December brought with it an abrupt change of weather, the dull conditions of autumn turning into a bleak winter in a matter of days. The selection of food served by the House-Elves evolved with the season, hearty stews and broths complementing the selection of roasted meats and vegetables, and warm, frothy butterbeers available at Sunday dinners once again. But the delicious food was never quite enough to negate the harsh conditions they faced outdoors, the students still voyaging across the grounds to the greenhouses or Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures.

Over three months had passed since the morning Harry had talked to Sirius out on the Quidditch pitch, receiving the less than helpful advice that he should simply learn how to live with Umbridge. Since then he had somehow managed to settle in to a new way of life, adjusting to the changes both big and small that were brought on by Voldemort's return and Fudge's denial of it.

As best he possibly could, Harry had indeed learned to live under the watchful eye of Umbridge. He kept his mouth shut just like Sirius told him to, not allowing himself to rise every time she provoked him, every time she set out to punish or make him miserable. After his return Hagrid had been promptly put on probation, while Harry and the twins had been banned from Quidditch…while, as sadistic as the blood quill Umbridge had made him use was, it had proven effective in deterring him from speaking out against anything, even Voldemort.

Despite his dislike of the cold conditions, Harry would have given anything to be following Ron and the rest of the team out into the morning fog and rain for Quidditch training.

Thankfully the scrutiny and ridicule from his classmates had settled down by the second week of term. As everyone got into the swing of normal school life most of them seemed to lose interest in him, though on occasion certain students went out of their way to gossip about or openly laugh at him. Thanks for their efforts Harry remained the school pariah, forcing him to lower his expectations of anyone. He no longer expected people to believe him, or even treat him with common decency, despite the fact that they had believed him and Dumbledore last June.

Ron and Hermione had remained ever steadfastly by his side, proving him their blind loyalty just as they had promised him last June, the morning when they sat with him at Cedric's memorial. They had been wholly on his side, while Harry did his utmost best to repay them the favour by helping Ron with Quidditch as best he could, and supporting Hermione's ongoing efforts with S.P.E.W…except for the wearing of the badge, of course. To his relief they had both agreed he was bullied enough without wearing a badge that said spew.

And, despite his initial bouts of envy, Harry was proud that Ron and Hermione had been selected as Prefects. They often had to duck away for Prefect duties, which suited Harry in that it gave him some much needed down time to be alone. In hindsight he was grateful for whatever reason Dumbledore didn't pick him as Prefect, for the job would have ben awful given the way the school treated him right now. But, he did enjoy hearing their complaints about the job, especially Ron's.

'I know we were idiots in first year, but we weren't stupid, right?'

'No,' Harry said with absolute certainty. 'But these ones are,' he added supportively, for this wasn't the first time Ron had complained about the younger students.

'And they're rude. We were probably stupid, but we weren't rude to the Prefects.'

'Well, except to Percy.'

Ron shook his head. 'Doesn't count. He had it coming.'

Despite their additional responsibilities and weekly meetings, Harry was quite glad to have two Prefects as his best friends. It meant having back up that wielded a certain amount of power, which after a while had begun deterring people from giving Harry a hard time, at least while in the company of Ron and Hermione.

Besides, their role as Perfects certainly proved beneficial to them all on a personal level - at least where the DA came in to play. Bringing together twenty or so students two nights a week occasionally proved tricky, particularly where teachers and other Prefects were concerned, but Ron and Hermione's late curfew allowed them to be out in the corridors, pretending to escort other students back from the library or a study group that had run late.

Naturally Harry had been resistant to the idea of forming the DA in the first place, certain that there would be no one in Hogwarts genuinely interested in learning from him. He had shied away from it almost entirely, convinced that the people who showed up to their first meeting in the Hogs Head would only be interested in gawking at the school freak.

But after a few uncomfortable minutes in which Harry talked down what he had done as quickly as Hermione talked it up, the group at large seemed to reach an understanding. None of them could stand Umbridge in the slightest, and even if they weren't completely certain they believed Harry they did want to learn from him. And so the DA had been formed, quickly named Dumbledore's Army during their very first meeting.

In the ten weeks since their first meeting everything had been running smoothly, and Harry glowed with pride and satisfaction as he watched the members succeeding. It quickly became the one shining light in life, the powerful secret that allowed him to start getting through Umbridge's classes without losing his temper. Any time she gave him a sneering smile or made a comment he simply turned his mind to the DA, remembering their successes and planning the next lessons.

By and large Harry was leading a relatively straightforward life at school, remaining impervious to the subtle efforts of some to laugh at or ridicule him, the DA providing a mental refuge and source of relief from his problems. But not unexpectedly three Slytherins in particularly went out of their way to make his life miserable. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle seemed particularly insulted that their fathers had been accused of involvement in Voldemort's supposed return, and took every opportunity to loudly declare Harry to be a lunatic. And though he tried to ignore them and rise above their childish antics, every comment they made struck him hard.

Lingering in the back of his mind was one thought that was too awful to dwell on, forcing him to keep it in the deepest recesses of his mind. Yet every time he laid his eyes on someone like Malfoy he felt his heart rate pick up, humiliation rising within him. It was the knowledge that unless they seriously mistrusted their sons, Lucius Malfoy and others would have relished in telling them about Harry Potter's imprisonment.

No doubt that had to be the case with Draco Malfoy, for he never missed an opportunity to torment Harry, and it was thanks to his efforts that the Potter Stinks badges had made a resurgence. But more sinister than that were the sly comments and innuendo - small interactions that made Harry absolutely certain that Draco knew what had happened to him. Things had culminated after the first Quidditch game when Gryffindor beat Slytherin, and after Harry and the twins were banned he and his mates became even bolder with their antagonising.

'Shame you couldn't stay the whole summer, Potter,' Malfoy had hissed at him, shoving past as they made their way out of Potions class one Monday. 'I'd have shown you around my father's private garden.'

Malfoy chortled as he set off down the corridor, flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle. They glanced back at him to see his reaction while Hermione pleaded with him to not respond, to ignore them. Ron however, couldn't take it lying down.

'Come back and say it louder, tossers!'

Undeterred, Malfoy didn't yet let up. 'Please, I'll do whatever you say!' he said loudly, putting on a falsely scared voice before trailing off in laughter. 'I can't take any more!'

It was this comment that pushed Harry over the edge, that set his blood boiling. This was perhaps his greatest fear realised, confirmation that Malfoy had more than a passing knowledge of what had been done to him in that cellar. His comments were practically verbatim to Harry's own memories of the torture he'd endured, the way he had broken so quickly and pleaded for relief, begging Lucius Malfoy to stop.

'I can't take any more. I'll do whatever you want. Please…'

Humiliated yet again Harry had finally let himself do what he'd been holding back for months. Slipping his wand into his schoolbag he dumped it in the middle of the corridor and set off. He shouted Malfoy's name as Ron fell into step beside him, always having his back and he too itching for a confrontation.

Malfoy turned around, his laughter falling away into a sneer when he saw Harry coming. He looked pleased that after months of antagonising he was finally getting the reaction he wanted, that his enemy could take it no more.

'Going to beg me to stop?' Malfoy taunted him, not caring that the corridor was crowded with people, nor that his very taunting words might give Harry's story the slightest amount of credibility.

Marching right up to him Harry looked Malfoy in the eye, hands clenched into fists by his side. Behind him he heard Hermione calling his name, pleading with him to stand down, but he was too far gone by now.

'You want to do this, Malfoy?' he asked quietly, unafraid of any consequences. 'Come on then.'

'A duel?' Malfoy smirked, looking to Crabbe and Goyle either side of him.

Harry shook his head. 'No, a fight. Just you and me, no wands. Can't you take me?'

To his immense satisfaction, Malfoy hesitated. A wizarding duel didn't daunt him, but a fist fight? 'You're not worth the bruises to my knuckles, Potter.'

Harry sneered right back at him. 'Your pathetic father couldn't take me either,' he smirked, not bothering to keep his voice lowered. 'He was shitting himself when he saw what I could do without a wand.'

Satisfied enough for today Harry turned to walk away, and it was then Malfoy struck. Really he ought to have expected a cowardly punch, for it wasn't the first time Malfoy had attacked when his back was turned. He hit Harry on the side of the head, hard enough to make him stumble, but he had enough senses left to whirl around and charge at Malfoy with the force of his whole body.

Shoving him back Harry drew his fist and punched him hard in the face once, and then twice. There was no chance to get a third punch in, Ron and Seamus had leapt on him and wrenched him away, bringing the fight to a swift but satisfying end.

Malfoy slumped into a heap on the floor, clutching his bloodied nose as Harry snatched up his bag and departed. None of the other Slytherins dared to even comment, not even Crabbe and Goyle, allowing Harry to pass by without further incident. Once they were shot of all of them Seamus made a very hasty departure. He avoided any whispered conversation about the things Malfoy had said, lest he be forced to acknowledge any evidence that Harry might have been telling the truth.

'You guys go ahead,' Harry muttered before they reached the Great Hall for lunch. 'I just, err…bathroom.'

Neither Ron nor Hermione believed him, but when Harry gave them a furtive look they seemed to understand his need to be left alone, for they let him be. Hoisting his schoolbag more securely over his shoulder he set off and made his way to the boys bathroom, knowing he was likely to find them unoccupied given lunch had just started.

Relieved to find the bathroom empty Harry slipped into the furtherest cubicle and locked himself inside, breathing a sigh of relief upon finding privacy. But his sigh of relief began to change. When he tried to draw breath he felt his chest tightening, his mind racing against the intrusive thoughts that invaded his head. He'd felt this coming on the moment Ron and Seamus had pulled him off Malfoy, he knew what was going to happen.

Unable to do anything to stop it, Harry's hands began to shake, and soon enough his whole body was trembling as he paced back and forth inside the small cubicle. Inside his chest his heart raced painfully fast, his mind telling him that something was terribly wrong - that Malfoy was coming back for him this minute - that it was over for him now. His listened anxiously for the sound of approaching footsteps, waiting for them to show up.

'You will obey me.'

'Yes!' he cried out. 'Yes - please, stop!'

Clearing his throat Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his face, trying to pull himself together. This time whatever was happening seemed to pass quickly, his only consolation was that at least it had been triggered by something that made sense, Malfoy. That's what it had been the first time he felt this, when he unexpectedly saw Lucius Malfoy at the Ministry in August.

It had happened again since his return to Hogwarts, coming completely out of the blue every couple of weeks, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it. It was unfounded panic without cause, the absolute certainty that something was about to happen and he could stop if it he just did something…but he didn't know what he needed to do. Last time this had happened it came out of no where when he was sitting in the Common Room, an alarming sense of dread forcing him to retreat upstairs to the dormitory so no one knew how cracked in the head he really was.

Hastily trying to sort himself out he opened his clenched fist and stared at his empty palm, forcing himself to concentrate all his efforts. A few moments later a ball of light began to bloom, illuminating the bathroom stall and giving him something to focus his attention on.

It was on Sirius's advice that he made a renewed effort to learn wandless magic. He'd been intrigued by the idea that he might be able to do it without the pressure of fighting for his life enabling him to perform the feat. He kept it entirely to himself, unwilling to raise any topic that might lead back to talking about what happened to him last June. Instead he had quietly gone about honing the skill, finding it wasn't as simple as concentrating intensely, but rather took a frustrating amount of practice.

It had taken some time, and such intense concentration that Ron had asked if he was feeling ill, but finally he'd managed to do wandless magic beyond the mere conjuring of light. By now he could conjure light, levitate objects that weren't too heavy and perform a trip jinx, which he had taken great pleasure in practicing on certain people like Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

Finally managing to catch his breath Harry felt his face flush red with embarrassment, ashamed that he couldn't hold himself together over something so stupid. Malfoy was being an arsehole because of course he was - he had nothing else. Feeling the panicked thoughts pass and his heart rate return to normal Harry had extinguisheded the ball of light and left the bathroom. He needed to get on with his day, and so he put it all out of his mind again, trying not to think about the new spate of cubicle graffiti targeted at him.

Finally they had reached the last week of term, and with only three days left of classes Harry found that for the first time ever he didn't want to spend Christmas at Hogwarts. This year he was going to the Burrow for Christmas break, and had received the assurance that he could also spend a few days at Grimmauld Place too. It wasn't an unreasonable request in his opinion, that Sirius needn't spend Christmas alone.

Harry and Sirius had been in somewhat regular contact, speaking over the mirrors on a few occasions. At first Harry had felt hurt by Sirius's response to Umbridge, that he should simply learn to live with her, but he had been vindicated when Sirius found out about the DA.

As if making up for the Umbridge thing he had been wildly supportive from the very start, though he had been sure to deliver the message to Ron from his parents. The DA was now the current talking subject when they did contact one another through the mirror, Sirius giving advice on the lessons they had planned and spells Harry should look up.

On the final Wednesday before the end of term Harry came down to the Common Room with his schoolbag over his shoulder. Complaining that he was starving Ron had gone on ahead to breakfast alone, while Harry was waiting for Neville to finish getting ready up in the dormitory. Down in the common room he was met with the usual flurry of fellow Gryffindors getting ready for the day, and he dodged a paper aeroplane that Dennis Creevey accidentally threw towards him.

There were a dozen or so people crowded around the wireless radio, and though Harry was going to ignore it (for when did hearing the news ever benefit him?), Fred and George were listening. They had seen him coming downstairs, perhaps having been waiting for his arrival, and Fred ushered him over.

A little reluctant, Harry came over and stood at Fred's side, automatically veering towards a friendly face despite the fact that Gryffindors didn't outright give him a hard time. But over the radio came a voice he associated with quite the opposite, Cornelius Fudge, and he gave Fred a look of exasperation to question why he had brought him over for this.

'Sorry,' he muttered. 'Figured you ought'a know what he's up to.'

'…highly specialised program, one that has been in development at St Mungos for a number of years now. The Ministry of Magic is proud to be funding the majority of the budget for this program and will continue to do so, with fixed annual increases to be voted on by Wizengamot as early as next month.'

'And what do you say to criticisms that this program, while long awaited, is partially funded by the Malfoy family?'

'I take no issue to that at all,' Fudge said proudly. 'The Malfoy family have been generous donors to St Mungos for several decades, and they remain dedicated to the betterment of our society.'

'But surely you can understand the discomfort of some witches and wizards,' the interviewer pressed, trying to get something more. 'After all, the accusations were-'

'Unsubstantiated rumours. If we must talk about this instead of the important work from St Mungos, let me just say that there have always been those who wish to disrupt the status quo for their own personal gain. It disappoints me that after all our years of friendship Albus Dumbledore seeks to disrupt things, and worse still that he bring an innocent boy into the fray with him.

'Why I wouldn't be surprised if in five months Dumbledore suddenly declares he himself has single handedly defeated You Know Who and saved us all. Mark my words, that's his agenda. I just hope he doesn't continue to drag poor Harry Potter through the mud with him. He's a sweet child really, and it's terribly sad he's been so manipulated…'

Not needing to hear anymore Harry just turned away, ignoring the faces of his fellow Gryffindors who suddenly seemed rather skeptical of him. Fortunately Neville came down from the dormitory, apologising that he had forgotten some books. They left quickly and hurried down to the Great Hall, and all the while Harry couldn't help but seethe with anger on the inside.

He's a sweet child really, and its terribly sad he's been so manipulated…

Fudge's comments about him irked Harry to no end, almost as much as the knowledge that the Malfoy's were still very much in his pocket.

Though at the time he had understood why Dumbledore wanted him to do it, in hindsight Harry regretted that he had ever given a formal statement to Madam Bones and Scrimgeour. It didn't matter that it had been the catalyst for a formal investigation, months had passed and nothing had come of it except problems. That he had made a formal statement to the Ministry had since become public knowledge, and rather than giving him any credibility it seemed to open him up to further ridicule…ridicule those like Lucius Malfoy and Umbridge were stoking.

When he and Neville passed through the Entrance Hall Harry averted his eyes, not allowing himself to look at the spot just to the left of the Great Hall doors. Cedric's memorial had been formed there, and last June it had been overflowing with flowers, trinkets and candles. Over the summer Harry had thought of it on occasion, dreading that he would have to see it again. But what Harry had been met with was worse by far - the memorial was gone.

Just like what happened on the Quidditch pitch was erased there was little evidence a memorial for someone had ever stood there in the first place. Only occasionally did Harry see flowers laid out, or a photograph fixed to the stone wall…he hated seeing the space so void and empty, making him feel as if the school had forgotten Cedric already. He hated looking at the empty space as much as he had dreaded seeing the memorial again...he didn't know which was worse.

'Did you hear what's on the radio?' Harry asked, sitting next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Opposite them sat Ron, who looked up in interest. 'Fudge?'

Hermione made a sound of disapproval, straightening her newspaper as she read over her cereal. 'They've been playing that interview all morning.'

'Apparently I'm a sweet child with baseless accusations,' Harry explained to Ron.

Ron scoffed, turning back to his breakfast. 'That's a load of dung. Nothin' sweet about you, mate.'

Hermione passed him a page from the newspaper, one featuring Fudge's statement and a headline about St Mungos. 'He's been doing the rounds of all the media for about a week now,' she said grimly. 'Last week he was in Witch Weekly, a two page spread all about how great the Ministry's doing and how wonderful he is.'

'Witch Weekly? Harry questioned, scanning his eyes over the newspaper. 'Politics isn't quite their style.'

'Read a lot of Witch Weekly?' Ron teased, passing Harry a mug of coffee after refilling his own.

'We must give Fudge credit,' Hermione said loftily, holding out her own mug for a refill too. 'He knows exactly what he's doing.'

Still scanning the newspaper, Harry came across his own name in the article and had to agree. 'He's confrontational about Dumbledore, but not about me. Says it's not my fault what Dumbledore's doing.'

'He's making himself look sympathetic, even as he discredits you and attacks Dumbledore. Yes, he's very good at what he does.'

Though he tried not to, for really it just bothered him more than it helped, Harry turned to look up at the high table where Dumbledore sat. As usual the Headmaster was looking anywhere and everywhere by the Gryffindor table, and once more resentment grew inside him. Lately he didn't need any more reason to resent Dumbledore's coldness, but the more press coverage like this continued the more Harry begrudged Dumbledore's apparent lack of effort to dispute it.

'Sweet child, am I…' Harry muttered darkly, giving the page back to Hermione.

Trying not to show it, for it was already hard enough for Ron and Hermione to put up with his bad moods, Harry stomach churned in disgust. Maybe he would get the opportunity to show Fudge how sweet he could really be. As he ate breakfast he let his mind wander, imagining the long awaited day in which Fudge would fall from grace. Voldemort wouldn't hide forever. Despite the implications of that, Harry found himself looking forward to Voldemort's public return just to see Fudge's blundering reaction.

The man was a blithering fool, there was no doubt about that...but he really did know what he was doing when it came to politics. Looking around the table Harry began to take notice of his fellow students avidly reading the newspaper, someone perusing a copy of Witch Weekly over their Cheeri-Owls. Newspapers, magazines, radio...they were all hearing Fudge's side of the story everywhere they went. No one was hearing Harry's.

Perhaps he didn't have to wait for Voldemort's return to do something. Maybe instead, it was time to sink to his enemy's level.

Feeling Hermione nudge him Harry looked around, his heart sinking when he saw McGonagall making her way towards them. Did she somehow know he hadn't yet finished his homework? Had his last piece earned him the dreaded T that somehow seemed inevitable? But when she made it to his side her face seemed rather soft and concerned, not at all like she was about to scold him.

'Mr Potter,' she began, keeping her voice low so that only Ron and Hermione could hear. Across the table Ron lowered his knife and fork and leant over, his tie falling into his eggs. 'The Auror office have requested that they see you in my office this morning, during morning break.'

Harry looked at her in surprise. No matter their reason, he found he never wanted to talk to anyone from the Ministry again. It had been hard to speak with Madam Bones and make a formal statement, but harder still to push all the memories back into the deepest recesses of his memory after. It felt like he had just finally managed to do that, to push it all away again...he wasn't keen on being asked to bring it back up.

He glanced at Ron and Hermione. He didn't need to ask what it was about. 'Professor, are you asking me, or telling me?'

'Asking you,' McGonagall said simply, and clearly she sympathised with him. 'I'll not force you to speak to anyone you don't want to speak to.'

'Who is it?'

'Rufus Scrimgeour and Kingsley Shacklebolt. If you wish to decline I can make any number of reasonable excuses on your behalf.'

Grateful she was at least giving him ample opportunity to say no, Harry again looked at the Head table. Still Dumbledore was ignoring him, though he would be perfectly aware of who was coming to talk to him. If there was any reason that he shouldn't Dumbledore would not have even allowed Harry to be asked in the first place. But still, he was tempted to refuse in the vain hope that it might get Dumbledore's attention. After all, Dumbledore himself was the one who wanted Harry to make a statement to the Ministry in the first place.

'Any chance we can do it earlier than break?' he asked hopefully, having hoped to finish his Transfiguration homework, with McGonagall's class immediately after.

'And withdraw you from morning class?' McGonagall said reproachfully.

'It's only Divination.'

She looked tempted, but only for a moment. 'I mustn't. So that's a yes?'

Glancing at the Head table for a third time, Harry nodded his head. Satisfied, McGonagall thanked him softly and then swept out of the Great Hall, no doubt heading back to her office to confirm he would attend the appointment. Dreading the rest of the day Harry turned back to his breakfast and then pushed it away, having lost his appetite.

What were they playing at springing this on him at the last minute? Perhaps they wisely knew that if he had much time to think about it he would have declined speaking to them again, at least not until he got to speak to Sirius. Their two-way mirror was in the pocket of his schoolbag, he carried it with him everywhere...but there wouldn't be enough time to find a private spot and speak to him. The bell had already rung to signal the start of the school day, and around him the last remaining students were rising from the tables and collecting their things.

Doing the same thing Harry slung his bag over his shoulder, and a sucker for punishment he looked up to Dumbledore again.

'Here,' said Hermione, slipping her Transfiguration homework into his school bag. 'If you're lucky, you can finish in Divination.'

Harry smiled, his heart lifting with the small relief. 'Thank you.'

'Just don't let McGonagall see you giving it back to me,' she said, hurrying off to Arithmancy while he and Ron headed up towards Trelawney's tower.

Divination class was the usual case of hot, stuffy classroom and Trelawney's ridiculous predictions, though to his mixed relief and horror Professor Umbridge was sitting in on the class again, evaluating the teacher on probation. While on one hand Umbridge's mere proximity made his blood boil, it at least tempered Trelawney a little, and when she was inspected she was more likely to leave them to their own devices. Taking full advantage of that Harry opened his copy of Unfogging the Future and slipped his scroll of parchment inside, finishing his Transfiguration homework under the guise of reading the text book.

They were supposed to be studying interpretations of the snake in fortune telling, Trelawney droning on about how the shedding of the skin represented rebirth and rejuvenation. Listening in the back of his mind Harry rather felt the subject was a little too on the nose for his interest, that a snake might be associated with rebirth. Nagini had been there at Voldemort's rebirth, and thereafter too. And yet as if she knew how much the subject annoyed him Trelawney kept circling back to snakes.

As always enticed by the warmth and darkness of this classroom, Harry felt himself struggling to keep his eyes open. He hadn't slept well last night, and Divination was the worst class to start the day with when tired. Blinking to rouse himself he kept at his Transfiguration homework, casting the occasional glance up to check that he hadn't attracted the attention of Trelawney or Umbridge.

But against his will he was nodding off, feeling himself rushing away as if falling down a long, dark hole. There was no helping him, the comfortable envelopment of sleep was far too tempting. He dreamt of Nagini, baring her fangs and rubbing up against his neck as she did in Malfoy Manor. She slithered past him, returning to Voldemort who stroked her tenderly, whispering to her in Parsletongue...

Tonight.

He was striding down a dimly lit corridor, one he had seen many times before - and there it was…the door at the end. It drew nearer as his heart began to race in anticipation. Excitement flooded through him.

When he roused Harry blinked stupidly, looking around in embarrassment - but if he had fallen asleep it seemed no one had noticed it. Mentally shaking off the day dream he used his wand to siphon off smudges of ink that had dripped from the end of his quill, and after another quick glance around he resumed his homework. Beside him Ron was scrawling notes into the margins of both their dream diaries, while Trelawney had begun prowling around to review. Neither had noticed that Harry had nodded off.

'It's alright mate, I'll do all the work," Ron joked under his breath.

'I was tortured, I deserve to slack off.'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'That's your January.'

'What?' Harry whispered in dismay. 'I haven't used that all month!'

'Herbology, a week ago. Who had to do the dragon dung alone because your forgot your gloves?'

Harry sighed, but he didn't hasten to help Ron with the dreams. 'I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Fine, this is January.'

'You're going to regret it. Mum's got work for us when we go home, including the ghoul in the attic.'

'What do we have to do with the ghoul?'

'He starting to smell again. One of us has to get up there with the hose.'

Harry just grinned, not at all concerned. 'Your mum wouldn't make me do that. She still feels sorry for me.'

As Trelawney grew closer and Umbridge got up and also began making the rounds, Harry figured it was time to give up on his Transfiguration homework. Packing it away he took his dream diary back from Ron and began reading the notes he had made, but his attention was focused on McGonagall, wondering how he was going to explain his half written homework.

There came a loud shriek from Trelawney, and Harry who was well used to her cries of horror upon reading a student's future was not alarmed. He glanced up to see Nearly Headless Nick had emerged through the floor, looking rather affronted that he had received such an unwelcoming reception. One of the curtains was now on fire, Pavarti hastening to put it out while Trelawney collected herself from the fright.

'So sorry to be a bother,' Nearly Headless Nick said, his tone overly polite. 'But I'm here to fetch Mr Potter.'

Umbridge's head whipped around to Harry, her eyes wide in interest. 'On whose behest?'

'Professor McGonagall's,' Nick answered, looking as though he had expected this enquiry.

Beside him Ron gave a great sigh. 'You lucky bastard.'

Despite what he was being pulled out of class for, Harry grinned. 'You wanna talk to the Aurors?' he whispered, hastily throwing his belongings into his school bag before Umbridge could do anything to delay him.

'Not in a million years,' Ron said, slouching on his pouffe and scowling at his dream diary.

Without saying a single word to Trelawney or Umbridge, Harry slung his schoolbag onto his shoulder and headed for the trap door, mentally giving thanks to Professor McGonagall for pulling him out of class.


A/N Hi readers - a long chapter with a lot of information to take in, and a few little pieces to weave in there, but I hope it was enjoyable. Please leave a review and let me know if you enjoyed. Next chapter, Scrimgeour again, a chapter I really enjoyed writing.