It was Thursday evening and Ron, Harry and Hermione were doing homework in the Herbology section in the northwest corner of the library, while five cats prowled about their feet like furry security guards.

"How many sultanas are in a Knockout Concoction?" Ron asked.

"Two," Harry and Hermione answered in unison without looking up from their work.

"Thanks," Ron said, scribbling away.

"Meow," remarked Snowball, bounding onto the table.

"Get off," Harry said, and gave the cat a little push. Snowball, volatile as she always was, was affronted by this shove and expressed her indignation by taking a slash at Harry's Herbology essay.

"Aaagh!" Harry grabbed his wand and Banished the cat to the other end of the library.

"Don't come back till you're ready to apologize!" Ron called after Snowball. He looked at the shreds of parchment Harry was miserably trying to Spellotape back together. "Er, sorry, Harry."

Harry groaned and started over.

In the next while each of the three left the table periodically to find books they needed. Ten minutes later Snowball returned. She hopped onto the table again and pranced onto Ron's open textbook.

"What's that in your mouth?" Ron asked, noticing an envelope clamped between Snowball's teeth. Snowball regarded him impassively as Ron took the envelope and opened it.

" 'Darling Ron,' " he read. "It's the Secret Admirer again! 'I wish to congratulate you on your success at the Quidditch match. You're a natural flier. My spirits when I watched were as high-flying as you. Love always, your Secret Admirer.' " Ron grinned. " 'P.S. Fantastic broom, by the way.' Who do you suppose could be sending me this?"

"Could be anyone in the library," Hermione said. She sniffed the air. "Your note's perfumed, did you know? I think it's Enchantment. I know because Lavender got some this summer and she's been spraying all over our room."

Ron stood up. "I want to find my Secret Admirer. Let's sniff her out!"

They split up and went wandering through the library, breathing deeply. Hermione roamed the south end, while Ron ambled between tables of students in the middle of the library and Harry explored the northern end. He strolled through the Muggle Studies section, accidentally surprising a pair of seventh-years snogging in a corner. Hurrying away, he spied a shock of jet-black hair and went to speak to himself.

"Hi Harry!" Marcus McCabe said excitedly, seeing him approach. He was half hidden by the stack of thick tomes on the table. Harry picked one up and became annoyed.

"Hey, I've been looking for this one! This is for fifth-year Transfiguration, what are you doing with this?"

"Studying," said Niamh Giffard, suddenly appearing from behind another heap of books. "Marcus wants us to be just like you, Ron and Hermione, so he's making us study your work to be advanced in our classes. Only I don't understand a word of any of this."

Darius Diggle popped his head out from behind a Potions encyclopaedia. "Harry, do you know what a bezoar is? Because I do."

"Give me those!" Harry said, taking the encyclopaedia away. "Don't you have work to do from your regular classes?"

"Yes," said Niamh, glowering at Marcus. "But your lesser half wants to be as smart as you."

"You should study more, to be like Hermione Granger," Marcus told her.

"I don't want to be like Hermione Granger!" said Niamh. "Only Hermione should be Hermione, and only Harry should be Harry. You be Marcus."

Then Harry spotted Professor Figg walking to the north end of the library. He followed, intending to ask her about a homework assignment, when she strode into the Restricted Section. Harry paused by the rope that blocked off that area, uncertain as to whether he, a fifth-year, was allowed inside. As Madam Pince was busy elsewhere, ejecting the two snogging seventh-years from the library, Harry was about to step over the rope when he heard Professor Figg say, her voice slightly muffled by the books surrounding her, "Ah, Severus, here you are!"

"Professor Figg!" Snape said, sounding surprised.

"You can call me Arabella, all the other teachers do."

"I'm sorry Professor- Arabella. Calling you by your first name seems strange, after spending those two enlightening years in your tutelage." Harry recalled that Professor Figg had begun teaching at Hogwarts two years before Snape's class left school, but he hadn't been aware that she and Snape had been especially close.

"I'm no longer Potions Mistress, Severus, I don't demand respect any more." They both laughed, Snape's chuckle slightly nervous. "But you know, you might help me out. I was looking for a book back here, Moste Potente Potions. Merely for my own amusement of course. There was a lovely one for turning people inside out. I remember letting you sneak it into old Professor Morlane's soup in your seventh year and he burst open like popcorn in the middle of dinner. Now that was a marvellous Halloween."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I'm afraid I took that book out," Snape said. "I was planning to have the seventh-years try the Truth Serum on page 78."

"Oh, that's a good potion. Well, if you're using it, I really don't want to bother you-"

"You can have it if you like, Professor," Snape said quickly. "It's no trouble, I can just run to my office and grab it for you." Harry had never heard of the Potions master being helpful. His behaviour with Professor Figg was considerably un-Snape-like.

"I'll come with you," Professor Figg said. Harry ducked behind a stack of Muggle Studies books as the two teachers emerged from the Restricted Section and exited the library.

In a small alcove Harry came upon Lavender, Dean, and Neville, studying Divination.

"Now here's your problem," Lavender was saying to Dean, pointing at his astrology chart. "You've put sixty-four moons on Saturn. And nineteen of them are named Io!"

"I haven't a clue what I'm doing," Dean said sadly.

Harry sniffed the air discreetly. Lavender was wearing Enchantment, but she was definitely no fan of Ron's.

"Are you wearing Enchantment perfume?" he asked her.

Lavender was pleased. "Yes, I am. How nice of you to notice, Harry. Did you know, so many girls snapped it up that I had to go to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley just about every other day this summer before I could finally find it."

The search was hopeless if all those girls wore the same scent. Harry walked off in search of Ron. He passed the Transfiguration section and suddenly spied a book on the shelf that he'd been chasing down for a week. Hurrying towards it, he was momentarily distracted by a whiff of Enchantment perfume from someone and he collided with a small, raven-haired girl carrying a pile of Herbology books. The girl crashed to the floor.

"I'm sorry!" Harry said contritely, stooping to assist her, and couldn't help noticing her fair skin and lovely, dainty features. Feeling heat rise in his cheeks, he started picking up her books so that he wouldn't get tongue-tied, which frequently happened in the presence of pretty girls.

"S'all right," gasped the girl, winded. She allowed Harry to help her to her feet. "My fault really, I wasn't watching where I was going," she said pleasantly, then her gaze was attracted by the lightning scar. "You're Harry Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said, handing her the books. Then he recognized her from the Sorting. "Are you Alberta Goyle?"

"Yes, I guess you must know my brother? He's in your year."

"I've met him once or twice," Harry said, remembering the time Ron's rat Scabbers had bitten Alberta's brother Goyle, and the time he had taken a Polyjuice Potion to become Gregory Goyle for one hour. "But you know, since he's a Slytherin, we really don't mix."

"What do you mean?" Alberta asked, perplexed.

Harry shrugged. "He's. we run with different crowds." He's a lackey for that slimy git Malfoy, was what Harry had been about to say, but he checked himself in a hurry.

Alberta smiled. "Well I'm in Slytherin, and I'd like to think I can have friends in other houses." Her smile faded. "Maybe you're right, though. My brother Gregory doesn't seem to be very friendly with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs."

"Strange that you're in Slytherin," Harry said. "You seem very nice, not like any of the Slytherins I know."

It was Alberta's turn to shrug. "Well, I like my house just fine. I do feel like I belong there, my housemates are very nice. Although Draco Malfoy's doing his best to make me despise the likes of you."

Harry was surprised. "What's he doing?"

"Telling stories about people from other houses, especially you, the famous Harry Potter. Lies and fabrications, I can see now that I've met you. Mostly the baby-eating blood-sucking monster type of myth, but most of us don't believe him. He really does detest you."

"I'm no admirer of his, either," Harry said, "and to be honest I say many of the same things about him to my friends." Alberta smiled demurely.

"Harry!" Ron Weasley suddenly pounced on him. "Find her?"

"No, sorry Ron, but I did meet Goyle's sister. Ron, this is Alberta Goyle, Alberta, this is my friend Ron Weasley." The girl smiled charmingly.

"Yeah, hi," Ron said curtly, and turned immediately to Harry, missing the sudden vexation on her face. "So you didn't see anything, hear anything, smell anything?"

Alberta moved away, looking wounded, and Harry turned and frowned at Ron. "She's really nice, you know."

"Yeah, I guess she's quite good-looking," said Ron, missing his meaning, "but she's a Slytherin, and a Goyle to boot. You can make better friends than that."

Harry sighed but let it pass. "I didn't find your Secret Admirer," he said. "And why she chose you of all people still escapes me."

"Harry-how's this for an idea," said Ron excitedly, ignoring his previous comment. "What about Hermione?"

"What about her?" Harry said.

"She could be my Secret Admirer! She's always right there when I get Secret Admirer messages-and she said herself, Lavender sprays her perfume all over their room, that could explain why the letter's scented and how she knew it was Enchantment."

Harry thought about this. It did make some sense. "But she's not the type to do this."

"Yes, that's why she's staying anonymous," Ron said. "It all fits, doesn't it?"

It didn't all fit, of course, and Harry knew it, but if Ron wanted to believe it that was fine with him. "Sure, sure it does. Would this Secret Admirer affair by chance have anything to do with a certain train episode?"

"No," said Ron, but his left eye twitched quite noticeably.

"If you won't tell me, I'll put a Truth Serum in your trifle tomorrow night," threatened Harry.

Ron paled. "But SHE'd hear."

"Aha!" Harry said triumphantly. "That was almost an admission of guilt. Tell me!"

Ron reluctantly acquiesced. They found a secluded table and sat. Ron said, "You promise not to breathe a word to anyone? Not even in your Pensieve?"

Harry held up his hand. "I swear never to tell."

Ron began, "While you were outside in the hall buying sweets, she said she wanted to talk about you. So I said, what did she mean, and she said she was worried about you. She thought you might be going mad, you see, having all those nightmares and visions." Ron turned red. "And- I'm sorry Harry, I don't know what I was thinking- I asked her- if she fancied you."

Harry felt himself turning red as well. "What did she say?"

"Nothing, at first. She just stared at me. Then she got up and-" Ron's face suddenly split into a goofy grin. "She kissed me!"

"What?" Harry said loudly, then lowered his voice as a pair of sixth-years looked at him curiously. "She kissed you?"

"Right on the mouth!" said Ron. "And then she said, 'No, I don't fancy Harry,' and she sat down, and you came back in."

Harry thought that perhaps he should have expected this, but it was still quite a shock, Hermione not being renowned for audacity. He supposed it was some of that Gryffindor courage coming to the forefront. Suddenly he was reminded of his birthday wish, and of the axiom 'Be careful what you wish for' which had now gained new meaning for him. "And you haven't spoken about it since?" he asked.

Ron looked shocked. "No! Are you entirely cracked? I can't talk to her face- to-face about- that. It's too-" He paused. "Well I'm just not going to."

Harry wondered if this would qualify as anomalous behaviour in Dumbledore's eyes. He shrugged and said, "Fine, don't say anything about the Secret Admirer thing to Hermione. But if you ask me, she's-"

"Ron, sorry, I couldn't find your Secret Admirer," Hermione said breathlessly, suddenly materializing. She indicated the books she was carrying. "But I did find loads of information for my Arithmancy essay."

Harry sighed and wearily shook his head. "I have to finish my Herbology homework."