Silently, pajama clad and barefoot, Harry slipped noiselessly through the halls of Hogwarts. As he crept through the dark corridors, Dumbledore's words echoed in his ears. Try as he might, the words refused to sink in. He could not seem to accept what he knew must be the truth. Yet he had to see- to know- for himself.

As he reached the doors of the Hospital Wing, he hesitated only a moment before pushing the door open. It swung inward without a sound. Though the waiting room was dark, Harry saw the glow of a candle coming from further inside. He tiptoed quietly over and poked his head around the doorframe, but all he could see was what he took to be a bed surrounded by a thin curtain. He leaned in further to try for a closer look when he slipped and banged his knuckles against the door frame.

Immediately, a figure straightened behind the curtain.

"Albus? Albus, is that you? Albus?"

Harry nearly turned and fled right then and there. While the voice was obviously Snape's, Harry had never heard the caustic Potions Master reduced to the state of desperation and fear that his voice implied. It was the voice of a child, a very frightened and lonely child.

"Albus?" When Harry didn't respond, Snape's voice grew shriller, more urgent. "Who's there? Who are you? Albus? Albus!"

"It- it's me," Harry said, stepping into the Hospital proper. "P-professor Snape, it's Harry Potter. Albus isn't here."

Snape's manner changed abruptly at the mention of Harry's name. "Potter," he said slowly, his voice returning to its familiar, bitter self. "So. Have you come, then, to see if the rumours were true?"

"No. No, sir."

"Ah, then it must have been to mock me. Is that it?" Snape spread his arms wide, casting eerie shadows in the flickering light. "Well, here I am. Take your best shot, Potter. Go back to your little friends and let them know exactly how pathetic I really am. Tell them how I cried out like a child in the dark, how I am now more useless than Nev-"

"Stop it." The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could catch them. Snape's silhouette looked like a giant demented bat from behind the curtain.

"Not that, then?" Snape's voice was silky, but it lacked its usual bite. That absence disturbed Harry more than anything. It simply was not- Snape.

"I came to see how you were, sir," Harry stammered. "To see how you recovered-"

"Ah yes. Now I remember." He let his arms drop. "You were there, Potter, when I made my...return." Harry could see the way Snape's head was cocked. "So you know."

"Yessir. The whole school knows." Harry swallowed heavily at the memory of the somber meeting. Snape said nothing, and the silence between them grew.

Slowly, Harry reached out. His fingers were shaking as he touched the thin fabric of the curtain. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the fabric tight between his fingers and pulled the curtain aside.

He didn't know what he had been expecting. Snape's eyes gone completely, nothing left but two empty sockets. Or maybe two white, sightless orbs that bore closer resemblance to marbles than eyes, covered by a cloth. Instead, he was met by the square gaze of Snape's black eyes. He dropped the curtain with a gasp and actually took two steps back before he realized something wasn't right.

First off, though Harry moved back away from Snape's line of sight, Snape made no move to follow. Second, there was something missing from the Professor's black gaze, a light that had been there before and was now conspicuously absent. It gave him the dull, glazed look of someone dead or unconscious.

Harry felt a lump settle in the pit of his stomach. That's when it hit him. Snape was truly blind.

"Pro-" Harry began, but got no farther. Snape must have heard the curtain being swept aside, for he turned in Harry's general direction, his lips curved into snarl.

"Take a good, close look, Potter," he hissed. "Remember this for all your friends. Now get out. Out!"

Harry needed no second invitation. No sooner had the second command left Snape's mouth than Harry had turned and run from the Hospital Wing. He ran so hard and so fast, he didn't even see where he was going. All he could see was Snape, his eyes so dull and lifeless, his silhouette rising from the bed like a twisted angel. He kept his head down, eyes fixed on the blurred shadow of the floor stones. So intent was he on his fixed path that he didn't see the other body rising up before him until it was too late.

"Uf! Easy there, you. What are you doing out of your dorm so late any- Harry!"

Harry looked up, still dazed from both the collision and his encounter with Snape, looked up to a familiar, though startled, face. "Ah- Percy- I...uh..."

"Come now," Percy's brow wrinkled in concern. "You look as if though you've seen a ghost!"

"Well, I-"

"Not here," Percy interrupted him. "It's freezing in the hallway! Come to my room, I have a pot of tea going and we can talk there." Without waiting for Harry to respond, Percy turned and headed down the corridor. "Here we are," he said moments later. "Just come inside and have a seat. I'll have tea ready in just a tick-"

Harry, bewildered, sat gingerly on the edge of a stiff leather chair while Percy busied himself in the next room. Soon he emerged carrying a tea tray filled with cups and saucers.

"Pour yourself a cup," he said, placing the tray on the table. He sat in a chair opposite Harry's. "You were in to see Snape, weren't you?"

Harry nodded dumbly, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. "I- I needed to see for myself," he whispered, staring into the murky tea. "I couldn't believe it, even after Dumbledore told us- I saw him when they found him, you know."

"Dumbledore told me." Percy sipped his tea. "That's how I knew you were in to see him. That's also why I'm here."

Harry looked up, confused. "I thought you were here on break," he said, flicking hair out of his eyes. "Just for a few weeks- to see Ron and Fr-"

"That's how it started," Percy told him. "Then- all this happened. They don't need me over at the Ministry anymore, not for a while at least." Harry smiled to himself at Percy's subtle insistence that he was still a crucial figure at the Ministry. "So I offered to, erm, supervise Snape's classes until Dumbledore could find a replacement."

For a moment, Harry said nothing. Percy taking over for Snape? Then, as it sunk in, he began to snicker.

"What?" Percy raised an eyebrow. "I'm not that bad at-"

"It's not that," Harry assured him, still fighting back a smile. "It's just- poor Ron! First he has to put up with Snape, now he's got his own brother teaching!"

Percy smiled as Harry continued to smirk, though it was a little wistful. "It's only for a short while," he repeated. "Just until Dumbledore hires someone permanent."

"Yeah." Harry suddenly stopped laughing as he realized the implication of Percy's words. "So, it's for good, then? Snape's...out?"

Percy shook his head sadly. "Someone used some very strong Dark Magic on him. As far as we know, there's no cure. People are working on it, but it's not very hopeful."

Harry sat in silence, the steam from his tea fogging up his glasses. He wiped them impatiently. "It's weird," he said. "I should be glad Snape's gone. He was nothing but a bloody git-" He stopped suddenly, remembering who it was he was speaking to, but Percy seemed to take no mind. "To say I wasn't fond of him would be an understatement, and he felt the same way. Him giving up the Potions job should be the best news I've heard all year. But-" He trailed off. "It's not. I don't get it."

"I wasn't exactly a big fan of Snape's either," Percy told him. "But what happened to him is not something that any of us would wish on anyone else, regardless of how much we dislike them. It's hard for us to imagine something so cruel, so heinous, and that just goes to show how terrible You-Know-Who can be. Snape was probably better off dead. There's no joy for anyone when the other side wins."

Harry stared. This was Percy talking? Ron's older, priggish brother Percy? As he spoke now, there was no trace of the pompous peacock Harry remembered from his stay at the Burrow, or the fawning sycophant at the World Quidditch Cup. Harry had never imagined he would be hearing these words come out of Percy's mouth. But he felt it rude to bring it up, and stayed silent.

Percy sighed and sat back in his chair. "I don't know what will happen to Snape," he said, toying with his empty tea cup. "But I don't imagine that Dumbledore would put him out on the streets. Still, it must be hard for him-" He sighed again. "It's late, Harry. You had best be getting to bed."

"Yeah." Harry put his teacup down on the tray and rose to leave.

"I'll see you in Potions tomorrow," Percy called as he left. Harry nodded, although he knew he couldn't be seen. "Sure thing," he called back.

The stones were cold under Harry's bare feet as he made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower, but he barely felt them. Weariness descended over him like a heavy blanket, and at that moment all he wanted to do was bury himself beneath the duvet on his bed and sleep. Even so, as he finally felt his feet thaw and warm and slipped off into slumber, he couldn't help but to remember those empty, unseeing eyes and the hopeless cries of Dumbledore's name thrown out into the dark.

"He's what?" Students looked over curiously at the sudden shout, but Ron took no notice. "He's teaching here? Percy?" He groaned and leaned back against the wall, sinking slowly to the floor. "I can't believe this. First Snape, now Percy. Where will it end?"

"It could be worse," Hermione offered, fighting back a giggle. Harry was behind her, not bothering to cover his grin.

"Worse? What could be worse that this? My own bigheaded prig of a brother, in charge of my class."

"It could be your mother," Harry reminded him from behind Hermione. Ron did nothing but whimper in reply. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look and shrugged. They were going to be late-

"Well, well, isn't this a surprise." They all turned at the sound of a smug voice behind them. Draco stood in the middle of the hallway, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "What's the matter, Weasley? Money getting so tight your brother had to take a second job?"

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry hissed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "At least try for the same amount of integrity your precious Head of House had before Voldemort got to him."

Draco shrugged. "Traitor had it coming to him," he said loftily, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. "It was only a matter of time." He turned, Crabbe and Goyle following his lead. "See you in Potions," he said with a smirk. His fading voice reached their ears as he walked off down the hall. "I wonder how long that Ministry lapdog will last..."

"Stupid bast-" Harry began, but Hermione stopped him.

"Let's go. We're going to be late." She grabbed Ron by the arm and hauled him to his reluctant feet. "Don't let it get to you."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled, but let her drag him up. "Coming, Harry?"

"Yeah." Was it his imagination, or had Draco's face gone a little bit paler when Harry mentioned Snape's name? "Let's go."

They were the last ones to enter the Potions classroom, exactly fifteen seconds late. That would have been enough of an excuse for Snape to throw them all in detention, but things had changed since then. Percy wasn't even in the classroom when they took their seats.

"Holding up okay, Ron?" Harry whispered. Ron nodded grimly, preparing himself for his ordeal. He didn't have long to wait.

Percy hurried in just moments after they arrived, out of breath and looking more than a bit ruffled. "Sorry," he apologized as he dropped some books on the desk. "Running a bit late today. My name, for those of you who don't recognize me, is Percival Weasley, graduate of Hogwarts. As you know, Professor Snape will regretfully no longer be in charge of this class. I am here to substitute until Headmaster Dumbledore finds a suitable replacement. Any questions?"

To his right, Harry heard Ron whispering the words "don't mention me," over and over under his breath. Hermione raised her hand.

"Will you be carrying on with Professor Snape's lesson plan?"

Percy nodded. "You are expected to fulfill the requirements of this class, even without the guidance of a teacher," he told them.

"Some guidance," someone muttered from the back.

"Since my talents aren't really suited for this class, I am here to act as a supervisor only. I will not be able to help you in any way with your class work. All assignments are to be handed in to me, and I will see to it that they are handled by the proper authorities."

Harry groaned to himself. Trust Percy to make a simple homework assignment sound like some government file transfer. Ron was still sunk low into his seat, eyes tightly shut as he waited for it all to be over.

"Proper authorities indeed," Draco whispered, just loud enough for Percy to overhear. "Who does he think he is, Fudge himself? According to my father, he's nothing but a lowly aide, practically out of a job since Crouch got himself killed. Just another Weasley trying to fawn his way to a decent wage."

Percy's ears went pink, but other than that he gave no indication that he had heard. Ron, however, turned a startling shade of red that Harry knew was not all out of embarrassment.

"You shut up!" he shouted, jumping out of his seat. "Just because your father's corrupt and has everyone in his pocket doesn't give you the right to-"

"Ron!"

Everyone looked up at the sound of Percy's voice as he roared his brother's name. Ron froze in mid-step, fist half raised towards Draco.

"Ron, you sit down this instant!" Percy shouted. Harry was amazed. He had never seen the middle Weasley like this. His face was bright red under his glasses and his hands were clenched tightly as he leaned forward on the desk.

"But, Perce, you heard what he said-"

"Sit down, Ron. Right now." Percy's voice was cold. "I expect you to behave as you would with Professor Snape present, regardless of who you are or what goes on. Understand?"

Silence.

"Understand?"

"Yessir," Ron said sullenly. As he took his seat, Draco leaned over to a fellow Slytherin and whispered, "Yeah, or he'll go tell Mommy on you-"

Crack

The next thing Harry knew, Draco was on the floor, holding his bleeding nose with both hands. Drops of bright red blood oozed out from between his fingers. Ron stood over him, one fist still cocked and ready, breathing hard.

"Ronald Weasley!" Percy was furious now, his face practically glowing red. He crossed the room with quick, angry strides. "I will not tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone, least of all my own brother!" He grabbed Ron by the wrist and jerked him to the door. "Dumbledore's office, now. You too," he said to Malfoy as they disappeared behind the door.

The class sat in stunned silence once they had left. Hermione glanced at Harry, who just shrugged. "I haven't seen Draco so set back since the day you slapped-"

Hermione coughed loudly. "Yes, that may well be," she said. "But what about Ron? Percy was absolutely livid when he left." She looked around the classroom, now minus one teacher and two students. Well, more a teacher substitute. Still...

"What do we do now?"

"I dunno." Harry shrugged again. "I doubt Percy's going to come back any time soon, and we don't have the lesson plan for today. Do you think it's alright to leave?"

He half expected Hermione to firmly insist that they not leave class without permission from the Professor, but to his surprise, she nodded. "We're not doing much good here. We might as well head to the library or something."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Or something?"

"Well..." Hermione blushed and turned to pack her books into her bag. "I was thinking we should probably go find Dumbledore and explain to him what really happened. If we don't, Malfoy will probably make up some wild story to make it seem like it was all Ron's fault-- What?" she said crossly as he grinned at her.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, still grinning. "It's just that- I'm impressed. It's not like you to get involved in teacher's affairs-"

"Percy's not a teacher," she said stiffly. "He's Ron's brother. And Draco's a lying cheat, and unless we do something, Ron's going to end up serving detention from now until summer holidays."

"Yeah, okay. I guess you're right." Harry packed up his bag and followed Hermione out of the dungeons.

"Have you ever seen Percy like that before?" Hermione whispered when they emerged into the above ground corridors. "I mean, he was practically glowing with rage. I don't think I've seen any of the Weasleys that mad before. And I would never have thought Percy of all people-"

"I know what you mean," Harry said. He had suddenly remembered what Percy had said to him the night before. Quickly, he summed up the previous night's events for Hermione, carefully leaving out the parts involving his visit to Snape.

"Hmm." Hermione chewed on the end of a strand of her hair. "That is kinda odd. I guess- I guess Percy's matured a lot more than we thought." She frowned, then and pulled her hair from her mouth. "And it's all because of this stupid war!" she suddenly cried. "I hate this! First Cedric, then Snape. It's changing everyone, even Percy!"

"But-" Harry faltered for words as Hermione hung seemingly on the verge of tears. "Hasn't Percy changed for the better? I mean, what's wrong with that?"

"That's not the point!" Hermione wailed. "It's the fact that the only reason he's like this is because of them! People are changing in ways they never would have if this stupid war wasn't going on. It just isn't right!" Suddenly she dropped her schoolbag and flung her arms around Harry's neck. "I hate them," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I hate them more than anything. When is this all going to stop, Harry? Why-" Her words dissolved into more tears as she clung to him. Unsure of what else to do, Harry just stood with his arms around her, letting the hot sting of her tears soak into his robe.

They never told anyone about what went on that afternoon in the hallway. Not even Ron when he met up with them later in the common room.

"You won't believe it," he groaned as he fell into an armchair. "Percy gave me detention for the next month. Filch is moving into a new office and I have to help him. Draco got off with nothing." A look of cold satisfaction crossed Ron's features. "At least I broke the little bastard's nose."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. If you could just keep a shorter rein on your temper, this kind of thing would never happen. Right, Harry?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah. Right." Harry wasn't listening. He was too busy replaying the scene over and over in his mind, Ron standing over a fallen Draco, blood staining the floor stones and Draco's robes. "Did you hear that crack when you hit him, Ron? Bloody amazing!"

Ron broke out into a wide grin. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" he said as Hermione ignored them both with a huff and stared into a book. "He wasn't looking so smug then, was he?" The two of them recounted the finer moments of the confrontation until Fred and George walked in and threw themselves into two adjacent chairs.

"Just got word about you and Draco, Ron."

"Bastard had it coming to him, if you ask me."

"And to think, it was our own little brother-"

"Yes, our own flesh and blood to do the honors."

"I'm impressed, to say the least."

"Beyond words, m'boy. Beyond words."

The twins looked solemnly at Ron as they each placed a hand on his shoulder. Then they grinned and clapped him heavily on the back. "Don't you worry about mum none, either," Fred told him.

"Yeah, we'll make sure she doesn't find out from Percy."

At the mention of Mrs. Weasley, Ron's eyes widened. "Oh no," he groaned as he buried his head in his hands. "Mum! I completely forgot. Oh, man, she's gonna kill me when she finds out-"

"Hey now!" George exclaimed, looking extremely put out. "Haven't you heard a word we've been saying? We'll make sure she never hears a word of this from anyone!"

"How are you going to do that?" Ron demanded, his voice muffled by the sleeves of his robes. "Cast Memory Charms on the entire school, plus the teachers? There's no way you can keep this quiet."

"You forget who you're talking too," Fred reminded him. "If there's a will and a Weasley, there's a way. You just serve those detentions and leave the rest to us. Mum'll never even hear a rumour. Right, George?"
George winked. "Exactly. Couldn't have put it better myself." They rose as one and headed off towards another corner of the common room, presumably to plan their course of action in dealing with Mrs. Weasley. "See you at dinner!"

Hermione watched them go, a worried look on her face. "What do you suppose they're going to do?" she asked as they sat, heads together in the shadows. "You don't think they're going to get into more trouble, do you?"

"I can't honestly say I care, if it means mum doesn't find out," Ron said, looking very much relieved. "They can blow up all of Hogwarts."

"It's your own fault, you know," Hermione began, but Harry jumped up before Ron could respond. The last thing they needed now was an argument.

"We've got Defense class," he said, grabbing his bag. Ron followed close behind.

"Hey, yeah, I almost forgot! We've got a new teacher now that Moody's gone. Wonder who it'll be?"

"Maybe Professor Lupin will have come back!" Hermione said hopefully. Ron grinned as he recalled the classes from two years before. "Do you think Professor Dumbledore could have persuaded the Ministry to-"

Harry shook his head. "Not a chance," he sighed. "He wrote Sirius the other day. He's somewhere in France right now."

Hermione's face fell. "That poor man. Still looking?"

Harry nodded. Remus Lupin was combing the entire continent in search of a cure for his condition. "He says it doesn't look good and he's off to Romania next. If that doesn't work out, he's on his way to America."

They walked in silence for a time, each buried in their private thoughts. Harry realized idly that with no real candidate for the Dark Arts job, Snape might have had a chance this year. Except Snape could no longer teach anything anymore-

"All right, Harry? Ron, Hermione?"

"Hagrid!" Harry looked up and felt his face break out into a huge grin as he waved furiously to the huge figure down the hall. The groundskeeper waved back and pointed to a sack in his left hand. The brown fabric was moving as he held it; whatever was inside was almost as big as Harry. "See you in class tomorrow!"

The three nodded as Hagrid disappeared around a corner. As soon as his footsteps faded away, Ron collapsed against the wall.

"Blimey!" he said, wiping his brow. "Did you see that thing he had? It must have been as big as I am! I might skip out of class tomorrow..."

"Just as long as there aren't anymore blast-ended skewts," Hermione said, though she too looked visibly paler. "I mean, honestly! Someone needs to have a talk with him before someone gets seriously hurt!"

"He doesn't mean any harm..." Harry said weakly, though secretly he agreed wholeheartedly with them both.

"Oh, I know that," Hermione said. "Hagrid wouldn't hurt any of us, not even Malfoy. Not on purpose, at least. But you see, Harry, that's the problem. He doesn't understand that what he sees as cute and exciting could kill the rest of us!"

"So what is it, then? Do you want him out of a job, is that it?" Harry snapped without meaning to. He winced and cursed his nerves as Hermione seemed to deflate and slump against the wall beside Ron.

"No," she said in a small voice. "Of course not. But..." She bit her lip. "I'm worried that someone else might."

"Draco." Harry and Ron said together. Hermione nodded grimly. They stood in silence for long moments as they each remembered the encounter with Buckbeak two years ago, then Malfoy's delight at seeing Hagrid sent off to Azkaban. "He'd like nothing better than to see Hagrid out on the streets," Ron said. "And if he could get his father to arrange it..."

"I think..." Hermione trailed off uncomfortably. "I think it's time we all had a talk with Hagrid," she said at last. "Just...make him aware of what's going on. Maybe get him to tone down the class a bit."

"Just as long as we don't end up back with flobberworms," Ron muttered under his breath, but nodded along with Harry. "We'll go this afternoon," he said.

At that moment, the rest of the Defense class came swarming down the hall, cutting their conversation short. Ron, Harry and Hermione stood and filed into the classroom with the rest of the students, taking three seats in the front. There was no sign of a teacher anywhere.

"What do you think the new teacher'll be like?" Parvati whispered. Dean Thomas shrugged. "Well he can't be any worse than Lockhart, and there's no way he can be as good as Lupin or Moody-"

"Yeah, but Lupin was a werewolf, and Moody was a Dark Arts wizard," Seamus interrupted. "If anyone would know anything about Defense against the Dark Arts, it would be those two."

"And let's not forget Quirrel," Ron said to Harry in a low voice. Harry shuddered; he'd been trying to forget Quirrel since he had found out who- and what- he really was.

"Hello."

Harry jumped at the sound of a voice quite near his ear. He turned around as Hermione stifled a shriek and felt something cold and airy brush his nose.

"Blimey!" Ron swore as Neville yelped and fell out of his seat. "Don't do that!"

"My apologies," the voice said again. It was Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. He floated up to the ceiling and gazed down at the class. "I seem to forget the effect I have on people."

"It's okay-" Harry stammered, trying to get his heart out of his throat and back to where it belonged. "Just- give a little warning next time, would you?"

Nick gave him a ghostly smile as he drifted over to the front desk. As he settled himself comfortably behind it and it became clear he was not about to leave, the class began to murmur. Finally, Parvati raised her hand.

"Excuse me, err- sir? When will our teacher be arriving?"

Nick blinked and pulled a pale, semi-translucent watch from his clothing. If he squinted, Harry could see the faint gears ticking away inside. "Any minute now, my dear," Nick said, replacing the watch. "It's not unusual for them to be late."

"Them?" Hermione whispered, but before Harry had a chance to respond, it became clear what Nick was talking about.

Ghosts began floating in from all sides, gliding through the walls as silently as- well, ghosts. Many, like Nick himself, were dressed in old fashioned clothing including doublets and ruffs. Others were came in splendid robes and cloaks of varying shades of silver and gray, though Harry had a sneaking suspicion that was due to the fact that they were dead rather than some sort of fashion preference. A few were clad in armour and many were covered in silvery bloodstains. One or two were even dressed like Harry and his fellow students.

"Ah, here they are." Nick beamed and clapped his hands together. "Without a suitable Defense teacher, Dumbledore allowed me to volunteer my services," he explained as the ghosts gathered around the desk. "I took the liberty of inviting a few of my friends to help me. What you're going to hear is a series of first hand accounts of the actual victims of Dark Magic."

Low murmurs filled the classroom as the students took this all in. Ron and Harry shared a look; this was something new. Hermione frowned, but took out her notebook, ready for anything. Neville was still cowering in his seat, shrinking away from a particularly vicious looking battle-scarred ghost.

Despite their early trepidations, the class went marvelously well. They heard stories of a man who survived the goblin rebellions, only to be bludgeoned to death by a Red Cap the next day. There was a slender, sad faced woman who was slain by a banshee; they noticed Seamus looking particularly pale as she related her story. Two dusty ghosts related their tale of how they were stalked and killed by a pogrebin. Harry shuddered at the similarities between the tactics of the little rock like monster and a dementor.

Finally, as the class drew to a close, Nick beckoned one particular ghost forward. Upon seeing who it was, Harry groaned and sank down low into his seat. Ron gulped and the corner of Hermione's mouth twitched, as if she were fighting back a smile or a grimace. Only one ghost they knew had spots. Or glasses, or a face streaked with tears. The three of them glanced at each other and cringed as they mouthed the name. Myrtle.

Harry sighed and sank even lower in his chair.

As soon as Defense Against the Dark Arts ended, Harry, Ron and Hermione grouped together in the hallway outside the classroom. Harry felt as if he had narrowly missed getting hit by the Knight Bus.

"How in the world did Nick manage to convince Myrtle to agree to that?" he moaned as he checked the tips of his ears to make sure they weren't on fire. "That was...humiliating!"

"He he, Nick didn't convince poor, pimply Myrtle, no he didn't. It was Peeves that was doing the convincing!" The familiar, piercing voice came from above their heads as Hogwarts' most irritating ghost floated down from the ceiling. "She wasn't wanting to go, but then she found out Harry Potter was going to be there. She agreed quick then, yes she did!"

"And I wonder how she found out that," Ron muttered as he took a halfhearted swipe at Peeves. The mischief making ghost just laughed and soared away. "Worthless blighter- I wonder why Dumbledore doesn't get rid of him once and for all."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she got the words out Nick interrupted by emerging from the wall directly between them.

"I am- that is to say- believe me, Harry. If I had known I would never have-" He stopped, his face flushed silver. "I thought a basilisk victim would be a good ending for the class."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, though with difficulty. "But- honestly! Bursting into tears like that- and then wailing at me in front of the entire class for not coming to see her!"

"Look on the bright side," Ron said, trying to cheer him up. "It could have been worse. You know, like if Percy had been there and found out you had been in the girls'-"

"If?"

The trio spun around. "Harry," Percy said, his lips thinned and compressed. "And Ron. If I might have a word with you both...?"

"So now I have detention on top of detention," Ron moaned as he dumped his books on the table with a dull thud. Harry and Hermione looked up from their History of Magic essays. "Mum's gonna kill me."

"Have faith," Harry told him, putting his quill and parchment aside. "Fred and George will come up with something."

"And it's just as likely to get them in trouble as it is to get Ron out of it," Hermione sniffed. "But how did you get off so easy?"

Harry snorted. "Who said I did? I'm helping Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing from now until Christmas holidays. What's the big deal, anyway? It was just the girl's bathroom, and it happened three years ago! And didn't we save Ginny's life because of it?"

"Still, you broke the rules," Hermione said, turning back to her essay. "They can't be making exceptions all the time."

"Yeah, well." Harry sighed and pushed back his chair as he checked his watch. "Time for me to go report to Madam Pomfrey. If you want, Ron, I'll work on this essay with you later tonight."

"Sure thing." Ron slid into the seat Harry just unoccupied and leaned over Hermione's shoulder, reading her essay. As he left, Harry heard her squeal in indignation as Ron tweaked a strand of her wild hair, then as she batted him over the head with her quill and they both laughed. He closed his eyes tightly, wondering where the small ache in his chest came from, and the tightening of his throat. Every year, Ron and Hermione seemed to be getting closer and closer, while at the same time Harry felt more alienated than his scar had ever made him feel. Then when Hermione had made that comment about Ron not asking her to the Yule Ball last year-

Stop it, Harry told himself firmly. They're friends. And they're your friends. Still, he found he couldn't shake the feeling that he was slowly losing more and more each year to forces far beyond his control.