"Three weeks, right?" Mathilda asked, clinging to me like a limpet in view of the Hogwarts Express.

"Unless someone else needs a substitute earlier," I agreed. "But I won't actually have your class that day." The full moon schedule wasn't really cooperating with Mathilda's class schedule. It might be December before the day after the moon was one where the seventh-years had defense.

"We'll find time," she assured herself as much as me, then went in for a goodbye kiss.

Our long farewell was interrupted by Draco chuckling and saying, "Magnets," as he walked past to board the train.

"I'm going to lock him in a broom closet with Ginny. Just wait," Mathilda grumbled, as we pulled apart with reluctance.

"Trap them in a train compartment?" I suggested. "But you really do need to get moving. Looks like the Weasleys are even already on."

"Alright. Love you. I'll miss you."

"Love you too. And it'll seem like hardly any time at all, you'll see," I assured her.

With one last fierce hug, she broke away and dragged her luggage onto the train. The school year was going to be the longest we'd go without seeing each other since we'd met two and a half years earlier, and an unhappy switch from sleeping in the same bed for the previous two months. I wandered over to Molly Weasley where she was waving goodbye to her kids, and I joined in since Mathilda had gotten in the same compartment as the twins.

"I just realized she mostly hung out with my year," I told Molly. "I hope she has people still at the school to spend time with."

"Graduating is hard," she nodded. "It's rare that all your friends are the same year as you."

"Only four more of these sendoffs for you," I suggested.

She laughed, "Or at least a break. If Bill moved faster, I could have a whole set of grandkids almost ready to start putting on the train by now."

"You? You're way too young to be a grandmother," I assured her.

That got a smile, and she asked, "Do you want to come back to the house for lunch, Harry?"

"That sounds amazing, but I'm already booked," I demurred, though hated to miss a chance at her cooking. "But you should come by the house for dinner soon. I may even tell Percy and Penny you're coming."

"I'll hold you to it. Be careful out there, Harry," she warned me. "With everyone else safe at the school, you're more of a target."

"Constant vigilance," I assured her. The train was out of sight in the driving rain that was falling outside the platform bay, so I said my goodbyes and waited for my turn at Platform 9 ¾'s fireplace before throwing in the powder and directing it to, "Hogwarts: Headmaster's Office."

I had maybe kept how soon I'd see Mathilda as a nice surprise.

"Ah, good, that's everyone," Dumbledore acknowledged as I stepped into his office, where the rest of the school staff was gathered. "I take it the Express left without incident?" I nodded and took the last seat remaining, so he explained, "As most of you know, Harry will be working as Remus' substitute again this year, and is available to take over other classes with warning. He does have to work a day job, so we'll try to keep the sudden illnesses to a minimum. He's also offered to help with the last-minute preparations, as he already had the day off. With that said, let's have an early working lunch and Argus can list what still needs to be accomplished before the children arrive…"

All of Argus Filch's careful plans for last-minute improvements were thrown out an hour and a half later. The caretaker and I were re-hanging one of the larger magical portraits and talking about how Mister was settling in (he'd given me the kitten after Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, had gotten overly, well, familiar with Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris). "…and at the rate he's going, I wouldn't be shocked if he gets to thirty pounds."

"Makes sense. Kneazle crosses are bigger than normal cats a lot of the time," Filch agreed. He got the ten-foot-tall portrait to how he liked it and nodded, "That'll do." I relaxed my levitation charm, and it settled into position on its wall hooks. "Now, that just leaves–"

"Mister Cat-taker Filch, sir!" a house elf yelled, rushing onto the landing. "Peeves! Peeves is ruining the feast cooking!"

"Find the Bloody Baron," Filch ordered the small, floppy wildfae, who scampered off. "Every year something sets him off. C'mon." The hunchbacked old caretaker began rushing down the stairs toward the kitchens, Mrs. Norris scampering ahead, and I followed along.

"Why do we even still have Peeves?" I asked, jogging along. "Is it just because he's not actively malevolent?"

"Dumbledore never has to clean up after him, and nobody else has been powerful enough to do anything about him," Filch admitted. "Flitwick tried a few years ago, and couldn't banish him. Paid for it in pranks, too."

The portrait door to the kitchen was already open when we ran up, and a tremendous racket was coming from inside as house elves dived around trying to protect various dishes that were half-prepared from the screeching poltergeist. Assuming his usual appearance of a tiny, translucent old man, Peeves was flying around the room grabbing plates and bowls and launching them at the elves, forcing them to use their own telekinetic magic to block the attacks. "Can't go to the feast? Can't go! Then no feast!" the entity was yelling.

"Baron's on his way!" Filch ordered, ducking back out of the doorway as a pot clanged into the wall just next to his head.

"Filchy Filchy want some gravy!?" Peeves chanted, fighting a house elf for a copper pot that was currently reducing the sauce in question.

"C'mon, Peeves, cool it man," I tried, then had to follow up with a, "Protego!" to catch the trio of cooking forks he launched my way on a shield. "Holy crap! That could have killed someone!"

"Nasty knives for nosey knaves next!" he assured me, grabbing a knife block.

"He's never gone for the knives before…" Filch said with some curiosity.

I drew my unicorn horn focus and leveled it at the spirit being from behind my shield. "Don't, Peeves. This is too far, even for you."

Maybe it was because he knew that my shield could stop physical objects, but he blew me a raspberry and launched the knives anyway. The rightmost glanced off and nearly caught Filch.

I shook my head in sadness, and imagined a better world where students didn't have to deal with a spectral bully who enjoyed flinging things at their heads and incanted, "Excorio."

Obviously used to magic not being able to affect him, Peeves didn't even dodge the torrent of silvery static that blasted from my focus. But then he started to scream like he was being sandblasted. I'd intended to just give him a taste of it to show that he could be punished, assuming it did anything at all. But, before I could cut the power flow, he exploded into ectoplasm like a water balloon thrown into a wood chipper.

I stopped the spell a moment later and lowered my focus. "That didn't do anything to the house ghosts," I mused, taking in the trashed kitchen and the shell-shocked elves. "Peeves must have had a bit of soul this whole time. An evil one."

Filch just nodded. "Wouldn't surprise me. I wonder if that'll do him for good, or if he'll eventually reform."

"You killed the poltergeist?" one of the house elves asked. "Good. Now, you have to go. Lots of work to be done to fix the feast!"

The Bloody Baron finally showed up just as we were leaving. The robed and bloodstained wizarding shade rattled his spectral chains as he hissed, "What happened?"

"Turns out Peeves had enough of a soul to be exorcised?" I told him. "It was a charm I tried on Sir Nicholas last year and it didn't harm him."

"The same one that cleansed Helena's mother's diadem?" the Baron asked. I nodded, and he said, "Then I shall inform the ghosts' council of this development. Be careful with such magics, young man." With that, he floated off.

"So," I began, wiping off a bit of food that had managed to fall on my shoulder from where it was dripping from the ceiling. "More paintings to hang, next?"

We got most of the list knocked out before dinnertime, where I had a seat at the end of the teachers' table, next to Hagrid. After I got to enjoy the surprised look from Mathilda as she came in out of the rain with the rest of the Gryffindors, and the sorting started, Hagrid observed, "Heard about Peeves."

"I just meant to scare him off," I insisted. "I didn't know he was going to pop."

"Eh. Good riddance, honestly," the big man explained.

I boggled, "No, 'He's just a good boy, misunderstood?'"

Hagrid, friend to all dangerous magical creatures, shrugged. "He upset the beasts, an' weren't exactly natural."

I still wasn't able to totally square that the man who'd cried over a murderous giant spider dying just a few months before wasn't more broken up about the loss of a mostly-harmless pranking spirit that had been in the castle since it was built, but I didn't want to argue with him about the cognitive dissonance.

I only recognized one name from the sorting, tiny Dennis Creevey who I'd met along with his father and older brother at one of Remus' book signings. "Colin, I fell in the lake!" he assured his brother, proudly, as he was sorted Gryffindor. I was going to miss seeing the second brother acclimate to school, since Colin was an amusing little madman and his brother looked to be just as much fun. But, I guessed, I'd probably have him in class soon enough.

The elves had done a good job of making up for whatever Peeves had managed to destroy, so the feast was delicious as always, and I was glad I got to make it to one. I was going to try to angle to attend the Halloween feast for my birthday, as well, though I didn't expect to be substituting that day.

After the meal was done, Dumbledore stood up and began his announcements. After finishing the usual warnings about the pranks and the forest, he said, "And most of you will recall recent graduate Harry Dresden. He shall once again this year fill in for Professor Lupin when he is unavailable to teach, and may substitute for other professors from time to time. I would also like to comment that Professor Lupin remains as our professor for defense against the dark arts, for the third year in a row. Perhaps it shouldn't be an accomplishment, but it is!"

After that, he explained the Triwizard Tournament, which, based on looks of surprise, had actually remained a secret to most of the students. Students from the French and Eastern European schools of magic would be attending, three champions would be chosen from people that were 17 or older, and they'd compete in three dangerous events.

"And with these other schools present, rather than cancelling quidditch competitions this year, we have instead opted to include the other schools. Rather than playing against each other Hogwarts house, we will have a simple elimination tournament between our four house teams and teams fielded by Durmstrang and Beauxbatons," the headmaster explained. That made a lot more sense than cancelling it entirely, and I was glad McGonagall had gotten her way (even if I, personally, didn't care for the sport).

The inclusion of quidditch seemed to slightly mollify the Weasley twins, who had looked upset that they weren't quite old enough to submit their names for the Triwizard Tournament. Personally, I was just glad that they hadn't tried to do the tournament during my senior year, since I assumed that would have somehow wound up involving me. As just a simple substitute teacher, I should be completely clear of the entire enterprise.

So why was Maeve staring holes in me from across the room as the tournament was discussed, with a smug grin on her face?