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So far... The reborn Hermione launched the Cathesis League to fight Dark corruption, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she'll soon begin her third year. But in the summer, Olive has been adopted by the Weasleys, Harry has been grounded by Sirius, and Hermione recklessly promised a master duellist to teach the Slytherin recruits to Crest. Now read on...

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Chapter 70

Party Is Such Sweet Sorrow


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Bitten

CRASH! – BUMP! – SMASH! Fearlessly, Captain 'Death-On-Legs' Potter led his squadron through the hordes of black-masked Arcanists, spraying curses left and right with his wand to carve an uphill path for his faithful followers!

BANG! "Harry! Guess what!"

"Wha...?" Harry wriggled a tangled arm out from his bedclothes and managed to rub the sleep from one bleary eye. "Ron? What you doing here?"

"Doing here? It's nearly ten! We've all come! Listen–"

"–Ten! But my party's not till this afternoon!" Harry stretched out for his glasses then squinted at the annoying confirmation of the time on the face of his alarm clock.

Ron cried, "Didn't you get my owl? Dad's–"

"–Happy birthday, Harry!" Ginny and Luna squealed as they entered the bedroom, followed closely by Hermione and Neville.

"Mr Weasley's won the Galleon Draw – told you he would!" shouted Hermione, squirting a little water into Harry's face with her wand.

"Ow! Gerroff!" Harry wiped a palm across his cheeks. "I'm awake – alright?"

"I'd have thought you'd be out and about early on your thirteenth! I was," laughed Neville.

"Lucky you, not much point me..." He glanced guiltily in Hermione's direction then pulled himself up to a sitting position, and turned the little clock down on its face. "Not much point left on my alarm hand so I didn't set it last night."

It was half-true; the alarm clock setting hand was rather wonky after he'd thrown it across the room yesterday, but Hermione didn't know that, so perhaps she might not have noticed his awkward grumpiness. He heard Luna pretending to look in her bag while quietly reminding Neville that Harry was not allowed to be 'out and about' since he was confined to his home, and there was a short lapse into silence.

Harry made an effort at brightness. "Still, great day for us teenagers, eh!" He threw his pillow at Ginny to tease her about not even being twelve until August.

Quick as a flash, Luna threw her bag at the floppy missile, but not before the redheaded girl's wand blasted the pillow into a spray of feathers.

"Old and slow, Harry – that's you!" smirked Ginny. "Luna and me, we still have the reflexes of young Kneazles in a Pepper-Up parlour." She clawed her fingers through the air and snarled back at Harry, who laughed – and was promptly showered with gifts which he excitedly began to rip open.

As he progressed, Ginny ran around gathering up torn wrapping paper, string, ribbon, and pieces of colourful Spellotape, while beaming at Harry's changing expressions: surprise – delight – puzzlement.

"Wow! Thanks, Nev, that's... uuh... what exactly is that?" He held up a wooden contraption with brass and leather rollers as long as his arm.

"Those are mostly for show," explained Neville, "They do rotate but it's the charm that does the work."

"Does the...?"

"Oh, Harry, it's a wand polisher, of course!" cried Hermione.

Ron grinned. "Yeah, for polishing–"

"–my... wand." Harry's face fell. "Mmm... thanks Neville, I really like erm..."

"Give it a go, then!" cried Ginny.

"Yeah, later, when I uumm... when I'm dressed."

Luna, who was still crawling about picking up the spillage from the bag she'd thrown, giggled up at him. "You don't need clothes for it to work, Harry! You just apply the wand polish, then" – Neville cut in, "it goes a bit dark at first so don't put too much on" – "then," continued Luna, "put the wand between the rollers and leave it spinning till it brightens up wonderfully."

"Sounds like you've already tried the–"

"–Where's your wand, Harry?" snapped Hermione. She was not smiling.

Harry's shoulders slumped, and when he answered, it was in a very small voice indeed. "Dad confiscated it for the summer."

Sharp intakes of breath were heard all round.

"And he's added an asp hex to the front door – didn't you notice? Seems he doesn't trust me."

"The hex must be on the hasp, you mean. Doors have hasps not asps." But after finally appreciating how glum was his expression, Hermione's bossy tone relented to one as subdued as his own. "Oh, Harry..."

"Hey, no worries, listen," said Ron, recalling his owled message and why he'd come early, "Dad's treating us all to a long holiday in Egypt with Bill – you know he's a curse-breaker there for Gringotts? Imagine racing low over miles of sand dunes on a broomstick, Harry!"

Ginny squee'd with delight at the reminder. "Hermione, you've got to–"

–Hermione's eyes had widened, and she was pointing towards her, as-yet-unopened gift for Harry. "Which reminds–"

"–All of us, Ron? We're all going to Egypt?" Harry said hopefully.

"Hermione!" Ginny shook her arm to steal attention. "Show me that hair lightener charm again – like Lav's! I want it for a different look over the sands."

"Well, all us Weasleys, I meant," Ron replied to Harry. His grin turned rather sickly as he ended.

Hermione diverted herself from the awkwardness by showing Ginny the hair charm variation she'd asked for.

Harry watched them while he struggled to hide his inner disappointment, then took a deep breath and stood up, speaking in an oddly pitched voice, "That's great, Ron! Honestly, if anyone deserves to win the Prize Draw – well, I'm happy for all of you. Olive as well?"

"Of course! She's a Weasley ain't she!" He slapped Harry lightly on the back, pleased to see Harry responding to the excitement he himself felt. "Olive's downstairs, helping your mum in the kitchen with the party preparations – I think it was just an excuse not to... well, uumm... you know what's she's like, didn't want to er... be with a boy in his erm... pyjamas."

"Ginny, you look like me now!" cried Luna. They both ruffled their fair hair and giggled together.

Harry nodded at Ron, and his smile was not too forced as he pulled on a shirt. "Sorry, Hermione, what were you saying?"

"Oh, erm..." She forced a rueful smile full of too many teeth and pointed at a very small boxy parcel tied up with a ribbon of Gryffindor colours. As Harry's attention fell upon it, the parcel expanded slightly.

"You'll never guess," said Hermione in a funny sing-song as if she'd rehearsed but now regretted it.

"A square balloon?" smiled Harry, leaving his last shirt button to grab eagerly for the package. It expanded a little more and he almost dropped it. "What in the name of Merlin's poodle is it?" The parcel pressed out further against his hands.

"Attention charm-releasing jinx – Hermione begged it off George," said Ron. "The more interest you show in it, the more the reduction charm is weakened until it–"

POP! The parcel pushed out sideways over four feet, revealing its true shape.

"Is that a...!" Harry ripped energetically at the enormous wrappings and tangles of ribbon which he pushed blindly onto Ginny's waiting arms. "It's a broomstick!" he cried.

"Not just any broomstick, Harry!" said Ron. "That's a Nimbus Two-thousand and ONE! The absolute best! Only came out last year!"

"Thought it'd help you in Wood's try-outs," smiled Hermione.

There was heavy rustle of paper as Ginny dropped all the wrapping paper she'd gathered. Her lower jaw fell with it. A swish of a wand later and her hair became its normal fiery red once more.

"What did I say?" said Hermione.

"Well, don't you remember? ... In the common room?" said Neville, adding, when he saw Hermione's puzzled expression, "Ginny's the new Seeker – as good as, anyway."

"Oh, I... I was sat outside the group," Hermione said mournfully. "Because of Professor McGonagall's ban on me having any kind of erm... obvious contact with Harry... I only heard a small part of–" She jumped up to chase after Ginny, who was stomping away, and fired a locking charm on the door ahead of them. "Ginny! Wait! This is all... no, listen," – she had to think quickly – "I made it all up because of YOUR surprise!"

"My what?" snapped Ginny, whirling around, her face flushed.

"I didn't want to spoil your birthday, did I?"

Ron called out, "What you on about, Hermione?"

"A Firebolt, Ginny. I got you a Firebolt!" Hermione's hopeful smile faded as she noticed everyone's silence.

"A what?" said Ginny.

Hermione's spirits sank. "The newest, fastest broomstick ever made?" She looked around at everyone's blank faces. "Nought to one hundred and fifty miles per hour in ten seconds?... Unbreakable Braking Charm? Erm... what year is this?" She looked down at her watch to check the exact date.

"Impossible. There is no such broomstick," said Ron. "What are you up to, Hermione?"

Hermione was performing some quick mental arithmetic and memory searching. "Want to bet on that? Anyone?" More confident now, her eyes were brightening and sweeping around the faces before her. "Five Galleons says that Ginny's broomstick is the speediest in the world and only waiting to be wrapped up and given to her. Those Slytherins don't stand a chance next year against a world-class broom!"

Ginny's shriek almost brought down ceiling plaster, and she flung herself at Hermione, gripping her in a big hug. "World class? You mean it? You really mean it?"

"Of course I mean it!"

"Hear that, Ron! I'll be fastest in the world!" cried Ginny.

"Let's see it then," said Ron. His face was quite serious.

"You don't believe me?" said Hermione.

"Of course we believe you," said Ron in a don't-believe-you kind of voice. "We just want to see this uuh... Flybolt. After all, the kneazle's out of the bag now. You won't be spoiling my sister's birthday, will you?" His face darkened. "Will you?"

Ginny's eyes widened and she stared at her brother in astonishment. Now he had an extra sibling that he idolised, perhaps he'd begun to more appreciate sisters in general.

Hermione sniffed in exaggerated disdain. "Course not. Right, I'll erm... I'll just fetch it then." She turned and unlocked the door with another spell. "Back in a jiffy..."

The remaining children listened solemnly to Hermione's footsteps as she lightly sprinted down to the hall.

"Don't forget the asp hex on the front door!" Harry shouted after her.

Moments later came a scream all the way from below, followed by an ear-piercing klaxon and a roar of laughter from Sirius.

"She forgot the asp hex," nodded Harry, showing everyone the days-old itchy bite mark on his thumb.

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Sweet Surprise

It wouldn't do for an apparently-underaged witch to Apparate into the midst of Diagon Alley – especially not on a busy Saturday morning during school holidays. Invisible, Hermione peered down from the rooftops, sucking a painful thumb and finger. If she didn't already know, it would have been obvious which shop was Quality Quidditch Supplies because of the heavy throng of people elbowing each other to squirm as near as they might to look at the display in the shop's window. With a sigh, Hermione realised she'd never get inside before lunchtime on this first launch day – not the normal way.

After another vain attempt to counter the tricky hex that was stinging two adjacent knuckles, she silently descended through the tiles, passed immaterially through an attic stacked with eager broomsticks and other Quidditch bric-a-brac, watched several Golden Snitches stretching their wings in the room below, and finally alighted in the shop proper where she floated down between a tall glass cabinet bulging with racing saddles, and a barrel-chested wizard ordering streamlined storm cloaks:

"The thickest, mind you, and with the double-fastening charms!"

The shopkeeper signalled to his assistant to fetch them. "Certainly, sir, all our Quidditch gear is made to the highest standards."

"Including the Firebolt?"

The hubbub faded away as all eyes jealously turned to the little girl nobody had noticed before so close to the counter.

"I beg your pardon?" said the shopkeeper.

"The Firebolt – I'd like one," said Hermione, spilling a few Galleons from her bag onto the counter top.

"Child, the Firebolt is extremely expensive... though I can... take your order," added the man, whose greedy eyes had begun mentally counting more and more shining gold pieces trickling from the beaded bag, "but it will be several days before the first consignment arrives."

"You have one in your window! I'll take that," Hermione said flatly.

"That's a prototype for display purposes only."

"It doesn't fly?" Hermione was wishing she hadn't been so impulsive as to promise Ginny.

"Of course it flies. The prototype is actually slightly faster than the production version which has had to be throttled back two percent because ... BECAUSE THE MINISTRY THINKS HUMANS CAN NEVER, EVER TRAVEL SAFELY AT OVER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES AN HOUR!" The shop assistant had raised his voice so loudly towards the end, even the onlookers in the street could hear him. "REGULATIONS – P'AH!" finished the man irritably. "Unfair on my customers and me! I pride myself on–"

"–My cloaks?" growled the big customer.

"Here we are, sir," piped up the young assistant who had just tottered downstairs with a parcel taller and broader than himself.

Hermione took the opportunity to slip away behind him and vanished up those same steps. She thought carefully before choosing a broomstick – a newer model from only last year might be easier to transfigure. She stared at the vast range before her.

"UP!" cried Hermione. About three hundred broomsticks leapt into the air, jostling to be nearest and causing quite a rumble and a clatter. "Shush!" she whispered, then scanned the ones that looked like Two-thousand-and-ones. "You'll do!" She nodded approvingly at an especially enthusiastic one, and with a few swishes gave it a completely new appearance.

Five minutes later, last year's Nimbus, now looking exactly like the unsellable prototype Firebolt, was preening itself in the shop window, and Hermione was many miles away, cautiously tapping the snake-shaped knocker on the door of twelve Grimmauld Place, a long, brown-paper package under her arm.

But from further along the street came a shout, "It IS her! HEY!"

The package fell and Hermione dropped into a spin with it, wand aimed in the direction of the shout. "Parvati? Padma? What are you doing here?" Hermione put away her wand.

For a few moments the Patil twins just gaped and cringed. Eventually, Parvati straightened up and said, "Wow, Hermione... you sure practise what you preach!"

Hermione smiled. "Did you think 'Constant Vigilance' was something we just made up for the training sessions?" She turned her attention to Parvati's sister. "Sorry, Padma, didn't mean to startle everyone. How are you?"

"I'm okay, I guess, all things considered." Padma held up a small gift-wrapped package; her smile was weak. "Dad told us Harry's birth date, and we knew the house must be near where I was found, but I hardly remember any of that. We've been walking round and round for the last ninety minutes. Is it this one? Thought we'd... and to... you know..."

Wondering what she meant by that final mumble, Hermione bent down to pick up her own parcel. Resolving not to overshadow or distract anyone's attention from Padma's gift with her own mighty offering to Ginny, she shrunk it and popped it into her bag for later – just as the front door opened.

Hestia's eyes widened at the sight of both Parvati and Padma; Hermione could tell she wasn't sure which was the girl she'd treated the night of Padma's rescue. She stepped out of the Fidelius charm so Parvati could see her, arms reaching out in welcome somewhere between the two of them. "Welcome. Is this your sister?" Her slight wince at the obvious foolishness of the question was also aimed at the space between the two. "Well, of course she is!"

"Yes, this is Parvati," said Padma, used to seeing the signs when a stranger wasn't sure which of them was which. They were not identical but close enough to cause confusion to strangers or even casual acquaintances.

"Pleased to meet you."

Hestia told Parvati the Blacks lived at twelve Grimmauld place, and her eyes bulged as the frontage opened out before her. After guiding them inside she gestured towards the front parlour. "We're all in here."

"Oh," said Padma, pausing on the threshold of the apparently-huge room, and seeing so many faces, "we didn't mean to intrude – to stop long, I mean." Her eyes alighted on Harry, now dressed but still struggling with the depression of being confined at home. "Hi, Harry! Mum was baking a treacle tart and Parvati happened to mention she'd seen you enjoying them – oh, and Dad said that's funny, it's your birthday today, so I..." She held out the package, then her expression changed.

"Oh, that's all a rubbish excuse!" she added with a cry, dropping the packet onto the arm of his chair and awkwardly grasping his outstretched hands. "I really came to thank you."

"Me?" blinked Harry. "What did I do?"

"We're sure you must have been involved in my rescue." She straightened up a little to switch questioning looks back and forth between Hestia and Sirius, her hands still clutching Harry's. "You didn't really find me wandering in the streets not far from the house of Harry Potter, did you? I mean... huge coincidence or what?"

"Uuh..." Sirius shook his head. "Can't really..."

"It was Ron Weasley here who rescued you, Padma," Hermione said flatly. "You deserve to know as much as we can tell you, but it must remain with you two and no further, alright? You're Crestors; we have to trust you."

Parvati and Padma looked at each other, trying to absorb this unexpected information. "We were sure... Ron, you said?"

At the sound of his name, Ron, whose ears had tinged red, was shrunk back a little on the sofa beside Olive; she had turned to look at him in wonder. The fact was, almost every pair of eyes in the room was staring at Ron in astonishment – especially those of his sister, Ginny, whose teacup rattled ominously in the saucer she held as she wondered just how well she really knew her growing-up brother.

Hermione continued quickly, spinning a tale as close as possible to the truth while limiting the details, "Ron received information that a potion had been used on you, Padma – the same potion that made him unnoticeable for months, and Olive here, for years. Only Ron had the experience and courage to save you. He fought and captured two Arcanists, and a third one who did not survive. He saved me too from certain death that night, bringing us all back here to be healed by Mrs Black. Honour him by keeping his secret."

Ginny's teacup crashed on the floor. Padma burst into tears and, dropping Harry's hands, she swivelled her arms towards Ron and lurched almost drunkenly towards him, begging the embarrassed boy with a gaze of virtual adoration. With a push from Olive, Ron rose to receive her in his arms. "Oh, well... you know... Hermione made me sound a lot cooler than I really was," Ron mumbled into Padma's long dark hair.

"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," smiled Hermione. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."

"But why?" asked Parvati, sinking down onto the nearest chair arm. "Why did they take my sister?"

Padma pulled back a little to look at Ron's face. "Did they...? You know...?"

Before the bewildered boy could respond, Parvati shook her head. "The healer at St. Mungo's said they didn't, Padma, you know that."

Ron's puzzlement showed for several more seconds, then his flush deepened even more. "Merlin, no! Uumm..." His features cleared. "Well, they couldn't, could they, once you'd taken the potion? Truth is they only took a erm... bit of... patch of skin to..."

"–One theory is to test for blood purity," Hermione cut in swiftly.

Ron nodded quickly. "Yeah, they're idiots. Everyone knows the Patils are Pure-bloods. The daft thing is, they forgot about you as soon as they'd used the unnoticeable potion on you."

Parvati frowned. "How did you remember, Ron?"

"Well, erm..."

"Bit by bit," said Hermione. "Now and again we felt someone was missing, didn't we, Ron?"

"Yeah..." said Ron, uncertainly.

"Then we started writing down notes and gradually worked out who it must be," continued Hermione. "Ron took some potion himself and then he knew. Well we found some clues that cannot be revealed publicly." She paused. "It was myself and Ron you see, I helped a bit but made a fool of myself early on and nearly got killed. It was Ron's bravery that saved us, truly it was."

Padma's eyes were still glistening. "I'll never, ever forget this, Ron. We all know the Weasleys are Gryffindors through and through, but this... what you did... well it exceeds anything one can imagine." She took a step back and sighed. "You deserve the medal, Ron, the medal."

Ron pulled a face. "Well, I wouldn't go th– I mean, not uumm..."

Eyes on her watch, Parvati stood up and beckoned. "Padma, we have to get home; Mum'll be worried. We took ages to find this place and... look, we'll see you all in September, yeah? And–"

Harry didn't hear the rest. As half the room followed them out into the hallway, and in the receding clamour of them being begged to remain for Harry's party and their insisting they had to leave, he picked up the squashed packet that Parvati had sat on, and straightened it out a little.

"It should still be okay," Olive said softly in the remaining quietness of the near-empty room. "Treacle tart is treacle tart after all."

"Yeah..." said Harry, looking as crushed as the gift he knew he didn't deserve. He looked morosely back at Olive, whose attention was now on admiring Ron just visible through the open doorway, but Harry's mind was on the new broomstick he couldn't fly, and the polisher for a wand he didn't have, and the endless openness of the Sahara that he would never enjoy. "I'm not even a proper wizard anymore..." he mumbled to himself.

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The Shine Off Things

But the afternoon went well. Harry rallied and joined in the fun. Much later, full of plumptitious food, and worn out by party games and tricks, the children flopped out on the garden lawn, happy and warmed by the late sunshine. So content, and so full, in fact, that even Ginny herself had half-forgotten Hermione's birthday promise – but not so, Ron.

"Why'd you say that, Hermione? – about Ginny getting an impossibly great broom for her birthday?" he grumbled as he gazed up at the blue sky. "Kind of took the shine off things."

"Is that what you think?" said Hermione. "This is Harry's day, and I didn't want it to get sidetracked.

"Yeah? So where's this–?" Ron stopped and turned his head. From out of her little beaded bag, Hermione was pulling a long, undisguisedly broomstick-shaped package.

"Merlin's–" Ron cursed. "I thought you were–"

"–Oh ye of little faith," smiled Hermione, getting to her feet to present the peace offering to his wide-eyed sister.

"Is this... really?" said Ginny.

"Really really," said Hermione.

Harry held the wrappings this time, and they all gathered round to admire the new broomstick.

"Registration No.000000..." Ginny goggled at the golden lettering as she ran her fingers over them to be sure she wasn't dreaming. Her gaze skipped around the copious garden then up into the sky. A sly smile crept onto her lips. "How high does the Fidelius charm reach, Harry?"

"Uumm... well, the house is three stories plus an attic, and I often climbed on the roof dressed in pirate costume.

Luna's tone was quite serious. "Harry, don't you think you should stop now you're a teen?"

The peels of laughter were swept away by Ginny's slipstream as she rocketed upwards.

"Wwwwoooooowwww!" gaped Ron. "You were right, Hermione!"

As Ginny swept back and forth, exploring the limits of the Fidelius, Harry's grin slowly faded away with his last hope of playing Quidditch for Gryffindor. Perhaps if–

"–How do owls get through?" Neville squinted up through the brightness as Ginny's trajectory was bent harmlessly around by the Fidelius. Harry explained she could fly only as high as chimney smoke in winter, and no further than the garden walls.

"Loophole," said Harry. "We have a loophole in the roof tiles. Quite big owls can get in."

"But you said the roof is below the limits of the Fidelius!"

Harry pulled a face. "The opening is an invisible enchantment, Neville; it's not physical."

Ginny spun about the sky for many more minutes, enjoying the freedom that Harry could not share. Finally she slowly and reluctantly descended. "Can't wait to really push her to the limit over the desert!"

As she alighted beside the others, she added, "Show me that spell again, Hermione. Can it be dark as well as fair? Egyptian girls have lovely long black hair; I want to blend in a bit."

"Of course," said Hermione. "It's just the degree of twist you put into the wand movement that varies the lightness, like so..."

Ginny's long tresses rapidly changed through dark brown, to blonde, and finally to black.

"And will it last all summer?"

"Weeks depending on how strongly you can cast the spell. It's not difficult with practice. Just repeat it when you need to – and you know how to use Finite to counter the charm back to your own natural colour."

Tiring of the girls' chatter, Neville lay down on the grass beside Luna, leaning over to gaze down at her face.

"Wouldst my princess favour a mere commoner with a birthday kiss?" he said. Hermione's eyes rolled up to the little white clouds drifting overhead.

Luna, her expression hidden in Neville's shadow, murmured, "Thou varlet! I didst hear tell of thy philandering with ladies many."

"They mean nothing but dull ashes to me in the radiance of thy beauty, oh fairest one."

"Oh, good grief," murmured Hermione.

"What are they on about?" said Harry, who had manoeuvred closer to Hermione despite feeling less worthy of her attention. In only a few months, he'd been excluded from the adventure through the Gates of Life, outclassed by Neville's valiant stand against Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall, effectively demoted to squib-in-a-bottle by loss of both wand and freedom, outflown by Ginny, and even Ron was modestly capturing Arcanists galore and saving lives left, right, and centre: Olive, Padma, Hermione, and probably a dozen others. In his mind's eye he saw the Order of Merlin, first class, glinting in the sunshine as it was bestowed on his best friend, while he, little Harry Potter, peeped through a window from a baby carriage being held firmly by Mummy and Daddy. Careful, darling, don't scratch yourself on the naughty splinters or–

"–Oh, nothing – we didn't want to spoil your birthday."

"What?" Harry sat up. The glare of the sun obscured his expression, but Hermione sensed both puzzlement and irritation in his tone.

"Neville's so-called philandering: it was just Daphne Greengrass and her sister – you know, the Slytherins that he and Luna will be training. Oh, and me; I was there," she added quickly, not wishing to be caught out later.

"I'm the leader of Crest! I thought I was training the Slyths? Well, erm... I mean, with Neville and Luna doing a bit as well of course."

"Uumm..."

Harry groaned. "Don't tell me I'm not even allowed to–"

"–They're sort of expecting a great Slytherin master. I'm hoping to bring in another teacher – you'll all be helping of course!"

"Hermione!" He straightened up and began tugging out tufts of grass, vainly flinging them mere inches into the slight breeze from where they simply drifted back into his eyes and mouth.

Harry's cry had attracted the attention of all the others whose chatter abruptly ceased to listen in.

"Who is it, Hermione?" growled Harry, spluttering and pulling fragments of grass out from between his lips. "It's Snape, isn't it?"

"No, it's not Snape. I've still got to arrange it. Still got to ask if..." She let out a long sigh. "I made a mess of it as usual. I've lost confidence I'll be able to persuade him – someone – to help." With a long moan of disappointment at her own folly, Hermione hugged her knees. "Then there's Nott. We need to be sure he's not a risk."

"Oh, I see, you think I need protecting from that... that..."

"Of course not, Harry. Don't forget Caractacus Blund; it took some skill and power for you to bring him down, or had you forgotten?"

"But not enough skill and power to teach the Slytherins? Anyway, I just got lucky with Blund."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. It's training and experience and magical ability. I keep telling you, they all come together in an instant. It often feels like luck but it isn't. Might as well say Ron just got lucky. He made mistakes but came through in the end. I get things wrong myself, don't you see? I can't see how to get a Slytherin Master to agree to teach for us, and I also need..."

"Need what? ... Need what, Hermione?"

"Nothing. Well yes – look it's complicated. I want to try to verify Nott is telling the truth. He wrote to his dad's boss at the Ministry to say his father's sick from an insect sting but he's covering up. It might be nothing but... well, I've got a theory but I'm going to... I've just got to get a hair off his head to prove–"

"–One hair! What's stopping you? You could do that in your sleep."

"No, Harry, while immaterial I can usually get around a warded entrance, but Nott's house is heavily protected on all sides. That shield can be broken, of course, but not without him knowing. So, unless he comes outside... well, I'm baffled how to get to him before–"

"–before I train with him at Hogwarts? That's what this is about? Don't worry, your great Slytherin master will protect poor little me!"

Hermione took a deep breath. "That won't be possible, I'm afraid."

"Why?"

"Because he's dead."

.

—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Currently seems to be taking me about three weeks or so for each chapter, yet be assured I write a little most days so it's very much alive. I mean, it's not left for two weeks then rushed! Some chapters like this are less than exciting I guess but it's not padding; I had to weave in several ideas essential for the future, especially the build up of Harry's frustration, and how that might shape his determination to excel later on.

The astute reader may have noticed I occasionally modify or even directly steal some of JKR's words. Well, you can't improve on perfection so I make no apology for those echoes! In this case, I took the original Harry's words to Ron about his heroic deeds not really being as cool as they sound when described later (Snape's doe Patronus - ice hole - Gryffindor's sword, Ron's rescue of Harry scene in Deathly Hallows in case you were trying to recall.) Then there's the "UP!" broomstick scene with Hermione which I thought was rather fun to compare with the original broomstick lesson in Philosopher's (Sorcerer's) Stone.

Now, a possible plot hole just occurred to me: how did Ron bring Padma's unconscious body into Grimmauld Place after he rescued her? The best I can do to cover that up is that Hestia asked him to bring her through the Floo so maybe she's the Secret Keeper (unsure if that had been established but it is now!) So anyway, in Deathly Hallows, Hermione (as one of the many Secret Keepers after Dumbledore's death) accidentally brought the clinging Yaxley over the threshold. My take is that the Secret Keeper can tell someone the address (by speech or writing) or invite them in at the door or Floo, directly or indirectly. Phew! I think I can get away with that. Having said that, I only noticed because, believe it or don't, I myself totally mixed up Padma and Parvati in this chapter and had to rewrite it!

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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