Dobby's Deceit

by La Morraine

What if Dobby bound himself to Harry without Harry knowing about it? How would that influence the story? [Harry/Hermione]

8. Chapter 8

Wrote hard and put up wet, EAD style. You know the drill, don't like, don't read.

So this one took a while, since it's still flu season over here and I wasn't at my best. Health issues are meh.

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Dobby's Deceit

Part 8

Harry only had an hour until he'd promised to meet Healer Williams via his journal. To make the most of it, he excused himself and let Dobby take him to the Come And Go Room, where he spread out the papers from Gringotts and tried to get an overview of the properties he'd inherited from well-meaning witches and wizards.

"Bloody hell, there's more than I thought," Harry sighed after the first dozen. "Dobby?" The elf appeared and looked expectantly at Harry. "Uhm, so I inherited a lot of houses and stuff. Sirius said it might be best to sell the lot and buy more land for you and Betty to work with, but maybe you can go and have a look first? Just to see whether we can use some of it? Maybe keep the best of them to meet friends during the holidays?"

"Dobby can," the elf squeaked. "May Dobby look at the catalogue?"

"Er, sure, help yourself! And take Betty with you if you think she can help with the decision." Harry watched, fascinated, as Dobby took the catalogue and flipped rapidly through the pages. "How soon do you think you'll be back?"

"Dobby be needing a couple of days, maybe a little longer. It be important work." Dobby bounced eagerly. "Dobby be starting right now, while Harry Potter sir be safe in the Come And Go Room."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Dobby. Please mark the ones you want to keep, yeah?"

"Dobby will," the elf promised and popped away, taking the catalogue with him.

With one less thing to deal with, at least for the moment, Harry turned his attention to the list of monetary bequeathments. Sharptooth had scrawled a warning in red that all the galleons would have to go to the Potter family vault, but Harry felt confident that he and his elf friends wouldn't need them anytime soon.

The most important thing was still the Slytherin thing. Even sleeping on it, twice, hadn't made any of it easier to comprehend. Now, however, Harry felt at least up to checking out the family members to see what needed to be done, if anything. He made a note on his writing pad to ask Sharptooth for the details but decided to wait for Dobby's evaluation before writing a letter.

If Sirius is to be believed, the lot might be criminal, Harry thought uneasily. What do I do? Visit them in prison? I don't think I want to go to Azkaban if they're there; the dementors at Hogwarts are bad enough ...

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed five and the green journal flashed brightly. Eagerly, Harry opened it and watched Healer Williams' scrawl appear.

September 5th, 1993

Hello Harry,

Are you ready for our session? I hope you're well; Sharptooth told me about you conquering the Slytherin family line. That must be difficult to deal with - I certainly wouldn't know how to react if something like that was dropped on me without warning! If you need to talk about it, I'll definitely try to help with everything, not just the dealing-with-it part.

-Brady

Harry took a deep breath. Trust the man to know what was troubling him the most.

Hello Brady,

Yeah, it's weird to suddenly have a second family line to deal with when I don't even know how to deal with my own. Sirius told me to take it slow and that whoever is left of the family (Gaunt was it, I believe) wasn't worth getting anxious over. I'll ask Sharptooth for the family tree and whatever else he can give me and then decide what to do. If they're criminals or Death Eaters, I'm not sure I ever want to meet them, though. Ron says Death Eaters are the worst and can't be redeemed.

-Harry

Healer Williams took a minute before text appeared on the next page of the journal.

You don't have to meet anyone, especially not if they're convicted criminals. However, since your godfather was unjustly imprisoned, I'd recommend checking the court transcripts, just in case. Who knows who else is suffering like he was.

Hermione said the same thing when we all talked about the dementor attack on Friday. She said that the paper should have mentioned the file number for Sirius' case, and that it is very suspicious that they didn't. The Ministry also hasn't replied to her letter yet. Sometimes I can't get over how clever she is! A few of our friends are doubtful of Sirius' guilt now, which is ... soothing, I guess. It's hard not to tell them everything when I'm so happy to have him. Harry paused. Then, he wrote, But maybe I could ask Hermione to write an article in our new student newspaper. Just her thoughts about the missing court case number and stuff. A few weeks before Sirius leaves for Italy might be a good time, or what do you think?

Williams answered, Not a bad idea at all to encourage people to think for themselves. Just be careful, alright? Sirius' safety comes first. That being said, when will the paper go live? Will people outside the school be able to get it, or maybe even the managers at Gringotts? It might be interesting to get news directly from the students, and Gringotts is always interested in knowing what their future patrons want.

I have no idea, but Lavender, the paper's founder, said she can get a cheap press from her parents. I'll ask what her plans are. I don't even know if she can take money, that's one thing the goblins might help her with. I also don't know how often she'll publish. She and her helpers will probably tell us next week. I'll keep you posted!

Try once a month first, Healer Williams replied. That gives you lots of time to write articles and do the research for it. You should also advise your friend to mind the international press codex. If you can manage that, your newspaper will already be better than the Daily Prophet.

Once a month might about be the limit anyway, Harry hastily wrote. I've never thought about it before, but Hogwarts is kind of boring. Except Quidditch we don't have any sports, and Ancient Runes is the only language class. Any tips on that front?

Healer Williams obviously had a lot to say about that subject and wrote down a whole list of things that made Harry's head swim. One idea was conspiciously missing, however.

Why not a history club?, Harry asked when Williams finally ran out of steam. That one could really do some good.

Exactly, was the prompt answer. Why make it even easier for your headmaster to keep letting Binns teach? It's well known among the goblins that Binns disliked the horde while he was alive. If you start teaching yourself, you won't help anyone but the headmaster and Binns. I usually don't recommend failing, but maybe you and your friends should think about getting an International OWL for that subject. It's harder to achieve, but it would at least justify employing a tutor. If you find people to do this with you, you could share the cost.

I thought I'd try boycotting first, Harry admitted. I told Hermione that I want Sharptooth to reduce my tuition because History is so bad. Maybe not going will help, although Dumbledore might try to get that overturned.

Do you have someone to champion your cause if need be? Williams asked.

Yes, I think so. Harry grinned. My godbrother's gran is great, she's on the board of govenors, and Professor Lupin was all set to help me, as well. He told the healer all about Mrs. Longbottom's one-sided argument with Dumbledore and ended with, So what do you think about the headmaster's strange reason to keep me in Divination? My friends and I think it's stupid, and that Dumbledore maybe wants Professor Trelawney to tell a prophecy or something. Ron said that Dumbledore might think that I could be a trigger for that, although everybody else says that it's not proven that this is how it works.

Harry ... Williams paused for a long moment. That is a rather astounding leap to make. Your friends came up with that?

Yes, they did. But honestly, what other reason would Dumbledore have to keep me in such a useless class? I can't believe he'd want me to be stupid, or can you?

First of all, you've got better friends than I thought. You told me that the students were largely shunning you after the Heir of Slytherin thing, but apparently a lot of your housemates got over themselves over the summer. That's fantastic!

I'm not sure why, Harry replied, but I'm glad. I guess most of them really were just afraid. It's not like they didn't have any reason not to be.

Still, it was unfair of them to treat you so badly. My advice is to not sweep it under the rug just because all is well now. If an opportunity presents itself, talk to them about it and let them know that they hurt you. If they're as willing to suuport you as they appear to be, they'll listen.

Harry grimaced. Won't that make me a whiner?

You won't appear weak just because you want to be treated decently, Williams countered. You're not obligated to forgive each and every slight against you. Your relatives didn't leave you any choice, but you already know that that's not healthy.

But how do I do that? Harry wanted to know. Where would I even start?

To answer that, let's return to our discussion about Ron and his tendency to monopolise your time whenever it suits him. Williams' writing was even and relaxed, which in turn helped to relax Harry. You want to establish boundaries. Did you have a chance to do that during the last few days?

Harry could've slapped his forehead, he felt so stupid. Yeah, I did, actually. He wanted to borrow my broom and said that I should just leave my trunk unlocked so I wouldn't be inconvenienced.

That seems rather forward, Williams replied and Harry could almost see his frown.

Well, I told him that I like to know what's happening with my stuff, and that shut him up pretty well. Also, two of my dorm mates told me that Ron borrowed three galleons last year without asking me. Harry squirmed and sighed. He'd much rather forget about it but knew that Healer Williams would have eventually found out. He was really good at that. Dean, Seamus and I talked about it and I decided to let Ron's older brothers know ... I didn't want to go to Professor McGonagall with this. Dean said that taking three galleons is a big deal. Ron was wrong doing that, but I don't want him expelled.

Wow. I'm sorry, Harry. That's a pretty harsh breach of trust. How are you feeling about it?

I'm still angry, Harry admitted, writing each letter haltingly. I thought about confronting him with it, but I know that he'll just say that I'm rich, and that we're friends anyway and would have given him the money if he'd asked.

That's no reason to skip the asking part, Williams replied in bold pen strokes. I'm a little horrified right now, and glad that Dobby has secured your things.

Me too. But I'm also sad. Sometimes I feel like I don't really know Ron. It was hard for Harry to write this when they'd been through so much together. His brothers might talk to him. Or prank him, which is kind of the same thing for them. Harry huffed. I don't know what to do with him.

You don't have to do anything right now, Williams wrote carefully. When I told you that it is my job to offer you perspective, I meant it. He's your friend. What you decide to do about your relationship with him is completely up to you.

But what would you do? Harry pressed. Personally, I mean.

Williams took a while, and his writing was slow when it finally appeared on the page. To be honest, I have very little patience for people who behave like Ron currently does. I don't suffer betrayal lightly, and theft not at all. Three galleons are not change, Harry. Three galleons might feed a small family for a week if they're frugal. If he were my friend, I'd confront him and ask for the money back. I wouldn't accept any excuses or claims that I don't need it because I'm rich. I'd want to make a point that stealing is never acceptable, and that another theft would end the friendship immediately.

Harry was speechless for a moment. Uh, okay.

Yes. That's me, Harry. I've had some unpleasant experiences and have adjusted my boundaries accordingly. How much you're willing to suffer in the name of friendship is up to you, but I'd advise against forgiving monetary infractions, because then they'll keep happening, and the scale will get larger and larger. Letting small things slide is a good way to invite big things, and I'm certain you don't need this kind of stress in your life.

That was true and Harry answered, No one needs that. Thanks, Brady. I'll keep it in mind! As I said, I won't let Ron go through my things anymore, and I'll make him promise to be extra careful with my broom when he borrows it from now on.

I'm proud of you. It's not easy saying no to a friend.

It's getting easier, Harry retorted somewhat peevishly, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

He'll learn that lesson eventually. Keep at it and you'll have found out what you're willing to accept in no time, Williams wrote. What else is new at Hogwarts?

Harry brightened at once. Me and Hermione went flying on hippogriffs after lunch! She was super afraid but still did it and I'm so proud of her. But the best thing this week was learning that I have a godbrother. Can you imagine? He was too shy to tell me, and Dumbledore also didn't tell me, even though he's supposedly my magical guardian, but I'll find out what this is all about and do the bond with Neville anyway. I think it'll be good for both of us.

That is the boy whose grandmother helped you win your appeal, isn't he? You wrote earlier about your godbrother but didn't go into details. In any case, congratulations!

Thanks! Yes, that's him, his name is Neville. I guess Mrs. Longbottom has a really strong personality, but I like her, even if she rather seems to intimidate my poor brother. Harry grinned. Seems like you were right about me and strong characters.

A few drops of ink landed on the page, like Williams was shaking with laughter, perhaps. As long as she doesn't try to browbeat you. She might not have a godmother bond with you, but she might still want to take charge, now that she's aware of your headmaster's unusual behaviour. It might be well-intentioned, but it can easily backfire on you.

Thanks for warning me, Harry scribbled gratefully. I never see such things coming.

The grandfather clock struck six in the evening, surprising Harry.

So late already, he wrote, disappointed. I feel like we didn't really talk at all. It's different than being together for it.

Just different, or worse? Williams inquired.

Harry didn't need to think about it. I'd rather sit with you and really talk. My hand is cramping from writing so much.

I'll definitely see you during the holidays, Williams promised. We'll make the best of it until then.

Same time next week?

Williams replied, I'm looking forward to it. Take care, Harry.

You too, Brady. Bye!

Feeling a little better, Harry put his things back into his bag and then took a few minutes to just stare out of the large window. The sun was setting already, painting the lawn and forest with golden light. The mood was a little melancholic and drove the point home that the summer was truly gone now and a new year in Harry's life had begun.

"Dobby be back, Harry Potter sir!"

Harry jumped at the loud pop. "Good lord, Dobby!"

Dobby grinned and held out a page from the property catalogue. "It not be difficult decision after all. Dobby and Betty be wanting to keep this."

Taking the page, Harry made a conscious effort to calm his hammering heart. "Thanks. Oh! That's the nice one by the sea! But wasn't this far away? Like the South of France or something?"

Dobby allowed that it was so.

"How will we ever go there?" Harry asked. "The headmaster will know if I leave Britain, I'm sure."

Dobby's eyes were gleaming in that sly way Harry had come to associate with Big Plans. "Dobby and Betty be wanting to open a little pension. Harry Potter sir be saying that us house elves be taking extra work if they not be having enough."

"I did, but isn't a pension a lot of work for only two elves? Not that you aren't great, because you clearly are, but pampering folks is a full-time job." Harry let his gaze wander over the light brown buildings.

The whole estate was kind of fragmented, one building rising up on a medium high terrasse, another one sitting lower and facing a large pool area. There were more, all seemingly connected to each other. There was both ample sun and shade, with lots of cypresses and other greenery all over the large garden, and everything looked positively rustic and vintage. With more than a dozen bedrooms, the property would certainly be able to function as a pension, and leave room for expansion, should it work out.

"Dobby and Betty be working to find more elves to help in exchange for food," Dobby explained. "We be starting with only half a dozen guests. We be wanting to grow our own food to make wizards healthy - if they be nice, of course. No bad wizards allowed."

"That's a good idea," Harry grinned. Sighing, he took a closer look at the many rooms, the terraces and the winter garden. "Alright. Talk this over with Sharptooth and let him help you set everything up. Heck, I don't even know how to do the warding, but we have to do that. There are muggles living right beside the property. Maybe he should look into buying the plots around the estate whenever something becomes available."

"Harry Potter sir not be needing to worry," Dobby told him, open face asking to trust him, which Harry did. Implicitly. "Dobby and Betty be doing everything necessary. The pension be a good idea, Harry Potter sir, we be promising."

"I believe you," Harry agreed. "I guess I'm just a little sad because I won't get to see it before I'm rid of Dumbledore's guardianship."

Dobby's ears drooped a little. "That be true. Dobby be very sorry. We be making everything extra beautiful. It be home away from home for Harry Potter sir. And ..." The elf hesitated.

"And?" Harry asked. "What is it, Dobby?"

Wringing his hands, Dobby glanced up at Harry. "Dobby be able to show Harry Potter sir memories in his dreams. It be special favour and not many wizards be wanting to have house elves so close."

"But you wouldn't do it to harm me, right?" Harry put the catalogue page on the desk and went around it to crouch before his friend. "You'd do it to show me what you're building. It'll almost be like I was there?"

Dobby nodded eagerly. "It be exactly like Harry Potter sir be there! Dobby be wanting to show Harry Potter sir everything us elves be doing."

"Then I want it. If I can't help you, I at least want to know what has you so excited. Besides, it really is a beautiful estate. I can't believe someone just left it to me." Harry took Dobby's still clasped hands in his and squeezed them. "Just ... don't do too much. I want you to be happy."

Dobby smiled, delighted. "Betty and Dobby be so happy with much work! Dobby be going now and meet Steward Sharptooth."

"Wait!" Harry called. "If you're going there anyway, let me write my letter. It'll just take a few minutes." He went back to the desk, ripped a page of paper from his writing pad and penned a quick note. "There, I think I've got everything covered for now. Thanks, Dobby!"

With a broad grin, the house elf popped away, leaving Harry standing in the burnished sunlight that was streaming into the study.

A pension, Harry thought, shaking his head in bewilderment. What'll come next?

oOo

During dinner, Harry kept silent and listened to the talk around him. Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati were still busy discussing the new student newspaper, specifically what to call it. As they came up with a monthly publication by themselves, Harry left them to it, merely passing on Healer Williams' advice about the international press codex and then turning to Seamus and Dean, who were talking about football and rugby. Ron, huffy because no one in his immediate vicinity wanted to talk about Quidditch for a change, shovelled food into his mouth as if it were a sport.

Afterwards, most students meandered to their common rooms, but Harry veered off towards the library. Hermione looked at him questioningly and beamed when he waved her over.

"You're not doing homework, are you?" she teased and bumped into his shoulder.

"Nah. I want to find out what being godbrothers means."

Hermione sobered. "I'll help you look. We could ask Madam Pince, but who knows what she'll tell Headmaster Dumbledore."

"The headmaster knows that I know. Neville's gran went back to tell him off, remember?" Harry looked briefly around and then took Hermione's warm hand, curling his fingers around hers. "I'll finish the bond anyway, I just want to know what it means for Neville and me."

"If there aren't any books about that in the library, I'll buy one," Hermione offered. "After all, it might concern me one day, as well."

Harry blushed a little, noting that she did, too. "Deal."

Thankfully it wasn't hard to locate a book about magical bonds. Hermione knew how to work the register and took care to show Harry, who'd had no idea that finding books for research could be so easy.

"Have you shown Ron as well?" Harry asked.

Hermione scoffed. "I tried, but pearls before swines and all. I've given up; I've got enough to do without dragging his grades out of the gutter."

Taken aback, Harry gaped a little at her. "Uhm, alright. Are you, uhm, well, are you okay?"

"I'll be," Hermione sighed. "Look, it's just ... I spent so much time last year trying to help him, and you, get through your classes. Over the summer, my parents made me unterstand that I'm not responsible for your education, and that I'll only harm our friendship if I try to mother you all the time." She flushed a little and averted her gaze. "At least with you, mothering is not an option."

"Thanks, 'Mione. I'll do better from now on," Harry whispered and kissed her cheek. "Now let's check this out before Madam Pince chases us out."

In the end, the information wasn't as interesting as Harry had anticipated. Godbrothers were the sons of parents who'd made each other godparents to their kids. The bond only solidified that, adding a magical snap that fostered loyalty and an awareness of the other's needs.

"It seems to be a lovely bond," Hermione said after they'd both gone over the relevant paragraphs twice. "Neville certainly deserves some loyalty and friendship."

"I really wish someone had told me sooner," Harry replied. "But maybe it's better this way. I'm older and can decide for myself, and Neville will know that I really want him as a brother."

Hermione surprised him by nearly telling him the same thing Healer Williams had already told him. "Just take care that Mrs. Longbottom won't take over once you've confirmed the bond. After what you've told us, she's the sort to do that."

"My bond is with Neville, not his gran," Harry said. "But you're right. She might be tough, but I don't want a stranger suddenly deciding things for me. I'll take it up with Neville and put it in the vows."

"Do you think he'll mind?" Hermione carefully closed the old book and stroked the cover.

"I don't think so, but if he does ... well, that's for him to deal with. My healer said that I need to set boundaries, and that's mine."

She smiled. "That's good, Harry. You're too old to be treated like a little kid anyway."

They put the book away again and went to the common room, where Ron was upon them before they'd even fully stepped inside.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "Just taking off like that after vanishing in the afternoon, too; are you having secrets now, Harry?"

"We were in the library," Harry informed the other boy coolly. "Hermione saw me go in that direction and followed, otherwise she'd been here. And this afternoon you went flying with the others. What was I supposed to do, sit there and wait around for you?"

Ron scowled. "Whatever. I wanted to play a round of chess, but no one wants to take me on. Come, before the prefects send us to bed."

"Not tonight," Harry declined. "I wanted to ... ah, there's Neville. See you in the dorm, Ron."

"What about you, Hermione?" Ron asked as Harry walked off. "You're smart enough."

Harry tuned out her snippy reply and plonked down on an ottoman close to Neville's table. "Hey."

"Hey, Harry. What's up? Are you arguing with Ron?" Neville asked, looking worriedly to where Ron was just losing Hermione to what Harry spontaneously dubbed the Paper Troupe. Over the afternoon it seemed to have acquired new members, among them Colin and Dennis Creevey and their infamous camera.

"Not really. I just wanted to let you know that I looked up the godbrother bond in the library and copied the vows for us to take whenever we're ready." Harry paused, but decided to just get it over with. "Er, I hope you won't be insulted if I change the vow a little. I want you as my godbrother, but I don't want your gran to think that she can make me do stuff. And I guess you wouldn't like my relatives having any say about you, either, even if they're muggles."

Neville smiled crookedly. "Don't worry, I understand very well. I'm just happy that you're not angry at me for not telling you about it. So, when would you like to do it?"

"Er, I haven't thought that far ahead, yet," Harry admitted. "I thought we could make a small ceremony of it, invite a few friends, if you want."

"Uh, really?" Neville fumbled with his quill and dropped it. Ink splattered across his notes.

"Sure. It's not everyday I gain a brother, is it?" Harry grinned. "I even got a friend who can take care of refreshments."

Neville still looked overwhelmed. "Refreshments?"

"It can be a party," Harry said. "It should be a party. Though maybe after Hermione's birthday? I'm still planning that one."

"Er, whenever you like," Neville stammered, visibly trying to collect his thoughts. "I'll help."

"Great!" Beaming, Harry sat back. "Do you want the table to yourself? You seemed busy before I came over."

Neville shook his head. "Not really. I was just planning next year's planting season. We rotate crops regularly to keep the soil healthy."

"I think I heard about that in muggle school," Harry admitted, "but I don't know the first thing about it."

"I can show you, if you like. See here? That's wolfsbane. It prefers certain nutrients, but every couple of years we have to plant it elsewhere before they leech the ground dry. Same with the dittany. It's great for healing wounds, but it loses potency if the soil is weak. Rotating everything is a lot of work, but it saves money for fertilizer and keeps the plants strong."

Harry looked over the plans Neville had written out. There were scribbles of the grounds, with arrows pointing all over the place. "Who is doing the planting?"

"We have several house elves. They're very proud of their work." Neville eyed Harry. "Have you seen one, yet? They're not very common."

"Er, yes. Last year a house elf tried to protect me from Slytherin's monster. He went a bit overboard, but he meant well." Now that that horrible year was over, Harry could chuckle a bit about it. Dobby had made it up to him in a thousand different ways since then and Harry was only too willing to forgive and forget. "I think they're fantastic. So magical."

"They are," Neville agreed quietly. "My best friend at home is Nobby. He's especially great with the dangerous plants and always knows what they need. He's taught me most everything I know so far."

"Can I ask how you, er, pay your house elves? I mean, I know that they belong to the family, but surely you'd want to reward them sometimes?" Harry hoped that he wasn't making Neville too curious with his questions, but he wanted to know what the difference between family elves and free elves was.

"Er, well, except for being deathly insulted if we tried to actually pay them, ours sometimes ask for new or better tools, or more land to work with. It's not payment as such, but we try to let them do things they enjoy next to their regular work. Nobby really likes diving, very unusual for a house elf, so one of my ancestors had a pond installed on our estate. Of course, the elves use it to grow even more herbs that we can sell, but Nobby can go there and have fun whenever he likes." Neville shrugged. "That's how it's always been, and as long as they seem happy, we'll keep doing it."

Harry was relieved that he was apparently doing everything right. "That's good to know," he offered.

"Second and third years, pack up your stuff. It's high time for bed," Percy Weasley called. "No, Ron, you may not finish the game against yourself. It'll still be there tomorrow."

"I wouldn't be so sure," of of the Weasley twins muttered and threw Ron a narrow look. The other twin smirked.

Shuddering, Harry helped Neville collect his papers. In front of the stairs, he gave Hermione a short hug and whispered the promise to be in the common room early for their special time alone. Her smile was brilliant, and then they all trotted up to their dorms to get ready for their first full week at school.

oOo

The next morning, Harry was beginning to reconsider letting Hermione teach him martial arts. While they didn't have as much time like they'd had on Saturday, her exercises were still incredibly demanding. Shorter breaks to catch his breath were one thing, the other were the higher number of repetitions. Punches, kicks, and blocks, it all was one huge blur in Harry's overwhelmed mind when she finally declared them done for the morning.

"It's only ten to eight," Hermione said. "Take a quick shower and then we'll have a lot of time for breakfast."

"Do we have to do this again on Wednesday?" Harry whined. "I can't lift my arms higher than so." He tried to raise his hand over his head and failed. The muscles simply refused. "It's evil."

She hugged him, her trim, yet slightly curved body making him blush. "I know. Three times a week is hard, but I want you to be somewhat able to defend yourself quickly."

"Let's just go a little bit slower," Harry begged, unsure whether he should find the bit of sweat on her gross or interesting. "Wood'll kill me if I can't hold on to my broom. Please?"

Hermione sighed. "Alright, we'll go a little slower. But you have to do your best."

"Of course," Harry reassured her. "Thanks." Deciding that he didn't mind Hermione's slight dampness, he tightened the embrace for a moment and inhaled her scent. A little embarrassed, he said, "I don't know how I'll wash my hair. It really hurts."

Hermione bit her lip, working hard not to laugh at him. "You'll manage, I'm sure. See you in a few minutes."

At breakfast, Dobby spoiled them with hot vegetable soup, fruit, and fragrant buttered bread with goat cheese and fig jam, decorated with edible flowers. It was unusual but delicious and warmed them right up in the slight chill of the great hall.

"What is that?" Ron asked as he sat down across from Harry. He eyed the bread distrustfully. "Why would you eat flowers?"

Harry shrugged. "It's good." He sipped his tea. "What do you think we'll be doing in Hagrid's class today?"

"Not something with hippogriffs, that's for sure," Ron replied. He filled his plate with sausages, eggs, and toast. "Maybe it's something normal, like a krup or something. I wonder why he hasn't asked yet to borrow your monster cat, Hermione."

"Crookshanks is not a monster, Ron," Hermione answered evenly. "Why would you even think that? He's staying out of your way."

"He's big and ugly." Ron inhaled a whole sausage, barely chewing before swallowing noisily. "If Scabbers were still alive, your monster would surely have terrorized him."

Hermione paled with fury. "But Scabbers isn't here, and you have no reason to say such things. Take it back."

"Nope." Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Your bloody cat is a menace, always lying in the way and bothering people."

"No one has complained yet," Harry said quietly, just as furious as Hermione about the nonsense Ron was spouting. "So, what is it to you? What's your problem? If you just want to hassle Hermione, you can stop right here. I won't listen to it any longer, and neither will she."

"Don't see how you can stop me," Ron muttered. "It's my right to complain about her bloody cat."

"Well," Fred (or George) said as he sat down next to Ron, "not stepping on him might keep him out of your hair."

"Or not trying to kick him," George (or Fred) added from Ron's other side. "We saw you, little brother, that wasn't nice."

"You tried to kick Crookshanks?" Hermione screeched. "How dare you, Ronald Weasley!"

"He was in my way, lying around on the floor like he has a bloody right to!" Ron fumed.

"We don't know what part of his brain has shut off now, but we'll try to fix it," the twin on Ron's left said cheerfully.

"And write mum a long letter," the one to the right added.

"She might have some ideas."

"Thanks, guys," Harry said.

"Yes, thank you." Hermione glared daggers at Ron. "Just so you know, we are over, Ronald. You lay one hand on Crookshanks and your parents will have a pretzel for a son. You get me? Sorry, Harry, I lost my appetite. I'll see you outside." She grabbed her bag and cloak and stomped off, whispers following her exit.

Spluttering, Ron looked to Harry for help. "Why is she talking to me like that?"

"Why are you talking to her like that?" Harry shot back. Seeing Fred and George's disgust soothed his anger a little. "Leave Crookshanks alone, Ron. Talk to us again when you're ready to apologize to Hermione."

"But Harry!"

Harry ignored the redhead's dismayed shout as he swiftly followed his girlfriend out of the hall. He took his half eaten bread with him, resolving to have Dobby slip Hermione a snack later.

He didn't have to go far to catch up with Hermione. She was literally waiting outside for him, just behind the portal, and she was crying.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," Harry murmured and pulled her a bit aside. "How can I help?"

"Can I have a hug?" she sniffled and gladly came into his embrace when he opened his arms. "He's such a prat. I know I promised to try, but I don't think I can be his friend anymore, Harry. Please don't be angry."

Harry scowled at the portal to the great hall. "It's not your fault. He was way out of line. Kicking Crookshanks would be like kicking Hedwig, and I hope he's clever enough to know that I wouldn't ever forgive him for that."

"What's wrong with him, anyway?" Hermione muttered. "It's like he's actively trying to put us off."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, he has succeeded." Harry rubbed Hermione's hunched back. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes, of course. I'm just ... shocked that he'd do that to someone's pet." Hermione loosened the embrace and wiped her eyes. "I told myself I wouldn't cry all over you again so soon."

"It wasn't your fault. Or mine." Harry smiled. "It's alright, 'Mione, I don't mind."

Instead of finding a warm place to spend the last quarter hour before class, they wandered down to Hagrid's hut and petted the corralled hippogriffs. Agapi had obviously taken a shine to Hermione; the mare had barely waited for Hermione to bow before she bowed back and nudged the girl's hands to be petted. Buckbeak was a bit more reserved and actually allowed the others to get a pat in.

Class was, unfortunately, the complete opposite of challenging. Hagrid was so scared to invite trouble that he had them feed flobberworms. Those weren't classed by the Ministry as boring by mistake, and the whole class except for a few Slytherins was groaning in disappointment.

"I bet Ron would want a krup now," Hermione muttered resentfully as they threw lettuce into their worms' pen.

"Poor Hagrid," Parvati said. "He looks so sad. Good thing Lavender wants to make the whole thing with Buckbeak and Malfoy the headline for the first edition of her paper."

Harry perked up. "Really?"

"Of course! You've missed the Prophet today; Minister Fudge has called for a commission of inquiry, but we all know what the result will be." Parvati snorted and sneered in Malfoy's direction. "The little twit's father will do his best to get poor Buckbeak executed, at least that's what the reporter wrote, and Lavender is determined not to let that happen."

"We could start a petition," Hermione said thoughtfully. "And we should find a legal way to sell our articles to other newspapers. Maybe to other European countries, if they'll have us?"

"Well, Lav didn't mention it because her mum still works for the Prophet, but there is one other newspaper in Britain," Parvati said delicately. She looked around as if to make sure that Lavender really couldn't listen in. "It's called The Quibbler, and Luna Lovegood's dad manages it."

"Well, good! We should talk to this Luna."

Parvati shook her head. "It's, er, not quite so easy. At least not for most people. You see, Luna's not exactly ... normal ... and her dad is even more excentric. It, er, could be difficult to work with him, because he prefers to publish riddles and nonsense articles."

"Does he have readers?" Hermione asked. "Because if he does, it's still worthwile to contact him."

"That reminds me, can we even sell our newspaper?" Harry asked. He threw another handful of lettuce at the worms and grimaced when both ends of the creatures slobbered all over their food. "I might have heard that Gringotts would be interested in subscribing."

"Lav's mum is on it, she'll find out for us. Legally it's tricky, as we're all minors. Lavender doesn't want the paper to become school property, though, in case teachers decide to place gag orders." Parvati pulled a face. "We should probably prepare for the worst case scenario and assume that we should finance it ourselves and find a private, silent sponsor for the legalities."

"Ah, I see. Good thinking. Say, have you decided on a name yet?"

Parvati grinned. "There'll be an announcement later in the week. Can you wait that long? I don't want to spoil the big moment for you."

"Sure." Harry grinned back. "I'm looking forward to it."

Before they went back up to the castle, all the Gryffindors and again Blaise Zabini from Slytherin remained behind to console Hagrid and greet the hippogriffs. The large man was visibly moved by their solidarity and invited them all over to tea sometime.

"Decent of you to stay, Zabini," Harry told the Slytherin boy on their way to their next class. "Thanks."

Zabini shrugged slightly. "Malfoy's an idiot, and I liked the first class. I just wish I'd gotten to fly, too."

"You can still do that. Hermione and I visited Hagrid yesterday. He'll be glad." Harry frowned at Zabini. "Just ... no tricks, alright? Hagrid doesn't need any more grief."

"You do not bite the hand that lets you fly a hippogriff," Zabini retorted with a faint smirk. "And honestly, everything is better than flobberworms."

"Also, Professor Kettleburn didn't lose so many limbs because he liked the tame beasties," Hermione said from behind them. "I distinctly remember Alicia Spinnet telling us in first year how her class had to deal with a runespoor, and she was a fourth year then, so Hagrid definitely isn't the first teacher to go a little over the top."

Zabini offered her a nod. "That's why I'm not with Malfoy and his cronies. I'm here to learn about magical creatures, not to sit around and feed flobberworms."

It soon became apparent that they were all heading to the same class, Ancient Runes. Harry was really looking forward to it, especially to the spell-crafting aspect of the class. It would be a few years yet before they would be allowed to dabble in actual crafting, but finding out how magic worked seemed like a fine thing in the meantime .

The Slytherins had taken up half the room already, and to the Gryffindors' surprise Malfoy seemed determined to teach Zabini a lesson.

"You can sit with the Gryffindorks, Zabini. You seem to like them well enough," Malfoy sneered. "Maybe St. Potter will let you sit with him." He smirked when his friends laughed hissingly.

Zabini shrugged. "Why not. How about it, Potter?"

"Er ..." Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione, but when she nodded, he straightened himself and said, "Sure. This table?"

They got settled while the Slytherins stared balefully and then Professor Babbling entered the classroom.

"Welcome, students! And welcome, Mr. Potter. I'm glad the situation got sorted. You haven't missed much, and therefore we'll dive right in. Who can tell me something about this rune sequence? Yes, Miss Granger?"

Something like elation flooded Harry as he listened to Hermione explain the magical and literal meaning of the three runes the professor had written on her blackboard. Even though they were just beginning, he could already tell that this would be one of his favourite classes.

"Now, who wants to guess what spell this is?" Professor Babbling asked. "No one? Come on, just a guess!"

Harry raised his hand. "Uhm, since the runes are about power, yet lightness and lifting in a literal sense, and control in the meaning of steering ... maybe the hovering charm?"

"Very good, Mr. Potter, take five points." Babbling turned to her blackboard. "How about this one? Again, only three runes ... amaze me!"

oOo

"I honestly haven't ever seen you this animated in a class," Hermione gushed on the way to lunch. "Harry, you were really good! You guessed every charm right!"

"I read a bit ahead in my other books," Harry admitted.

"But you used logic, and I bet not every charm was an example in your books," Hermione replied. "Really, it was ..." She blushed a little before murmuring, "Very attractive."

Harry lost a step and had to scramble to remain upright. "Uh, thanks."

"You'll probably want to keep sitting with Zabini, and that's okay, but maybe we can do our homework together?" Hermione treaded her arm through Harry's. "I want to attempt the puzzle for extra points."

As Harry still took a potion every day, Hermione went on to save him a seat and left him in the bathroom next to the great hall to drink it in peace.

Right on cue, Dobby made an appearance. "Hello, Harry Potter sir! Here be your potion ... and a letter from Gringotts."

"Oh?" Harry quickly downed the potion - peach flavoured today - and accepted the heavy envelope. "Is it about your pension?"

Dobby bounced happily. "It is. Harry Potter sir's most efficient steward be done writing the business plan. He be wanting Harry Potter sir's approval."

"I'll look it over tonight," Harry promised and smiled. "You're all raring to go, aren't you?"

"Dobby be yearning for more work. Dobby be having much magic!"

Harry thought that the tennisball sized eyes indeed seemed to glow a little, and his elf friend looked almost rosy in his green cheeks. It was a very good look on him. "Then I'll be as quick as I can. Come see me tonight before bedtime."

"Dobby will!"

After hugging Harry's legs, Dobby popped away and Harry joined his friends at the Gryffindor table. Afterwards, Harry went to his first class without any of his friends. Being sorted so late into Arithmancy, Professor McGonagall had put him with the alternate class to avoid an overlap with his Care of Magical Creature elective.

Harry didn't mind the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the least, especially not when Susan Bones greeted him cheerfully and invited him to join her study group. Her friends, Hannah Abbott and Lisa Turpin, welcomed him as well. It almost was as if the fear and shunning of last year had been a bad dream and Harry didn't quite know what to think about that.

Brady's right, he thought as he settled down and readied his writing utensils, I need to remember last year. At least those three never called me foul names, that's something, I guess.

"Welcome to Arithmancy," Professor Vector said and eyed the two tables with four students each. "I'm pleased to see so many eager faces because Arithmancy plays an essential part in magical development. Who can tell me which branches of magic in our daily lives are especially reliant on the art?"

Harry raised his hand with all the other students, grinning when he got a chance to contribute. It marked the beginning of yet another fascinating elective, and he couldn't wait to compare notes with Hermione later.

Afterwards, Transfiguration seemed to almost pale in comparison, perhaps because Harry now knew that each spell could be taken apart and studied in depth with Arithmancy. It made his fingers itch a little, even though he'd always liked the hands-on aspect of Professor McGonagall's class.

When the last bell rang, the headmaster's voice boomed through the school and asked all of them to convene in the great hall.

"I wonder if it's about Professor Lupin's club," Hermione said quietly. She slid onto the bench at their house table and tucked her bag between her feet.

"Seems likely," Harry replied, sitting next to her and leaning a little against her. "He's standing up there."

"Yes, but lots of other teachers as well," Ron said from across them. "I hope it won't mean more homework."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his audacity to come near them after their fight in the morning, but held her peace. Grateful, Harry touched her hand beneath the table and smiled slightly when she curled her little finger around his.

"Students, thank you for your attendance," Dumbledore called over the noise. "Please quiet down now for my announcement, it won't take long. Now, a few of you brought to our attention that they don't feel save with the dementors so close to Hogwarts. They asked whether they could be taught the Patronus Charm - that's the charm the aurors used on the train ride to chase the dementors off - and requested that anyone who might be interested be taught also. From this, the idea of the Patronus Club was born."

Whispers broke out, which could only be quelled by a long, pointed look down Dumbledore's nose. Achieving the desired silence, the headmaster then allowed Professor Lupin to continue.

"All seven years are invited to join the Patronus Club," Lupin said, easily managing to silence the last mutterings. "Depending on your numbers, the spell will be taught by several qualified professors in the hour before dinner on week days. The entry lists will be posted in your common rooms. You have until Friday night to sign up. Next week on Monday, the club will officially have its first meeting. You'll be notified in time when it is your turn. Thank you."

Applause surged up, quickly overtaking the whole hall and visibly humbling Lupin. The Weasley twins whistled loudly and only knocked it off when Professor McGonagall made her way over to them.

"I didn't think it'd happen so quickly," Hermione said, nearly gasping with excitement. "My parents will be so pleased."

"My relatives would probably hope that one of those things ate me before I could learn the spell if I told them. If I needed their permission for the club, they'd not give it," Harry replied, shrugging when Neville shot him a horrified look. "What? It's the truth."

"Well, we'll all learn that spell, and then those things won't be able to scare us again," Hermione said, her face a study in determination. "Now, who wants to go to the library? We could get a good hour in before dinner."

Neville excused himself, but Harry joined her. They still didn't have much homework yet and therefore spent the time until dinner discussing Arithmancy and attempting to take the hovering charm apart. How this correlated with Ancient Runes, they could only guess at this point, but Harry was as eager as Hermione to find out.

"This is so much fun," Hermione stated as they packed their things away. The dinner bell had just tolled and all around them students left their tables. "I don't even want to imagine how boring Divination would've been."

"Yeah, me too," Harry admitted. "Speaking of boring ... how was Muggle Studies?"

She rolled her eyes spectatcularly. "Oh, don't get me started. The course material is ancient, it's like the professor believes that mundane people still live in the 1800s. That's absolutely ridiculous, because the muggle-born students are telling others how modern and advanced the muggle world is all the time! Lavender and Parvati practically strong-armed me into sending Cosmo and Vogue to them over the summer because wizarding Britain is still in the Stone Age when it comes to fashion magazines ... or fashion, really."

"Tell me what you really think," Harry egged her on, grinning.

Hermione sniffed. "Oh, I won't just tell you. I'll complain to the board of govenors, because that class is a massive waste of time, and an insult to all mundanes and mundane-born, and also because it is the height of cheek to actually take money for that bullshite. It's no wonder pureblood gits like Malfoy think they're better than us. You have an in with Neville's gran, you can talk to her about it."

"Hermione!" Harry laughed, a little shocked about her bluntness. "Already using me to further your cause?"

"Always," she replied with an unrepentant grin, "but my causes are mostly just, and since you are a good boyfriend, you'll let me get away with it. You will, right?"

"I might demand compensation later," Harry warned, but he took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "If it's really that bad, it needs to go."

"We've started a list of topics we really need to write about in the school paper," Hermione murmured. "A lot of it is really infuriating because it is child endangerment, plain and simple. Mundanes would never accept this."

Harry frowned. "You're saying mundane a lot ... why?"

"That's what the French wizards call their non-magical neighbours. It's way classier than muggle. That word sounds idiotic, as if people without magic were incompetent and less smart, which just isn't true." Hermione took a deep breath. "In July, I read a paper about wormhole travel by Dr. Rodney McKay. It was just theoretical, but Harry, his mind! His equations are like poesy and his theoretical analysis nearly brought me to tears, it was so well thought out and logical. No wizard I've ever met can compete with what he's capable of. He's brilliant, and it infuriates me that being a mundane makes him less worthy in the eyes of British wizards."

"I really hope that McKay guy is old," Harry murmured and tugged Hermione into a small alcove. He pressed her against the wall and leaned his forehead against hers. "Otherwise I'll feel very jealous in a moment."

Hermione melted against him. "He's brilliant and around thirty, and I might be a little in love with his brain."

"But?" Harry looked at her. "There better be a but in there somewhere."

She smiled sweetly. "But you're you, and you're smart in a different way, and I really like you. But if you're so concerned about some astrophysicist sweeping me away, you can always get a degree or two."

"You're terrible." Harry kissed her forehead. "And you make me almost believe that I could do it."

"You can do it," Hermione said fiercely. "Don't let anyone tell you what you're capable of. Only you can find that out, okay?" She hugged him almost a little too tightly. "Most people are dumb and we don't play with them anymore."

Harry hugged her back. "Good plan. I approve."

At lunch, a few students looked at them appraisingly, but no one brought up their closeness. It served Harry well, because he had his hands full with Ron's underhanded complaints about their argument at breakfast.

"Weasley, would you shut up already?" Katie Bell hissed. "Stop angling for Harry's broom, it's pathetic."

"Yeah, you better apologize for your unfounded accusations first," Alicia Spinnet added coldly. "Crookshanks is a sweet guy. If he doesn't like you, he'll have his reasons."

Lee Jordan snorted. "I know what those are."

Ron flushed with temper. "Shut it. It's not my fault the school brooms are always checked out when I wanna fly."

"They're not," Seamus said, throwing Ron a disbelieving look. "On Sunday, at least half a dozen were still there when we went down to the pitch."

"But they're old and broken," Ron huffed. "We can't be expected to train for Quidditch on those."

"You mean you can't be expected to train on those," Hermione snapped. "No one else is complaining."

"Well, that's not quite true," Fred chimed in.

"We do, frequently," George continued.

"-because some of these brooms are death traps," Fred said. "Unfortunately-"

"-Professor McGonagall told us-"

"-that there's no money for better brooms in the school budget."

Hermione rubbed her forehead as if to ward off a headache. "You want to take it to the paper, or the board of govenors?"

"Both," Fred and George said at once, echoed by the whole Quidditch team. It was a wonder, really, that Oliver Wood had kept silent until now.

Parvati was already scribbling on the infamous list of topics and Lavender was taking a few notes on a blank piece of parchment.

"Hey, Colin," Harry called over to the second years. "How about taking some pictures of the old brooms? Maybe some in flight as well?"

"Sure, Harry!" Colin replied. "Can I get credit?"

"Of course," Parvati said. "We'll have contracts for that kind of thing."

"How much longer until your announcement?" Dean asked. "You said later in the week, but when?"

Lavender put her pencil down. "Well, it depends. We're in some negotiations and the results will determine what kind of printing press we get, and who's going to be our sponsor."

"Sounds serious," Hermione said.

"A good serious," Lavender assured them. "Honestly, if this works out, we'll be set. It shouldn't be later than Sunday, though."

"Then I'll keep my thumbs pressed," Harry promised, and his housemates all agreed.

To keep his promise to Dobby, Harry excused himself after dinner and let the house elf pop him to the Come And Go Room. There, he had the peace and quiet to study Sharptooth's business plan.

As the estate was situated smack in the middle of a muggle settlement - mundane, Harry reminded himself - it already had some standard wards, but the cost of increasing the security was substantial, as was the long-term plan to aquire the land around the property. For a moment, Harry was grateful that the money for it would come out of the Potter family fortune and not the elf fund, because they would have been nearly broke when everything was said and done.

Still, he wanted his elf friends and the future guests to be safe, and so he signed off on Malijar's gift for the perimeter ward stones, Gringotts France's interior designers for remodelling and refurbishing, and the hiring of human personnel in addition to Dobby and Betty's work.

"A resident healer is a great idea," Harry mumbled, checking that point. "Sirius might go there for a holiday, especially if I can convince Gringotts to supply potions for all the guests. Healthy food choices ... of course. Laundry service, yup, definitely. Taxi service for all of France ..." Harry sat back. He hadn't thought that Dobby would take him seriously, but he could see how a house elf travelling service might be a welcome alternative to Floo travel or portkeys. "Great idea, but we'll have to find out what fees are appropriate."

There was more to decide: where to locally buy produce, meat, and dairy; how to best use the garden to supplement vegetables and herbs for the kitchen; how much margin to add to the cost of running the pension to keep it attractive for guests but make it reasonably profitable at the same time. He was also tasked with deciding what kind of witch or wizard would be allowed to apply for jobs - it was kind of weird to examine his ethics and impose them on strangers. Still, he thought it wasn't too much to ask that his future employees be honest, loyal, friendly, and well-educated in their area of service. The payment plan for the employees was above average and included standard medical service through the in-house healer and options for bonus pay for exemplary service and further training. Harry thought that it looked very well, indeed. Contrasting the generous salary, there were the employment oaths to consider, and Harry decided to err on the side of caution and opted for all the loyalty and security clauses Sharptooth had recommended in his proposal. After all, he didn't want Death Eaters, or, god forbid, Voldemort himself knocking on his door because someone decided to blab.

All of this took nearly two hours. It was rewarding work, even if Harry knew that the first year would be a dead loss. He agreed with both Sharptooth and Dobby, however, that getting things going was far more important than earning money, especially when he had so much of it sitting around in his vaults. He believed in Dobby's planning and couldn't wait to see how it all played out.

"Dobby," he finally called when the warning bell for curfew sounded. "Do you have a moment?"

Dobby popped in at once, small hands clasped and ears quivering in excitement. "Dobby always be having time for Harry Potter sir." His huge eyes wandered to the sealed envelope in Harry's hand. "Harry Potter sir be looking over Steward Sharptooth's proposal!"

"I promised," Harry said with a smile. "Everything looks good on paper and I signed off on it, but if something doesn't work out, tell Sharptooth immediately and he'll sort it out."

"Thank you, thank you," Dobby gushed. "Harry Potter sir be such a generous wizard! Dobby and Betty be beginning work immediately. Cleaning be such a pleasure!"

"Please take me back to Gryffindor tower first," Harry laughed. "And please remember to keep Sirius company, yeah?"

"Dobby will!" Smiling hugely, Dobby took Harry by the wrist and popped him into their established dark corner close to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "Thank you, Harry Potter sir." And off the elf went.

The common room was still full of students when Harry entered, although his year mates were just beginning to gather their things. Hermione beckoned Harry over to the couch she was occupying.

"Everything alright?" she asked. "You're smiling."

"Just good news," Harry replied. Crookshanks stretched from Hermione's lap onto his and batted his paw against Harry's hand. "Yeah, okay. You're a cuddle monster, my friend." He started scratching the cat's head.

Crookshanks closed his eyes and purred with satisfaction.

The long day was catching up with Harry and he yawned. "Don't be mad, but I think I'll sleep in tomorrow. I'm knackered."

"No problem," she replied.

"How are you even doing it?" Harry wondered. "You never seem to be tired."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm used to it. But after deciding against Muggle Studies and Divination, I really only have as many classes as you do. Although I could do with a free period in the morning! It's my Arithmancy class first thing, you see."

"Bummer," Harry offered.

Smiling, Hermione answered, "It's alright. I have a short day on Wednesday instead."

The prefects chose that moment to usher them to bed, and they went quite willingly. It really had been a long day, and as soon as Harry's head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

oOo

Sleeping in on a school day felt decadent. Harry was also a little overwhelmed, though in a good way, because Dobby had surprisingly taken him on a dream tour through his new pension. So say that the experience had been magical would be a massive understatement.

"It's already beautiful," Harry said as his friend spoiled him with breakfast in bed. "I almost can't imagine how great it will be when you've got it ready and running. But it looks so big! Are you sure that you'll be able to manage it all on your own?"

"Well, Dobby be looking for help," the elf admitted, "but we not be needing it for a year at least. There be wizards and witches for direct services soon, so it be alright."

"Good." Harry swallowed his fruit salat. "So, what's on your agenda today?"

"Betty and Dobby be taking Steward Sharptooth to the pension for warding. He be requesting Head Warders Shanoo and Gartuk."

"Oh, okay. Isn't that kind of ... excessive? I don't actually want to turn the property into a fortress."

Dobby shook his head. "It be clever because they be able to forge connection between Harry Potter sir and the additional ward stones. It be very advanced magic, but because Harry Potter be needing to claim wards from Britain, that's what be happening."

"I'd love to get the theory behind that explained," Harry admitted. "It sounds dead useful!"

"Dobby be telling Steward Sharptooth. Maybe he be able to arrange a lesson," Dobby replied. "More lemonade?"

Thoroughly pampered, Harry had a bounce in his step on his way to Charms. Most of his friends were disgruntled about his good mood, but he just greeted them cheefully and took his seat beside Hermione.

"They'll ambush you if you keep this up," she smirked but leaned against him. "What has you in such a good mood?"

"I'm just happy," Harry replied honestly and gently bumped against her shoulder. "How was Arithmancy?"

"I love it," Hermione whispered, eyes shining.

Then, Professor Flitwick called them to order and class began. The whole ninety minutes Harry felt Ron stare at the back of his head. It was unnerving, to say the least, but even worse were the boy's muttered complaints that Harry had all of Hermione's attention while he was languishing.

Towards the end of the class, Hermione finally had enough. She turned around and snapped, "I'm not helping Harry with his Lumos Duo charm. He's helping me. So kindly shut up. Also, I'm not your private tutor. You can do your own work."

"One point from Gryffindor for talking in class, Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick called out. The Slyhterins snickered and even Ron looked triumphant. "And five points to Gryffindor for dispensing valuable advice to a fellow classmate."

Ron was close to blowing up, Harry knew, and he was not interested in waiting for the eruption of Mt. Weasley. As soon as the bell rang, he and Hermione booked it to the great hall and hid out in the bathroom until the others had passed them.

"I have a feeling that you're here more for a potion than my company," Harry said but gamely flicked a vial with blue content at her. "Bone strengthener today."

"I love it. It kind of tastes like ice mice," Hermione said. "Thank you. By the way, when do you plan on brewing your own?"

"As soon as I've found a room where we can work undisturbed. I'm kind of leery of using the Come And Go Room because it's so magical. If I've learned one thing from Snape, it's that ambient magic can be deadly. But I also have no idea what shape the Chamber Of Secrets is in after the goblins took the basilisk. It would be ideal."

"We could look," Hermione offered. "If Myrtle's bathroom isn't safe enough for you, and I agree it isn't, that's really the best option. Also, you said the chamber is huge; we could make it into some kind of study area ... that is, if you want to share. If you want to keep it for yourself, that's fine, Harry. You certainly earned it."

"No, we can make use of it. I just don't want anyone else down there, at least for now. It's hard to find a quiet space at Hogwarts." They drank their potions and Harry put the vials away. He asked, "Does it make me a bad person that I don't want to share with Ron?"

Hermione's face scrunched up. "Are you serious? I don't know what crawled up his bum over the summer, but he's acting like a complete prat. If you wanted to include him, I'd think you were nuts. No one is that much of a glutton for punishment."

Harry sighed. "It's still ... weird. Should we maybe get him checked for curses? I heard the old Egyptians were big with them."

"I can just see Mrs. Weasley reading that letter," Hermione said dryly. "Dear Mrs. M, unfortunately your son Ronald ist being a total git this year. Since you were in Egypt over the summer, we're concerned that he might have picked up a curse or two. We'd appreciate it if you could have him checked out, maybe Madam Pomfrey can help? With thanks, Harry and Hermione."

Laughing, Harry steered her out of the door. "We can do that if he keeps it up. Until then, I'd rather not have very much to do with him."

"How will that work if you share a dorm room?" she asked, not quite sarcastically. "You're rather good with charms, but will that keep him from leaving you alone?"

"It did so far, and Seamus and Dean are rather fed up with him as well," Harry said with a shrug. "Look, he's sitting with Percy ... I'm not sure it'll do him any good."

It didn't do Ron any good. In one second, he looked utterly normal, if still a bit bad-tempered, and in the next his hair turned from red to a glowing neon pink.

"Oh dear," Hermione smirked as laughter broke out. "He'll hate that."

"Only green could've been worse," Harry agreed.

In that moment, Ron's hair turned neon green and everybody roared with laughter.

"What have you done?" Ron demanded. He grabbed a silver serving platter, dumping the roast potatoes onto the table, and stared at his reflection. "Fred! George! You take that back!"

"Careful, Ronnekins!" George hollered.

"You're looking a little purple in the face!" Fred shouted.

Ron's hair promptly changed colour, and he screamed in outrage.

"Nice look, Weasel!" Malfoy cried. "But I always wondered how you'd look with black hair. Just like St. Potter, I'd think. I bet you want to be him. That's your chance!"

More and more students got into the game, calling out colours and causing Ron's hair to change every couple of seconds.

"Er, I propose staying away from him for the rest of the day," Harry said. A few seats down, Dean was smirking at him, just like the twins. "Shouldn't be too hard in the greenhouses."

Ron was in a horrid temper for the rest of the day. He fumed all through Herbology, because Professor Sprout seemed to find endless reasons to call out colours, and during Defence Against The Dark Arts, Professor Lupin actually asked Ron to stand in front of the class, so he could explain what exactly a curse was, and to demonstrate the most common counter curses. It made Ron livid that none of the usual counters helped, which didn't keep his classmates from taking great delight in trying.

"Let's get away," Harry murmured and hurried Hermione away from the classroom. Myrtle's bathroom was close and his girlfriend didn't protest when Harry shooed her inside. "No time like the present, right?"

"Good thing we both learned several cleaning charms," Hermione said with a little grimace. "I remember vividly how you described the way down."

"Better not think about it," Harry agreed. "But I have a plan for that." He hissed at the sink, making it open the secret passageway. "Next thing on my agenda is changing the bloody passwort. I'll go first. Wait for my call, alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Be careful."

The way down wasn't as horrible as Harry remembered. Apparently the goblins had cleaned up the chute and even cast a cushioning charm onto the floor below. It was beginning to fail now, but fortunately it was still good enough for a comfortable landing.

"You can go!" Harry called. Seconds later, Hermione rushed down and straight into his arms. "Hey there."

Hermione grinned. "That was fun. Gringotts cleaned up for you."

"That's just cosmetics. The real deal is that they fixed the cave-in. There, this is where Lockhart tried to obliviate Ron and me." Harry took Hermione's hand with his left and cast a lumos with his wand. "Let's check it out."

All of the basilisk skins had been taken away. Harry had known that, of course, but it was still a little strange to see the tunnels so empty. The goblins had done very good work vanishing the valuables, debris, and dust. They'd even installed new sconces on the walls, which was very welcome.

"Lights!" Harry called and the torches ignited. "Nox." His wand light went out at once.

"This is incredible," Hermione breathed. When they reached the snake-guarded portal to the chamber proper, she stood up straight. "This is it?"

"Yeah." Harry hissed the command to open the door. "It was really scary."

"It still is a little scary," Hermione murmured and grabbed his hand a little tighter. The grinding of metal against stone as the lock disengaged, and then stone against stone when the door slowly opened, was deafining in the stillness of the chamber tunnels.

Carefully, they stepped through the portal, wands at the ready. The chamber was vast and silent and empty. The goblins hadn't repaired the structural damage to the chamber, but they had taken away the rubble and cleaned up the floor. Not a speck of blood remained.

"The basilisk came out of Salazar's mouth," Harry pointed to the ugly stature. "It's still open. Do you want to take a look?"

"Of course," Hermione replied at once. "The goblins won't have left anything dangerous behind ... or would they?"

"Nah, they're thorough. I learned that they value children above profit, even human children." Harry looked around but couldn't find anything to climb the statue. "Huh, I wonder if ... stairs." Like Diagon Alley, the stone began to shift and little handholds appeared. "Seems like we have to climb."

It wasn't difficult to climb up to Salazar's mouth. Once there, the opening was large enough for Harry and Hermione to walk inside upright. Both their wands spilled light into the cavern behind it. It, too, had been cleaned out, but far in the back there was an ornately decorated door. A large metal snake was curling all over the wood.

"Doesn't look like the goblins managed to open it," Harry whispered. "Should we try?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "Maybe some reinforcements are in order. Can you call Dobby?"

"I should've thought of him. Dobby," Harry called, barely flinching when the elf appeared beside them with a soft pop. "Hi. We're about to do something potentially stupid. Would you mind watching out for danger?"

"Dobby will!" the elf squeaked excitedly.

Harry took a breath, then hissed, "Open!"

Nothing happened, although the metal snake lifted its head and flicked its tongue as though scenting the air.

"That's not the entry word, Speaker," it hissed.

Harry's face lit up. "Oh, alright. I see."

"Harry?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What's up?"

"This door isn't locked with a standard password. I'll have to try others. Can you give me a hint?"

"I cannot." The snake started to slither over the door. "If you persist, I'll bite you."

"I don't think so," Harry replied, thinking of the Right of Conquest. "You see, I defeated your master three times. Whatever he owned is now mine."

"Prove it," the snake hissed. "A drop of your blood will sway me ... or be your death."

"Wait!" Hermione said sharply when Harry attempted to let the snake cut his finger with its fang for a drop of blood. "What are you doing?"

Harry stiffened. "Er, that's kind of ... secret. I really can't tell you."

"What? Why?" Hermione stared at him. A myriad of thoughts and emotions ran across her face. "Don't you trust me anymore?"

Harry sighed. "It's not that. I trust you, but I don't trust many other people, including the headmaster and Snape. They can read minds, and I really don't want them to know."

"What?" Hermione shrieked. "They're reading minds? Of students?"

"Well, I think so. Whenever Dumbledore stares at me, it feels kind of funny. And Snape is scary even without trying." Harry shrugged when Hermione sputtered. "Apparently they're known legilimens."

"But that's illegal!"

Harry smiled wrily. "Do you honestly think that'll keep Snape from doing it? He was a Death Eater ... and maybe he still is one. Who can say?"

Hermione appeared to be stunned. "That's just wrong."

"I know, and I'm very sorry. I'm trying to find out how to keep my thoughts safe, but there doesn't seem to be a quick solution." Harry pointed at the waiting snake. "I'd like to do this, 'Mione. Alright?"

"Okay. I won't ask questions." She smiled weakly. "Sorry for freaking out on you."

"And I'm really sorry for not being able to tell you. Alright ..." Harry carefully held his left index finger against the tooth of the snake and allowed it to nick his skin.

Exactly one drop was sucked into the fang. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the snake's eyes began to glow and its body began moving in a complicated sequence. Several bolts released, and a ward of some kind shimmered before it fell.

"Told you," Harry hissed at it. "Shall we set a new password?"

"Yes, Master," it replied. "Your wish is my command."

"What is your name?"

The snake reared up a little and displayed a pretty, golden hood. "My name is Audovera. It means fighter in a war. I'm very good at protecting your secrets, Master."

"Then the new password shall be Audovera's hidey-hole," Harry decided. "Please let us in now."

Audovera glowed all over, her darkened scales cleaning themselves in front of their eyes to a polished brass with golden hightlights, and then the heavy door swung open. Both Harry and Hermione immediately raised their wands and illuminated the chamber.

The first thing they saw were shelves and shelves of books. Their leathery spines were all adorned with gold, and despite their incredible age the air wasn't musty at all, merely cool. A fireplace sprang to life, dust vanished with a sweep of ancient magic. It didn't feel like anything Harry had experienced so far and it made him shiver. There was no wood, yet the flames were flickering merrily just like real fire. Two comfortable armchairs stood in front of it, between them a low coffee table that had still a couple of books on it.

"That's ..." Hermione's breath hitched. "Oh, Harry! That's Slytherin's library! It must be! But how is this possible? I thought all of his treasures were lost."

"They're obviously not, though." Harry swallowed. "There must be several hundreds of books."

"And journals." Hermione trembled with excitement. "His journals, Harry!"

They stepped inside, Dobby always a few steps ahead of them, fingers raised to ward off dangers. For long minutes, they inspected the shelves and the large tomes. Most of them weren't written in English, which disappointed Hermione severely. Especially the journals, which she was eager to examine, were useless to her.

"They're all written in parseltongue," Harry told her. "I'm sorry."

"You can read it, though, can't you?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, I kind of can, but it's ... old. Like Old English. It's hard to understand." Harry carefully turned a page of the journal Hermione had taken from the shelf. "But this seems to be about a spell ... healing, I think. Interesting. People always say that Slytherin was evil."

"No one with half a brain believes that," Hermione huffed. "Honestly, he founded a school with three goody two-shoes. If he'd had such a problem being good, he'd have founded his own little institute for dark wizards and be done with it."

"Maybe he's written about that somewhere," Harry said eagerly. "Just think! People would go nuts!"

Hermione exhaled slowly and turned on her heels. "This is such a treasure trove. Harry, I ... I don't know what to say. Should we tell the teachers? Or the Ministry?"

"No," he said a little sharply. "No one else except other parselmouths can even read them, and I don't want to know what people like Fudge or Lucius Malfoy would do with them. Besides, I fought a bloody basilsik for them, so they're mine."

Hermione sighed. "All true. It's still a pity. Such knowledge, and no one will really appreciate it."

"Well, we will," Harry said, calmer now that she wasn't going to challenge his claim. "I plan on looking at all of them. If there's something useful in there, we'll find it. Who knows, it might help against the Dark Git."

"The Dark Git?" Hermione laughed involuntarily. "Harry! People will lynch you if you call You-Know-Who that."

"I'm pretty sure they won't." Harry scowled. "They seem to expect me to do him in. I'd think they'd be nicer to me because of that, but apparently they're not big on common courtesy and stuff."

"I'd like to knock some sense into people," Hermione admitted, "but that'd take decades and I've got better things to do with my time. Say ..." She glanced shyly at Harry. "What are your thoughts on leaving Britain when you're older?"

The fierce blush that overtook Harry's face was a complete surprise. "Uh."

Hermione flushed as well. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I don't necessarily mean with me ... it's just ... things are so bad with the government right now, and the ... Dark Git doesn't make it any better, does he? My parents already wanted to send me abroad, I've had time to think about it ... I think it could be good. Many countries have far more modern magical governments and societies than Britain."

"Er, I haven't ever thought about it," Harry confessed, fighting down the redness in his face. "I've always wanted to go on holiday, but actually living abroad?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't know how. What would I even do there?"

Still shy, Hermione stood close to him and clasped his hand. "Everything you wanted. You could study, open a business, apprentice with someone ... your parents left you some money, and you're smart. You could do anything, I'm sure of it."

"It kind of would be nice to do that with you, at least for a while," Harry admitted quietly. "But you'll have to tell me how all of that works first."

"I don't know everything," Hermione reminded him, but she smiled gently. "But I'd love to tell you what I know. My parents, too, I'm sure. They've always wanted me to be independent, that's why I've started learning French at a young age. In a couple of years I'll add Spanish or Italian."

"Which would you like more?" Harry asked. He opened a random book and stared at the gross potions ingredients depicted inside.

"Well, Spanish would be the practical choice. Millions of people all over the world speak it. But personally I find Italian far more interesting and beautiful. I like how it sounds, and how people move when they speak." She shrugged. "I'll learn both eventually."

Harry grinned. "Maybe I should learn other languages as well. It sounds fun."

"It should be one you're going to use. Studying because you feel you should isn't a very good reason. You forget things very quickly if they're useless to you." Hermione peeked over Harry's shoulder. "Ew, is that a filetted ox eye?"

"Minotaur, actually." Harry slammed the book shut. "No idea what it's been used for. So, a language, huh? I'd be down with Italian, even if I should probably learn French first."

"I have some books already, but they're mundane. I'll find out if there are magical books. And maybe we can find someone for interactive learning, too. A penpal perhaps?" Hermione carefully put the journals back and wiped her hands on her robes. "I don't know of a student at Hogwarts who's French or Italian or at least speaks the language. There's not much talk about that."

"Zabini might be Italian," Harry said. "His name sounds like it, at least. But he's a Slytherin. I dunno if he'd want to help us, if he even knows the language."

"Well, he's not been an idiot since the year started," Hermione replied. "Asking him won't hurt, and we can always put an ad in the WIT."

"Or ask Gringotts whether they know good teachers," Harry added. "They offer a lot of services. But I'll be honest ... I only want to do it for an hour a week for now. We've got loads of new subjects, and there'll be homework now. I don't want to have too much to do."

"That's fine, Harry." Hermione hesitated but then said, "I'll learn very quickly, because of my ... my gift. But that's good! I could teach you all the basics and you can go as fast as you like in both French and Italian. There'll be no pressure from me."

That sounded like a fine plan to Harry. With the pension a done deal, he wanted to be able to talk to the employees, even if it would be years until that could actually happen. He wanted to read the menus and the signs and even the brochures Sharptooth wanted to print.

"Do you think Hector's legacy includes languages?" he asked.

"It should." Hermione grinned. "Oh, I'll get the best books for us! This'll be fun!"

Only a few short minutes later it unfortunately was already time to head back. Dobby popped them close to the great hall, promising a fine dinner before vanishing with a soft pop and leaving the two young people to find seats at the slowly filling table.

"Hey, where are you two coming from?" Dean asked. "Seamus and I were looking for you, Harry. Since there aren't enough brooms for everyone to play Quidditch, Seamus and I decided to round up enough people for football matches. Are you interested?"

Harry remembered listening to the matches his Uncle Vernon and Dudley had watched on the telly. There had been a lot of shouting and cursing, and it all had seemed rather violent.

"Uhm, I don't know. I haven't really seen a match yet," he said carefully.

"What?" Seamus cried. "How is that even possible! Manchester United, man, everyone knows them!"

"Leave him alone, Seamus," Hermione snapped. "Not everyone is a fanatic."

"You're coming to our next game, Harry. Tomorrow after class if the weather holds," Dean said, not quite ordering him, but not sounding like he would accept an excuse, either. "You too, if you want, Hermione. We won't exclude girls, but to be honest ... it might get rough. It's British footie, after all."

"Ginny told us that she'd try out," Seamus informed them. "That one's fierce, unlike her brother."

Ron hadn't arrived yet, which probably was for the best; that remark would've easily brought his temper up like one of Malfoy's better insults. Despite being committed to Quidditch, Harry agreed to come to the next game to watch, but Hermione dismissed the idea with a little sniff and a mutter about scraped knees and bruised ribs. Harry thought that the real reason probably were her superior reflexes; it could be easy for her to hurt someone in the heat of the moment, and knowing Ginny's competitive streak, things might get ugly fast. As it was, Ron's sister was already bragging to her girlfriends about being included and egging them on to join her, or better yet, create an all-girl team and play against the boys.

Ron made an appearance towards the end of dinner. He looked exhausted and embarrassed, but his hair was back to its normal colour and he had seemingly spent all of his anger. There were still sniggers every now and then, though the students' interest was already being diverted by the latest gossip and the first mild bout of panic in the OWL and NEWT year groups.

Later, in the dorm, Harry got the feeling that Ron wanted to talk to him. The redheaded boy was subtle about it at first, but that could only last so long. He obviously waited for Neville, Dean, and Seamus to leave them alone, and the longer he had to wait, the less polite he was about it.

Neville seemed undecided and generally more interested in seeing what Harry wanted, but Dean and Seamus refused to bend to Ron's scowls and hints, not allowing him even one minute alone with Harry. It worked Ron up like a charm, so much so, that Harry was feeling guilty by the time their bed hangings were closed and privacy charms placed. Worse yet, he was grateful for the respite. The talk with Brady was still fresh and he felt rather unequal to dealing with the situation.

If it's important to him, he'll try again tomorrow, Harry thought, sighing and wiggling his feet happily under his thick comforter. And I'll listen. Maybe we can work it all out then.

He certainly hoped so, but there was that small, persistent voice somewhere in his head, whispering that maybe they wouldn't be able to work it all out so easily. It didn't sound terribly sorry either, and that kept Harry up for a while before sleep finally claimed him and brought him wonderful dreams of sunlight, sweet, fresh air and an old French estate that was being repaired and polished by diligent, magical house elf hands.

oOo

Wednesday began with training in the Come And Go Room. Despite his whining on Sunday, Harry felt refreshed and strong enough for his lesson, and Crookshank's presence brought an element of hilarity to the early hour. The best thing, in Harry's eyes at least, was the simple throw technique Hermione showed him when it was nearly time for breakfast. She threw him half a dozen times and coached him to do the same with her before allowing him to take his shower.

"That's enough for today. Professor McGonagall will post the lists for Quidditch try-outs tonight and you'll need to be fit on Saturday." Hermione grinned. "I think Professor McGongall will make Wood let everyone try out, even the established players, because so many second years want to join. And Ron! Since when does he want to play keeper? Did you know about that?"

"He's been thinking about it for a while, but I guess Ginny wanting to try out gave him a push. I think it's good to give everyone a chance," Harry said. "And if someone's better than me, they deserve to be on the team - and the team deserves them. It's Wood's last year, he'll want to win the cup."

"Very noble," Hermione teased before sobering. "Would you really be okay with it, though? You love to fly."

Harry smiled slightly. "That's just it. I like Quidditch well enough, but I love flying. I can do that anytime, I don't need to be on the team for that. It's really fine with me."

They showered, braved breakfast with Crookshanks in tow, who seemed determined to keep his mistress company despite Ron's barely suppressed animosity, and talked about their classes for the day. All was normal, until the Prophet arrived and ruined everyone's morning.

"Oh no, Fudge got his committee together," Parvati said, showing the headline around. "He's really determined to get Buckbeak executed. What a douchebag. The hearing will be on November 30th."

"Hmmm." Hermione took the paper and lazily poked the tip of her quill into Fudge's smirking visage. "Harry, do you remember what Hagrid has told us about Buckbeak's owner?"

"Sure. He said the bloke was a friend from Greece, and that he's rich. Oh." A grin slowly crept over Harry's face. "You're a genius, 'Mione."

"What for now?" Ron asked, disgruntled. He speared three sausages at once with his fork and took a huge bite.

"You're an idiot, Weasley. If Hagrid's rich friend knew what's going on here, he could throw his weight around," Dean said. "Do we assume that Hagrid hasn't told him, yet?"

"Maybe he did, but Greece is far away, an owl would need several days to make the trip." Hermione took her quill back and snorted about the ink splot on Fudge's pudgy face. "I'll just ask the next time we see him."

"Bold as brass," Seamus said admiringly. "I reckon Hagrid will be glad to have you in his corner, Hermione. Will you write the guy if Hagrid hasn't done it yet?"

Her raised eyebrow really was answer enough.

Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was normally interesting and demanding. Even when they were practicing, the students were usually rather quiet, concentrating on their work and trying to fulfill the professor's high expectations.

Not so today.

Buckbeak's coming hearing was the talk of the day, and while Malfoy was smugly mouthing off to his friends, Hermione was scribbling notes onto a writing pad, her half-finished project sitting next to her abandoned wand.

To make up for her slack, Harry concentrated much more than usual. The Duro spell seemed somewhat strange; he really couldn't fathom why someone would want to harden something instantly to stone ... except maybe in the case of exploding cauldrons with poisonous contents, or to stop an enemy in their tracks. It would be funny to turn Malfoy's bag into a heavy lump of stone, he supposed, but after the lecture Professor McGonagall had given them all, no one was seriously considering it.

That left the quill on Harry's table. Its edges looked decidedly stone-like already, but there it stopped and it irked him.

If I knew more Arithmancy, I could find out what I need to do, Harry thought. It might be a bigger swish, except Professor McGonagall hardly swishes her wand at all. Or I could pronounce the spell a little more sharply ... but Seamus tried that and it blew up in his face. I'm not gonna do that like an idiot!

"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked as she stopped at their table. "You've been frowning at your quill for a while."

"I can't get the spell to advance to the core of the object," Harry sighed. "It's like it just stops when the material gets too thick. But it's just a feather, not a piece of cheese or something, so it's not like the magic can't reach."

"Mmh." Professor McGonagall conjured a chair and settled down in her prim, upright way. "What have you tried so far?"

Surprised to have her undivided attention, Harry repeated his earlier thoughts, finishing with, "I don't think it's the wand movement or my pronounciation, Professor." He sighed sadly. "Maybe I'm just too weak to do it."

A little snort escaped her, catching Harry offguard. "You, Mr. Potter, are certainly not too weak to do this spell successfully. What you are lacking, I believe, is trust."

"Trust?" Harry repeated. By now the whole class was listening in to their conversation.

"Trust in your ability as a wizard," Professor McGonagall explained. "Your magic is a gift, and while not everyone's gift is quite the same, how magicals access it is. You trust your magic to do what you direct it to do. However, telling someone that a spell is hard to accomplish will almost always make them struggle, just because they believe this to be the truth. It doesn't have anything to do with their actual magical ability."

"Really? It's just in my head?" Harry looked at her with wide eyes. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he didn't care.

Malfoy scoffed. "I know what's in your head, Potty, and it's got nothing to do with magic." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. "You're a halfblood, you really shouldn't overstep yourself. Some people just have no talent. Accept it and move on, like all the other talentless little squibs. Last I heard, they were living the good life in the muggle world."

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall rose and stared stonily at the boy. "Ten points from Slytherin for insulting another student. Your words are patently untrue, for one, and even if there was some truth to them, I'd expect you to do the polite thing and keep such harmful thoughts to yourself. Your mother must be horrified by your atrocious manners."

Malfoy just sneered.

"Maybe Mr. Malfoy would like to demonstrate to the class how superior his magical skill is," Professor McGonagall continued. "Come up around his table, class, so you'll all have a good look."

"What?" Malfoy snapped. "I never said-"

"You implied that your blood makes you a better wizard than Mr. Potter. This is your chance to prove it," McGonagall said coolly. "Don't tarry, come around ... Miss Bulstrode won't bite, Mr. Longbottom. Well? The floor is yours, you may begin, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy flushed a fiery red, from his pale cheeks to his even paler neck. "Duro!" he hissed at his quill. It didn't turn to stone. In fact, the tip began to smoke and curl up a little, as if Malfoy's spell had almost set it on fire.

"Mmmh, disappointing," McGonagall said evenly. "Mr. Potter, care to try again?"

Giving Malfoy a little glare, Harry raised his wand.

I have to trust my magic. I'm good at spells! I learned so much this summer, it can't have been an accident. Just because Professor McGonagall always says that Transfiguration is serious business doesn't mean it's any harder than the summoning charm. I can do it. I can!

Taking and releasing a deep breath, he muttered, "Duro". Immediately he knew that something was different. Like a little block had been taken away, allowing his power to work as it wanted. Magic flowed from his wand to Malfoy's burnt quill. From the tip to the feathery end it solidified in one sweep, until it was an elegant, delicate piece of stone.

"I did it," Harry said, astonished. He looked at Professor McGonagall. "Thank you!"

She nodded curtly. "Ten points to Gryffindor for your successfull transfiguration. Well done, Mr. Potter." To Malfoy, she said, "I hope you have learned your lesson, Mr. Malfoy. Get back to work, all of you. You still have half an hour to finish your project. Remember that I'll grade your efforts." To add insult to injury, she cast Finite Incantatem on Malfoy's quill, returning it to its natural state, before moving away.

After that, Harry had no problem transfiguring his own quill. For every attempt Hermione made, he matched her, encouraging her until she was also able to deliver a perfect result ten minutes before class was over.

"What were you writing earlier?" Harry asked after Professor McGonagall had taken their quills away. "Is it the letter to Hagrid's friend?"

"No, of course not. I'll only do that if Hagrid tells us that he didn't write his own yet. I'm not that pushy." Hermione's small smile took the sting out of her words. "No, I was drafting a petition to the board of govenors for more club activities. I've got no interest in football or rugby, but we really should have more choices on offer. Lavender wants to bring an article about it before we launch the petition, to get public opinion on which clubs to create first."

"I could never do that during Professor McGonagall's class," Harry murmured.

"Oh, she knows about it," Hermione replied. "And she knows that I'm usually good with classwork. In fact, she's the petition's sponsor. The first edition of the student paper will come out in October, we need to get our articles together soon to get them as perfect as we can make them."

"Does the Paper Troupe have meetings?" Harry wondered. "Can I come?"

"Paper Troupe?" Hermione asked. When Harry shrugged, she said, "Sure, but Lavender will expect you to contribute if you do. We'll need every help we can get."

"She won't try to use my name to sell more papers, will she?" Harry asked a little suspiciously.

"Of course she will." Sighing, Hermione put her pencil away. "You're famous, whether you like it or not. This is important to us, Harry. If she's got an idea, will you at least listen to it?"

"I won't play monkey for the masses," Harry said firmly. "Maybe I'd like to write the article about Buckbeak, or at least help."

"The others rather thought you might want to help with the dementor article, but Buckbeak is fine, too." The bell rang and Hermione shoved her things into her bag. "Are you ready for Potions?"

"No," Harry replied truthfully. "But I never am."

Still smarting from Professor McGonagall's set-down, Malfoy did his best to get Harry into trouble with Snape. His anger made him sloppy, however, and Snape actually saw him throw a piece of valerian root into Harry's cauldron. Harry saw it, too, and managed to snatch it with his seeker reflexes right out of the air.

"Five points from Gryffindor for playing with ingredients that have nothing to do with today's potion, Mr. Potter," Snape said silkily.

Harry fought down his first reaction, which was to rail against the injustice. Hermione's gently kick against his shin helped. Instead, he just said, "Yes, sir."

Hermione next to him carefully set the piece of root as far away from their cauldron as she could and covered it with a small bowl.

"Five points from Gryffindor for not storing the valerian root properly," Snape said. "You of all people should know better, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows. "I do know better, Professor. But tell me honestly: would you have let me get up to take the root back to the stores?"

"It is not your place to question me." Snape towered over her, his black cloak not only sucking up the light in the room but also the air. The silence was so thick that Harry began to feel suffocated. "Another five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Granger."

"Of course, Professor." Hermione nodded and, when Snape had finally quit his menacing staring, made a note on a piece of paper.

The rest of the class passed in oppressive silence, and Harry thought that he'd rarely hated Snape more than he did right then.

"Don't worry about him," Hermione said at lunch, completely unconcerned, while loading her plate with roast vegetables and grilled chicken.

"How can we not?" Ron demanded. "You and Harry lost us fifteen points!"

"And it would have been far more if Malfoy's little stunt had been successful," she retorted. "We've had two years of his unfair behaviour. It won't help us to get angry in class ... and do you honestly think I'll let him get away with that any longer? Once our OWLs are coming up-"

"In two years!" Ron spluttered.

"As I said, once our OWLs are coming up," Hermione repeated with a glare, "we'll need a competent and fair teacher. Otherwise we can just fail out of the class and do Potions independently. If we did that, what's the point of going to Hogwarts? No, I'll write my parents, ask them to coordinate with your parents, and have them all send a complaint to the board of govenors."

"They probably won't sack Snape," Seamus said glumly. "He's a potions master, they're not exactly abundant in Britain."

"I wonder why," Hermione said scathingly. "If there's come one out of Hogwarts during the time he has been teaching, I'll be astounded. Anyway, it has to stop. If you want to help, give me your addresses so my parents can contact yours."

As everyone had been listening, a piece of paper from Hermione's writing pad was quickly changing hands. Not everyone supplied their address, though it were mostly the seventh years who were so fed up that they wanted to complain to the board by themselves.

"Really should've done it sooner," Oliver Wood said darkly. "It's not gonna fall back on me, since Snape didn't admit me into his NEWT class, but the way he's been treating us is just wrong."

"Why didn't you do something before?" Hermione asked.

"We tried, just not hard enough. It stopped with Dumbledore." Wood sighed. "I feel like an idiot."

Far too soon, lunch was over. The page of addresses had vanished at one point, but Hermione wasn't worried.

"It'll probably make the rounds in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," she said as she got up to leave for History. Seamus and Dean made to wait for her, but she waved them off. "What will you do if you're not going to History, Harry?"

"I'll just read the book," Harry replied. "Gringotts should send an answer soon about that. I'll ask about a tutor then. Why, do you want to share the cost?"

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Depends on how unreasonable the headmaster will be when it comes to your education. If he refuses to approve the money for it, it'll be my treat."

"Hermione, that's too much," Harry protested. "Tutors are really expensive."

"Believe me, I'll spend that money anyway because Binns is a menace. I always thought that history wouldn't be as interesting as actual magic because the only topic were the goblin rebellions, even in the school books, but to understand how his society works, I'll have to learn as much about it as I can. World history, too. Reading about it only gets one so far. What we need are discussions and excursions and speeches from experts." Hermione looked around and, seeing that the great hall was mostly deserted now, bent down to smack a kiss onto Harry's cheek. "Don't look so worried. Me causing trouble isn't your fault, Harry. The adults in this place really should know better than trying to short-change us. But they'll learn."

With that, she flounced off to History of Magic, no doubt to collect more evidence against Professor Binns.

My girlfriend is a total badass, Harry thought, a little stunned. A badass with really nice legs.

Grinning, he got himself together and slunk off to the Come And Go Room to finish this year's course book and start on his first supplemental text.

---

End of part 8