Dear Harry,

We'll be at Hogwarts soon to take care of whatever's behind that door. Don't try to deal with the threat yourself unless you have no other choice.

Love,

Dad

Harry read the note from his father as he finished the last of his breakfast and passed it to Hermione. She read it equally quickly and looked up at him with a slight frown.

"Not very chatty, your Dad," she said.

He smiled at her. "Sentinels usually aren't, except with their Guides."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "What do you think he meant by soon?"

"A day or two." Harry considered the question for a moment. "Not more than a week, certainly, but he'll owl again if it's going to be longer than a couple of days."

"I hope it's not," Hermione said. "The feeling I got from whatever it is…." she trailed off with a shudder.

"I know." Harry folded the note from Dad and stuck it into his book bag. "C'mon. It's DADA first this morning."

She cocked her head as he rose. "Are you looking forward to that class?"

Harry nodded and adjusted his book bag on his shoulder as Hermione stood, too. "It'll be interesting to see how, well, normal people look at it."

"Normal people?" Her tone had turned low and deadly. Harry just shrugged.

"Two coppers as parents - well, Dad and Uncle - the Alphas, and a great-gran who's a living legend in curse-breaking. What's normal about any of that?"

She opened her mouth to reply, closed it again, and shrugged before she finally spoke. "Coppers, fine. Living legend, mostly normal. Alphas taking a personal interest in your training? Right."

"Not normal at all." Harry grinned at her and started toward the corridor that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Harry stopped dead outside the classroom, nose crinkling at the overwhelming scent of garlic.

Well, maybe it wouldn't be overwhelming to anyone else, but even with his sense of smell near human normal, the garlic was oppressive.

He lowered his scent-sensitivity and, for good measure, taste as well, given how inextricably intertwined the two were.

"Harry?" Hermione's hand slipped into his. He squeezed it in reassurance.

"How bad is it for you?" Harry asked. "The garlic?"

Hermione inhaled deeply. "About a three."

"Three?"

"We went to a restaurant once, the Garlic Café. When you ordered, you chose how much garlic you wanted on a scale of one to ten. This is about a three."

"It was about a nine for me," Harry said, finally stepping into the classroom and finding a seat.

Fortunately, they'd been among the first to leave the Great Hall, so Hermione got the front seat she preferred.

Harry slid into the seat beside her and pulled out parchment and quill, idly wondering if he could use a fountain pen for assignments without causing a ruckus.

A pair of Ravenclaw girls came in, chatting quietly. They stopped and frowned at Harry and Hermione before taking different seats.

Harry reviewed his memory and leaned toward Hermione so no one could overhear his question. "Weren't they the ones that had the front seats in Charms?"

"Mm-hm." Hermione's smile matched her satisfied tone and Harry just shook his head.

"Phew! What's that smell?"

Harry looked up to see a Ravenclaw boy waving his hand before his face and said, "Garlic. Lots of garlic."

"But why?" the boy - Kevin Entwhistle, Harry thought - demanded.

"It's for protection," a Ravenclaw girl - Sue Li - said. "From a vampire he met in Romania. He's afraid it will be coming back to get him."

Then he didn't kill it properly the first time. Idiot. Harry let out a silent sigh. If this was how normal people dealt with dark creatures, his hopes for this class had just plummeted.

"G-good m-m-morning, students." Quirrell said from the front of the class. "It's t-traditional for p-p-professors to introduce t-themselves on the first d-day of c-class, so let me t-t-tell you a little a-about myself."

Harry would normally listen respectfully, but a sense of revulsion came through his bond and he turned to Hermione, wishing their bond were complete so that they could speak to each other privately.

As it was, he could only observe her, and her expression was tight, her lips pressed together, eyes narrowed, and her quill shook ever so slightly in her hand.

Harry rested his hand over her free one and Hermione clutched tightly at it.

"Miss G-Granger, is anything w-w-wrong?"

Hermione opened her mouth, inhaling, and broke into a coughing fit. After a moment, she recovered enough to speak.

"I'm fine, Professor," she replied. "Just - the way you tell the story was … intense. My apologies for the interruption, sir."

She really needs to learn to lie better. Or leave the lying to me.

Harry resolved to ask her what was really bothering her immediately after class. For now, though, she seemed to be relaxing, if only a little, and Harry focused on the professor once again.

= HP = HP = HP = HP =

Harry paused outside the Charms classroom, letting the Hufflepuffs they shared the class with enter first.

"What really happened back there?" he asked quietly.

Hermione blew out a breath. "He's a threat, Harry. Professor Quirrell is a threat."

The change in her tone set all of Harry's instincts and senses on alert. "To you? To me? Or-?"

"To the tribe."

Involuntarily, Harry's lips curled into a snarl. "How?"

"I don't know - but I've never sensed anything so - so - corrupt before."

Harry thought briefly. "I'll write to the Alphas."

"But the headmaster-"

"Doesn't want to be bothered with trivial things," Harry said. "We tried that already."

Hermione sagged against the wall, disappointment radiating from her. "That's-"

"I know." Harry pulled her into a hug.

Her disappointment was understandable. They'd both grown up in circumstances where adults could generally be relied on to be … well, responsible adults. The magical world wasn't proving the same, and Harry was just as disappointed as Hermione.

"Come on," he said after a minute. "We still have Charms before lunch."

Hermione nodded and straightened, and together they went into the classroom, Harry already mentally rehearsing what he would say in his letter to the Alphas.