Hand raised to knock on the staff room door, Harry was almost plowed over
when it opened and Snape came out, a stack of parchment in his hand. "Watch
it, Potter," he snarled before shoving him roughly aside.
"Amy needs to see you," Harry said, trying to push any ill feelings for the man aside. "Now."
"Potter, I have a class. And, as it the bane of my existence, so do you. The same one, in case you don't remember."
"Yes, she knows," he said, exasperated, almost running to keep trailing him. "She said you should cancel it, and that -"
"Cancel?" Snape turned, eyes narrowed. "Potter, this is NEWT level Potions. What -"
"Just listen, would you?" Harry cut in, exasperated. "She knows all that. Look, just no win the hospital wing -
"Hasn't anyone taught you not to interrupt?" Snape asked, completely ignoring the irony of the situation. "And unless you -"
"Severus!" Dumbledore strode up, beard tossed over his shoulder. "I was just in with Nymphadora and Alistair. Amy needs you."
Snape blinked. So did Harry. "Amy was with them?" he asked, thoroughly confused.
"When there is such a breach of security within Hogwarts, it only makes sense that our Aurors should be notified," the headmaster said. "The two of you should come with me. Henry will take care of notifying your students. Come along."
Out of pure will Harry did not give his professor a look that said "I told you so," but it was a struggle.
Tonks and Moody were investigating the fireplace when they arrived. Amy was talking to something in her hand, gesturing with her other. Tonks called out distractedly, "Tell him to go."
"Go on," Amy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she had a headache.
"Tell her if I run into a brick wall, I'm blaming her," a small voice replied, clearly disgruntled - and worried. A moment later another shoof! of soot came out and Professor Lupin was brushing himself off, stepping out of the fireplace.
"We're not connected to the Floo network," Snape said, eyeing the other man suspiciously as if Lupin had been the one to illegally connect them.
Amy nodded. "So observed. But we are. At least, I am."
"Are you all right?" Lupin hugged her tightly, especially when she returned the gesture almost desperately.
"Well, my supply of Chocolate Frogs has suffered and I think I killed a toothbrush, but now my mouths at least semi-clean," she muttered.
"You're connected for a good half-hour yet, near as I can tell," Moody said, blue eye swinging around to all the corners of the fireplace, though Harry had no idea what he was looking for.
"Hmm, guess that makes his intentions clear," Amy said bitterly. Then, as tersely as possible, she explained the scene Harry had witnessed.
"My god," Lupin said when she was done.
"Damn him," Snape said at the same time. It was hard to tell which of the men was angrier: Lupin was holding Amy tightly, protectively, and a mask of anger was over his face, whereas the Potions professor actually had a pink tinge to his otherwise sallow skin.
"But I don't know who he meant," she said, looking relieved that both of them were reacting in such a way. "I mean, with what's come before . . . he could go after either Severus or Remus."
"Wait. You dated Sn - you dated Professor Snape?" Harry asked, not looking at the man. "Exactly how many Dark witches and wizards, past or present, have you been involved with?"
Amy rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't date Severus. And I never actually dated Regulus. Mum was the one who got it into her head that we should marry and he was about to blindly follow her and propose when he got himself killed. As for Lucius, he only met me around the time Mum got her little idea and decided to settle for Narcissa. They were engaged by the time Reg was found to be dead and married before I was supposed to be done mourning him."
"But Lucius thinks you might be engaged to Severus," Mad-Eye asked. "I'm not following."
"Previously, to protect both of them, Severus and Amy had pretended to be seriously involved on my suggestion," Dumbledore said softly. "As he was supposed to be a Death Eater and she came from a Dark family, the arrangement was ideal throughout the shaky years following Voldemort's fall."
Harry tried not to make a face at that. Amy and Snape, involved? Even just for show, the thought was sickening. And how "seriously"? Living-in-the- same-apartment seriously? Or just seeing-each-other-every-night-of-the-week seriously? Maybe she hadn't developed any feelings of attachment, but Harry was not so sure about the greasy-haired, hook-nosed professor.
"Tell me about it," Lupin muttered, causing Harry to remember that he and Amy had been together then. He wondered how his old professor had felt about the arrangements.
"We can check in at the Ministry to see who might have been able to hook this into the network," Moody said, completely breaking the train of thought. "Chances are, some of them are already his. We just need to find out which ones."
"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Amy pulled away from Lupin. "Let's just think about this from Lucius' point of view: he goes to ask for help from someone he thinks is loyal and then, the next time he tries to contact her, the fires are being watched. He's going to be suspicious."
"Not if they're still watching the fires from last year," Tonks piped up.
Dead silence.
"I thought they were," Lupin finally said in a strangled voice. "Albus, didn't you say that was part of the security measures taken to ensure Hogwarts would still be safe?"
Dumbledore's eyes looked clouded. "Yes, Remus. That was something the minister and I have discussed."
"Then - then they're already in the Ministry," Harry said, ice sliding into his stomach. Well, where his stomach would have been had it not left without him.
"Not necessarily," Moody said, "though I doubt we're entirely clean. It could have been an Unforgivable Curse, or an attack by an outsider, but I'm inclined to inside help."
"So maybe someone did detect it," Tonks said, eyes crossed as she tried to think. "If we have to modify a memory . . . they could believe that someone else walked into the room to catch Lucius in the act."
"And why would someone be checking up on something like this?" Moody asked, though he, too, looked thoughtful.
"To offer a game of Exploding Snap to pass what would otherwise be a boring shift," Lupin said dryly, looking an arm around Amy's waist as she leant back into him.
Dumbledore nodded. "This might take both of you. Go now, before you lose the fireplace."
The Aurors nodded, accepting powder from a bag the headmaster handed them and then went out in puffs of green, smelly smoke.
"Now what?" Amy asked softly, looking from Snape to Dumbledore.
"Once we are sure Hogwarts is secure - or at least as sure and secure as we can be - then we have to protect the three of you."
Lupin groaned. "Please, not again."
"Like it's a barrel of monkeys for us, Remus," Amy returned flatly.
"Just look at it this way, Remus," Snape said smoothly. "Lucius wishes to remove her fiancé."
He rolled his eyes. "Some reassurance."
But Dumbledore was nodding. "Yes, I think it best that you revert back to that charade. Meanwhile" - he turned to Remus - "you will be staying here."
"But the Order -"
"Like you better alive than dead," the headmaster calmly finished. "This is only temporary, Remus, and I believe you would rather be here than stuck alone with her mother." He inclined his head toward Amy, indicating "number twelve, Grimmauld Place." Having done what he could, he left.
Snape looked shrewdly at the couple. "You lost me a lesson," he accused Amy.
She rolled her eyes, leaning around her desk to grab something, chucking it at him. "Have a Chocolate Frog. I've rather you had your lesson and I had a normal morning, thank you very much."
"I'll say," Harry muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. He had a lot to tell Ron and Hermione.
"Cheers, Harry," Amy said wearily, raising a Frog of her own. "To never having another lesson like that."
"I'd rather it was to no more yoga," he muttered, but he grinned at her as he left, just to let her know that Lucius Malfoy was worse than yoga any day.
* * * * *
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked, exasperated, over the top of Dark Arts Theory: The Curses and the Reasoning. "We waited ages in the dungeons, but then Professor Tobias shooed us away."
"No Potions, mate!" Ron said, grinning widely.
"Oh, stop it, Ron." Hermione looked ready to bop him with her book, no laughing matter as the thing was huge. "There must have been something horrible, something to do with the Order or something."
"No, McGonnagal was still in class," he argued. "Ginny looked green with envy when we passed . . ."
"Are you two going to argue over what you think happened or do you actually want to know?" Harry broke in.
"You know?" Hermione sat up, snapping the book shut without even a finger to mark her spot.
Quickly Harry told them everything from the appearance of Lucius Malfoy to five minutes previous. Ron liked stunned. "So she wasn't only engaged to Regulus, she had Malfoy after her and Snape acting like they were all huggy- wuggy?"
Hermione snorted with laughter. "'Huggy-wuggy'? What are you, two?"
"And she wasn't actually engaged to Regulus," Harry pointed out. "I told you that."
"Still . . ." Ron looked slightly sick. "Professor Lupin can't be taking this too well."
"At least he's here," Hermione said, though she was making a face as though trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth. "Ugh, imagine him kissing you . . . he's even worse than Draco . . ."
"I'll not imagine it, thanks." Ron looked as he had after blasting himself with the slug curse, ready to need a basin at any moment.
"But that's rather interesting," Hermione said slowly, color returning to her cheeks. "That Draco's dad only married his mum because he couldn't have Amy . . . That should lead to a happy home life."
Harry made a face, dropping into the empty armchair in front of the Common Room fire. "Hermione? Let me know when you stop trying to find ways to feel sorry for Draco."
"I wasn't," she said indignantly. "I was just thinking that Amy's in a rather sticky spot. Sure, her parents are dead and gone, but that leaves Bellatrix and Narcissa, not to mention their husbands. Can you imagine, being forced by the mere thought of them to parade around with Snape while your real boyfriend - or fiancé - looks on?"
Ron's face had frozen. "Parade around with Snape? I'm getting images of spangly circus outfits and I'm honestly trying to stop before I get to the spandex and tights."
"Oh, would you grow up?" Hermione said, exasperated. "Look at it from her point of view, wouldn't you? She and Lupin are the ones who are in love, but to protect him she has to act all - what was that baby phrase?"
"Huggy-wuggy," Harry supplied.
"She has to act all huggy-wuggy with Snape," Hermione finished.
"Yes," Ron said slowly, "but isn't it possible that maybe Snape sees it as more than an act?"
Hermione gave him a Look, one Harry was sure she had picked up from Amy as he had just recently seen it from her. "Are you really that dense?" she asked, contempt dripping off every word.
"Well, if I can have the emotional range of a tea cup -"
"Tea spoon," Harry corrected.
"- then I might as well have the intelligence of one," he finished, shooting Harry a burning look.
"Congratulations on achieving your goal," she said shortly. "I'm going to lunch." She proceeded to ignore them all afternoon as well, though, when classes were over, she followed Harry, Ron, and Ginny down to the Quidditch pitch, even if she did still have her book with her.
"And then," Ron said, hitting the Quaffle away from the goal hoops, "she accuses me of being an idiot."
Ginny caught the Quaffle - quite well, Harry noted; their team would be gaining another Weasley come Friday's tryouts, he was sure - and gave her brother a withering look. "Ron, you are such a guy," she said, exasperated, lobbing the red ball to Harry, who caught it and circled for a goal.
"Thanks for noticing," her brother muttered, lunging and spinning Harry's toss with the tips of his fingers, sending it just outside of the hoop and having to go chase it.
"Do you know something we're too dense to notice?" Harry asked, giving Ginny a sideways glance.
She laughed, tossing her hair and letting the wind blow it behind her. "Probably a lot of things," she admitted cheerfully. "But I'm not telling you; that's your problem."
"A hint then?" he asked, flying closer as she came into possession of the Quaffle, making a sorry attempt to wrest it from her.
"Since when do girls give hints more tantalizing than that?" Ginny laughed, flying behind him, out of his reach.
"Har, har," he muttered, zooming after her, the wind whistling in his ears. Of a sudden he was run into by another person on a broom, temporarily blinded by way too much brown hair.
"Ginny, go!" Hermione squealed with glee. "Yes! Ten points to the girls!" She brushed her hair form her face and turned to grin at Harry. "We challenge you. First pair to ten goals wins."
"You're on!" Ron cried, Quaffle in hand as he had dived to retrieve it.
"Oh boy," Ginny muttered, flying alongside Harry as the game began and Hermione had chosen to guard Ron. "It's bad enough they bicker, put them against each other and they'll clobber each other."
Harry winced as Hermione scored a particularly difficult goal. "Cobbing, that," he noted, naming the foul for excessive use of elbows.
"Not like he noticed," Ginny pointed out, sitting back and starting to finger comb her hair as their teammates did not even notice their absence, so viciously were they playing. "But you've a sure bet in her for Chaser, I think."
"Then we just need one more," Harry mused. "Too bad we can't replace the Beaters, but none of those second years would be any better. Crabbe and Goyle would snap them like twigs."
Ginny nodded in agreement, eyes intent on the small battle before them. "Where d'you think she learned?"
"Who Hermione?" Harry grinned. "You don't think a champion Bulgarian Seeker had anything to do with it, do you?"
She shook her head, hair flying in her face again. "She's not mentioned it to me, and Ron would be livid if he knew, so I'm not sure . . ."
"Hah!" Hermione cried triumphantly, cheeks pink. "Ten to eight! We won."
"We?" Ginny whispered.
"Sure. Share the victory." Harry was not looking forward to prying Ron off Hermione; he had launched himself at her, shouting things he usually reserved for Snape, though she was defending herself quite well.
Ginny laughed. "Come on, let's get inside for dinner." Grabbing Harry by the arm, she practically dragged him to the ground where they stored their brooms and made their way up to the castle, discussing some finer points of Chasing and being berated by both Ron and Hermione when they came in, utterly windblown, twenty minutes later. Harry had almost forgotten that morning's incidents until he looked up at the staff table.
Places and been shuffled, putting Snape and Amy next to each other, though of course Lupin was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, look," he muttered, nudging Ginny as the other two were bickering again.
She glanced up, catching Snape as he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, causing her to laugh. "Remember, it's all about appearances," she said softly. "For all we know it was a stupid knock-knock joke."
Harry nodded, but he found himself glancing up there more often as the night wore on, finally dragging himself up to the dormitory to put the finishing touches on a Transfiguration essay before going to bed, Ron and Hermione still exchanging random insults behind him. He was asleep quickly, running along a pleasant country road, but then he tripped. Instead of a face plant in the dust, he tumbled end over end, landing softly in a shadowy place. Slightly dazed, he began to look around.
The door slammed. "She's impossible!" Ron steamed, beginning to tear off his clothes and pull on his pajamas. "Honestly, Harry, I can see why you didn't last long with Cho . . . girls!" With this last exclamation he disappeared behind his curtains, leaving Harry to go back to sleep, but - this time - he did not dream.
* * * * *
The class looked up expectantly as Professor Tobias strode in. "Mr. . . . Finnegan, is it?"
"Yes, sir," Seamus said, looking a bit shocked that apparently he was going to be the one to have to answer the question.
"Why are you here?" The professor reached the front of the room and turned to face them.
"Erm . . . the class was on my schedule, sir," he answered weakly.
Professor Tobias raised an eyebrow. "Do you always go to every class on your schedule, or are you a fan of those wonderful Skiving Snackboxes?"
"I - uh - I've not used one yet."
"Very well. Mr. Potter." The professor's blue eyes turned to him. "You have your wand out. If you are ready to do magic, I assume you know the answer to my question. Why are you here?"
"Because of a prophecy," he said quietly. The class started murmuring, but the professor's gaze only intensified.
"A prophecy told you to take this class."
"No."
"It told you that something would happen and you decided you would need this class."
"Yes."
"A solid future?"
"No."
"Well, then." He spread his hands. "What's to say that your desired outcome might even take place without this class?"
"Please, sir," Hermione said, hand in the air, "I don't think any of us quite understand what you're asking."
"Oh, you understand it quite plainly," he assured them, "and the answers you are giving me - at least, most of them" - he raised an eyebrow at Seamus - "are all revolving around the one answer I want."
"Something involving prophecies," she said, though she really didn't seem to think she was clarifying it.
Professor Tobias nodded. "Prophecies, jobs, ambitions . . . just-in-cases . . . think about it. What binds them together?"
The class exchanged quizzical glances. Finally Neville's hand fluttered perhaps an inch higher than normal resting height. "Yes?" the professor asked. "Mr. Longbottom."
Neville glanced around as if to steel himself for the reaction his reply would get. "They haven't happened yet."
Silence. Then, "Bravo, my boy! Ten points to Gryffindor!"
Hermione blinked. "That's it? That's why we should be taking this class?"
"Of course!" He was smiling, blue eyes twinkling. "You should be taking this class because you have a future. You do all have futures, don't you?"
She still looked gypped. "Doesn't everyone?" Had she been anyone but Hermione, she might have accused that of being the dumbest thing she had ever heard.
"Does everyone?" Professor Tobias took a seat on the edge of his desk.
"Well, yes. Unless they're dead, not much of a future in that." Her arms were crossed, electricity seeming to shoot out of the ends of her hair. Hermione had suffered through too many years with bogus Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers and she was not going to stand for another, especially not in a NEWT year. "That's what we call it when you're alive tomorrow."
"My dear girl, I do believe what we have here is a definition discrepancy." Far from being exasperated, the professor actually seemed thrilled that someone was challenging him on this. "You're defining a future as being alive in a time further on than now; I'm defining it differently."
"How, then?" Harry asked, interest piqued.
The professor pondered this a moment, not having had to answer questions like these in a long time. "Ambition, I suppose. The desire of advancement, to keep pushing the envelope, to use wax and feathers and make wings, to risk the fall."
"Huh?" Ron said blankly, the Greek mythology allusion having been beyond him.
"I'm not measuring your future in time, but in distance," Professor Tobias explained. "How far have you come? For that matter, how much further can you go? And will you? Do you want to? The sorriest thing in the world is a man who can go miles and is content with staying right where he is."
"So we're taking this class because we have a future." Hermione still looked skeptical.
He inclined his head. "Would you rather define it some other way?"
"Well, yes," she said, looking a tad distressed.
"How, then?"
"Not by just saying it's because we have a future. But because . . . well, we haven't learned everything yet. There's so much more out there than we know, and we should at least take a whack at learning it."
"But isn't that what he's saying?" Ron asked, looking confused at her confusion. "Going as far as we can, that sort of thing."
Still she looked troubled. "But that's saying that some people don't have futures, like they're stuck in time."
"Rather poetic way of putting it," the professor allowed. "They aren't stuck literally, of course, but perhaps in their mentality. That's my belief, anyway."
"But time's not like that," she argued. "Time flows and changes. Yes, maybe you can go back with a Time Turner, but you still can't make anything happen that didn't happen the first time, not and be safe. Time's more complicated than that. And if people actually stuck themselves in the same moment for the rest of their lives . . ."
"The results would be disastrous? My point exactly." He nodded. "Anyone else care to comment?"
"Then you could word it another way," Harry said slowly. "You could say we're in this class so we can keep moving."
"Arguments on that?" His blue eyes rested lightly on Hermione.
She shrugged. "I'm fine with that. But - you did say this was Defense Against the Dark Arts and not Theology, correct?"
The professor laughed. "I happen to think that Theology is what happens when you start pondering your next step and people don't do that as often as they should. Now, wands out; I'd like to see how advanced everyone is."
"That was a bit insane," Hermione muttered an hour later as they left the classroom, some of them - the non-DA members - nursing small cuts and bruises.
"I'll say," Ron agreed, shoving his hair out of his eyes and juggling three large textbooks while still trying to take the stairs three at a time. "I'm not used to thinking in that class . . ."
"D'you think there's a reason behind it?" Harry asked, walking normally beside Hermione. "I mean, a reason he wants us to start thinking like that. Maybe - maybe . . ."
She frowned, biting her lip. "Maybe because he thinks it'll help us? I don't know, Harry. But too much more of that and my head will explode. Come on, let's grab Ginny and go for some more Quidditch practice, we've not much time until Friday."
Ron had come to a halt as she streaked by him. "What's up with that?" he asked Harry faintly. "Hermione, saying a class makes her head hurt and skipping off for Quidditch . . . D'you get the feeling there's something she's not telling us?"
"Loads," Harry agreed heavily. "But come on - at least she's not buying us homework planners."
Ron laughed and they took off to dump their things in their room and meet the girls on the Quidditch pitch for a few rounds before dinner.
* * * * *
Harry looked around the Room of Requirement, fingering the fake Galleon in his pocket. "D'you actually think anyone will show up?" he asked doubtfully. "I mean, what if they haven't even thought about this all summer? What if they accidentally spent their Galleons?" What if they've decided I'm not a good enough teacher?
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Relax, Harry," she muttered over the top of The Big Book of Bad Curses. "I'm sure at least half of them will show up."
"And, if not," Ron said cheerily, "then you're just stuck with us." He grinned, balancing his wand on the tip of hi finger and staggering drunkenly to keep it upright.
In fact, everyone who had not graduated - with the exception of Cho's friend - showed up. Zacharius Smith was sure to complain that they started out the year with a review, but Ron hit him with a Full Body Bind and conveniently forgot the counter curse, so he spent half an hour looking it up. Even Hermione refused to tell, though everyone knew she knew.
Amy showed up part of the way through the lesson, after Zacharius had been unfrozen, slipping in through the door and taking a seat cross legged in the corner, watching with silent interest. She was so silent and so still that half of the DA didn't even notice she was there. Even Harry was inclined to forget as he circled his classmates, encouraging and offering hints that had been forgotten over the summer.
It was nine o'clock when he looked at his watch, but by now he was expecting time to fly, and the good-natured groans of the other members just made him smile as they slipped out in twos and threes, eager for the next lesson. Harry smiled. "That was rather fun, wasn't it?" he asked no one in particular.
Amy grinned, standing. "Have you given any thought to a career other than being an Auror?"
He blinked. "Other than an Auror? No. Why?"
"Because you make a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," she observed. "Seriously, give it a think."
Harry almost laughed. "Me, a Dark Arts professor? You're just joshing me."
"She's right, you are good," Hermione said. "But then, that's the reason I asked you in the first place."
"Sure, mate," Ron said, rubbing his head where he had hit it after being Stunned and missing the pillows. "It's give you a job for a year, at least."
"You're mental, all of you," Harry said dismissively. "Come on, we should be getting back to the Common Room."
"You two go ahead," Hermione said quickly. "I've - I think I left my knitting in the hospital wing."
Amy nodded. "That's a possibility. Come on, I'll fend of Filch and that devil cat - 'scuse me, Mrs. Norris. Night, you two." Nodding to Harry and Ron, she left, followed by Hermione.
Harry and Ron shared a look. "She was working on a sweater before we came here," Ron said, confused.
"Maybe she has more than one?" Harry shrugged. "But come on, or Filch'll come up with some reason to string us up in the dungeons."
"Good thing we got rid of Umbridge when we did," Ron agreed. "Really, he was getting too attached to her . . . wanting to pick out curtains and everything . . ."
* * * * *
Friday evening found Harry windblown and very much shocked. He was in a sort of fog while putting his broom away after Quidditch try-outs. The first bit was easy to explain - they'd needed three Chasers. Three people showed up to try out. Exactly three. So he'd had to accept them all, and announced an impromptu team practice, Harry and the two Beaters against the three prospective Chasers, Ron guarding the goal (Harry didn't want to get discouraged too early by giving them actual Bludgers).
Ginny and Hermione were a good team. "Maybe it's all those knitting lessons together," Ron grunted, performing a sloppy Starfish on a Stick, but blocking the goal hoops. Indeed, they seemed to anticipate one another, knowing instinctively what the other's first move would be. Harry was impressed, to say the least, and nothing could have brought him down, not even if the third member stank beyond belief.
He didn't. Believe it or not - despite the fact that a strong breeze looked like it would blow him off his broom, despite the fact that any member of the Slytherin team could have torn him in two and not even worked up a sweat, despite the fact that Hermione and Ginny were rather hogging the Quaffle - Colin Creevy was a dang good Quidditch player.
"Can you believe it?" Ron asked, coming into the broom shed after Harry, robes fastened under his left ear from the exertion of playing. "I mean, did you even see half those goals he shot at me? Bloody brilliant!"
"I think it's grand," Hermione said, putting hers and Ginny's brooms away. "He's a perfect third, did you know?"
"Why, he's four half steps?" Ginny grinned at the confusion on their faces. "Never mind, it's a music thing."
Hermione blinked, obviously shocked there was an area besides chess where she might need brushing up. "Er - I meant because no one'll expect him to be that good. Especially if we stress that there were only three players who showed up."
"Did I do all right, Harry?" Colin asked, finally making it to the shed, brushing his mousy brown hair out of his eyes.
"You did great, Colin," Harry said enthusiastically. And he did not have to fake his smile.
"We're going to win it this year, I can tell," Ron said seriously later that night at dinner, shoveling huge amounts of everything on his plate. "No way they can top us."
"Mmm." Harry had caught a glimpse of Cho over Ron's shoulder, hanging all over Ginny's ex-boyfriend. He wondered whether that should arouse any emotion at all, because it didn't.
"Sickening, isn't it?" Ginny asked, having followed his line of sight just in time for a kiss.
"He wasn't that way with you," he pointed out, "that way" meaning "he didn't hang all over you in some disgusting manner."
"No. Wouldn't let him." She grinned at him, something catching her eye and she leaned slightly to the right.
Harry turned this time, seeing Dean and Seamus come in, Dean talking about something with much waving of his hands. "You still after him?"
"Care to point out someone better?" she murmured, eyebrow raised.
Harry realized Ron had clued into what they were saying. "Well, there's Crabbe," he said seriously. "I know, doesn't let on, but really he's a brilliant linguist, reads all the classics in the original languages."
A moment of confusion flickered over her face, but she caught on rather quickly. "I don't know," she said slowly, reaching for the pork roast. "I heard Gregory Goyle has such a wonderful sense of humor."
"Ah, but he's a ladies' man. You deserve better."
Ginny blushed slightly, laughing. "I'd've asked Drakey - er, Malfoy" - she batted her eyes - "soon as we got back to school, but I'm allergic to ferrets."
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you'd just gone to Amy for that potion I'd told you about, you two could've been snogging in the Astronomy Tower right now."
Ron finally managed to swallow his mouthful. "What the devil are you three saying?"
"Oh, come on, Ron, didn't you listen to the Sorting Hat at all?" Hermione demanded. "Uniting the Houses . . . why, it's high time Gryffindor and Slytherin had some common blood."
Ron was distinctly green. He looked down at his plate and shoved it away. "I really shouldn't listen to you when I'm hungry, ruins my appetite straight off . . ."
Ginny gave Harry a wink and went back to her pork. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, clearly trying to indicate something, but he was clueless.
"Hey, where's Amy?" Ron asked, scanning the Head Table. Harry glanced up. There was an empty seat next to Snape.
"He doesn't look too worried," Hermione muttered, eyes intent on the Potions professor. Indeed, he looked a bit grumpier than usual, not speaking to Professor Sinistra on his other side. Then again, she looked rather relieved.
"She's probably doing something with Lupin," Ginny suggested. "You know . . . ."
Ron and Harry exchanged a look that said they did not want to know.
But Hermione laughed. "No, he's not supposed to see, not until their wedding day."
Ron and Harry busied themselves with food, the color having returned to Ron's cheeks.
"Mum's coming up a week from tomorrow, for the Hogsmeade visit," Ginny informed Ron. "We're all going with Amy and Tonks to get the final order for her wedding dress, we've been looking at scraps and trims all week."
Ron looked a bit too shocked to even chew right then, though Harry made a quicker recovery. "When're they getting married, then?"
Hermione shrugged. "It might be as soon as Christmas holidays, but that depends on when they can get the dress done and all. Oh, you should see the design she favors. It's like something a princess would wear!" Hermione, gushing. It was definitely a sight to see.
"Oh, there she is," Ron managed.
Amy had come up to the staff table but, instead of sitting down to eat, she whispered something in Snape's ear. He immediately threw his napkin on the table, got up, and followed her out a side door.
"Wonder what that's all about," Hermione said vaguely, meaning she really didn't wonder at all, but whether this was because she knew or because it was business for the professors, the boys really couldn't say. "Anyway, yes, I agree: we have a really good team this year." Just like that, they were back to Quidditch.
"Amy needs to see you," Harry said, trying to push any ill feelings for the man aside. "Now."
"Potter, I have a class. And, as it the bane of my existence, so do you. The same one, in case you don't remember."
"Yes, she knows," he said, exasperated, almost running to keep trailing him. "She said you should cancel it, and that -"
"Cancel?" Snape turned, eyes narrowed. "Potter, this is NEWT level Potions. What -"
"Just listen, would you?" Harry cut in, exasperated. "She knows all that. Look, just no win the hospital wing -
"Hasn't anyone taught you not to interrupt?" Snape asked, completely ignoring the irony of the situation. "And unless you -"
"Severus!" Dumbledore strode up, beard tossed over his shoulder. "I was just in with Nymphadora and Alistair. Amy needs you."
Snape blinked. So did Harry. "Amy was with them?" he asked, thoroughly confused.
"When there is such a breach of security within Hogwarts, it only makes sense that our Aurors should be notified," the headmaster said. "The two of you should come with me. Henry will take care of notifying your students. Come along."
Out of pure will Harry did not give his professor a look that said "I told you so," but it was a struggle.
Tonks and Moody were investigating the fireplace when they arrived. Amy was talking to something in her hand, gesturing with her other. Tonks called out distractedly, "Tell him to go."
"Go on," Amy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she had a headache.
"Tell her if I run into a brick wall, I'm blaming her," a small voice replied, clearly disgruntled - and worried. A moment later another shoof! of soot came out and Professor Lupin was brushing himself off, stepping out of the fireplace.
"We're not connected to the Floo network," Snape said, eyeing the other man suspiciously as if Lupin had been the one to illegally connect them.
Amy nodded. "So observed. But we are. At least, I am."
"Are you all right?" Lupin hugged her tightly, especially when she returned the gesture almost desperately.
"Well, my supply of Chocolate Frogs has suffered and I think I killed a toothbrush, but now my mouths at least semi-clean," she muttered.
"You're connected for a good half-hour yet, near as I can tell," Moody said, blue eye swinging around to all the corners of the fireplace, though Harry had no idea what he was looking for.
"Hmm, guess that makes his intentions clear," Amy said bitterly. Then, as tersely as possible, she explained the scene Harry had witnessed.
"My god," Lupin said when she was done.
"Damn him," Snape said at the same time. It was hard to tell which of the men was angrier: Lupin was holding Amy tightly, protectively, and a mask of anger was over his face, whereas the Potions professor actually had a pink tinge to his otherwise sallow skin.
"But I don't know who he meant," she said, looking relieved that both of them were reacting in such a way. "I mean, with what's come before . . . he could go after either Severus or Remus."
"Wait. You dated Sn - you dated Professor Snape?" Harry asked, not looking at the man. "Exactly how many Dark witches and wizards, past or present, have you been involved with?"
Amy rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't date Severus. And I never actually dated Regulus. Mum was the one who got it into her head that we should marry and he was about to blindly follow her and propose when he got himself killed. As for Lucius, he only met me around the time Mum got her little idea and decided to settle for Narcissa. They were engaged by the time Reg was found to be dead and married before I was supposed to be done mourning him."
"But Lucius thinks you might be engaged to Severus," Mad-Eye asked. "I'm not following."
"Previously, to protect both of them, Severus and Amy had pretended to be seriously involved on my suggestion," Dumbledore said softly. "As he was supposed to be a Death Eater and she came from a Dark family, the arrangement was ideal throughout the shaky years following Voldemort's fall."
Harry tried not to make a face at that. Amy and Snape, involved? Even just for show, the thought was sickening. And how "seriously"? Living-in-the- same-apartment seriously? Or just seeing-each-other-every-night-of-the-week seriously? Maybe she hadn't developed any feelings of attachment, but Harry was not so sure about the greasy-haired, hook-nosed professor.
"Tell me about it," Lupin muttered, causing Harry to remember that he and Amy had been together then. He wondered how his old professor had felt about the arrangements.
"We can check in at the Ministry to see who might have been able to hook this into the network," Moody said, completely breaking the train of thought. "Chances are, some of them are already his. We just need to find out which ones."
"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Amy pulled away from Lupin. "Let's just think about this from Lucius' point of view: he goes to ask for help from someone he thinks is loyal and then, the next time he tries to contact her, the fires are being watched. He's going to be suspicious."
"Not if they're still watching the fires from last year," Tonks piped up.
Dead silence.
"I thought they were," Lupin finally said in a strangled voice. "Albus, didn't you say that was part of the security measures taken to ensure Hogwarts would still be safe?"
Dumbledore's eyes looked clouded. "Yes, Remus. That was something the minister and I have discussed."
"Then - then they're already in the Ministry," Harry said, ice sliding into his stomach. Well, where his stomach would have been had it not left without him.
"Not necessarily," Moody said, "though I doubt we're entirely clean. It could have been an Unforgivable Curse, or an attack by an outsider, but I'm inclined to inside help."
"So maybe someone did detect it," Tonks said, eyes crossed as she tried to think. "If we have to modify a memory . . . they could believe that someone else walked into the room to catch Lucius in the act."
"And why would someone be checking up on something like this?" Moody asked, though he, too, looked thoughtful.
"To offer a game of Exploding Snap to pass what would otherwise be a boring shift," Lupin said dryly, looking an arm around Amy's waist as she leant back into him.
Dumbledore nodded. "This might take both of you. Go now, before you lose the fireplace."
The Aurors nodded, accepting powder from a bag the headmaster handed them and then went out in puffs of green, smelly smoke.
"Now what?" Amy asked softly, looking from Snape to Dumbledore.
"Once we are sure Hogwarts is secure - or at least as sure and secure as we can be - then we have to protect the three of you."
Lupin groaned. "Please, not again."
"Like it's a barrel of monkeys for us, Remus," Amy returned flatly.
"Just look at it this way, Remus," Snape said smoothly. "Lucius wishes to remove her fiancé."
He rolled his eyes. "Some reassurance."
But Dumbledore was nodding. "Yes, I think it best that you revert back to that charade. Meanwhile" - he turned to Remus - "you will be staying here."
"But the Order -"
"Like you better alive than dead," the headmaster calmly finished. "This is only temporary, Remus, and I believe you would rather be here than stuck alone with her mother." He inclined his head toward Amy, indicating "number twelve, Grimmauld Place." Having done what he could, he left.
Snape looked shrewdly at the couple. "You lost me a lesson," he accused Amy.
She rolled her eyes, leaning around her desk to grab something, chucking it at him. "Have a Chocolate Frog. I've rather you had your lesson and I had a normal morning, thank you very much."
"I'll say," Harry muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. He had a lot to tell Ron and Hermione.
"Cheers, Harry," Amy said wearily, raising a Frog of her own. "To never having another lesson like that."
"I'd rather it was to no more yoga," he muttered, but he grinned at her as he left, just to let her know that Lucius Malfoy was worse than yoga any day.
* * * * *
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked, exasperated, over the top of Dark Arts Theory: The Curses and the Reasoning. "We waited ages in the dungeons, but then Professor Tobias shooed us away."
"No Potions, mate!" Ron said, grinning widely.
"Oh, stop it, Ron." Hermione looked ready to bop him with her book, no laughing matter as the thing was huge. "There must have been something horrible, something to do with the Order or something."
"No, McGonnagal was still in class," he argued. "Ginny looked green with envy when we passed . . ."
"Are you two going to argue over what you think happened or do you actually want to know?" Harry broke in.
"You know?" Hermione sat up, snapping the book shut without even a finger to mark her spot.
Quickly Harry told them everything from the appearance of Lucius Malfoy to five minutes previous. Ron liked stunned. "So she wasn't only engaged to Regulus, she had Malfoy after her and Snape acting like they were all huggy- wuggy?"
Hermione snorted with laughter. "'Huggy-wuggy'? What are you, two?"
"And she wasn't actually engaged to Regulus," Harry pointed out. "I told you that."
"Still . . ." Ron looked slightly sick. "Professor Lupin can't be taking this too well."
"At least he's here," Hermione said, though she was making a face as though trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth. "Ugh, imagine him kissing you . . . he's even worse than Draco . . ."
"I'll not imagine it, thanks." Ron looked as he had after blasting himself with the slug curse, ready to need a basin at any moment.
"But that's rather interesting," Hermione said slowly, color returning to her cheeks. "That Draco's dad only married his mum because he couldn't have Amy . . . That should lead to a happy home life."
Harry made a face, dropping into the empty armchair in front of the Common Room fire. "Hermione? Let me know when you stop trying to find ways to feel sorry for Draco."
"I wasn't," she said indignantly. "I was just thinking that Amy's in a rather sticky spot. Sure, her parents are dead and gone, but that leaves Bellatrix and Narcissa, not to mention their husbands. Can you imagine, being forced by the mere thought of them to parade around with Snape while your real boyfriend - or fiancé - looks on?"
Ron's face had frozen. "Parade around with Snape? I'm getting images of spangly circus outfits and I'm honestly trying to stop before I get to the spandex and tights."
"Oh, would you grow up?" Hermione said, exasperated. "Look at it from her point of view, wouldn't you? She and Lupin are the ones who are in love, but to protect him she has to act all - what was that baby phrase?"
"Huggy-wuggy," Harry supplied.
"She has to act all huggy-wuggy with Snape," Hermione finished.
"Yes," Ron said slowly, "but isn't it possible that maybe Snape sees it as more than an act?"
Hermione gave him a Look, one Harry was sure she had picked up from Amy as he had just recently seen it from her. "Are you really that dense?" she asked, contempt dripping off every word.
"Well, if I can have the emotional range of a tea cup -"
"Tea spoon," Harry corrected.
"- then I might as well have the intelligence of one," he finished, shooting Harry a burning look.
"Congratulations on achieving your goal," she said shortly. "I'm going to lunch." She proceeded to ignore them all afternoon as well, though, when classes were over, she followed Harry, Ron, and Ginny down to the Quidditch pitch, even if she did still have her book with her.
"And then," Ron said, hitting the Quaffle away from the goal hoops, "she accuses me of being an idiot."
Ginny caught the Quaffle - quite well, Harry noted; their team would be gaining another Weasley come Friday's tryouts, he was sure - and gave her brother a withering look. "Ron, you are such a guy," she said, exasperated, lobbing the red ball to Harry, who caught it and circled for a goal.
"Thanks for noticing," her brother muttered, lunging and spinning Harry's toss with the tips of his fingers, sending it just outside of the hoop and having to go chase it.
"Do you know something we're too dense to notice?" Harry asked, giving Ginny a sideways glance.
She laughed, tossing her hair and letting the wind blow it behind her. "Probably a lot of things," she admitted cheerfully. "But I'm not telling you; that's your problem."
"A hint then?" he asked, flying closer as she came into possession of the Quaffle, making a sorry attempt to wrest it from her.
"Since when do girls give hints more tantalizing than that?" Ginny laughed, flying behind him, out of his reach.
"Har, har," he muttered, zooming after her, the wind whistling in his ears. Of a sudden he was run into by another person on a broom, temporarily blinded by way too much brown hair.
"Ginny, go!" Hermione squealed with glee. "Yes! Ten points to the girls!" She brushed her hair form her face and turned to grin at Harry. "We challenge you. First pair to ten goals wins."
"You're on!" Ron cried, Quaffle in hand as he had dived to retrieve it.
"Oh boy," Ginny muttered, flying alongside Harry as the game began and Hermione had chosen to guard Ron. "It's bad enough they bicker, put them against each other and they'll clobber each other."
Harry winced as Hermione scored a particularly difficult goal. "Cobbing, that," he noted, naming the foul for excessive use of elbows.
"Not like he noticed," Ginny pointed out, sitting back and starting to finger comb her hair as their teammates did not even notice their absence, so viciously were they playing. "But you've a sure bet in her for Chaser, I think."
"Then we just need one more," Harry mused. "Too bad we can't replace the Beaters, but none of those second years would be any better. Crabbe and Goyle would snap them like twigs."
Ginny nodded in agreement, eyes intent on the small battle before them. "Where d'you think she learned?"
"Who Hermione?" Harry grinned. "You don't think a champion Bulgarian Seeker had anything to do with it, do you?"
She shook her head, hair flying in her face again. "She's not mentioned it to me, and Ron would be livid if he knew, so I'm not sure . . ."
"Hah!" Hermione cried triumphantly, cheeks pink. "Ten to eight! We won."
"We?" Ginny whispered.
"Sure. Share the victory." Harry was not looking forward to prying Ron off Hermione; he had launched himself at her, shouting things he usually reserved for Snape, though she was defending herself quite well.
Ginny laughed. "Come on, let's get inside for dinner." Grabbing Harry by the arm, she practically dragged him to the ground where they stored their brooms and made their way up to the castle, discussing some finer points of Chasing and being berated by both Ron and Hermione when they came in, utterly windblown, twenty minutes later. Harry had almost forgotten that morning's incidents until he looked up at the staff table.
Places and been shuffled, putting Snape and Amy next to each other, though of course Lupin was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, look," he muttered, nudging Ginny as the other two were bickering again.
She glanced up, catching Snape as he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, causing her to laugh. "Remember, it's all about appearances," she said softly. "For all we know it was a stupid knock-knock joke."
Harry nodded, but he found himself glancing up there more often as the night wore on, finally dragging himself up to the dormitory to put the finishing touches on a Transfiguration essay before going to bed, Ron and Hermione still exchanging random insults behind him. He was asleep quickly, running along a pleasant country road, but then he tripped. Instead of a face plant in the dust, he tumbled end over end, landing softly in a shadowy place. Slightly dazed, he began to look around.
The door slammed. "She's impossible!" Ron steamed, beginning to tear off his clothes and pull on his pajamas. "Honestly, Harry, I can see why you didn't last long with Cho . . . girls!" With this last exclamation he disappeared behind his curtains, leaving Harry to go back to sleep, but - this time - he did not dream.
* * * * *
The class looked up expectantly as Professor Tobias strode in. "Mr. . . . Finnegan, is it?"
"Yes, sir," Seamus said, looking a bit shocked that apparently he was going to be the one to have to answer the question.
"Why are you here?" The professor reached the front of the room and turned to face them.
"Erm . . . the class was on my schedule, sir," he answered weakly.
Professor Tobias raised an eyebrow. "Do you always go to every class on your schedule, or are you a fan of those wonderful Skiving Snackboxes?"
"I - uh - I've not used one yet."
"Very well. Mr. Potter." The professor's blue eyes turned to him. "You have your wand out. If you are ready to do magic, I assume you know the answer to my question. Why are you here?"
"Because of a prophecy," he said quietly. The class started murmuring, but the professor's gaze only intensified.
"A prophecy told you to take this class."
"No."
"It told you that something would happen and you decided you would need this class."
"Yes."
"A solid future?"
"No."
"Well, then." He spread his hands. "What's to say that your desired outcome might even take place without this class?"
"Please, sir," Hermione said, hand in the air, "I don't think any of us quite understand what you're asking."
"Oh, you understand it quite plainly," he assured them, "and the answers you are giving me - at least, most of them" - he raised an eyebrow at Seamus - "are all revolving around the one answer I want."
"Something involving prophecies," she said, though she really didn't seem to think she was clarifying it.
Professor Tobias nodded. "Prophecies, jobs, ambitions . . . just-in-cases . . . think about it. What binds them together?"
The class exchanged quizzical glances. Finally Neville's hand fluttered perhaps an inch higher than normal resting height. "Yes?" the professor asked. "Mr. Longbottom."
Neville glanced around as if to steel himself for the reaction his reply would get. "They haven't happened yet."
Silence. Then, "Bravo, my boy! Ten points to Gryffindor!"
Hermione blinked. "That's it? That's why we should be taking this class?"
"Of course!" He was smiling, blue eyes twinkling. "You should be taking this class because you have a future. You do all have futures, don't you?"
She still looked gypped. "Doesn't everyone?" Had she been anyone but Hermione, she might have accused that of being the dumbest thing she had ever heard.
"Does everyone?" Professor Tobias took a seat on the edge of his desk.
"Well, yes. Unless they're dead, not much of a future in that." Her arms were crossed, electricity seeming to shoot out of the ends of her hair. Hermione had suffered through too many years with bogus Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers and she was not going to stand for another, especially not in a NEWT year. "That's what we call it when you're alive tomorrow."
"My dear girl, I do believe what we have here is a definition discrepancy." Far from being exasperated, the professor actually seemed thrilled that someone was challenging him on this. "You're defining a future as being alive in a time further on than now; I'm defining it differently."
"How, then?" Harry asked, interest piqued.
The professor pondered this a moment, not having had to answer questions like these in a long time. "Ambition, I suppose. The desire of advancement, to keep pushing the envelope, to use wax and feathers and make wings, to risk the fall."
"Huh?" Ron said blankly, the Greek mythology allusion having been beyond him.
"I'm not measuring your future in time, but in distance," Professor Tobias explained. "How far have you come? For that matter, how much further can you go? And will you? Do you want to? The sorriest thing in the world is a man who can go miles and is content with staying right where he is."
"So we're taking this class because we have a future." Hermione still looked skeptical.
He inclined his head. "Would you rather define it some other way?"
"Well, yes," she said, looking a tad distressed.
"How, then?"
"Not by just saying it's because we have a future. But because . . . well, we haven't learned everything yet. There's so much more out there than we know, and we should at least take a whack at learning it."
"But isn't that what he's saying?" Ron asked, looking confused at her confusion. "Going as far as we can, that sort of thing."
Still she looked troubled. "But that's saying that some people don't have futures, like they're stuck in time."
"Rather poetic way of putting it," the professor allowed. "They aren't stuck literally, of course, but perhaps in their mentality. That's my belief, anyway."
"But time's not like that," she argued. "Time flows and changes. Yes, maybe you can go back with a Time Turner, but you still can't make anything happen that didn't happen the first time, not and be safe. Time's more complicated than that. And if people actually stuck themselves in the same moment for the rest of their lives . . ."
"The results would be disastrous? My point exactly." He nodded. "Anyone else care to comment?"
"Then you could word it another way," Harry said slowly. "You could say we're in this class so we can keep moving."
"Arguments on that?" His blue eyes rested lightly on Hermione.
She shrugged. "I'm fine with that. But - you did say this was Defense Against the Dark Arts and not Theology, correct?"
The professor laughed. "I happen to think that Theology is what happens when you start pondering your next step and people don't do that as often as they should. Now, wands out; I'd like to see how advanced everyone is."
"That was a bit insane," Hermione muttered an hour later as they left the classroom, some of them - the non-DA members - nursing small cuts and bruises.
"I'll say," Ron agreed, shoving his hair out of his eyes and juggling three large textbooks while still trying to take the stairs three at a time. "I'm not used to thinking in that class . . ."
"D'you think there's a reason behind it?" Harry asked, walking normally beside Hermione. "I mean, a reason he wants us to start thinking like that. Maybe - maybe . . ."
She frowned, biting her lip. "Maybe because he thinks it'll help us? I don't know, Harry. But too much more of that and my head will explode. Come on, let's grab Ginny and go for some more Quidditch practice, we've not much time until Friday."
Ron had come to a halt as she streaked by him. "What's up with that?" he asked Harry faintly. "Hermione, saying a class makes her head hurt and skipping off for Quidditch . . . D'you get the feeling there's something she's not telling us?"
"Loads," Harry agreed heavily. "But come on - at least she's not buying us homework planners."
Ron laughed and they took off to dump their things in their room and meet the girls on the Quidditch pitch for a few rounds before dinner.
* * * * *
Harry looked around the Room of Requirement, fingering the fake Galleon in his pocket. "D'you actually think anyone will show up?" he asked doubtfully. "I mean, what if they haven't even thought about this all summer? What if they accidentally spent their Galleons?" What if they've decided I'm not a good enough teacher?
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Relax, Harry," she muttered over the top of The Big Book of Bad Curses. "I'm sure at least half of them will show up."
"And, if not," Ron said cheerily, "then you're just stuck with us." He grinned, balancing his wand on the tip of hi finger and staggering drunkenly to keep it upright.
In fact, everyone who had not graduated - with the exception of Cho's friend - showed up. Zacharius Smith was sure to complain that they started out the year with a review, but Ron hit him with a Full Body Bind and conveniently forgot the counter curse, so he spent half an hour looking it up. Even Hermione refused to tell, though everyone knew she knew.
Amy showed up part of the way through the lesson, after Zacharius had been unfrozen, slipping in through the door and taking a seat cross legged in the corner, watching with silent interest. She was so silent and so still that half of the DA didn't even notice she was there. Even Harry was inclined to forget as he circled his classmates, encouraging and offering hints that had been forgotten over the summer.
It was nine o'clock when he looked at his watch, but by now he was expecting time to fly, and the good-natured groans of the other members just made him smile as they slipped out in twos and threes, eager for the next lesson. Harry smiled. "That was rather fun, wasn't it?" he asked no one in particular.
Amy grinned, standing. "Have you given any thought to a career other than being an Auror?"
He blinked. "Other than an Auror? No. Why?"
"Because you make a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," she observed. "Seriously, give it a think."
Harry almost laughed. "Me, a Dark Arts professor? You're just joshing me."
"She's right, you are good," Hermione said. "But then, that's the reason I asked you in the first place."
"Sure, mate," Ron said, rubbing his head where he had hit it after being Stunned and missing the pillows. "It's give you a job for a year, at least."
"You're mental, all of you," Harry said dismissively. "Come on, we should be getting back to the Common Room."
"You two go ahead," Hermione said quickly. "I've - I think I left my knitting in the hospital wing."
Amy nodded. "That's a possibility. Come on, I'll fend of Filch and that devil cat - 'scuse me, Mrs. Norris. Night, you two." Nodding to Harry and Ron, she left, followed by Hermione.
Harry and Ron shared a look. "She was working on a sweater before we came here," Ron said, confused.
"Maybe she has more than one?" Harry shrugged. "But come on, or Filch'll come up with some reason to string us up in the dungeons."
"Good thing we got rid of Umbridge when we did," Ron agreed. "Really, he was getting too attached to her . . . wanting to pick out curtains and everything . . ."
* * * * *
Friday evening found Harry windblown and very much shocked. He was in a sort of fog while putting his broom away after Quidditch try-outs. The first bit was easy to explain - they'd needed three Chasers. Three people showed up to try out. Exactly three. So he'd had to accept them all, and announced an impromptu team practice, Harry and the two Beaters against the three prospective Chasers, Ron guarding the goal (Harry didn't want to get discouraged too early by giving them actual Bludgers).
Ginny and Hermione were a good team. "Maybe it's all those knitting lessons together," Ron grunted, performing a sloppy Starfish on a Stick, but blocking the goal hoops. Indeed, they seemed to anticipate one another, knowing instinctively what the other's first move would be. Harry was impressed, to say the least, and nothing could have brought him down, not even if the third member stank beyond belief.
He didn't. Believe it or not - despite the fact that a strong breeze looked like it would blow him off his broom, despite the fact that any member of the Slytherin team could have torn him in two and not even worked up a sweat, despite the fact that Hermione and Ginny were rather hogging the Quaffle - Colin Creevy was a dang good Quidditch player.
"Can you believe it?" Ron asked, coming into the broom shed after Harry, robes fastened under his left ear from the exertion of playing. "I mean, did you even see half those goals he shot at me? Bloody brilliant!"
"I think it's grand," Hermione said, putting hers and Ginny's brooms away. "He's a perfect third, did you know?"
"Why, he's four half steps?" Ginny grinned at the confusion on their faces. "Never mind, it's a music thing."
Hermione blinked, obviously shocked there was an area besides chess where she might need brushing up. "Er - I meant because no one'll expect him to be that good. Especially if we stress that there were only three players who showed up."
"Did I do all right, Harry?" Colin asked, finally making it to the shed, brushing his mousy brown hair out of his eyes.
"You did great, Colin," Harry said enthusiastically. And he did not have to fake his smile.
"We're going to win it this year, I can tell," Ron said seriously later that night at dinner, shoveling huge amounts of everything on his plate. "No way they can top us."
"Mmm." Harry had caught a glimpse of Cho over Ron's shoulder, hanging all over Ginny's ex-boyfriend. He wondered whether that should arouse any emotion at all, because it didn't.
"Sickening, isn't it?" Ginny asked, having followed his line of sight just in time for a kiss.
"He wasn't that way with you," he pointed out, "that way" meaning "he didn't hang all over you in some disgusting manner."
"No. Wouldn't let him." She grinned at him, something catching her eye and she leaned slightly to the right.
Harry turned this time, seeing Dean and Seamus come in, Dean talking about something with much waving of his hands. "You still after him?"
"Care to point out someone better?" she murmured, eyebrow raised.
Harry realized Ron had clued into what they were saying. "Well, there's Crabbe," he said seriously. "I know, doesn't let on, but really he's a brilliant linguist, reads all the classics in the original languages."
A moment of confusion flickered over her face, but she caught on rather quickly. "I don't know," she said slowly, reaching for the pork roast. "I heard Gregory Goyle has such a wonderful sense of humor."
"Ah, but he's a ladies' man. You deserve better."
Ginny blushed slightly, laughing. "I'd've asked Drakey - er, Malfoy" - she batted her eyes - "soon as we got back to school, but I'm allergic to ferrets."
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you'd just gone to Amy for that potion I'd told you about, you two could've been snogging in the Astronomy Tower right now."
Ron finally managed to swallow his mouthful. "What the devil are you three saying?"
"Oh, come on, Ron, didn't you listen to the Sorting Hat at all?" Hermione demanded. "Uniting the Houses . . . why, it's high time Gryffindor and Slytherin had some common blood."
Ron was distinctly green. He looked down at his plate and shoved it away. "I really shouldn't listen to you when I'm hungry, ruins my appetite straight off . . ."
Ginny gave Harry a wink and went back to her pork. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, clearly trying to indicate something, but he was clueless.
"Hey, where's Amy?" Ron asked, scanning the Head Table. Harry glanced up. There was an empty seat next to Snape.
"He doesn't look too worried," Hermione muttered, eyes intent on the Potions professor. Indeed, he looked a bit grumpier than usual, not speaking to Professor Sinistra on his other side. Then again, she looked rather relieved.
"She's probably doing something with Lupin," Ginny suggested. "You know . . . ."
Ron and Harry exchanged a look that said they did not want to know.
But Hermione laughed. "No, he's not supposed to see, not until their wedding day."
Ron and Harry busied themselves with food, the color having returned to Ron's cheeks.
"Mum's coming up a week from tomorrow, for the Hogsmeade visit," Ginny informed Ron. "We're all going with Amy and Tonks to get the final order for her wedding dress, we've been looking at scraps and trims all week."
Ron looked a bit too shocked to even chew right then, though Harry made a quicker recovery. "When're they getting married, then?"
Hermione shrugged. "It might be as soon as Christmas holidays, but that depends on when they can get the dress done and all. Oh, you should see the design she favors. It's like something a princess would wear!" Hermione, gushing. It was definitely a sight to see.
"Oh, there she is," Ron managed.
Amy had come up to the staff table but, instead of sitting down to eat, she whispered something in Snape's ear. He immediately threw his napkin on the table, got up, and followed her out a side door.
"Wonder what that's all about," Hermione said vaguely, meaning she really didn't wonder at all, but whether this was because she knew or because it was business for the professors, the boys really couldn't say. "Anyway, yes, I agree: we have a really good team this year." Just like that, they were back to Quidditch.