her curly blond hair, something that commanded his right peripheral. Tracey smelled familiar. And only just now had he realized where it was from.

"...Oh."

Though it may have seemed like just a way to get Horace into a lowered sense of security, Harry had approached the man about Amortentia with nothing but the utmost seriousness. That potion scared and confused him like nothing else. Or at least the smells did. He was hit with half a dozen things, most of which he recognized on the spot, and half of which had to do with women. The troubling part was that he'd immediately picked up both Tonks and Narcissa, so beginning the most stressful self-reflection of his sixteen years of life. To be told by the ultimate love potion that you're attracted to the person you consider your sort-of mother figure is more than a little unsettling.

Fortunately, Horace had put his fears to rest, but not before he'd made what he thought was an accurate guess about different girl in the mix. He'd picked up the pleasant scent around the blonde Slytherin on a number of occasions that they were in close proximity together.

It was so confusing. How could emotions be so crazy? Shouldn't real affection for someone be more… serious? Not wavering? He should know, shouldn't he? That's the only way he ever heard anyone but Tonks really ever talk about it. And what about Tonks? To say she had nothing to do with any of this would just be straight lying to himself at this point. She meant more to him than...

His thoughts were interrupted by the realization that he'd been standing in front of the Hospital Wing while doing nothing but think. Shaking his head quickly, he eased the door open and silently moved inside. Poppy was in her office, with the door open a foot or so, but she seemed absorbed in her work.

"Poppy!"

"Harry?" The Healer poked her head out of her office, eyeing him warily. "Don't tell me you've hurt yourself again."

"No, no, I brought you someone," he said quickly, setting Tracey down gently on a bed and finally releasing her. Poppy walked over with her wand out, a flick floating the girl slightly so that she could rest fully on the bed.

"Problem?" Poppy asked, already checking for one herself.

"Uh, actually I'm pretty sure she just didn't sleep at all last night," Harry said with a shrug, looking down at Tracey's snoozing form. Thankfully she hadn't stirred at all the whole trip up. "I offered to bring her here and she kind of fell asleep on the way. She probably just needs some rest."

"Yes, I can't find anything wrong with her," the Healer agreed. "Do you have class now?"

"Potions. Tracey too."

"Well then you'd best get a move on," said Poppy, moving over to a table to scribble a note. "Please pass this to Professor Slughorn. You can come back and check on her later."

"Great, thanks, Poppy," said Harry, pleased that everything had worked out so well. Take that, Sirius, ya mut.

She nodded and returned to her office, closing the door behind her. Harry let out a sigh of relief, turning to the door back to the corridor. Home free. Scott free. Completely...

He turned back to the girl with a frown, watching her for a second before rubbing his forehead. Honestly he could never leave things alone when he needed to.

x~x

Tracey blinked slowly, still feeling quite sleepy. While she noticed that she didn't appear to be where she'd started earlier, the only thing she found herself focusing on was a small, black cat, laying down on a bed next to hers and watching her with oddly familiar bright green eyes. It looked away after a second, absently scratching an ear.

Mentally shrugging, she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep once more. Who knew exactly what had happened, but she was very comfortable and she could always blame Harry if she needed to. Just another thing that she liked so much about him.