Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

Another quick one. I've had quite a bit more free time than usual, so I've briefly been able to return to my previous update rate of one a day.

Anyway, we're back at Hogwarts, and now the summer has finally crawled to its resolution, I can lift the curtain in earnest.

Chapter 81

'There are a lot of people here,' Fleur remarked beside him, staring down the platform.

'Many of whom are likely allies, or potential allies of Voldemort,' Harry shrugged. 'He won't risk alienating himself by attacking those he hopes will eventually join him, or those that already have.'

'You might be right,' Fleur acquiesced, though her hand did not move from the wand at her waist.

'I can scarcely think of a better way to unite a divided country against someone than the person attacking all their children in one go,' Harry added, eyes roving along the platform.

Somewhere Neville and Katie would be waiting, and they were the reason why he was on the train in the first place. While attacking everyone would be nothing short of madness, the disappearance of a single student might not be noticed for some time given all the other withdrawals that had occurred.

There was a distinct lack of muggleborn faces among the groups Harry recognised.

'It is leaving soon,' Fleur warned.

'I'll find Katie and Neville on the train, then,' he decided. Unlike the other students, who were wielding large trunks, Harry needed no luggage. He'd already deposited his things in the chamber, and Hedwig would prefer to fly the distance herself over a few days rather than be cooped up on the train for so long in her cage.

'I will continue our search where I can,' Fleur promised, switching to french and lowering her voice. 'Both out searches, in fact.'

'You will?' She had always seemed slightly disapproving and sceptical of his hunt for the hallow.

'Are you going to stop searching?' Fleur asked him, amused.

'No,' Harry admitted.

'Then it will be better if I help,' she said. 'Either we will find it faster, or find we cannot find it faster, and I a curious to see such a thing if it exists.' A flicker of fascination passed across her face. 'The enchantments upon it must be beautiful.'

'You're not taking it apart,' Harry told her warningly.

'Of course I'm not,' she looked scandalised at the thought. 'An artefact like that is priceless; I'd give a great deal to be able to look at one.'

'Remind me to show you my cloak,' Harry grinned.

'Your cloak?' Fleur seemed oddly puzzled at the reference. 'It can hide your magic, can't it,' she mused. 'I suppose that does make it worth looking at it.'

'It's the cloak,' Harry said, sure he must have told her before.

Fleur's head snapped round so fast he was afraid she might have broken her neck.

Evidently I haven't told her, he realised.

'You mean you've had one of the Deathly Hallows since you were eleven,' she shook her head in disbelief. 'Are you sure?'

'It has the mark on it,' Harry nodded. 'Salazar was certain.'

'So there is some credence to your Peverell theory,' she murmured. 'The Peverells married into the Potter family, and that cloak is an heirloom.'

'Of course there's credence,' Harry objected. 'Did you think I was just grasping at straws?' Fleur's slightly guilty face was all the confession he needed. 'So little faith,' he sighed playfully. Really he only had himself to blame when the best proof of his theory was the cloak he had somehow forgotten to tell her about.

'Train,' Fleur reminded him. The platform was emptying; there was only a few seconds left until it departed.

'I'm going.' Harry stepped up onto the edge of the door, then bent down to kiss her firmly, unable to resist the wonderfully clichéd image in his head. She laughed softly when he pulled away, stepping back at the sound of the whistle to gently wave goodbye, and then disappear silently back to the Meadow.

Harry noticed her absence immediately.

For the first time in several months Fleur was simply not nearby, and not returning to his side soon. It felt horribly wrong. The excitement Harry had used to feel about returning to Hogwarts had been replaced by a welter of anxiety, fear, and regret.

It feels like home to begin with, a new world, a place where you belong, then that world turns out to be no better than what you thought you'd left behind. You'll see that soon enough, if you haven't already.

He wasn't quite sure what had made him recall Voldemort's words about Hogwarts in the graveyard, but they were eerily accurate. The days of longing for the summer to end so he could return to Hogwarts, to his friends, and his world, were far behind him. It was almost a shame, he did miss the innocence, and the naivety in a way. The times he had spent blind running around, acting the hero, and saving the day had been some of the best, before he had seen the truth that tainted those times, and given them up to be powerful enough to really save the ones who mattered. Few as they had become.

The train lurched forwards out of the platform, gathering speed to begin its overly long journey to Hogsmeade.

It would have been so much easier to apparate.

Harry would have had longer with Fleur before leaving, and he wouldn't have to sit on a train for ages with nothing to do.

It can't be helped, it's the best way to ensure that Katie and Neville safely make it to Hogwarts.

He began to make his way swiftly up the train, casting his disillusionment charm, and glancing into every compartment he passed.

Harry found Neville only a little further along the train, on the edge of the compartments that the sixth years normally chose, and accompanied by Hannah, Susan Bones, Ron, and Ginny.

Entering after a moment of deliberation, neither of the two Weasleys had been anything but polite when they had run into he and Fleur in Diagon Alley, he slid into the only spare seat in the compartment.

'Harry,' Neville grinned, 'good timing.'

'Hermione just left to go to the prefect's carriage,' Hannah explained.

'Ron has decided not to go,' Neville added, 'despite claiming to be taking his responsibilities and education more seriously this year.'

'Nobody does anything in the meeting except ignore Malfoy mouthing off, and introduce themselves to the new prefects in their year. I already know everyone in the year below because of Ginny, and I have better things to do other than listen to Malfoy.' Ron's justification was shockingly logical, and, more surprisingly, was made over the top of their Defence textbook for the year.

It took a moment for the true depth of his maturation to sink in, and Harry was briefly lost for words.

'Hermione didn't approve,' Neville chuckled. 'She said, and I quote, you have a responsibility to set a good precedent as a person in a position of influence and authority, and then she stalked off.'

The girl did have a point. Harry had to concede that, but Ron was probably right in thinking reading his textbooks before the year began was a better use of his time.

'She's been like that all summer,' Ron grumbled quietly. 'I told her I was going to take things more seriously now when I started actually studying and practicing proper, useful magic, and she took it as an excuse to try and force quotes from muggle philosophers down my throat.'

'Which ones?' Hannah asked curiously.

'All of them,' Ron sighed, 'literally every single one. If I hear one more line from Gandhi I'll set fire to the library at Headquarters.'

'Which line?' Harry was genuinely interested, knowing only a handful of the many sayings of the Indian pacifist.

'A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies, and became the ransom of the world. It was a perfect act.' Ron's tone indicated he believed it, even if he was sick of hearing it, but Harry had his suspicions as to the source of her quote.

'Why was she quoting Gandhi?'

Ron seemed reluctant to answer at first, then he closed his book and set it down on his lap. 'She was trying to explain to me why I shouldn't regret my father's death as anything more than a terrible loss, because he died doing a good thing. Dumbledore told her the quote, I believe, and you know Hermione, she's not always the most tactful, so she tried to borrow the headmaster's words to help her.'

'Sorry,' Harry apologised for prying.

'It's not your fault,' Ron shrugged awkwardly. The red head looked away out the window. All the animosity that had flared up between them two years ago had faded, but they would never be friends again; they'd grown too different.

'So how's Fleur?' Neville asked, breaking the silence. 'Everyone will know about the two of you now, Katie and I will have to protect both of you from Romilda Vane and the others.'

'She's well,' Harry answered. It felt strange to talk about Fleur so openly when he'd spent so long keeping them a secret. 'Spends most of her time playing with her enchantments, making new, clever things, and eating sweets,' he finished with a grin.

'That's good,' Hannah smiled, pigtails bobbing. Susan shifted slightly on her seat, looking confused until Hannah shook her head and mouthed something that looked a lot like he doesn't know at her.

What don't I know? Harry wondered.

Neither of the two girls would know anything about Fleur, so he had nothing to fear there, but he didn't like being in the dark, not after discovering he'd spent the first fourteen years of his life there.

'How long have you been together?' Susan asked curiously, and, Harry suspected, out of courtesy, since he was sure Hannah would tell her everything she knew now it was no longer a secret.

'Since the end of fourth year,' Harry grinned.

'Wasn't she in France?' It was Ron who asked, looking serious.

'I can apparate,' Harry said simply.

'That's a long way,' Ron responded, almost in admiration. 'Mum was wrong,' he added under his breath.

'Yes she was,' Harry agreed. 'I didn't run away to play with pretentious veela, just to live with my girlfriend of a year instead of my relatives.'

'Sorry,' Ron looked mortified that Harry had overheard his mother's comment, though not particularly surprised. Mrs Weasley was not the quietest person they knew.

'I'm used to people saying things about me without knowing what's actually happening,' Harry dismissed. Ron flinched slightly at the reminder, but nodded.

'It's a good thing Dumbledore told her not to interfere,' he revealed. 'Mum was all for dragging you back to Headquarters with us, and separating the two of you permanently.'

A very good thing, Harry agreed.

Mrs Weasley would not have liked the consequences of trying to separate him from Fleur.

'Took us two days to cheer Bill back up after that,' Ron continued, slightly more lightly, 'he was very taken with Fleur. In the end Mum was almost grateful you had got her first.'

'I'm sure he was,' Harry replied evenly, 'she's hard to ignore.'

'Well,' Neville cut in, grinning gleefully, 'credit should go where it's due. It wasn't Harry that asked Fleur to the Yule Ball, someone, who will remain nameless, provoked him into causing that. Your Mum should be thanking you, Ron.'

Ron didn't seem particularly enthused by that; he flushed crimson in embarrassment instead. Clearly that memory was one he would rather not remember. Harry couldn't blame him, neither he nor Ron had been acting maturely at the start of that year, and there were plenty of moments when remembering his actions made him cringe.

A confident knock at the door drew their attention back to the present, and away from Ron's unfortunate role in creating Harry's relationship with Fleur.

'Here's trouble,' Neville cackled, earning himself a swat from Hannah. 'Someone hide Harry, and nobody eat or drink anything she gives him.'

'Hi Harry,' the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl smiled. 'I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane, it's so nice to finally meet you.'

'Hi,' Harry replied eloquently, accepting the slim slip of ribbon bound paper she proffered towards him. He did his best to avoid both Neville's eyes, and the dangerously low neckline of Romilda's blouse which was only emphasised by the way she was leaning forwards to give him the note.

'Thanks Romilda,' Neville said, taking the note she carelessly passed in his direction. The girl didn't spare him a glance, her eyes remained fixed on Harry as he unwrapped the ribbon to read the missive.

'Dear Harry,' he read aloud, 'I hope you would do me the honour of joining me for luncheon in compartment C, Professor H J Slughorn.'

'He must be the new professor,' Neville deduced.

'He's a potions teacher,' Ron remarked from the corner, dragging his eyes away from the lingering Romilda's cleavage to look at Harry. 'Snape's teaching Defence,' he shook his book pointedly, 'that's why I'm reading, the git isn't going to grade any of us fairly, he'll probably teach us everything wrong to soften us up for Voldemort.'

Susan twitched, and Romilda let out a little gasp of shock, something that Harry was certain was fake from the way she also sidled close enough to let her legs brush against his. Her skirt, he realised, was incredibly short.

'I guess we'd better go, Nev,' Harry decided standing up to put a little distance between him and Romilda. Ron looked faintly amused at his capitulation from behind his book, and Susan and Hannah were stifling giggles at his expense.

'Did you know veela can throw fire hot enough to melt steel,' Neville commented innocently as they made to leave.

'No,' Romilda looked confused, pausing for just long enough for Harry to slip past her.

'Food for thought,' Neville grinned, following Harry out of their compartment towards Slughorn's impromptu luncheon.

Compartment C was filled with the most unusual combination of students Harry had ever witnessed in one place, and, presiding over the whole affair, was the wizard he presumed to be Professor Slughorn.

Harry did not judge by appearance; malice and danger could hide behind the sweetest simper, or the most innocent titter, but Horace Slughorn didn't seem overly dangerous.

The man's love of the finer things was evident from his first glance about the room: his clothes were tasteful, not overstated, but clearly of very fine make, the food so casually arranged across the table would have reduced Petunia to tears at her own inadequacy, and the small, approving smile, barely visible beneath his impressive silver moustache, spoke of a quiet satisfaction with his comfortable surroundings.

He stood at the centre of gaggle of students, caught up in three conversations at the time, as each waited on his word, and approval, as he directed aperitifs, and small glasses of elven wine, to the closer students about him. All the while his belly protruded like the abdomen of gorged spider, swelling so massive as to strain the brass buttons of his elegant waistcoat.

His light, pale green eyes lit up when he caught sight of Neville, but a shadow passed across his face when he met Harry's eyes.

'Everyone is here,' he announced, 'take a seat, take seat,' he instructed jovially, casually ushering students to places around the table until Harry found himself sitting at the wizard's left hand, staring across the table Blaise Zabini, and Neville, both of whom were doing their utmost to ignore their closest company.

'Help yourselves,' the pudgy professor encouraged, pouring Harry a generous measure of elven wine, before passing the decanter down the table. 'There's no need to stand on ceremony at my informal little gatherings.'

Harry picked delicately at the pheasant in front of him, carefully removing the wings and legs with deliberate, almost surgical precision as he subtly listened to Slughorn's best attempts to converse with the Carrow twins, who were renowned for not being the most social.

'I heard that you were a professor here once before, sir,' Flora eventually asked, just as Slughorn was beginning to look like he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

'I was, this is my second tenure, Albus finally managed to tempt me back,' he chuckled loudly. 'He's been trying for years, of course, and I finally let him have his way. My retirement was growing a little too repetitive for my liking, and I couldn't resist his most generous offer.'

The conversation ebbed and flowed back about the table, but Harry couldn't help but notice that there were a handful of students Professor Slughorn made no effort to include, ones, he realised, who were not quite so talented, or well connected as their fellows.

Melinda Bobbins captured his attention for almost ten minutes, waxing eloquent about the apothecaries of her family, as Slughorn gently extracted everything the girl knew about her parents business over thinly sliced celery, red grapes, and an Italian, blue cheese.

Then it was his turn.

'Harry,' the gooseberry green eyes were ever so slightly wary when they came to rest on him, 'how could I not invite you to our little gathering?'

Zabini and Mclaggen sneered from the other side of the table, but they both fell quiet when Harry glanced up at them.

'It's a pleasure to be here, sir,' he offered politely.

'Indeed, my boy, indeed,' Slughorn nodded, all three chins bobbing together. 'When Dumbledore told me he had a student that might remind me of an old favourite of mine I didn't believe him, but now I've seen you I can't deny the resemblance. Lily Potter, your mother, was one of my best students when I last taught at Hogwarts; I have some photos of our old gatherings that I simply must show you.'

'That would be very kind of you,' Harry smiled.

Slughorn's eyes shadowed at the expression, recognising, just as Dumbledore had once done, the same false smile he had adopted from his distant, and reviled relation. Harry had little doubt in that instant that the favourite he had been compared to had not been Lily Potter.

'You have the same eyes, and smile,' Slughorn told him, smiling back, but the practiced warmth of his tone faltered slightly.

'Thank you.' This time Harry made sure to pull the same roguish grin he had often seen Sirius wear over his lips. The relief on the professor's face was almost obvious, and Harry made a mental note to be careful to act innocently around the old professor until he had gained the wizard's confidence.

The burgundy red liquid in his glass rippled gently as the train began to slow, and Harry realised they must be arriving at Hogsmeade. He'd spent far longer here than he had realised or wanted to, though he had learnt some interesting things about their new teacher.

'Harry,' the professor caught him as he attempted to leave with the others, passing him a thin, leather-bound book. 'I thought you might appreciate this when I came across while packing to move into the castle; it's the handful of photos from my little gatherings which have your mother in.'

'Thank you,' Harry replied, earnest despite knowing Slughorn's motivations for cultivating a good rapport between them. 'I don't know how I could ever repay you for something like this.'

'Harry, my boy,' the professor clapped him on the shoulder with a pudgy hand, 'you don't repay someone for a gift, but if you insist on reciprocating the favour, then I'll let you know that I'm quite fond of crystallised fruit.'

The professor blinked, suddenly sober, then shook his head slightly and smiled again. 'Ambrosius sends me little packages from time to time, he owns Honeydukes now you know, but is still kind enough to remember an old mentor. However one can never have too many sweets, just ask Albus, Professor Dumbledore, I mean,' he corrected himself easily. 'Now you;d better hurry and change, can't have you coming into school looking so casual, can we, Harry?'

'It wouldn't set a good precedent,' Harry agreed lightly. 'If I find something I'll be sure to remember you, sir,' Harry said by way of farewell, sliding out from under the new Potions teacher's arm and hurrying back towards his compartment hoping to catch Neville before they reached Hogsmeade.

The compartment was full when he returned; Hermione had made her way back from the prefect's carriage, and was busy trying to fill Ron in on what he missed over the top of his book. The odd role reversal made Harry chuckle, as Neville swept a surprised but not very reluctant Hannah into his lap to make room for him.

'Hermione,' he dipped his head politely when she noticed him.

'Harry,' she returned coolly, eyeing him cautiously. 'You need to get changed,' she instructed, relaxing slightly.

A casual, silent, swish of his wand and he was dressed in his school robes like all the others, much to Neville's chagrin. He'd had to change in front of everyone.

'What did you think of our new Professor?' He asked Neville.

'He didn't seem to think too much of me and a few others,' Neville remarked, 'but he was quite taken with some of the students, those with powerful, rich parents, or who were particularly talented.'

'He enjoys his little circle of friends and the favours they do for him,' Harry agreed. 'I think he'll be a better teacher than Snape, though, and I can take a potions NEWT with him here.'

'What did you get in your OWLs?' Hermione inquired with scarcely restrained force.

'Os mostly,' Harry shrugged, 'got an E in potions and Herbology though, and only an A in Astronomy and a History of Magic.'

'She got straight Os,' Ron announced from behind his book, stealing her thunder spectacularly. 'Wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.'

Hermione shot Ron a scathing look, but was unable to keep the smile off her face at outdoing him. Harry didn't particularly mind that she thought she was better at him at something like Astronomy or History of Magic, Hermione would be right, but he didn't want her getting too carried away.

'Dumbledore asked me to replace him in helping Professor Mcgonagall with her research,' he said calmly, 'so I must have done well at the Transfiguration.'

'You conjured and transfigured a giant raven,' Neville deadpanned.

'That raven was you!' Susan burst out angrily. 'It took the examiners half an hour to get my wand back from the blasted bird, I was so nervous I thought I was going to be sick, or faint, or both.'

'They could have just vanished it,' Harry shrugged, unrepentant. 'Dumbledore said the examiner s were to blame for not being able to bring themselves to get rid of my raven when they were supposed to.'

'You sabotaged half of the students in our year,' Hermione summarised succinctly.

'Not intentionally,' Harry rolled his eyes. She didn't look convinced.

'Have you seen Katie?' Harry asked, changing the subject.

Hannah and Susan exchanged a glance, but shook their heads, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione just shrugged and Harry knew Neville wouldn't have seen her since he had been with him from the start of the journey.

Paranoia stabbed at him.

'I'm sure she's fine,' Neville assured him.

'She's probably chattering about quidditch somewhere,' Ginny added optimistically.

'We'll find her at the feast,' Neville promised.

The train ground to a slow halt next to Hogsmeade's platform, and Harry took advantage of his ability to apparate, vanishing with a soft snap when everyone else was looking the other way to appear on the far side of the platform by the Thestral led carriages.

The two nearest skeletal, winged horses snorted, and sniffed at his hands pulling the carriage closer to nuzzle at his right wrist with cold noses. Their wide, dark, staring eyes gazed up at him with soft approval that was ever so slightly unsettling as he waited for Katie.

A handful of students drifted past him, relieving him of his spectral company, and he spied, among a group of giggling, eager looking girls, Romilda Vane, whose school robes were only slightly less scandalous than her own.

Does she not know how to do buttons? Harry wondered, calmly averting his eyes to search for Katie.

'Waiting for someone, Harry,' Romilda inquired hopefully, batting her eyelashes.

'Yes,' Katie bounced over, looking particularly vindictive, 'me. Scram little girlies.'

Romilda scowled, looking Katie up and down disdainfully, but stalked away, her gang of girls in tow.

'Check everything you eat or drink,' she advised, watching Romilda's dark hair recede into the distance. 'In fact, check it, and then let me check it too. I doubt you know as much about love potions as I do.'

Harry raised an eyebrow, trying desperately to ignore the trickle of ice making its way down his spine at the thought of who Katie might have learnt about love potions for.

'Not like that,' she flushed, practically dragging him into the nearest carriage.

'Not waiting for Neville?' Harry asked.

'Do you want to find out how many more girls there are like Romilda?' She countered. 'She's not even the worst either,' Katie continued. 'Romilda, along with several others thinks you're attractive, and you're famous too; there are a handful of girls who read that article about our relationship and took a much keener interest in you.'

Harry turned slightly green. That article had implied some very interesting things about his sex life. He didn't want to be anything close to alone with any of those witches.

'Good idea,' he agreed, as the carriage began to move up towards the castle.

'I knew you'd see it my way,' Katie beamed, patting him cheerfully on the cheek with one warm hand.

'So how have you been?' Harry asked.

'Well enough,' she shrugged, moving her shoulder against his. He realised then that she was sitting very close to him on the same side of the carriage when there was plenty of space on other side. The sinking feeling returned in full force; it was starting to look like Fleur might have been right.

There are other explanations, he decided, putting it from his mind.

'I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to say much more than hello when we last came to Diagon Alley, but we were ambushed by Weasleys.'

'I saw,' Katie smirked. 'It was quite funny really.'

'I think Bill was probably waiting for his chance to catch Fleur alone for a while,' he grinned, 'thanks for setting me up to sabotage him so spectacularly.'

'Any time,' Katie smiled, but it seemed slightly strained.

The reached the doors to the Great Hall before either of them said another word.

'So what's this year?' Katie asked lightly, taking a seat beside him. 'Any death defying stunts you'd like to get out the way before I have to take my NEWTs?'

'Nothing I know of yet,' Harry smirked, 'but they tend to just spring up unplanned.'

The rest of the students filed in, and the sorting began with the customary song, but Harry wasn't really paying attention to the new students. His attention was fixed upon the more noticeable gaps along the tables. Ron's left hand side, normally reserved for Dean Thomas, was empty, and he was not the only muggleborn student to be missing. A scatter of them had vanished, though, to his slight disappointment, the Creeveys remained.

Perhaps they were among the more intelligent, Harry decided grudgingly.

Hogwarts had some of the strongest wards in Britain.

Across the hall on the Slytherin table the bright blonde heads of the Greengrass sisters were gone; their whole family fled to Scandinavia to avoid the coming war, and among the older students Harry glimpsed the harder, colder eyes of those who had seen the war in earnest.

Malfoy caught his roving gaze, his grey eyes glinted with tired malice, flicking to the empty seat next to him and back to Harry in clear message. Theodore Nott's absence had not gone unnoticed, and someone had deduced that he was responsible, likely Voldemort, who had seen him cast and control fiendfyre more than once.

'Did I tell you that I'm quidditch captain?' Katie gushed suddenly, interrupting his staring contest with Malfoy.

'No,' Harry grinned, 'congratulations, have you planned to buy a new broom yet?'

'I already have a professional grade one,' Katie responded innocently, 'it was a present from a friend.'

'I think it was lent to you by a friend,' Harry corrected.

'He never specified for how long I was able to keep it,' Katie beamed triumphantly.

'No I didn't,' he realised with an amused smile. Some of his cunning was starting to rub off on her it seemed, something that would not doubt horrify the younger students she had terrorised previously.

'It's mine then,' she decided.

'Until I ask for it back,' Harry reminded her.

'You decided not to play anymore,' she pouted.

'I was banned for life,' Harry corrected.

'Same thing,' Katie dismissed in a whisper as Dumbledore began his welcome speech.

'Not quite,' Harry laughed quietly.

Down the table Ron was staring impatiently at his plate, half-listening to Seamus, and Hermione, Harry frowned, catching her eye. Hermione was staring at him with the same expression she normally reserved for her arithmancy homework.

Whatever the headmaster had been saying was lost under the clatter of cutlery as the feast and the new year began, but Harry did notice, as the ancient professor returned to his seat, that Sirius had been entirely correct. Dumbledore's choice of oddly patterned, bright, wool gloves left a great deal to be desired.

Beside him, Katie's goblet clattered onto the table, rolling past the empty places next to her where Angelina and Alicia had almost always been, and over the edge to the floor.

So like last year, Harry mused, ignoring the sharp, blue eyes that were observing him from afar. So like last year, but not.

He summoned the goblet back to him wandlessly, catching it by the stem as it floated towards his outstretched hand. Blue eyes crinkled softly in the corner of Harry's own, twinkling at the obvious demonstration of his magical prowess, then turning to offer some remark to the dark clad figure of Snape. The Death Eater, spy or not, was staring down at his plate in disconsolation, though whether that was to do with Dumbledore's comment, or the pile of celeriac that the Headmaster had inflicted upon him was unclear.

AN: Please read and review, thanks to all those who have, and do! Since nobody mentioned the glove reference in any of the reviews for the last chapter I decided to make it blindingly obvious.

Update: Turns out most people noticed the gloves, but nobody mentioned it, so I've smoothed out the more blatant reference into something less jarring.