Hello again. I don't anticipate any easy resolution to the personal stuff I've been going through, so I suppose I might as well let you all know that you can expect my output to be reduced for the foreseeable. More specifically, I can still crank out 1k words a day on weekdays, but the weekend rate will drop to 1k a day as well. So on average you can expect one chapter a week.
Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed. Your reviews really help me motivate me.
Sir Dedrick the Cool: Who the hell is Marlene McKinnen? I really appreciate your reviews, as oddball as they may be. Didn't mean to tease you re: Harry/Tracey. As for the foreshadowing, check your PMs! I'm glad you like my taste in music though!
CrawlR: Glad you liked this. Hope this chapter will ease any of your worries about the weight romance will have in the plot!
Laern: Glad you like how I'm developing Harry's academic interests. Look forward to exactly how his heritage comes into play. :)
Magnusss: Marcus Filch was a fair cop and it's corrected, however Terrance Bole was meant to be Derrick's brother.
ChunkyFunkyMunky: If a notorious dark wizard was your great nephew, would you really tell people that?
Vysirez: I'm glad that, in between reviews, you came to like how I handled Harry's personality. As for conjuration, give me a little credit! I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't plan to follow through. It's just that the follow through didn't fit in that chapter! :)
"Run on, Rabbit, run!
Before the East sky wakes the sun!
Sails set to the dreadful cold,
Until your anchor-heart takes hold
Run on, Fox and Bear,
From this dismal dream's despair!
Cast thoughts to in the open ocean of air
Until your thread catch somewhere"
mewithoutyou, February, 1878
Harry walked in silence with Tracey for a while. It didn't seem like she was in a hurry to get them talking either. She seemed quite content just hanging on to his arm. Harry was very happy with that. She felt nice and warm. Eventually, though, they found an unused classroom where they could sit and talk. There really were a lot of unused classrooms at Hogwarts. It was almost like they knew students needed places to talk in peace.
Harry meant to take a seat across from Tracey, but she said dangerously close to him, reminding him of the night they kissed. Harry found it quite hard to concentrate on what he meant to say after that.
"It's nice seeing you again, Harry. Writing is just not the same," she began.
Harry nodded. It definitely wasn't the same. He never felt remotely similar when he was writing to her as he did now.
"It isn't," he replied. He took a deep breath, hoping he didn't come to regret this. Already he was finding it very hard to even think, much less form the words he knew he meant to say. "Tracey," he began with a deep breath. "I like you."
"I like you too, Harry," she replied. He cringed slightly, not sure if they meant exactly the same thing, and slightly scared to find out. He sighed, before steeling himself for continuing.
"But I'm…" He paused. He supposed he might be being a bit conceited. "What are you thinking?" he asked, instead. "What would you like to happen?"
Tracey blushed. She bit her lip in her usual way. "I'm… I'm not sure, to be honest," she replied. She looked up at him, and for the first time looked genuinely torn. "I've had a crush on you for a while," she said, blushing even brighter if that was possible. "And I really liked kissing you…" she whispered. "But I don't know… I think I'm too young to have a boyfriend?"
For the first time, Harry thought of the possibility that Tracey might be feeling as confused as he was. Harry almost giggled.
"I was kind of thinking the same thing," he confessed, encouraged by the girl's admission. He looked at Tracey affectionately, and ran his hand through her hair.
Tracey rested her head on Harry's shoulder, and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.
"I'm just so confused. I thought I wanted to be your girlfriend for so long, and now I'm not sure what I really want."
The sensation of Tracey's body resting against his was almost too much for Harry. It certainly made it very hard to think straight. He looked down affectionately at her. "I really liked kissing you too," he whispered, causing her to blush and giggle, averting her eyes from his.
"Well, I wouldn't mind if you did it again," she whispered back.
It took every ounce of self control for Harry not to do that immediately.
"But I thought you said…" he trailed, but Tracey interrupted.
"I know. But we've already kissed once and we weren't seeing each other," she replied. "It won't hurt if we do it again." She paused and bit her lip. "Just don't tell anyone."
Harry nodded. He'd agree to a lot more harder things to be able to kiss Tracey again. It's not like he wasn't used to keeping secrets. As he nodded, Tracey gave him a smile, and met his eyes again as she raised her head. Her lips looked so inviting. Was she wearing lipstick? Harry wasn't sure, but if she was, it was a very subtle one. He felt her hands run through the back of his head, making him shiver in anticipation of the touch of her lips. Harry leant forward eagerly, and they kissed again.
It was a while until they'd decided they had had enough. Nevertheless, it felt to Harry like little time at all. He wouldn't have minded spending all night there. But they both knew they had classes the following day, so eventually decided it was time to walk back to the common room.
They did so in silence, but stealing furtive glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking. Harry was more used to moving around after curfew, so he kept looking ahead for prefects, Filch, or Mrs. Norris. He had the cloak if needed, but would rather not use it if he could avoid it. Fortunately, other than one near run in with Percey Weasley, they managed to make it to the common room without incident.
Harry gallantly let Tracey in first, as by mutual agreement they decided it was better not to go in together. He felt he was pushing his luck, but when he dared to suggest a goodnight kiss, he wasn't rebuffed, even if it was over all too soon. Once he finally got to bed, it took him a while to fall asleep, his heart beating excitedly in his chest.
The next day, Harry was feeling a mixture of emotions as he walked to breakfast with his friends. He wasn't sure he hadn't taken advantage of Tracey in a way. And yet he had been honest with her, and she seemed to accept that. So he really didn't know. He tried to not look too much at her as he sat and began to eat, yet his eyes kept glancing over to her when he thought she wasn't looking.
Fortunately, a distraction came from Blaise.
"Apparently Lockhart set a bunch of Cornish pixies loose on the second year Gryffindors," he related with a laugh to those around him at the table. "He tried to teach them a made up spell to deal with them, and when that didn't work they snatched his wand. Can you believe that? A Hogwarts professor had his wand taken by pixies," he laughed, to general guffawing.
"Dumbledore just keeps letting the standards of this school drop further and further every year. My father says…" Draco began. Harry tuned out then. He really wasn't the least bit interested in whatever Lucius Malfoy said.
"What is the spell to deal with Cornish pixies?" he asked Blaise, who shrugged. "Probably the full body bind. Or just kill them with fire," he added with a laugh.
Harry grinned wryly and didn't dispute the point. At any rate, they were soon to find out for themselves what Lockhart's class was going to be like, as it was their first class of the day. Despite his incipient dislike for the man, Harry was still curious to find out whether he was as incompetent as those rumours suggested.
As Harry and his friends only had one set of Lockhart's books between them, they made sure to sit close together and split them between their tables. When the man himself finally arrived, a tad late to his own class, he looked distinctly haggard. It was looking like the rumour mill might have been right again. He picked up one of Pansy Parkinson's books, which were piled on her desk, and took one look at his own, smiling portrait on the cover, before turning it towards them.
"Me," he said, posing exactly like the portrait. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. Not that I'd boast of that last one, of course," he said, boasting in the process. "But my achievements go far beyond that." He looked around. "I see you've all got my books… Some of them at least," he said, as he began to make his way towards Harry's desk. Harry cringed in anticipation.
"It can't be! Harry Potter!" he beamed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry tried not to recoil, even if every fiber in his being was telling him to. Instead, he gave Lockhart a fake smile and a nod. "And I see you've bought some of my books," he said again. Noting the unspoken question, Harry replied.
"We decided to share a set between the three of us, sir." He tried to keep his voice respectful. "We can only read one at once, after all," he added.
"Ah, Harry, Harry, but they're meant to be part of a set," Lockhart replied. "You won't be able to keep them as a reference for the future if you have to share them with your friends, will you? I highly recommend you purchase them. It's not too late to owl Flourish and Blotts!"
Harry wanted to tell him there he'd probably just chuck the whole lot in the bin at the end of the year-he didn't believe for a second Lockhart would return for a follow up. Not with how hostile the other teachers seemed towards him.
"Now we'll just be starting with a little quiz. Just to see how much you've picked up from your books already," he said, finally stepping back from Harry's desk and returning to the front of the room. Lockart actually picked up the tests by hand and doled them out, which Harry thought quite surprising. He'd never seen a teacher do that other than by using magic. That really didn't bide well for the standard of their instruction.
What was even worse was the actual content of the quiz. If it was going to cover Lockhart's books, one might expect it to ask about spells he'd used, or characteristics of the dark creatures he'd fought. Instead, all the questions were about Lockart himself:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite colour?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
Harry's jaw dropped at the gall of the man. A glance around the classroom told him he wasn't the only one feeling this way. Even previous enthusiasts like Pansy, who had gone quite Ga-ga for Gilderoy, looked like they were beginning to reconsider.
Since he hadn't even cracked any of Lockhart's books open, Harry just wrote random, made up answers. He was very tempted to be gratuitously offensive a couple of times, but took a couple of deep breaths and wrote something innocuous instead. Even if the man was a buffoon, he was still in charge of grading him, so there was no point in deliberately antagonizing him.
About half an hour later, Lockart collected the tests, and began to look through them in front of the class.
"It seems no one here has read Wanderings with Werewolves thoroughly enough. If you had, you'd've remembered that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples — though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!" He gave them all a wink as he said this. Harry was vaguely nauseated, though he wasn't sure why. Probably because this man was like smarminess made flesh.
Tellingly, there were to be no live Cornish pixies in this lesson. Instead, Lockhart assigned random students to read portions of his books out loud, with Lockhart 'playing' himself. It was a complete farce. Harry was glad he'd brought his mother's old fifth year textbook, but was now beginning to realize he should have brought the second year textbook as well, because he certainly wasn't going to get anything resembling an education in this class. At least in Quirrell's case, they had had a proper book to read.
"Can you believe this buffoon?" Daphne whispered to him while Lockhart tried to get Crabbe to growl like a werewolf. Harry just shook his head. A plan began to form in his mind, but he needed his friends' help for it to work. That could wait until later, though. For the meantime, he just placed the old fifth year textbook inside one of Lockhart's books, and pretended to follow the reading while actually learning much more interesting things.
Finally, the class was over, to everyone's immense relief. After another History of Magic snoozefest, Harry shared the idea with his friends at dinner.
"You know how Snape is supposed to want the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for himself?" Harry asked. It was a widely credited fact in the Hogwarts Rumour Mill that the dour head of Slytherin would much rather be teaching that class than Potions. As his friends nodded, Harry went on.
"Well, I'm sure he'd know what's actually supposed to be taught in second year Defence. Not like this nonsense with Lockhart," he began. Ted and Daphne nodded.
"Do you think he'd tell us?" Ted asked. He was clearly very frustrated with Lockhart's so-called teaching. Harry shrugged.
"I don't think he'd tell me," he began. "But he might tell the two of you." Ted and Daphne raised an eyebrow at this. By common consent, it was usually Harry who took the lead in these kinds of things. "I'll be there. Under my cloak," he whispered, not wanting his possession of the ancient artifact to become common knowledge. He was still very glad he hadn't had to break it out when he was breaking curfew with Tracey, as much as he liked her.
"I'm sure whatever it is we're supposed to be doing is in some book the library," Ted replied. "But I suppose it doesn't hurt to ask Snape. The worst that can happen is that he won't tell us." He shrugged. "Though he looks like he wants to kill Lockhart."
"Can't say I blame him," Daphne interjected. "Imagine being passed over for the job, and it goes to that idiot instead." Harry grinned.
"As much as Snape hates me, I'd much rather have him as Defence teacher than Lockhart," he said, eliciting nods of agreement from his friends. "We have Double Potions this afternoon. Why don't you guys stay behind and ask? I'll just go back and fetch my cloak, and I'll meet you outside the classroom."
As Harry didn't usually eat much for lunch, this didn't actually curtail his meal time in any way. He quickly ran to the common room and through it to his dorm. He placed the cloak in his satchel and was about to run back out, blessing the fact that the Potions classroom was very close to the Slytherin common room, when he was stopped dead in his tracks by the realization that the common room wasn't as empty as he'd first assumed. Instead, in a corner by the fireplace, was a small blonde boy. He was sat on the floor and seemed barely aware of what was going on around him. He had his arms wrapped around his legs, his head buried in his knees, and he was visibly sobbing, his body occasionally jolting. As Harry began to pay attention, he could hear a distinct sound of crying. Upon closer inspection, Harry realized he was one of the two firsties who'd looked terrified the night after the sorting. Harry had never got around to having a talk with either of them.
He quickly checked his watch. There was just about enough time. He didn't fancy his chances being late for Snape's class, but he wasn't going to just leave someone crying like that without saying anything. Especially not when it was another Slytherin. He made his way slowly towards the boy, with fleeting, light steps. Ted might be the stealthier one, but Harry wasn't lacking in that department either. He'd often wanted to avoid the Dursleys' notice, after all. He crouched in front of the distraught boy, about a yard away.
"Hi," he greeted in a low, soothing voice. The boy actually flinched away from him, before looking up. "Don't be scared. I'm Harry. I'm in second year," he added.
The boy looked up at him. His hazel eyes looked scared and wary, like he was afraid Harry was going to attack him. Harry just stayed still, hoping that would put him at ease. Eventually, the boy nodded slowly.
"I know. You're famous, aren't you," he said, almost in a whisper. He spoke in a harsh accent which Harry didn't recognize at first. It was a bit of a hybrid of Seamus Finnegan's and Morag MacDougal's. Harry nodded slowly.
"You could say that. I'd much rather not be though. I'm only famous because my parents were murdered, you see." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. This wasn't a stalker with a crush like Colin Creepy.
The boy opened his eyes wide, causing lingering tears to stream down his face.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know. I didn't understand," he whispered.
"That's okay," Harry replied, still crouching in front of the boy. "Are you a muggleborn? Is that why you didn't know?" he asked. This must have been the wrong thing to say, though, because the boy cringed away from him, closing his eyes. Harry began to have an inkling of what the boy's problem was. "Hey, it's okay. My mum was a muggleborn," he offered. The boy's eyes opened slowly. He seemed to be gathering his courage.
"But… I thought Slytherin was only for purebloods," he whispered.
"Who told you that?" Harry asked. He saw the boy's eyes widen again, and he didn't think he was about to answer. "Whoever it was, they're wrong," he replied. "I'm definitely not the only half-blood around."
"But there's no mu..muggleborns," the boy said between tears. "I don't understand why the hat put me there. No one wants me here…"
"Well, it's true that one of the things Salazar Slytherin valued was pureblood," Harry began. He'd certainly heard that often enough. "But you know what he also valued? Ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. So if you're a muggleborn, and you still ended up here, it must mean you've got to have a lot of the other qualities, doesn't it?"
Despite himself, the boy gave Harry the tiniest hint of a smile.
"Do you really think so?" he asked, wiping his tears. "I don't feel very resourceful now, or cunning."
"You're not really yourself right now." Harry shifted from crouching to sitting on the floor, before changing tack slightly. "My parents were both in Gryffindor, you know? No one thought I'd end up here. But I honestly can't say I'd rather have gone anywhere else. Do you really think you could be a happy-go-lucky Hufflepuff?" he asked with a grin. The boy's smile grew wider as he shook his head. "What's your name?" Harry finally asked.
"Trevor. Trevor McCrea," he said. "I'm from Antrim." So that's what that accent was. He'd only heard it from angry men shouting on the telly. "My parents are pub landlords. Muggle pub landlords. I never understood what those weird things happening around me were," Travor added.
Harry nodded. "Well, you're here now. You shouldn't be scared of our House. There's a bunch of pricks here, but there's a bunch of pricks everywhere. And yes, there are people who'll give you trouble for being a muggleborn. There's a word, it's not a very nice word…"
"Mudblood," Trevor interrupted. "That's what that Harper boy called me." Harry nodded.
"Did you tell anyone you were a muggleborn?" Harry asked. The boy shook his head.
"No. I'd read about Slytherin house, and talked to a couple of boys on the train about it. They explained the houses to me. None of them ended up on Slytherin, though, so I doubt they'll want to talk to me again." Harry shrugged.
"If they don't, then they weren't worth talking to to begin with."
"I guess," Trevor replied. "But I tried to get the hat not to send me there. When it told me it wanted to. It was having none of it, though. I knew I was gonna have trouble for being muggleborn, though, so I didn't say anything. He must have guessed, though. I guess I don't make much of a wizard."
"You're just feeling sorry for yourself now," Harry replied. "If the hat was that keen to send you here, this must be where you really belong. You've already shown that by not telling anyone you're a muggleborn. It's sad that we do have a number of bigots here." He began. "Probably more than in the other houses. I wish I could rinse their mouth with my wand, but it's going to be a while until I'm able to take on the seventh years," he said with a laugh. This worked, because it drew a smile from the younger boy. "So as much as it shouldn't be that way, it'd be best if you keep it quiet. I wouldn't deny it either, though. Just make it ambiguous enough, and try to blend." Harry paused. "Did you try talking to anyone else?" Trevor shook his head.
"No. I was just so scared yesterday. I just went to bed and cr…" Harry guessed he was about to say 'cried himself to sleep,' but Trevor just stopped. "And today Harper started picking on me, and I just wanted to hide. I wasn't hungry, so I just came here instead of going to eat." Harry nodded.
"Harper may be an arse. I guess he is an arse, if he called you that. But that doesn't mean everyone else is. I had a look at you firsties the other night. There was at least a girl who looked as upset as you were. She had brown hair..."
"I think I saw her," Trevor interrupted, but he shrugged. "Pretty sure she wasn't a muggleborn, though."
"Maybe not, but she still might have her reasons not to want to be here. Maybe all her family have gone to a different house. You're a Slytherin, you should be able to read people and work out who you can approach." Harry checked his watch. "You really should be going to class now. What do you have next?"
"Charms," Trevor replied.
"You should have time to make it. Hurry up now. And learn to defend yourself," he added as the boy slowly rose and picked up his bag. "Here, it doesn't matter how strong or weak your body is. With magic, you can do anything." Harry rose too. "I have to go too. Don't want Snape to give me detention for being late."
Trevor nodded at Harry. "Thank you," he began. Harry shook his head.
"Don't mention it. Just remember what I said. Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help you." With those parting words, Harry rushed out of the common room and broke into a jog towards the Potions classroom, which was fortunately very close by.
"Did you get lost?" Daphne asked as he arrived, fortunately still on time. Harry shook his head, but didn't explain further. It was just as well that Snape came in just a few seconds afterwards.
Just like in first year, they shared Double Potions with the Gryffyndors. Harry wondered exactly who was in charge of planning the teaching schedule at Hogwarts, and why they insisted on this combination. Snape looked to be in a particularly foul mood as he swooped in like an overgrown bat.
"Just because I have to put up with you for another year does not mean that I will tolerate any more slacking off, free riding," here he gave Longbottom a particularly piercing glance, which made the Gryffindor whither visibly next to Granger, "or any more of the pathetic excuses for potions you tried to fob me off with last year," he went on, giving them all a glance that was only slightly less intense. Harry really didn't like it when Snape looked at him. It felt as if the man's gaze could pierce through his soul. So he usually looked away. It didn't make him feel very brave, but then again he wasn't a Gryffindor, so that really didn't bother him.
Fortunately, Snape's ill humour for the day wasn't directed at Harry, who was able to partner with Ted as usual. The Gryffindors weren't so lucky, though.
"Longbottom, I am not fooled for one minute into thinking you've contributed anything to any of your work with Granger last year. You're going to be working with Weasley today. I'll be very impressed, and surprised, if your cauldron hasn't melted by the end of this lesson," he intoned, while Longbottom walked mournfully away from Granger's desk and towards Weasley's. Meanwhile Granger partnered with Lavender Brown, a blonde girl who Harry hadn't exchanged more than two words with, but who didn't look like the sharpest knife in the drawer. For all his proneness to disaster, Longbottom seemed a fair bit brighter. He wondered how he'd been faring since getting his new wand. They didn't have any 'wand waving' classes with the Gryffindors for him to notice any difference.
Amazingly, Longbottom and Weasley didn't melt their cauldron, although the look Snape gave their potion didn't bide well for their mark at all. Granger looked pretty unhappy too. Harry guessed Longbottom was at least pretty good at doing what he was told. Brown probably wasn't so keen on following orders. Still, Harry bolted out as soon as he could, having concocted something passable with Ted. He went in the opposite direction to everyone else's, and as soon as he was alone, covered himself with his invisibility cloak, before heading back to the classroom to witness the exchange between his friends and Snape.
He made it back just in time, careful to step slowly and carefully lest he make any sounds. Snape was just gathering his things when he looked up to see Daphne and Ted waiting to talk to him.
"Yes, Miss Greengrass, Mr. Nott, how can I help you?" he drawled, glancing around as if expecting to see Harry lurking in the background as well. He actually looked slightly surprised that this wasn't the case.
"We're a bit worried about Professor Lockhart's class, sir," Daphne began, always the more forthcoming of the three.
"Indeed?" Snape asked.
"Yeah, sir. It's just hardly a class at all. He just goes on about what he's done, and doesn't teach us anything," Ted added, encouraged by Daphne's opening.
"It's just, you're our Head of House, sir," Daphne said in turn. "We know you know what's supposed to be taught in Defence. If you'd just point us to it, we'd be happy to learn the material on our own. It just really feels like we're wasting our time in his class."
"We know you can't criticize a colleague. Just let us know what would normally be taught to our year. We'll look it all up," Ted added.
"Hmmm," Snape began. He looked around again, as if still expecting to find Harry, who unconsciously took a step backwards when Snape's gaze covered the place where he was standing. "And what prompted you to come to me with this? Was it just that I'm your head of house?" Snape asked, sounding more and more suspicious.
"Well, it's that and that I'm sure you know a lot more about Defence than Lockhart does," Ted replied. "That's kind of damning with faint praise, but I'm sure you know what we mean, sir."
Snape indulged Ted with a grin.
"Quite. I seem to be noticing an absence," he drew out this word with unnecessary precision. "Is your friend Mr. Potter not interested in this little study venture?"
Harry raised his eyebrow at this. Since when did Snape care what he was studying. He probably just assumed Harry was too lazy to care. He began wondering whether he should have turned up after all.
"He had somewhere he needed to be, sir," Ted explained. Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Indeed? Somewhere more important that couldn't wait a few minutes, even though you have no classes after this one? Mr. Nott, I wasn't born yesterday." Snape paused with a sneer. "I believe the book you used last year was The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. Is that correct?"
Harry blinked. He'd been expecting Snape to elaborate on why he thought Harry wasn't present, but it seems he was content to let this linger. Both Ted and Daphne nodded.
"If you continue with that book, and supplement it with The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts by Arsenius Jigger, you will not only be informed of all the relevant material for this year, but also get a good headstart for third year." He allowed Ted and Daphne the luxury of an indulgent smile. "And if you're feeling particularly brave, you might want to tackle The Dark Arts Outsmarted by Micah Mannering," he said. Harry got the feeling that those words were intended to goad them into taking up the challenge. So this was how Snape treated Slytherins who weren't Harry Potter. Harry frowned.
"You have not been the first members of Slytherin house who have expressed concern about the… standard of Professor Lockhart's teaching. Let me assure you that all your comments, suitably anonymized, will be passed along to the Headmaster. But I wouldn't hold out much hope for this year. Ten points to Slytherin, each, for wanting to learn such an important subject." The way Snape said those words left Harry with no doubt that Snape did want the position of Defence teacher.
"Thank you, sir," Ted and Daphne replied, smiling at the unexpected points. Harry sighed again at the unfairness of it all. Things would really be better if Snape hadn't hated his father. Or at least if Harry didn't look so much like him. Would Snape act in the opposite way if Harry had taken more after his mother? Somehow, he didn't want his thoughts to go down that route.
So he left the room ahead of his friends, and when he checked there was no one else in the hallway, quickly took the cloak off and stored it safely in his satchel.
"Christ, you gave me a fright," Daphne said as she jumped when she saw Harry pop back into view. Harry grinned.
"Sorry," he replied.
"You're not sorry at all, Potter," she said with a laugh. "Did you hear that?" she asked, tilting her head back at the classroom, just as they rounded a corner and it went out of view. Harry nodded.
"Yep. I hope the library's got the other books, but I guess we can make a start on last year's book. Well, more like revision, because I finished it last year. The dark creature stuff is hard because you can never really know if you've got the spell right without the creature there to test it on."
"Guess we'll just have to hope we have a better teacher next year," Ted said, sounding like he didn't rate the odds of that very highly.
Harry nodded glumly as they made their way to the library. Once there, they headed to the Defence section, which predictably, looked rather depleted of books. Fortunately, most of the books which were gone were those relevant to higher years. This made sense, as the upperclassmen would be facing external examination in their OWLs and NEWTs. Younger years would only have to deal with Lockhart's own test-would that be anything like the diagnostic test they got earlier?
They were able to find all three books Snape had recommended. Harry added his mother's fifth year textbook to the pile, figuring that if they were reading ahead, they might as well go the whole hog up to OWL level. When his friends sat down at a secluded table, they began picking up their previous year's textbooks, as that seemed the best place to start. Harry decided to go check on something else that'd been on his mind lately. He made his way over to the Transfiguration section and began looking for an introductory book on Conjuration. Ever since the conversation with his friends where Daphne almost dared him to try and take the advanced subject on, Harry had been curious whether he could manage it. He wasn't expecting to be conjuring any mattresses any time soon, but he wanted to challenge himself with something relatively simple, knowing that even relatively simple conjuration was pretty damn complicated. He found what seemed to be the NEWT level textbook, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. He pondered whether to take that one, but his eyes were drawn to Essential Conjuration Basics, which seemed slightly less ambitious.
"Perfect," he whispered, quickly leafing through the book to make sure it seemed useful. As he turned around, he almost bumped into Neville Longbottom.
"Oh hello," Harry greeted him in a whisper, wary of Madam Pince's keen hearing.
"Potter," Longbottom nodded. "Figures you'd be here. You're some kind of Transfiguration prodigy, aren't you? Hermione says you must be." Harry rolled his eyes.
"I don't know about prodigy," Harry replied modestly. "It's my favourite class. I put in the work because I enjoy changing things to how I'd like them to be…" he trailed, before glancing around. "She's around, isn't she? She doesn't like me very much," he said with a grin. "Maybe it's because I'm better than her at Transfiguration."
Longbottom allowed himself to return Harry's grin. Harry thought the Gryffindor boy probably needed some respite from Granger's overbearing personality.
"Maybe," he conceded. "You didn't really get off on the right foot, though. Mind you, you and I didn't get off on the right foot either." He looked away for a second, almost like he was trying to draw on whatever reserves of Gryffindor bravery he had. Harry waved that away.
"If you're going to apologize, you should do it to Ted, not me. But for what it's worth, I'm not going to hold any grudges because you said something stupid once." If this had been someone else, Harry might not have been so magnanimous. But ever since hearing about the fate of Longbottom's parents from Mr. Greengrass, he couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with the Gryffindor. Both had their parents taken away from them by Voldemort or his followers, even if in Longbottom's case this was to a kind of living death. Still, he wasn't about to mention any of this to the boy, as he himself would rather people not mention his back story to him. Harry wasn't sure if Longbottom looked relieved or stressed out by this.
"I've explained to Hermione that your friend didn't mean to offend her back in Diagon Alley," Longbottom said, taking Harry on an unexpected tangent. Harry had actually forgotten all about that. "Greengrass, I mean. I think I got through to her, but you know, it's not easy for her to back down and admit she was wrong." Harry shook his head.
"She's very quick to take offence. Probably more so because we're Slytherins." He shrugged. "I'll pass it along. What were you looking for, anyway?" Harry asked. Longbottom sighed.
"Oh, I was just passing through this aisle. I was actually heading towards the Defence section. Looking for something better than Lockhart's rubbish, you know? Hermione still thinks he knows what he's doing, though, so I'm trying not to be obvious about it." Harry grinned.
"I'd suggest you look in last year's book. There's a lot of stuff in there that's meant to be this year's material," Harry suggested, offering just enough that would be useful as a start, but without doing Longbottom's work for him. The boy looked surprised at Harry's help, but nodded.
"Alright, thanks, I'll try that. That makes things easier, I just need to owl Gran for the book. She thinks Lockhart's an idiot, Gran does, so she won't need a lot of explanation."
"Yeah, I kind of got that impression back in Flourish and Blotts," Harry replied. "I'm sure it can't take much more than a couple of weeks before Granger wises up. Was the story about the cornish pixies true?" Harry asked. "We didn't get them in our class."
Longbottom actually laughed out loud at this, earning them a strict shh-ing from Madam Pince. "That was the most hilarious thing ever. He was talking about them like they were bloody werewolves or something. Did they tell you one of them got his wand? Hermione and I actually had to stay behind and deal with them ourselves. He just ran away to his office."
Harry actually raised his eyebrow at that. Not at Lockhart's mishaps, as Longbottom had just confirmed the rumour. But at the notion that Longbottom actually helped fix a mess rather than cause it.
"I take it your new wand's working well, then," Harry surmised. Longbottom's face shone.
"It's just so much better. It doesn't feel like I'm fighting against it and losing, do you know what I mean?" he paused. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't. I guess you've never tried to use someone else's wand." Harry shook his head.
"Nope. Doesn't sound pleasant, though." Harry made a note to read about wands, with an internal sigh. Another thing to research. He was just curious to know what made wands match with particular wizards. If using another wizard's wand was so bad, this kind of put a damper on his incipient plan to get his hands on the wand of a dead person to fool the Trace.
"No, it's so much easier now. I actually managed to put a bunch of pixies under the full body bind. Hermione still did most of the work, but…" he trailed, smiling sheepishly. Harry nodded again.
"Well, I'm glad that's working out for you," he replied. He spied Granger coming to find Longbottom at the end of the row of shelves. "I think you've exceeded your breaktime," Harry added with a grin, before turning around and making his way in the opposite direction. "Later, Longbottom," he said as he left.
"Were you talking to Potter?" Harry heard Granger say when she finally reached Longbottom.
"Yeah, he's not so bad. Turns out Lockhart's didn't bring out the pixies again…" Harry chuckled as he got out of hearing range. He had to admit that Granger seemed to have helped Longbottom break out of his shell. She was still kind of domineering and annoying though. Harry had never been able to shake off how her demeanour reminded him so much of Aunt Petunia. As he was lost in these thoughts, he found his friends again.
"Took you long enough," Daphne whispered. Ted was looking at him curiously as well. Harry shrugged.
"Met Longbottom while I was browsing," he explained. He didn't want to tell his friends he was going to try conjuration until he actually managed to produce something, no matter how simple. He didn't just want to waste their time on a fool's errand. "Apparently Lockhart left him and Granger to clean up the Cornish pixies," he said with a low chuckle.
Ted and Daphne were trying very hard not to burst out laughing at that. "His new wand's working pretty well for him," Harry went on. "He actually managed to help."
"Wow, that's a brave new world with a competent Longbottom in it," Daphne said with a grin. Harry shook his head, before cracking open The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts. They all began to read quietly, whiling away the hours until tea time.
Harry happened to land on a chapter on creatures called Boggarts, which took the form of one's worst fear. Harry wasn't sure what his fear would be. Voldemort? He was certainly scared of him, as any sane person should be, but wasn't sure that he was actually the worst. Then again, maybe his worst fear would be something existential that couldn't really be personified by the creature. There was a spell to deal with them, which involved turning them into something funny. Like most spells to deal with dark creatures, there was no way to test whether the spell actually worked without having the creature before one, so Harry just focused on the theory. He was just itching to be alone and read the book on Conjuration, though. He didn't think he'd get much sleep if he didn't try to tackle it.
As usual, I would really appreciate any reviews. In particular, I'd love to know what worked for you, and what didn't.