Double Duty:

"What do you mean you met a Metamorphmagus!?"

Terry Boot's voice rattled across the empty tracks in front of Hogsmeade Station. Further down the platform, a group of Hufflepuff girls watched them curiously. Harry shot them a crooked grin and waved; it was the best he could do to stop his hand from clamping around his friend's fat mouth.

To his relief, their interest was fleeting, quickly breaking into giggles amongst themselves.

"Can you lower your voice there, Terry?" Harry harshly whispered. "I'd rather Dumbledore not hear you from all the way up in his tower."

"Sorry," said Terry sheepishly. His eyes darted in search of anyone else close enough to overhear, but the platform was devoid of activity. Only oil and the burning scent of coal clung to the air. "What was she like? Did she change in front of you? Did you ask her any of my questions?"

"I didn't really get the chance to sit down and have a chat," said Harry with a dry laugh. Terry's fascination with Metamorphmagi teetered on obsession at times. It had been that way since the summer before second year, when Terry stumbled across one of his sister's soppy romance novels about a pair of them who kept falling in love as strangers without ever knowing. "I was sort of busy evading arrest at the time."

The station fell out of sight behind them as they followed the muddy, winding path to the horseless carriages. They walked in silence for a time; Terry's eyes lost in a dreamy daze, while Harry took in every detail.

He filled his lungs with the sweet scent of the fading summer, listened as the distant rumble of the long-departed Hogwarts Express hummed through the trees. Grass crunched underfoot, dried by the creeping cold, and overhead the shiver of leaves whispered in faint breeze, their edges brushed with blazing shades of red and orange which reminded Harry of the candlelit warmth of the Great Hall.

The castle loomed in the unseen distance, it's magic wrapping itself around them in a comforting embrace after a long journey home.

Without knowing, Harry's lips pulled into a smile at the thought of Hogwarts. An itch of impatience was mixed amongst it. He could hardly stand another moment outside its walls. There were only a handful of students who remained with them, waiting to be taken up to the school. Like Harry and Terry, they were friends who'd lingered behind to catch up, though the details of their summers were doubtlessly less sensitive.

"Do you think you could help me meet her?" Terry asked, breaking Harry from his musing.

"Her name is Tonks-that's about all she told me," said Harry, realizing it wasn't much to go on. "I guess you could try looking her up in the Auror registry, but Merlin knows when those things were last updated." Noticing the way Terry's shoulders drooped, he hastily added, "But it was bloody cool! She kept changing every time I looked away. And for a while, I couldn't figure out who was coming after me…"

Harry went on to explain the entire affair, pausing periodically both for dramatic effect and to answer the flurry of questions Terry could hardly keep back. He'd taken a few liberties with the retelling of the chase but what Terry didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The existence of the stone he'd left out entirely.

"How weren't you caught!" Terry burst in disbelief, once Harry revealed that Dumbledore was the one who'd greeted him when he apparated home. "I could never do anything like that, it's too… too…"

"Gryffindor?" Harry supplied with a smirk.

"No. Well, yes, it is—but I wasn't thinking that." Terry stalked back and forth, waving his arms in a frenzy. "It's too dangerous! Had she caught you, it would have been all over the papers. The school would know, your family too. You'd have a record! They might've even snapped your wand!"

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted them, "are you going to get in?"

Terry jumped and Harry whirled around.

Behind them, stood a tall, raven-haired girl whom Harry had never seen before. She was pointing at the last of the carriages. Inside, the Hufflepuffs who'd been walking ahead of them were now impatiently waiting.

"Uh, no," said Terry, slightly panicked. "We're walking up."

Harry cast him a sideways look, before shifting his attention back to the mysterious girl. She wore one of the plain Hogwarts uniforms given to first years, black on black, devoid of any house trims. Her hair hung just above narrow shoulders, with bangs cut short, sharp, and straight as a razor; and her eyes were like two pits on either side of her curved nose. An air of pride surrounded her, and to Harry she carried an uncanny resemblance to a bird of prey.

There was something else strange about her that he struggled to place, hidden beneath the severity of her features.

"Okay," she said flatly, and brushed past them.

Harry turned, followed the girl with his eyes as she climbed into the carriage. He watched as its wheels kicked up dirt, slowly rolling up the path.

He thought he caught a hint of an accent…

"You okay?" Harry asked, not forgetting the way Terry had reacted.

"Yeah, m'fine." Terry let out a long, breathy chuckle. "It's just… didn't she kind of look like a vampire?"

Harry checked over his shoulder just as the carriage disappeared behind a tangle of trees. "I didn't know you were afraid of them?"

"I wasn't," said Terry. "Not until my Uncle Barty came back from Transylvania that is."

"What happened there?" asked Harry.

"A vampire kept sneaking into bed with him while on the road," Terry explained. "Every morning he'd wake up to it reaching over his neck." He pulled uncomfortably at his collar, looking a little peaky. "Uncle Barty thought he was a goner until he realized the vampire was more interested in the pasties he kept under his pillow as a midnight snack."

"The vampire was a pasty thief?"

Terry nodded weakly. "It's horrible, innit? My Aunt made them especially for him! He doesn't do well with foreign food."

Harry's stomach chose then to let out a loud, protesting growl. The mere mention of food served as a trigger, as both boys suddenly remembered what they were missing out on by lagging so far behind. They raced the rest of the way up to Hogwarts, and by the time the castle gates came into view, and they'd climbed the ancient stone steps and pushed through the front doors, the pair were a sweaty, starving mess.

The Welcome Feast was well underway when Harry and Terry stumbled into the Great Hall. There was hardly an inch to maneuver between the four long house tables, each sagging at its center from the hundreds of dishes prepared by the house elves. Steam rose from the golden platters, carrying with it rich, mouthwatering scents that left Harry momentarily befuddled. Over the rows of heads, he caught the eye of Padma who gestured for them to join her.

"Where have you two been?" she hissed beneath the surrounding chatter. "Did you not get off the train with the rest of us?"

"We did," said Harry. "Terry just had the brilliant idea of going on a hike to work up our appetite."

"Mhmmm—I love hiking," Terry wheezed as he latched onto the end of a dinner roll.

Padma shifted her eyes between them suspiciously, but Harry jumped in before her cross-referencing could proceed.

"Did we miss anything important?" Harry asked, filling up his plate with a little bit of everything. He bit into a lamb chop and sighed. He was certain the Hogwarts food had never quite tasted so good.

Padma arched an eyebrow at him. "You mean, have you missed anything besides the sorting?" she said smartly.

Glancing down the crowded edge of the Ravenclaw table, Harry spotted tiny figures with pointed wizard hats squished between the much larger bodies of older students. Harry winked at one and received a nervous grin in response.

"There's a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor again," said Lisa Turpin from next to Padma. She was a mousy looking girl with plain hair, clunky glasses, and features that always seemed to be pinched together in some sort of scrutiny.

"Happens every year, it's hardly a surprise," Terry mumbled into his goblet.

Lisa stiffened, then sent him a frosty stare.

At the far end of the dais, it wasn't difficult to pick out the new addition to the staff. The man dwarfed Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout who sat on his either side. He had a neck like a bull and thick, greying hair tied in a knot behind his head. Harry squinted trying to better make out his appearance, but an unkempt beard obscured much of his face. Several rings glimmered along stubby fingers in the candlelight.

"What's his name?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes off the man.

"Professor Rocke," Padma answered, flicking her eyes towards Lisa, and dropping her voice to a hush. "I really hope the quality of teaching is better than what we got from the Ministry last year. I've never struggled so much in a class in my life."

Harry nodded along, only partly listening. They'd certainly had rotten luck with Defence professors. Only Professor Lupin had been any good, back in their third year. It was a shame he'd turned out to be a Werewolf and was forced to resign before the year was up—the man had told Harry he'd once been friends with his father, but never had the opportunity to share more beyond that.

"I wonder where he's from," Harry thought aloud, and peeked back at Padma.

She wore a clueless expression like him.

"Dumbledore never said."

When Harry turned back to continue his observation of the High Table, he was met by two big yellow eyes. For a heartbeat they fixed on him, eerie and impenetrable, before Professor Rocke slowly scanned over the rest of the hall.

"Where's Michael?" Terry asked a little while later, after dinner had been taken away and the platters replenished with pudding.

"At the Gryffindor Table with Weasley," Lisa answered before anyone else could, pointing to a spot behind Harry.

Michael Corner's blue trimmed robes stuck out like a splinched thumb amidst the sea of Gryffindor students. The unmistakable fiery hair of Ginny Weasley was close by his side. Across from them, Ron watched, apoplectic, his face red and hot as his untouched slice of steaming cherry pie.

"They're still together?" Terry said, voicing what was on everyone's mind.

"For now," a new voice joined. To Harry's right sat Anthony Goldstein, his mop of curly hair hanging over his eyes.

"Hi, Anthony," Harry greeted.

But Anthony didn't respond. In fact, his housemate hardly acknowledged him, instead frowning at a spot on Harry's chest. He then shifted his gaze up, grunted something, and turned away as quickly as he'd joined.

Harry opened his mouth but was stopped by the looks of the others.

A hand gripped his arm. "Just let it go," Padma urged under her breath.

Harry shrugged; there were far more important things for him to focus on than whatever it was that had poisoned Anthony's mood. He went back to looking over the heads of students, keen to pick out the nameless girl him and Terry and run into by the carriages. But she wasn't there-not at any of the four tables. Running his eyes along the staff table, he could see Professor Flitwick was missing as well, and immediately was reminded of their meeting.

Thankfully, Dumbledore stood in that moment, clapped his hands, and said a few words to close the feast, and Harry knew it would not be long before he got to the bottom of this all.

"First years! This way! Come with me!" Padma shouted over the competing voices of other Prefects.

Soon enough, a cluster of very nervous looking children gathered around them like a school of little ducklings. Harry found it difficult to believe that any one of them was old enough to go near a wand, let alone be taught how to use one.

"Do you mind counting to see if we have them all?" Padma asked him, sounding a touch overwhelmed.

"Actually… Professor Flitwick wants me to go see him now," said Harry, messing the back of his hair. The inside of the Great Hall had erupted into chaos, and he felt guilty about leaving her on her own. "Maybe someone else can help you take them up?" he suggested.

Padma narrowed her eyes and jerked her head to the side. "OK, Anthony?" she called, and the curly haired Ravenclaw turned to her in surprise. "Can you organize the first-years to take upstairs?"

Not quite believing his luck, he eagerly set about taking over Harry's task.

Thanking Padma, and apologizing again, Harry pushed into the crowd streaming out of the Great Hall and broke away at the base of the marble staircase. The hallways were choked with loitering students not quite ready to retire for the evening, and the low rumble of their voices followed him down several more corridors to a faded tapestry next to Filch's Office. He slipped into the alcove hidden behind and climbed several flights of stairs to the fourth floor.

He rapped on the door to Professor Flitwick's office with its brass knocker. There was a brief pause before a voice called from the other side.

"Come in, come in."

Professor Flitwick was hunched over his desk, propped up on a stack of precariously placed textbooks. The diminutive wizard peered up through his milky eyes and stopped scribbling on the parchment partially unfurled in front of him.

"Ah, Harry, have a seat," he said with a pointy smile. "I was just finishing up your first OWL lesson plan."

"Isn't it a bit early for work, Professor?"

Flitwick laughed, but it came out as a mix between a hiccup and a squeak. The tower of texts swayed underneath him. "Even us Professors like to enjoy the weekend before the school year begins, Harry. Did you have a good summer holidays?"

"They were pleasant enough," Harry answered honestly. "Nothing special ever happens at Privet Drive." He paused intentionally, and briefly cast a look around the office, where on one of the shelves an inkpot spewed tiny specks of stardust. "I did have one surprise though, when I got my booklist in the mail."

"Hmmm," Professor Flitwick hummed to himself as he returned to his work, seemingly ignoring Harry's rather obvious insinuation. "Now what could that be? The OWL curriculum is rigorously standardized. We've assigned many of the same textbooks for years."

Harry sighed. "Professor, we both know I wasn't expecting to be made Prefect," he said bluntly.

A moment passed before his Head of House reacted. Flitwick put down his quill, folded his small hands, and looked intently at Harry.

"Do you think there's been a mistake?"

"I—I don't know," said Harry, throwing his hands up in the air. "Who am I to say? I just look at Padma, and the other prefects, and people who've wanted it for years and…"

"If you'd like my honest answer, Harry," Professor Flitwick interrupted, "you were not my first choice. I had intended to make Mr. Goldstein Prefect."

Well, that explains his pissy mood at dinner…

"But in our summer faculty meetings, your name was put forward for the position," Flitwick continued. "And the Headmaster's requests are not something to be taken lightly."

Headmaster?

"Dumbledore wanted me as prefect?" Harry blurted. Why had Dumbledore told him differently only days ago? It was Flitwick he said who had chosen him.

"Professor Dumbledore, yes," Flitwick corrected. There was an expression on his leathery face that suggested he did not appreciate having his hand forced. "It is actually Professor Dumbledore which brings us together now. You may not have noticed, as she specifically requested not to be singled out at the Welcoming Feast, but there is a new student among us this year."

"I think we've met," said Harry, remembering her funny accent and penetrating dark eyes.

"Oh, excellent!" Flitwick exclaimed with a clap of his hands. "Her name is Anelia. She is a fifth-year such as yourself and will be joining us in Ravenclaw from Durmstrang for the year."

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "I didn't know transfer students were allowed?"

"It is a bit unusual, yes." A frown flickered across Professor Flitwick's face, before it lit into its usual sunny expression. "But consider it an act of international cooperation. Her father is an important Bulgarian diplomat who has come to work in London at the Ministry."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Harry asked, leading to the crux of the matter. He had his suspicions but was clinging to the hope that he was mistaken.

"Professor Dumbledore would like you to be her companion while she's here," Flitwick explained, and Harry felt his stomach sink. "We do not believe it will add any unnecessary burden to your studies. Simply make her acquaintance, show her around Hogwarts, introduce her to others, and answer any questions she might have."

"He does, does he…" Harry trailed off. "You don't think she might prefer, say, a girl?"

"He believes she would appreciate your company the most, that you share similar interests." Harry nodded along as though prompting Professor Flitwick to elaborate. "She is a reclusive girl, enjoys Charms, is bright with a nose for books—"

"She likes books? Is that all?" said Harry, unable to help himself. He could taste the sourness in his words. "I imagine that makes her just about like everyone in Ravenclaw."

Professor Flitwick narrowed his eyes into slits, the wrinkles surrounding them making him distinctly more goblin-like. Harry dipped his head and muttered a quick apology.

"It is a request from Professor Dumbledore. Do you accept?"

That's not a fair question, and you know it, he wanted to say. "He wants me to do both?" he asked instead.

His professor's eyes softened, their depths brimming with a distant melancholy.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is incredibly wise," Flitwick started. "Though his reasoning may not always be obvious, it is there, even if we might not personally agree with it at the time. But in this case, after some careful thought, I believe I understand his intentions."

Harry stared up at the ceiling, cursing the way this year had started.

"Please, enlighten me, sir."

"Responsibility is not something to be avoided, Harry." He spoke deliberately, as though it were not the first time he'd given this speech. "It may feel so now, but it is not a curse. It is the moral fiber that makes good wizards, great. Natural talent and a cavalier attitude can only take you so far in life. It is something your father struggled with in his time at Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes flicked back to his professor with a sudden interest. People very rarely spoke about the character of his parents in a manner which made them feel real.

"He did learn, in time, its worth… with the help of your mother, of course." Professor Flitwick smiled at him and then shifted his gaze to the pin on Harry's chest. "I trust you will as well."

AN

I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. It should provide a little more for you to sink your teeth into. The story will start to flesh itself out as 5th year at Hogwarts gets underway. But there will be plenty of intrigue and interesting characters to come! I'm very excited for you all to experience what I have planned. As always, please do let me know your thoughts, as your reviews are immensely appreciated and help me know that I'm keeping you all engaged.