HARRY

Later that night, after his dormmates had all fallen asleep and begun snoring with varying degrees of intensity, Harry shook Ron awake. His friend snorted and sat up groggily, gazing up at Harry through thoroughly disappointed eyes.

"You couldn't have waited five more minutes?"

"We were supposed to meet Hermione five minutes ago," hissed Harry. "Come on, get up already."

Ron groaned and got out of bed with a great show of reluctance.

Hermione was, indeed, waiting for them in front of the fireplace in the common room. She had her arms crossed and an impatient look on her face.

"Honestly, boys. I have been waiting for ten minutes. Now, Harry, what was it you wanted to talk to us about?"

"Sorry, Hermione. Ron wouldn't get out of bed, the lazy slug."

"Oy!" Ron elbowed him indignantly. "That's a lie!"

"Anyway," said Hermione as loudly as possible without disturbing the dorms, "Harry. What did you want to say? And make it quick — I need my rest in order to make tomorrow a productive, efficient start of term."

Sighing, Harry told them what he had heard Malfoy saying to his friends on the train. "I think Voldemort gave him a special task, and he was —"

Both his friends groaned. "Surely you're not back to the Malfoy-is-a-Death-Eater thing again, are you?" Hermione said.

Ron sighed. "I really think you're stretching, mate. Why would You-Know-Who let a sixteen year old into his inner circle?"

Harry wanted to tear at his hair for what he considered their blatant pigheadedness. "Listen to me. All the evidence points to it! Remember what happened in Knockturn Alley, plus he wouldn't let Madam Malkin touch his left forearm —"

"You've detailed plenty of times what happened. We we there too, we —"

"— And now he's bragging to his mates about some 'bigger, better things' he may have moved onto," Harry continued, ignoring Ron. "Plus, his father's a known Death Eater. What other evidence do you need? Have you got to corner him and force up his left sleeve?"

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione doubtfully. "Just because his father is one doesn't mean he is too. Maybe he was just — I don't know, bigging himself up to his friends? That'd be perfectly typical of him."

"Yeah, although if you want to try and expose his forearm, you can go ahead and do that. Me, personally, I'm not keen on getting fifty detentions from Snape in the first week of school," added Ron.

Harry groaned in frustration. Realising he would convince them of nothing as of now, especially with them rather groggy and disgruntled from lack of sleep, he said, "Fine, you win. I'll back off for tonight, and we'll discuss this some more another time. But I'll be keeping an eye on Malfoy."

"Sure, Harry," said Hermione tiredly. "See you in the morning."

She turned and climbed the steps to the girls' dormitory. "G'night," Ron called up after her. "See you in the morning."

Together, he and Ron went back up to the boys' dormitory. Harry was glad for the darkness, because he was reasonably certain that his face was slightly red from sheer frustration. Were his friends so stubborn that they could not see what was clearly right in front of them?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a figure at the top of the stairs, waiting for them with their arms crossed.

Ron let out a yelp. "Er, we were just…" he looked closer. "Oh, it's you. Mind not telling Filch we were up?"

"What's a Death Eater?" Percy Jackson asked.

They gaped at him. Finally Harry spoke. "Do you not know about the Wizarding War? In America?"

"What Wizarding War?"

Harry was at a loss for words. It had never occurred to him that such an important thing, something that his entire life, really, had revolved around since he was a baby — that people wouldn't know about it in other parts of the world. But now that he thought about it, he didn't remember hearing that Voldemort had ever attacked certain places like America. Perhaps they had never even heard of Voldemort. The thought seemed absurd.

"Look," said Percy, "I really don't know what you're talking about. Unless you're talking about Hades, or Thanatos — who I heard was a really pretty guy, just as a side note — but I'm pretty sure that's not it. I think that'd be considered cannibalism. You can't just… eat people. Even if they're immortal."

Harry blinked. Most of his words had not even registered in his head. Did Percy think that Death was a person? Maybe they had their own famous wizards in America, and one was referred to as Death.

And as for immortality, the only thing that granted one that to Harry's knowledge was the Sorcerer's Stone — and that had been destroyed five years ago. He felt suddenly the urge to go study wizarding America.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mate," said Ron, "But Death Eaters are You-Know-Who's inner circle. The ones with the Dark Mark on their left forearms?" He drew a mock snake on his inner arm.

Percy looked at him as if he were crazy. "Who? And the Dark Mark? That sounds so, like, cryptic."

"Cryptic," repeated Harry. "Do you know who Voldemort is?"

"Nope."

Ron spluttered. He turned to Harry with bulging eyes and what would have been a rather comical expression, had the situation not been appalling. Harry's mind spun. If other wizarding schools didn't know about Voldemort, perhaps they would help once informed… the fight against him could double, triple even.

"Who's Voldemort?" Percy prompted.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Ron beat him to it. "Only the darkest wizard of all time," he said in a hushed tone. "He's so evil, no one speaks his name. Everyone just calls him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —"

"That's a mouthful," Percy remarked. "Sorry, go on?"

"Erm, no one says his name except for a few like Harry and Dumbledore. And Harry here —" here Ron lowered his voice for effect. "— he was the one who defeated You-Know-Who. When he was just a baby."

"Yeah, okay, I get the first part. Names have power. But Harry defeated this evil dude as a baby? How does that even work, he launched his pacifier? — I guess that could work, seeing as Kronos was hit with a blue plastic hairbrush. But if he was defeated, why is everyone still so afraid of him?"

"He's back," said Harry darkly, choosing to dismiss the strange things Percy had mentioned. "He's been gathering his Death Eaters, biding his time to attack again. That's what Dumbledore was talking about during the feast, weren't you listening?"

Percy shook his head sheepishly. "Not really. ADHD."

Harry nodded, frowning. "Look, I've got to get to bed. We'd appreciate it if you didn't let Filch know we were up after hours. I don't much feel like detention in the first week of school… thanks."

"Alright," said Percy. "Good night. But tell me more another time, 'kay?"

"Sure," Ron said, and the three of them went back to the dormitory to sleep until morning.

When they found Hermione in the steady stream of students heading out of the common room for breakfast, Harry wasted no time in continuing to nag about his theory. How they could be so blind to the obvious, he did not know — soon, however, he was forced to stop talking since many students were trying desperately to listen in. Some whispered behind their hands.

"It's rude to point," Ron snapped at a particularly miniscule first-year boy who had been staring at Harry and whispering something to his friend. The boy promptly turned scarlet and nearly toppled out of the portrait hole in alarm. Ron snickered.

"What's so funny?"

Percy had appeared behind them, combing his hair with his fingers, which did nothing but cause it to stick up further.

"Hold it!" said Hermione suddenly, stopping a passing fourth year who was trying to smuggle past a lime green disk tucked under his arm. "Fanged Frisbees are banned. Hand it over."

Scowling, the boy gave her the frisbee and clambered out of the common room.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these," Ron said gleefully, attempting to snatch it out of Hermione's hands.

She held it out of his reach. "Oh, no, you don't," she warned.

"C'mon, Hermione, just give it here —"

The two fought over the frisbee all the way to the Great Hall, and Harry could do nothing but sigh and shake his head at them besides Percy, who was grinning.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was a soft denim blue, wisps of white clouds drifting across like cotton. While the four of them tucked into eggs and bacon and porridge, Harry recounted a particularly hilarious episode of the Dursleys' in which Dudley tried out his Firebolt behind his aunt and uncle's backs. They all roared with laughter when he described his cousin's reaction, having been dropped from the broomstick very suddenly and at very high altitude, a quivering lump of a boy with his piggy eyes bulging out comically. Uncle Vernon had been livid and accused Harry of hypnotising their dear dudders — a ludicrous accusation, considering he had nearly been expelled for using magic outside of school the previous year.

"They're idiots," exclaimed Ron, delighted. "They're real-life idiots, Harry."

Harry could not agree more. Just then, they heard loud giggling; Lavender Brown had been passing and seemed to find Ron's comment highly amusing. She was laughing even after she had sat down with her friend uncomfortably close. Ron looked remarkably pleased, and the mood of the rest of the table soured subtly.

"Who's that?" Percy asked.

"Lavender Brown," replied Harry.

They stayed seated after they had finished eating, waiting for McGonagall to distribute the schedules. It was more complicated this year; they had to confirm their chosen N.E.W.T.s, and that they had received the necessary amount of O.W.L.s in order to continue with them. Hermione was cleared immediately for what seemed like every single subject and rushed off to Ancient Runes without further ado.

Neville had some more trouble; he had applied for Transfiguration but had received only an "Acceptable" the previous year, not enough to continue on to N.E.W.T level. McGonagall suggested he try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms instead. His round face seemed thoroughly dejected, although it brightened upon hearing that his own grandmother had failed her Charms O.W.L.

Next was Parvati Patil, who asked eagerly whether or not the handsome centaur Firenze was still teaching Divination. She received the sour response that he and Professor Trelawney were dividing the classes between them and that Trelawney would be teaching the sixth years; it was well known that McGonagall disapproved of the subject of Divination.

Parvati left for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

Finally it was Harry's turn.

"So, Potter…" hummed McGonagall as she consulted her notes. "Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark last year, Potter. Very pleased."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said.

She frowned. "But why aren't you signed up for Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"

"I only got an 'Exceeds Expectations.' You told me I needed an 'Outstanding,' Professor."

"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn is more than happy to accept those who received an 'Exceeds Expectations'. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I didn't get any of the ingredients, or books, or anything -"

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you the necessary supplies. Here is your schedule — oh, by the way, Potter, you've twenty hopefuls signed up for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you, and you may arrange tryouts at your leisure."

"Thank you, Professor."

Seeming to notice Percy standing there for the first time, McGonagall said sharply, "Ah, the transfer student. Mr. Jackson, please wait a little and we'll get you sorted out."

Percy nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

A few minutes later Ron was cleared for the same subjects as Harry, examining both their schedules eagerly.

"We've got free periods now, Harry… one after break, and one after lunch… excellent. Let's go back to the common room, there's another hour before Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Harry shook his head. "Let's just wait for Percy, it won't take long." As strange as it was, he had begun to feel a sense of camaraderie towards the transfer student. Even if he was rather clueless to current wizarding events, he had a light sense of humour and was enjoyable to be around — not to mention that had it not been for him, Harry would have still been on the train heading back to London with a broken nose.

"Did you not take your O.W.L.s at your old school, Jackson?" McGonagall was asking.

Percy shook his head. "I don't think we had all the same subjects, either. It was a kind of… small, exclusive type of school."

"I see." She examined her notes. "Well. You're signed up for the standard list of classes, all at N.E.W.T level. Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Divination… we haven't got any time to confirm that you belong in all of them, so you'll simply have to let me know if you're having trouble keeping up with the course work… here's your schedule, then, off you go."

Percy joined them, and Ron leaned over to examine his schedule. "Oh, you've Defence, Potions, and Herbology with us, Percy. Plus free periods — excellent, excellent."

Strangely elated, Harry made his way back to the common room with Ron and Percy.

It was empty except for a handful of seventh graders when they climbed through the portrait-hole. One of them was Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team from when Harry had first joined.

"I thought you'd get that, well done," she called over, pointing at the captain's badge on his chest. "Call me when you set up tryouts, yeah?"

Harry frowned. "Don't be stupid, you don't need to try out. I already know —"

"Oh, don't go down that path, Potter. A lot of great Quidditch teams have been ruined from the Captains just recycling their old players year after year, or letting in their friends… who knows, there might be someone much better than me."

Ron coughed and played with the Fanged Frisbee he had won from Hermione, which zoomed around and tried to eat the tapestry.

"Quidditch?" Percy asked. "What's that?"

Harry and Ron goggled at him. "You kidding, mate?" exclaimed Ron, who followed world Quidditch with enthusiasm. "You — the American National Quidditch Team went to four World Cups! They also invented the Harlem Shuffle, famously — although, the Chudley Cannons are still better," he added as an afterthought.

It was strange, Harry thought as he watched his friend attempt to do a sloppy rendition of the Harlem Shuffle. Not knowing about Voldemort he could understand, since it was the Wizarding War of Britain, after all… but Quidditch? As Ron had said, there was even a national American Quidditch team. How could Percy have never heard of it before? His school would have had to be incredibly obscure.

Still, he described the rules of the sport to Percy, who listened intently. After he had finished explaining, he went on to recount some of the more epic plays he had witnessed — or been a part of — during his Quidditch career at Hogwarts. They were laughing over a particularly well-executed maneuver outsmarting Malfoy when Harry realised the time, and reluctantly they made their way to Potions.

Hermione was waiting outside with a slightly dazed expression, juggling a pile of textbooks. "I've got loads of Ancient Runes homework," she moaned, joining them, and proceeded to list all the things she had to do. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Shame," Ron said in a disinterested tone, obviously glad that he had not taken Ancient Runes.

"Oh, just wait, I'll bet Snape gives us just as much work," she said, and just then, the classroom door opened for Snape himself to step into the corridor.

Okay, shoutout to the one person who reviewed this week, Jinglebells852. Seriously, though. How does the review count per update decrease as the story gets longer? I need writer's sustenance, you guys! All you gotta do is punch in a few words in that box at the bottom of your screen and hit "Post Review."

Sorry about that. I know I rely way too much on reader input.

Have a great day, guys!

unfinished . nocturne