Two days after Christmas, Harry made an unsettling discovery: he had left Hogwarts without any resources to write his report for History of Magic. Hermione had brought along several books full of historic Gryffindors for herself and Ron, but she had made no such provision for Harry.
"Don't act all offended," she had said to Harry. "I had enough faith in you that I assumed you and Tracey had already been to the library and checked out the appropriate titles."
Harry's options were rather slim. He could wait until he got back to Hogwarts to start his research, but that would mean turning in his report late. But, according to Binns, the assignment had been ordered by the Ministry, which meant that Umbridge would be watching it closely and looking for any excuse to punish Harry. Late work was not an option. Harry needed some books, and he needed them fast.
Harry briefly considered asking Winky for help; she was dead useful for finding things in and around Hogwarts. But evaluating books at the library was a different matter altogether, and Harry wasn't sure that she would be the most reliable resource. On top of that, Madam Pince would not take kindly to Winky absconding with a book or three, and there was a strong chance that they would be traced back to Harry.
Harry was wandering the halls of Grimmauld Place, disconsolate, when inspiration struck. He was living in the ancestral home of one of the most powerful, most influential, most prestigious, and most Slytherin families in all of Britain. Would the Black family library contain at least one biography of a famous and influential Slytherin?
Does a kneazle hate liars?
Harry started in the den, on the second floor. The study had the largest collection of old books, and they seemed to be the books that Sirius cared the least about damaging, but their subject matter tended to focus on things like blood purist propaganda and muggle baiting jinxes. The books that Sirius had deemed useful had long ago been moved to the library, on the first floor; these were mostly novels or books about defensive magic. In the middle, though, were the books that weren't obviously dangerous or bigoted, but still had no interest to Harry's godfather. These books had been left in the den, and this is where Harry expected to find biographies and histories. He was not disappointed.
Harry and Sirius had dueled on the third floor in the study plenty of times, and he had spent long hours in the library in preparation for his trial, but he hadn't spent much time in the den. Apparently, nobody had—a layer of dust had already settled on the books and furniture, in spite of Mrs. Weasley's cleaning efforts over the summer. In the corner of the room, just behind a large mahogany desk, was a large, flat, square-ish… something. Whatever it was, it was draped in heavy cloth, and was just as dusty as everything else. Harry, remembering Mrs. Weasley's battle with doxies during the summer, gave it a wide berth.
Harry moved along the walls, peering at bookshelves. As he went, he occasionally brushed the dust away from the spines of the books with his fingers. Every few steps, Harry would wipe his hand on his robes; the dust was greasy, somehow, and he didn't want it accumulating on his hands.
After only fifteen minutes of browsing, Harry had selected seven likely books for his project. He carried them across the room toward the desk and sat them down in a large pile. The part of Harry that tended toward procrastination wanted to continue browsing, but the greater part of Harry didn't want to waste his time if he had already managed to select an appropriate book. Harry took a seat in the desk's chair and reached for the pile of books. Harry misjudged the depth of the desk, though, and accidentally knocked the top book off the desk and onto the floor, where it landed with a loud thump.
"TRAITORS! SCUM! DEFILERS!"
Harry leaped out of his seat and spun, wand already in his hand. The screaming voice was coming from behind him, under the heavy cloth.
"BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE!" the voice was shrieking. "HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS?"
Wand still drawn, Harry advanced slowly toward the cloth and pulled it away. Underneath was a portrait of an old woman in a black cap, eyes clenched shut as she screamed. The portrait was still attached to a large portion of wall, which seemed to have been cut away around the portrait. The whole chunk had been carried away and deposited in the corner of the room.
Harry reached out and tugged at the portrait—it remained firmly stuck to the loose piece of wall. Sirius must not have been able to get the portrait down from the wall-probably a permanent sticking charm-so he just took the whole wall down, instead. Based on the godawful racket that the portrait was making, Harry was not surprised that Sirius had been willing to take such drastic measures.
"Will you just SHUT UP!" Harry screamed at the portrait.
The woman in the portrait opened her eyes, shocked by the sound of Harry's voice. She seemed even more shocked by Harry's robes—she looked him up and down, slowly.
"You…" she whispered. "You are one of us…"
Harry glanced down. He was just wearing his school robes, Slytherin green and silver. "One of you?"
"One of the pure," the woman said. "So much filth is wandering this house. I thought I would never again meet one of Salazar's own."
Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be categorized alongside this woman for any reason. But a talking portrait was not a screaming portrait, so Harry refrained from mentioning that he was a half-blood. Besides, being the acknowledged Heir of Slytherin probably made up for it.
"Who are you?" Harry asked as he tucked his wand away, hoping to keep the portrait calm.
"Who am I?" the portrait asked. "I am Walpurga Black, most recent holder of the title Lady Black."
Sirius's mom, then. Harry remembered seeing her name on the family tree that Sirius had shown him earlier in the year. "What are you doing up here?" Harry asked.
"I might ask you the same question," Walpurga said. "I am here because my son, in the vilest of betrayals, has displaced me from my rightful position at the entrance of my ancestral home. Have you been exiled to the den, as well?"
"Something like that," Harry said. "I'm actually doing my schoolwork."
Walpurga peered past Harry, inspecting the books on the desk. "The lives of many of my most auspicious ancestors are chronicled in those volumes," she said. "What is the assignment?"
"Sixteen inches of parchment on a great wizard from Slytherin," Harry said.
"With so many obvious candidates, that will be easily done," Walpurga said. "Finally, it seems that Hogwarts has corrected the course of its curriculum to focus on its most important alumni."
Harry smiled. "Everybody has to write about a wizard from his own house," Harry said.
Walpurga frowned. "An easy assignment for you, then. I would pity the Hufflepuffs, but their sorting is a result of their own personal failings."
Harry was forced to laugh at that. He walked around the desk and picked up the book he had dropped. "Any suggestions about where to start?" he asked.
"Mylor Atherton," Walpurga said. "A distant cousin of mine. Extremely influential in spell research."
"Atherton," Harry said. "I'll give him a look."
With no better place to start, Harry began searching the indicies of his books for "Atherton, Mylor." Naturally, Harry was suspicious of the suggestion made by Walpurga's portrait, just as he would have been suspicious of any suggestion made by a semi-sentient screaming source of insults. However, Harry didn't have a better place to start, and he trusted himself to discover on his own whether Atherton qualified as a great wizard. And, perhaps just as importantly, Harry hoped to placate the portrait by agreeing to research Atherton so readily.
It took Harry only a few minutes to decide that Atherton would be the subject of his report; the man was absolutely fascinating. Walpurga was correct about his influence in the area of spell research; in the late 1700s, he had started wizard renaissance in the area of spell creation and distribution. Prior to Atherton, many spells were regional or familial in nature, taught by word of mouth alone. Some spells, like those on the Hogwarts curriculum, were widely known, but Hogwarts was the exception rather than the rule. Wizards jealously guarded their spell knowledge, refusing to teach the incantations and wand movements to one another. Harry had noticed, for example, that wizards often referred to spells by their common name: "tripping jinx," or "Cruciatus curse," rather than by incantation. One part of this was practical—if you had a wand in your hand and accidentally said an incantation, you might cast a spell—but, according to his research, the other reason was the desire to maintain secrecy surrounding familial or regional spells. At one point in his early research, Atherton calculated that as many as fifty unique spells per year were being forever lost, largely due to the death of the last wizard able to cast the spell.
Atherton changed all of that. He believed that information should be shared freely, and that wizarding society as a whole would benefit if knowledge was available to all. It would prevent duplicative research—why create a full-body bind, a stunner, and a chaining charm; or a cutting curse, a slicing curse, and a severing charm? Just one would do, and the minds of the world could turn themselves to creating the next useful spell.
With that purpose in mind, Atherton devised a book-copying spell, then promptly used it to distribute copies of itself to bookstores throughout Britain and Europe. The effect was immediate and impressive; no longer constrained by the handwriting speed of error-prone scribes, copies of regional tomes were distributed throughout Britain in less than a month, and foreign spellbooks began appearing within a year.
Atherton's book-copying spell had an unintended side-effect: pureblood libraries became even more closely guarded. These libraries gave pureblooded wizards access to a variety of spells that were unknown to their half-blooded and muggleborn neighbors, a state of affairs that bolstered the widespread belief that blood purity had a direct connection to magical and intellectual prowess. Harry assumed that Atherton would have become reviled among the pureblood community, but that never came to pass. Instead, Atherton's spell created a new battleground for familial and political feuds, as wizards from one family would attempt to access another family's library in order to copy and distribute their enemy's tomes. Atherton was able to avoid retribution because pureblood families were far too busy trying to ruin one another.
Several families fell victim to this sort of espionage, according to Harry's research, and the most notable was the Weasleys. Having invested so much of their wealth in their library, the Weasley family was devastated when their books appeared en masse on the shelves of bookstores throughout Britain. The Weasleys had never managed to recover economically from the incident.
After his book copying spell, Atherton was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class by the Ministry of Magic. He took a position in the Department of Magical Development, and in the next decade conducted research that led to the development of over three dozen major charms and enchantments. After that decade of unprecedented productivity, Atherton had proposed legislation to the Ministry that would allow him to conduct research into anti-jinxes and counter-curses. According to the book, the legislation was still pending, and Atherton hoped to have a decision within the next year.
This seemed odd to Harry; Atherton had lived in the late 1700s, and although wizards lived longer than muggles there was no way that Atherton was still alive. Harry flipped to the front of the book and glanced at the title page: it had been published in 1814. Harry cursed; he had spent the last two hours reading a book that was two centuries out of date, and he only knew about half of Atherton's life. Harry quickly rifled through the other books that he had selected, checking their indicies and tables of contents. Some of them mentioned Mylor Atherton, but none of them discussed his proposed legislation or his life after 1815..
Harry had a decision to make: he could start over with a new wizard, or he could go with what he knew about Atherton. Really, the decision was easy. Harry had already put in hours of work, and there was no reason to let that go to waste. The information that Harry had discovered would easily fill Binns' 16 inch requirement, anyway. It might not be the best grade that Harry had ever gotten, but nobody really cared about History of Magic.
Harry packed up his notes and returned the unneeded books to their places on the shelves. He'd write the essay on another day before the end of break; right now he was frustrated by his lack of complete information. It had totally ruined the excitement he had felt when he was doing his research.
Before Harry left, he took another look at Walpurga Black's portrait. The old woman had grown bored watching Harry read and had fallen asleep, leaning her head against the picture frame. Harry quietly and carefully lifted the curtain and replaced it over the portrait.
Harry left the den and stopped at Ron's room. Through the open door, Harry could see his friend was lying in bed, reading a book about the Chudley Cannons that Hermione had gotten him for Christmas. Harry poked his head inside the room and knocked on the doorframe. "Hey, Ron, do you have a copy of Quality Quidditch Supplies' fall catalogue?"
"Maybe," Ron said, setting down his book. "Let me check." Ron's trunk was at the foot of the bed, and the redheaded boy scooted down until it was within reach. As Ron began rummaging around, an odd collection of objects were tossed into view: mismatched socks, a deflated quaffle, a pocket sneak-o-scope, an old "Potter Stinks" badge. Finally, Ron emerged, catalogue in hand. "Knew it was in here somewhere," he said, holding it out to Harry.
"Thanks," Harry said, crossing the room and taking the catalogue.
"Do you know something I don't about quidditch?" Ron asked hopefully. "Are there going to be reinstatements?"
Harry shook his head sadly. "Nothing like that," Harry said. "I just wanted to kill some time. Didn't want to fall too far behind on new equipment."
"Oh," Ron said. His face fell; Fred and George would not be returning to the Gryffindor quidditch team any time soon.
"Thanks again," Harry said, waving at Ron on his way out. Ron waved back, and returned to reading about the Chudley Canons.
Harry took the catalogue back to his room and turned directly to the back. Harry had no interest in the latest developments in quidditch gear; with Umbridge around, there was no way that he would be playing again before the end of the year, and possibly not even next school year, either. Everything in the catalogue would be out of date by next fall, so reading about new products would be a colossal waste of time.
What did interest Harry, however, were the listings of brooms for sale in the "Used Equipment" section. Harry had forgotten to get Katie anything for Christmas, and years of living with Pansy had taught Harry that, when it came to apologies, the size of the gift must exceed the size of the gaffe. Katie had previously mentioned to Harry that she desperately wished for a newer broom, so Harry was going to make that happen.
The Slytherin team was currently flying on Nimbus 2001s; good brooms, but they were several years old and several models behind. The Nimbus 2002 had been released the same year as Harry's Firebolt, followed by the Nimbus 2003 and, just a few months ago, the Nimbus 2004. Harry didn't want to buy Katie anything quite as nice as the Slytherin brooms (he still had a shred of house loyalty, and if Harry's quidditch ban were ever rescinded he would be competing against Katie and whatever broom he bought her) but he wanted to get her something that would put her current broom to shame.
Harry settled on a used Nimbus 2000. It was loads better than any other broom on the Gryffindor team, but the price was nowhere near what Harry's Firebolt had cost. Not to say that a used Nimbus 2000 wasn't an expensive present—that was half the point—but Harry was well aware of the amount of gold in his bank account and he didn't think twice about purchasing it for Katie. He quickly filled out an order form and tied it to Hedwig's leg. Harry gave his owl a treat, scratched her under her beak, and then sent her on her way. The broom would be delivered to Hogwarts, and Katie would find it waiting on her bed when she arrived.
With that, Harry considered the day's work complete.
*!*!*!*
Shortly before New Year's Eve, Mr. Weasley was released from St. Mungo's, under orders to stay home and perform no physical labor or major charms until February. With Arthur's release, the Weasley family (and Hermione) left Grimmauld Place in favor of The Burrow. Harry and Sirius weren't alone in Grimmauld Place for long, though; as soon as the Wealeys moved out, Professor Lupin began moving his things in.
The company of his old friend seemed to brighten Sirius's mood, which had begun to flag after the Christmas celebration. Sirius and Lupin spent hours with Harry in the study practicing dueling, and bickering with one another over who got to duel Harry next. Harry didn't often access his Emerald Trance during their practices—he didn't want his power to mask flaws in his dueling technique. Harry wanted to be a skilled duelist, in case he someday found himself unable to enter his Trance, or, worse, facing Voldemort himself in a duel.
With Lupin around to lighten the mood, the last few days of Harry's break went very quickly. Harry devoted some time to writing his essay, and he was rather pleased with the results. The more time he spent thinking about Atherton's policies, the more they made sense. Knowledge was power, and allowing the pureblood elite to suppress knowledge of spells was a heavy-handed attempt to keep the masses weak and powerless. It seemed like the sort of thing that Umbridge and Fudge would do; their motto might as well be, "When in doubt, suppress!"
The Sunday evening before term was set to begin, Harry packed his new trunk. It was larger than his Hogwarts trunk, and Harry's things fit easily inside. The extra room was nice; he could get to the bottom of his trunk without unpacking everything, and his bulky robes wouldn't have to be folded nearly as much in order to fit. As Harry packed, he imagined his mother doing the same when she was his age, preparing to return to Hogwarts after her winter break. How many sets of robes had she taken to and from school? What Christmas presents had she received, and where had she stored them? Had she brought home many school books? Was she as eager to return to Hogwarts as Harry, or was there sadness at the thought of leaving her parents?
Harry smiled wistfully and ran his hand along the lining of the trunk. And the lining on the trunk was charm-reinforced silk, tear resistant but soft as could be. Lupin's gift was incredibly generous, and the trunk was at least 20 years old. That his mother had given away such a wonderful piece of luggage was almost unthinkable to Harry. He had always heard that his mother was exceptionally kind and generous, but for the first time Harry was realizing what that meant. She must have been an amazing woman. It was no surprise that his father had wanted to marry such a woman. And, if Harry really thought about it, it was no surprise that Snape would have wanted to be her friend.
The next morning, as Harry stood in front of the fireplace, ready to return to Hogwarts, his spirits were high. His new trunk was packed, his homework was done, and his muscles still ached slightly from the previous evening's dueling practice. The holidays had improved Harry's mood almost as much as Sirius's. Everybody else had returned to Hogwarts the previous evening, but Harry and Sirius made arrangements with Dumbledore for one last night at Grimmauld Place.
Harry would never have said it aloud, but this morning he felt almost optimistic. Sure, he would have to contend with Umbridge's Inquisitional Squad this semester, but Harry was forming an army of his own right under Umbridge's nose. Harry had some loyal friends and a girl to snog, Dumbledore was (mostly) on his side, and Sirius was only a mirror away. With that, he thought that he might just be able to make it through the year.
Before Harry stepped into the fireplace, he said his last goodbyes to Sirius and Lupin, receiving a hug from each. Sirius released Harry from his embrace, then grabbed the younger wizard around the shoulders. "Don't forget to use the mirror," Sirius said. "We want to know what's going on at Hogwarts."
"I won't forget," Harry said. "Don't worry."
Sirius ruffled Harry's hair and stepped back. "Good. Now, it's about time you left; if you don't go soon, Dumbledore might leave for breakfast."
Harry took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. The flames turned green and he stepped inside, carrying Hedwig's cage and pulling his new trunk behind him. "Hogwart's Headmaster's Office!" Harry shouted, and in a burst of green flame, Grimmauld Place disappeared.
Harry stumbled out of Dumbledore's fireplace and Hedwig gave an angry squawk. Dumbledore, seated at his desk, and Fawkes, perched nearby, both looked up in slight surprise. Behind Dumbledore stood a scowling Mad-Eye Moody, arms folded, wand in hand.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said to Dumbledore. "Thank you for letting me use your fireplace."
"It's no trouble," Dumbledore said kindly.
"No trouble for Dumbledore," Moody grumbled.
"Alastor, I told you that your presence this morning was not necessary," Dumbledore said gently. "You are here on your own accord."
Moody grunted, but said nothing further.
"Please excuse Alastor; he and I have had many sleepless nights, of late." Dumbledore smiled. "Most of the school is at breakfast. I suggest you hurry, if you wish to eat."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, recognizing that he was being dismissed. He had eaten already, but there was no need to inform Dumbledore of that. Harry collected his things and left Dumbledore's office. Once outside, Harry used a hovering charm to lift his mother's trunk off the ground, and he maneuvered it easily down the stairs and through the halls. Harry stopped briefly at the owlery, both to drop off Hedwig and to use a school owl to send a quick note to Katie.
Next, Harry made his way to the Slytherin common room. Dumbledore was right; the whole school was at breakfast, which meant that both the Slytherin common room and dormitories were empty. That suited Harry just fine. He placed his mother's trunk at the end of his bed, grabbed his books for the day, then quickly ran through his warding spells. Satisfied that his trunk was safe, Harry made his way to his first class: History of Magic.
Harry was one of the first students to arrive, and he turned his paper in immediately. Harry was excited to see what Binns had to say about the paper, more excited about this assignment than any in recent memory. Atherton wasn't anybody that Harry had ever heard of prior to his research, so Harry was fairly certain that his work wouldn't be duplicated by anybody else in the class.
Harry greeted Tracey and Theo when they came into the class.
"How was break?" Harry asked, when they joined him at his table.
"I was worried that it would be boring without you," Tracey said.
"Turns out, it wasn't," Theo said, waggling his eyebrows and giving Harry a lascivious grin.
"Enough said," Harry said, holding up his hands, palms out. "I'm surprised you managed to get your essays written."
"So am I," Tracey said, her tone implying all manner of unspeakable deeds.
Harry covered his eyes. "Ugh, please, stop."
"So, where were you?" Theo asked casually.
"Can't really say," said Harry. "I was… visiting some of my father's old friends."
"Lupin?" Tracey asked.
"The werewolf?" Theo asked, surprised. News of Remus's lycanthropy had spread throughout the school after his departure; Harry wasn't sure of the source, but he suspected somebody in Slytherin. "He was friends with your father?"
"Yes, he was," Harry said.
"And you're willing to see him, even though he's a…"
"Of course I am," Harry said. "He taught us for a whole year, and not a single student got devoured." It was a nearer thing than that, but Theo didn't know. "Anyway, he's the best Defense teacher we've ever had. Which is dead useful, because we spent most of the holidays practicing dueling."
"Nice," Theo said. "I can't wait to see-"
"Essays, please," Professor Binns droned from the front of the class; Harry hadn't even noticed him float into the room. Theo and Tracey silently handed their essays forward. Daphne, who was seated in the front row, collected the essays from the entire class and placed them on Binns' desk. Harry had half a mind to continue his conversation with Theo even though class had started, but it was the first day back at Hogwarts after break and Harry wasn't certain of the breadth of the Inquisitional Squad's new-found powers. Best to play things safe, until he knew what Draco and the rest of the Inquisitional Squad were up to. By the time class was over, Harry had completely forgotten that he and Theo had been interrupted mid-conversation.
The rest of Harry's classes passed without incident. Draco strutted around displaying his Inquisitional Squad badge, which was sewn onto his robes above his Quidditch Captain badge and his Prefect badge. Harry wondered aloud at the ability of Draco's robes to stay on his shoulders with all the added weight. Theo and Tracey responded with polite snickers.
Despite Draco's conspicuous membership in the Inquisitional Squad, however, he did not turn his attention to Harry. Harry eventually discovered why: the difference between prefects and members of the Inquisitional Squad was that Inquisitional Squad members could take house points from other students. Draco wasn't going to curse himself in the foot by taking house points from Slytherin, so Harry seemed to be safe... for now.
Ron Weasley, however, was not. After History of Magic, Draco found Ron in the hallway. Making sure that Harry was watching, Draco began docking Ron points.
"Weasley, five points from Gryffindor!" Draco said.
"What for?" Ron asked.
"For being in Gryffindor!" Draco said. Crabbe and Goyle, standing nearby, laughed uproariously. "And another five points because your hair is too red."
"WHAT!" Ron's face was flushing, now.
"And ten points from Gryffindor for being a blood traitor," Draco said.
Hermione stepped forward. "You arrogant prat!" she said loudly. "The Draco Malfoy I knew last year would never have been so awful."
Draco looked at Hermione contemptuously. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for being a mudblood."
Hermione slapped Draco across the face.
Before Hermione was able to slap Draco a second time, an act for which she had drawn back her hand, Ron and Neville Longbottom grabbed her and dragged her away. Draco was so stunned by Hermione's actions that he did nothing—he simply stared at her, holding his cheek with his hand, mouth open. Harry, Tracey and Theo slipped away quietly, lest they draw Draco's displaced ire.
That night, after dinner, Harry and Tracey and Theo were relaxing in the common room. Theo and Tracey were playing a game of wizard's chess, although both of them were terrible players and neither had any real grasp of tactics. Harry, seated nearby, casually paged through one of his Defense books that he had received for Christmas, and periodically glanced up at the clock. As it neared eight, Harry stood.
"Where are you off to?" Theo asked.
"Potions review," Harry said. "For O.W.L.s. My grades are down, and Snape made some extra time for me."
"On your first night back?" Theo said.
Harry nodded. "I don't get to set the meetings, I just get to attend them."
"Good point," Theo said. "Good luck."
"I'll need it," Harry said, sighing dramatically. He gave his friends a wave and left the common room. Potions Review was going to be a great excuse, both for occlumency lessons and for visits with Katie.
Tonight, Harry was going to meet Katie in the unused Potions classroom that Harry had begun to think of as "his." Nobody else used it—such was the nature of an unused classroom—and Harry kept other students out of it with a locking charm set to his password. It was too late and too cold to meet Katie outside, and tonight the other reuniting couples of Hogwarts would make broom cupboards both highly trafficked and nearly unavailable.
As Harry approached his Potions classroom, he quickly realized that something was wrong. The hallway, normally dark and dank, was unusually well-lit. Harry could also hear the murmur of voices; in all his time using this classroom in the last two years, Harry had literally never encountered someone in this hallway other than the friends that he had specifically invited.
As Harry rounded the last corner, he discovered the source of the voices: Crabbe and Goyle, standing outside his Potions classroom. Harry realized that he hadn't seen the older boys in the common room that evening. For that matter, Harry hadn't seen Draco, or Pansy, or Warrington or Montague, or any of the members of the Inquisitional Squad after the confrontation between Draco and Ron and Hermione. Harry had the sinking feeling that he was approaching a hornet's nest. He stopped in his tracks and began to back away, but before he could conceal himself behind the corner Crabbe had turned.
"Oi, Potter! Coming to see our new headquarters?" Crabbe shouted.
Harry struggled not to wince at being discovered. "Just on a walk, Crabbe." Harry made a show of looking past the older boys. "What have you got there?"
"Headquarters," Crabbe repeated. "For the Inquisitional Squad."
"We've got a sign and everything," Goyle said. He pointed toward the wall, and Harry saw that there was, indeed, a sign: "INQUISITIONAL SQUAD HEADQUARTERS."
Harry took a deep breath. Locating the Inquisitional Squad Headquarters in Harry's Potions classroom was no coincidence, and only Draco could be responsible for this. Draco knew that Harry used this classroom during the tournament last year, and he must have suspected that Harry would continue to use the classroom in some capacity.
As if summoned by Harry's thoughts, Draco emerged from the door of the Inquisitional Squad Headquarters. Before the door closed behind him, Harry could see that the room had been dramatically re-configured and now featured plush chairs, couches, and even a piano.
"Harry, how are you doing?" Draco asked with false cheer as the door clicked shut behind him. "Did you stop by because you want to join the Inquisitional Squad?" Draco shook his head. "I have to tell you, we have standards here and I just don't think you're up to snuff."
"Oh, I wasn't looking to join," Harry said, feigning casualness. "Just wanted to see how the punch line looked."
Goyle frowned. "Punch line?"
"Your 'inquisition' is a joke," Harry said, forcing arrogant confidence into his voice. "But it's nice to know I can come down here if I ever need a laugh." Harry turned and walked away. It looked like his meeting with Katie was not meant to be; not tonight, at least. Before he returned to his common room, Harry took a detour to the Owlery. Using one of the school owls he sent Katie a letter, apologizing for their missed connection and rescheduling their meeting for Wednesday evening, in the gardens. It would be chilly, but Harry knew just the activity that would keep them warm.
*!*!*!*!*