All of this belongs to JKR. I just work here. Notes are at the end.

Chapter Three.

"Ginny," Harry sputtered, "it's ten in the morning!"

"And you have something better to do?" she replied coolly, pulling the cork. The bottle had been barely touched. She cocked an eyebrow at him and added, "It makes a difference if we wait until after lunch?"

Where did you find that?" Hermione asked.

"Kitchen. Cheers." She turned up the bottle, took a fearless swig, and grimacing and shuddering, handed the bottle to Hermione.

Hermione pulled out her wand, muttered something, and tapped her own head. Then she tapped the bottle. "Cooling charm," she explained and without comment, took a drink and silently held the bottle out to Ron.

Harry watched with amazement. Ron, open mouthed, was staring at her.

"What?" Hermione asked, gesturing with the bottle for Ron to take it.

Ron joined them on the floor and took his own drink, made a face, and handed the bottle to Harry.

Harry tentatively smelled it and was strongly reminded of kerosene.

"Get on with it, then," Ginny told him.

Holding his breath, he drank fast, and felt the scorching liquid burn its way down to his stomach. "Aaack yeeckh gyluuuk," Harry gasped, coughing and shuddering.

"Attaboy," Ginny approved.

A comfortable warmth slowly spread outward from his stomach until it reached his toes and fingertips.

Half the bottle just sort of disappeared.

"Firewhiskey is not bad once you are used to it," Harry announced, enunciating carefully.

"Can't feel anything below my eyes," Ron replied. "You?"

"No, I can not," Harry stated. "I believe that I am quite pissed."

"I say, old bean, rather quite," Ginny agreed.

When they had emptied the bottle, Ron absently threw it over his shoulder. It hit the wall with a crash.

Harry hoisted himself unsteadily to his feet. Wand in hand, he staggered to the door, kicked it open and roared, "ACCIO OGDENS!"

"It will come if we really, really believe it," he told Hermione. She had spent grueling hours of practice teaching Harry that charm before the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament.

Hermione grinned at him.

Although Harry dropped his wand, he deftly caught the bottle that came hurtling at him. It was the second bottle that hit him in the head, staggering him and opening a cut over his ear. Somehow the bottle didn't break when it clattered to the floor.

"Way to use you head!" Ron bellowed. Ginny was hunched over, pounding the floor with her fist, laughing helplessly.

Dizzy and grinning, Harry meandered towards them with the bottles, handing one to Hermione and one to Ron.

"You're bleeding," Hermione told him.

"S'alright," Harry said, waving her off, "Can't feel a thing." This set off another wave of laughter.

Somebody thrust a bottle at him and he took it, then handed it to Ginny. Soon, he began having trouble following the conversation, and the room seemed pitched at a very odd angle.

Ginny, gesticulating wildly, was talking to Hermione. Hermione was sitting composedly, nodding and listening intently to her. Ron offered Harry a bottle, but he slowly shook his head.

Harry stared out the window for a long while thinking about Anthony Goldstein. This led to Sirius, and he thought a bit longer.

It was Ginny and Ron choking with laughter which shook him out of his reverie. He rubbed his eyes. Hermione was telling a story.

"-So, there I was, Mum marching me out of the muggle bookstore, and there was this-this sort of fluttering cloud of Dr. Seuss books and a screaming clerk following us and a Bobby running toward us, and I got scared, of course. The Cat in the Hat began beating the clerk about the head. The rest swooped down on the Bobby. Customers were getting hysterical, and a fire alarm went off."

"Then some men in robes appeared and started obliviating everything in sight. One of them came over to me, gave me a wink and said I would remember when I was older. Then he tapped my head with his wand. I remembered the summer after my first year when I happened to notice The Cat in the Hat on my bookshelf."

Ginny clapped. Ron stood up, trying to catch his breath. "I've had more than enough," he said, glancing at Harry. "Let's get out of here." He walked tentatively towards the door, as if he were relearning to walk.

Harry followed him, broken glass crunching under his shoes. Another bottle had been smashed, and he had missed it.

Hermione caught them in the hallway. "Where are you going?" she asked worriedly.

"Walking," Harry said.

"Somebody might see us," she pointed out, a quaver in her voice.

"You sound daunted," Harry observed. "Don't be."

"That's a big word," Hermione murmured.

"Well, she's right," Ginny put in, 'my brothers may cause trouble."

"And you're worried about that now?" Ron called over his shoulder. "Should've thought of that before you poisoned us."

"It's the secret to my success," Harry said meditatively. "Never been daunted. At least not in public."

"I did not poison you," Ginny said.

"You weren't sitting on a toilet for six hours," Ron retorted. "I was poisoned."

"The twins wouldn't let themselves get drawn into this argument," Harry told Ginny. "D'you know the secret of their success? Never been daunted."

Ron stopped in an archway. "Wow."

The others caught up to him. They were standing in the doorway of a trophy room. There were a dozens of mounted dragon heads lining the walls, but Harry also recognized an erumpet and several hippogriffs. Below the mounted heads, there were an assortment of smaller creatures that had been stuffed.

Ron wandered in. Disconcertingly, about half the heads could move and were watching the teenagers with open hunger.

"This is disgusting," Hermione said angrily.

"Want one?" Ron asked. "Nice stuffed monkey?"

"No," Hermione said flatly.

"It's a pretty nice stuffed monkey," Ron said. "Could brighten up your dormitory."

No," Hermione said.

"Just one, Hermione?"

"Let's go" Hermione said abruptly, turning and striding away.

"Have it your way," Ron said shrugged, following her. "But it would mean the world to you if you took it."

"Ron," Hermione said. "Stop it."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry.

"All right. You can take them or leave them," Ron said. "But a stuffed monkey, though. I'd never feel daunted if I had a stuffed monkey."

Hermione wheeled around and took a giant breath. Harry took a step back, moving out from between Hermione and Ron. Instead of the expected roar, Hermione let out a strangled "Eeeek." She was looking over Ron's shoulder.

"There you lot are!" Harry heard Molly Weasley call out.

"We've had some fun and a bit of wit," Ginny said quietly, "but Mum won't like it, not one little bit."

Harry turned around to see Molly Weasley hurrying towards them.

He was a bit surprised to see Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley walking slowly together, engaged in a quiet conversation.

He watched Mrs. Weasley's face transform from benign concern into reddening outrage as she drew close enough to smell them.

"What have you been doing? Have you been DRINKING? I AM-I AM-I AM.....FLABBERGASTED. THE LOT OF YOU WILL BE SCRUBBING STONE FLOORS FROM NOW UNTIL YOUR HAIR IS GRAY. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS. YOU'RE STAGGERING, STINKING DRUNK!"

"Molly-" Mr. Weasley began.

"HERMIONE GRANGER, I THOUGHT YOU AT LEAST HAD MORE SENSE. AND YOU! GINNY WEASLEY, WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU? DRINKING? POISONING YOUR BROTHERS? WHERE ARE YOUR BROTHERS? WHERE IS TONKS?

"Molly-" Mr. Weasley began, setting his hand on her arm. She shrugged it off.

"YOU HAD BETTER BELIEVE THAT I AM GOING TO HAVE A LONG TALK WITH YOU, YOUNG LA-HARRY POTTER, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HEAD?"

"MOLLY!" Mr. Weasley shouted.

Panting, she turned to her husband, "What!"

"I am sure that all these young people have begun to realize that what they did was wrong, extremely wrong," Mr. Weasley said, attempting a Molly-like scowl, "And they certainly all deserve a serious talking-to about this episode and about not repeating it, but-"

"There are some pressing matters that needing attending to," Professor Dumbledore cut in smoothly. He waved his wand, and upholstered chairs for all of them appeared, right in the corridor. Harry thought it rather sounded like popcorn popping. He sat down and found a hot cup of tea perched on the arm of the chair. He took a sip.

"Everyone accounted for? Everyone have a cup of tea?" Dumbledore said briskly. "Drink up now."

Harry dutifully took another sip and felt immediately clearer and more alert.

"Everyone at least semi-conscious?" Dumbledore continued, peering at each of the teenagers carefully through his half-moon glasses. "Excellent. Now on to business."

"Young Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, "I thought it best to confirm this for you and inform your friends and family at the same time. I have the strong sense that you are going to need their aid and support. I have only this morning reviewed your OWL examination papers and corroborated the most excellent research done by Miss Granger."

Ron look panic-stricken. "I was sent the wrong OWL results," he said miserably, "I knew I couldn't have done that well."

"You certainly did do that well. Your OWL grades were perfectly correct," Dumbledore said gently. "I have the pleasant duty this morning of informing you that you are a Seer."

Ron blinked.

"Lemon drop, Ronald?" Dumbledore offered, levitating a tin over to him.

Ron automatically picked out a cluster and popped it into his mouth. "I failed divination," he said. The tin hung in the air beside him.

"Rather spectacularly," Dumbledore agreed. "It was your jokes that revealed your true talent. I am afraid that the divination examination does not have a section that evaluates the divinatory qualities of comedic asides."

No one said a word.

"After you so accurately described your examiner's reflection in the crystal ball, you related a series of jokes. Ten to be exact. Four were simply jokes, although I certainly appreciated the one about Madame Umbridge's eating habits-"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"Yes. Well, there were six others. Three were valid predictions that have been confirmed. Two others were extremely close. One now resides in the Department of Mysteries since it cannot be confirmed. Not yet anyway."

Ron turned to Hermione. "This is what you've been working on?"

"I wasn't sure," Hermione blurted out, reddening, "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, and I don't know much about divination. It seemed a bit odd, you know, that your jokes were come true. So I had to read up on it, and then I had to try and remember things you said and then read biographies of famous seers to see if any of them showed an ability like this." She looked at him uncertainly. "Then I wrote it up."

"Why now?" Ron asked. "What put you on to this now?"

"The Department of Mysteries," Hermione replied nervously. She was glancing between Harry and Ron, looking as if she were trying to decide which boy was going to bark at her first.

"No, Hermione," Ron said slowly, "why did you think I was a Seer?"

"I remembered a joke you told in our second year. You said, 'Maybe Tom Riddle killed Moaning Myrtle.' You were right."

Ron scratched his head. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Ron!" both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley exclaimed simultaneously.

"Why us, Professor?" Ron asked, "Harry's a metamorphmagus. You are telling me I'm a Seer. Why is this happening to us?"

"Excellent question, Mr. Weasley. I wish I could say it was the result of the Hogwarts educational experience," Dumbledore smiled, "But I am afraid that is not the case." He paused. "You are of an age when magical ability and talent begins to differentiate and take shape. That is part of the reason. But more importantly, you four have seen and done more than many wizards three times your age. You are delving into your potential faster and perhaps more deeply than others because you have had to. You have challenged yourselves, and you are seeing yourselves rising to those challenges."

Dumbledore levitated the tin of lemon drops back to his hand and picking one out, popped it into his mouth. "You wish to explore this talent?" he asked Ron.

Ron grinned. "Yeah."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "You will take advanced divination with Professor Firenze. He asks that you to continue with astronomy."

"Thank you, Professor," Ron said.

"Mr. Weasley has your Hogwarts letters," Professor Dumbledore said. "For the sixth years, there is a form for you to complete indicating which subjects you wish to continue studying. Miss Weasley, your interrupted animagus training will continue under Professor McGonagall. She has agreed to it, despite her reservations about additional work in your OWL year."

Ginny grinned at him. "I'll be fine, sir, I'm sure. I'm only interested in four OWLs. I won't be doing any extra studying for the rest."

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said in a horrified voice.

"Interesting solution, Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione was making inarticulate strangling sounds, but Harry personally thought it was a stroke of genius and felt rather stupid for not thinking of it himself.

"You've been training to be an animagus?" Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, looking very uncomfortable.

Professor Dumbledore rose. "As much as I am tempted to stay and discuss what your Head of House would think of Miss Weasley's examination strategy, I must bid you good day."

"Er, Professor," Harry called, standing up, acting on a sudden impulse. "I have a request. I would like to reform the D.A."

Dumbledore paused and sat back down. "And the purpose of this organization?"

"A Defense Against the Dark Arts study group," Hermione supplied promptly.

"Then you have my permission. As an authorized club, I will assign a professor to oversee your meetings." Dumbledore smiled. "The Ravenclaws have formed a group called the Society for Defensive Magic. There is also a new Slytherin club, the Defensive Dueling Club. The Hufflepuffs have started a junior chapter of the Dark Arts Defense League. Will the D.A. be a Gryffindor club?"

"No," Harry said firmly, "we will accept anyone who wishes to learn."

"The other groups have membership restrictions," Dumbledore commented.

"Point is to learn, isn't it, sir?" Harry shrugged. "If they are willing, I will try."

Dumbledore's eyes smiled. "I am very pleased with that decision. If you need anything, please be sure to inform me immediately."

"I will, Professor."

"Now, if there is nothing else? I really must be on my way. The minister becomes more paranoid than usual if I keep him waiting too long." Dumbledore stood and with a pop, was gone.

"I predict," Harry said, "that we are in loads of trouble."

Mrs., Weasley was suddenly looming over them, hand on her hips. Harry was amazed at how well such a small woman could loom.

"I have never been so embarrassed in me life," she said a terrifyingly quiet voice. "Drunken. Cursing in front of the Headmaster. Deliberately failing OWLs. Where did you get the whiskey?"

"Ginny found it," Ron said promptly.

"And you drank it," Ginny retorted.

"That's enough," Mrs. Weasley said sharply.

"I think it's best if you all go to your rooms and try to get some sleep," Mr. Weasley said. "The effects of Dumbledore's tea are temporary, and you'll be feeling miserable soon enough."

The four fled, avoiding Mrs. Weasley's glares.

Ron had a strange look. Once they were away from Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, he caught up to Hermione. "Thanks," he said, looking at her intently.

Hermione reddened slightly and smiled at him.

"You know, I could make some money at the next World Cup," Ron told Harry with a grin.

"I suppose. It's a bit disturbing, though," Harry replied. "Look at what Seers have done to me."

"I am not going to think about that," Ron said firmly.

"See what I mean?" Harry replied with a slight smile.

"Then again, what if a prediction of mine gives us a way to beat Lord Thingy?" Ron countered.

Ginny suddenly smacked her head and started cursing.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, shocked.

"What you said," Ginny grimaced at Ron, "about having twelve kids. Was-was that a prediction or a joke?"

"There's no way of knowing," Hermione said absently, "at least until he understands his ability better." Then she noticed the horrified look on Ginny's face. "B-but I'm sure it was just a joke."

Malfoy was a ferret the last time Harry had seen such an utterly blissful expression on Ron's face.

"Don't hex the messenger," he said with a huge smile. "I don't create the future-I just report it."

"Do you know what kind of animal you are?" Harry asked Ginny, hoping to divert her.

"A cat," she said shortly, "although just now I wish it were something with larger teeth."

"When were you doing animagus training?" Harry asked.

"Last summer," Ginny said uncomfortably. "Sirius was teaching me."

Stunned, Harry felt a flood of anger and jealously engulf him. He knew it was unreasonable. He knew it had nothing to do with him or his relationship with Sirius, but he was enraged all the same. It should have been me, was all he could think. Without a word, he strode ahead of the others and did not look back.

When Harry reached his room, he went directly to his trunk, tearing through his belongings until he found the Snuffles vellum and a quill.

Harry hastily scrawled, 'I solemnly swear I seek Sirius fun.'
Hello, Harry.

Sirius taught Ginny Weasley to be an animagus?
Yes.

Why?
Because she asked. And asked. And asked.

It should have been me who got to spend that time with him.
All I can say is that Sirius would have loved to teach you, if there had been an opportunity. I think you should be talking to Ginny, not this scrap of vellum. You didn't say anything mean to her, did you? It's not her fault.

I know it's not her fault. But I'm angry.
At who?

I thought I was angry at Ginny, but I know now that I'm not. It's simpler to be angry with her. The truth is much, much worse. It's horrible, but I'm angry with Sirius.
Ah. Do you know that is perfectly normal?

What?
Why shouldn't you be angry with him? He left you, didn't he?

But he died. How can I hate him for dying?
What does that matter? He still left you, didn't he? Why can't you blame him?

This isn't making me feel any less miserable.
Sirius was furious with your parents for dying.

What?
He was. Anger is part of the mourning process.

Oh.

Feeling better?
Yes, think so. Hrd to tell, room spinnning.

Drunk? I can't wait to hear about this. Try to keep moving and don't stare at any one thing too long.

Harry?

He woke in his bed, in his pyjamas and a bandage above his ear. His head throbbed and he felt a lot like a squeezed pumpkin. He could not remember how he had gotten into bed. He did remember leaving Snuffles and dashing to the bathroom. He remembered every gruesome detail of what had happened there, including vomiting up what felt like everything he had eaten in the last two years. Shuddering, he remembered Ron staggering in and the noise setting him off again. Before he could stop himself, he remembered heaving up a vile green substance which he had been irrationally convinced had something to do with Severus Snape.

Starting to feel sick again and desperate to make it stop, he began an Occlumency exercise, forcing away the memory and focusing instead on a memory of the view from his dormitory window of the Forbidden Forest swathed in early morning mist. It helped. He sat up carefully and noticed a tray by his bed. On it was a stack of toast, a pot of tea, a cup, and a small crock of broth. The tea and the crock had some sort of warming charm on them. Steam was drifting lazily from both.

He ate and drank slowly. His tortured stomach would only take so much at a time, but overall, the more he ate, the better he felt. He wondered if Mrs. Weasley had put some sort of antidote in the broth.

Harry glanced at the clock on his wall. It was four a.m. He had lost sixteen hours, but then, he reasoned, being hung over and unconsciousness was probably preferable to being hung over and awake.

After he had finished eating, he dozed off for a few hours. When he woke again, he felt immensely better.

He thought briefly about skiving off Ginny's morning practice, but he knew he wouldn't. He wasn't sure why at first.

It wasn't fair to punish her for spending time with Sirius that he didn't have, Harry finally decided. Besides, she probably wouldn't show up anyway. Feeling noble, Harry got dressed, collected his practice kit and went down to the courtyard.

Harry carefully pulled the bandage off his head and probed for damage. Not finding any he stuffed the bandage in his pocket. Harry sat down to wait.

Ginny arrived a minute later. She was rumpled and stuffing a scone in her mouth.

"Morning," he mumbled, getting to his feet.

"Morning," she mumbled back around the scone, setting up the Tai Chi mannikin.

Without a further word, they went through the form. Harry found himself calming down and relaxing. When the mannikin settled back into the beginning stance, Harry took a deep breath and stretched himself.

He set out the Ba Kua mannikin, and in a few moments they were working their way through that form, circling widely around each other and the mannikin in a complex pattern that resembled some exotic, formally ornate dance.

By the time they were finished, he was grinning in anticipation. He pulled on his dragon leather gloves and retrieved his practice stick. It was the challenge, Harry thought, repeating his explanation to Ron to himself. A small part of his mind that he barely acknowledged hoped to hit her in the head a few times.

Ginny waited, her face blank while Harry got himself ready. She nodded.

Harry counted. "Three...two...one."

Ginny lunged forward; Harry parried the thrust and tried to poke her in the eye. He felt a sharp pain in his hand and heard a caarraack! His stick clattered across the cobblestones.

Shaking his stinging fingers, Harry sighed, fetched his stick and counted again. "Three...two...one."

Harry stepped into Ginny's opening lunge, slapping her stick aside and thrust at her exposed forward shoulder. She managed to slap away the attack with a quick downward flick of her wrist, catching Harry's s stick in a corkscrew that drove Harry's own stick into his head. Almost as an afterthought, she tagged him below his left collarbone.

Ginny was grinning, but trying not to. "Head all right there, Harry?"

Harry was rubbing the lump absently. "I'm ready." He settled back into the en garde position. "Three...two...one."

Harry beat Ginny to the first thrust this time, then began backing away as she countered furiously. He parried conservatively, with little movements, keeping his stick as steady as possible, steadily giving ground before her. Harry grinned saucily at her. Ginny, impatient, delivered a thrust before she was completely set and over-extended herself. Instinctively, he grabbed her stick with his left hand and jerked it out of her hand.

Without missing a beat, Ginny pivoted on her forward foot and swept around in a low windmill kick that swept Harry off his feet and onto his back.

He hit the ground with an audible, "Ooof!"

He lay there a few seconds before getting to his feet. "Isn't that against the rules?" he frowned.

"There are rules?" Ginny asked innocently.

"Right," Harry said firmly, "we are setting some now."

Ginny waited with a glum 'I've-been-expecting-this' expression.

Harry supposed that she was anticipating something which put her at an extreme disadvantage or which would have effectively ended any real sparring. "No wands in the matches," Harry finally said.

"Agreed," Ginny nodded, clearly waiting for something worse.

"I can't think of anything else. Can you?"

Ginny looked surprised and then smiled. "No, not really."

"Then it's agreed," Harry concluded, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.

For a long moment, they stood there grinning evilly at each other.

"Wotcher!" Harry heard Tonks call out. Blinking, Harry spied her walking towards them with an athletic young witch with dark auburn hair and a windblown, ruddy complexion. Tonks' hair was a soft blonde, a striking contrast with the other girl's hair.

"We were watching," Tonks grinned. "It's amazing, really. If I tried something like that I would probably concuss myself." She pointed a thumb at the smiling witch next to her. "This is Mattie McFusty."

Harry thought he heard something in Tonks' voice which hinted that she wasn't too pleased with Mattie McFusty.

"Pleased to meet you, Harry," Mattie said, grinning and shaking his hand vigorously. "I was rather expecting someone taller and foaming at the mouth. Maybe breathing fire."

Harry liked her immediately. "I'm not myself until after breakfast," he told her.

Ginny snorted. "Let's get breakfast then. I don't think I want to do much more this morning."

"I should think not," Tonks said. "I had a very interesting discussion with Molly last night. I didn't get to say much though."

Harry felt guilty. "Er, sorry about that Tonks."

She waved off the apology. "Been in worse trouble," she grinned, "although Molly Weasley may have been the loudest."

Ginny laughed. "Mum's good at loud. You should have heard her when she got to me last night."

"I think I did," Tonks said. "Need a hand?"

Ginny collected her things, while Tonks examined one of the mannikins.

"You know," Mattie said quietly to Harry, "she is very good. She is very lucky to have a friend like you."

"Huh?" Harry asked blankly.

"There's not many who would be willing to get themselves beat up every morning to help someone out."

"I don't plan on always losing," Harry told her.

Mattie just looked at him.

"I have a talent for succeeding against impossible odds," he continued.

She giggled. "You are a most surprising person, Harry."

"Surprise helps," Harry said.

Mattie laughed out loud, and Ginny and Tonks joined them as they headed inside.

They were the first to the Dining Hall. Harry was famished. While he ate, Hermione came in, followed by Ron and Bill.

"Make way, make way for the Seer," Bill was calling. "You, morph-boy," Bill said, pointing at Harry, "get the Seer a plate."

"Shut up," Ron said.

Ginny, giggling, was stuffing a napkin in her mouth, trying not to attract Bill's attention.

"What's the matter with you?" Bill asked her. "Fleas again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And you, Granger, you could have saved everyone a lot of trouble if you had cast that sobriety charm on your friends as well as yourself."

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared accusingly at Hermione.

Bill, apparently satisfied, sat down across from Tonks and began buttering a slice of toast.

"You were sober through the whole thing?" Ginny asked.

"You wouldn't have listened if I had told you to stop. You needed a lesson," Hermione said primly. "Drinking is bad for you, and it's awful for your teeth."

"You could have saved us all that? Mrs. Weasley? The bathroom?" Harry asked incredulously, "To save our teeth?"

"I puked half the night to be sure I learned a lesson?" Ginny asked, her temper rising.

Ron, to Harry's surprise, laughed. "I-it's just s-so Hermione," he guffawed.

At that moment, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley came in with Charlie, effectively ending the impending discussion with Hermione.

"School letters," Mrs. Weasley said with a fond smile, the transgressions of the previous day apparently forgotten.

Charlie sat with his parents away from Bill, Tonks and Mattie. Bill was watching Charlie and smirking. Harry had never seen Bill quite like this. He appeared to have it in for everybody.

"Dumbledore isn't mad enough to make me a perfect," Ginny said quietly to Harry, putting her letter down and picking up a scone. "Thank Merlin."

He grinned and opened his letter.

The following form must be filled out by all sixth years and returned to Hogwarts by September 2nd.

Our records indicate that you have achieved sufficient grades in the following subjects on your OWL examinations to continue studying them at the advanced level. Please identify the subjects you wish to pursue.

Care of Magical Creatures ______
Charms ______
Defense Against the Dark Arts ______
Herbology ______
Transfiguration ______

Note that there are no standard texts. Any texts that are required will by identified by your Professor at the commencement of classes.

Harry quickly put a 'yes' next to everything except herbology. "Should I take herbology?" he asked no one in particular.

Hermione was already resealing he letter and handing to Mrs. Weasley. Harry was sure she was continuing on with all her classes.

"I'm not," Ron declared, finishing his. "I have to take astronomy and divination."

Harry immediately felt guilty. He didn't have so many classes that he had to worry about being overworked.

"Do you like it?" Ginny shrugged.

"I have never really thought about it," Harry confessed.

Hermione sniffed. "Oh really, Harry, just take the class. It's useful."

"Harry," Ginny said absently through a mouthful of eggs, "Have you ever wanted a garden of your own? Maybe one with wild flowers and fruit trees and a pond full of frogs?"

"I suppose I do," Harry said, surprising himself. He put a final 'yes' on the letter and handed it to Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll just get these to post," she called, bustling away.

Mr. Weasley picked up his plate and walked over to Bill, asking about Gringott's.

Harry poured himself a cup of tea and thought about having his own garden. He decided that it would be the exact opposite of the Dursley's-messy, overgrown, and magical. With lots of toads underfoot. Maybe an apple tree...and a quince tree, too...Harry waved away the fantasy. He wasn't sure he would be alive to graduate Hogwarts. Why was he daydreaming about gardens?

He heard snickering and looked around. Tonks and Mattie had moved next to Charlie, each sitting one side of him, the three of them talking together. Charlie looked extremely uncomfortable.

Ginny, Ron and Hermione were all red-faced from suppressing their laughter.

Harry stood up. "I'm headed to the common room," he announced.

"The bar is closed," Bill told him, interrupting his father.

Ginny stayed behind, but Ron and Hermione came with him.

:What was that all about?" Harry asked.

"Mattie and Tonks both fancy my brother," Ron said. "They have both been falling all over themselves to attract his attention for weeks."

"All they've managed to do is scare him silly," Hermione added.

"Charlie is brave," Ron said with a grin, "but really, with those two, it's a bit like being run down by a pair of dragons."

"Worse," Hermione said, "at least he understands dragons."

"Ron! Harry! Hermione!"

Harry turned around to see a flustered Mrs. Weasley rushing towards them with Ginny in tow.

"Professor Dumbledore," she panted, "just sent word that you are leaving for Hogwarts. In thirty minutes. Get yourselves packed. I'll be up with the portkey. In twenty minutes."

TBC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Notes on the text-A fair portion of the dialogue our heroes perpetrate while under the influence is liberally borrowed from Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. If you are between fanfics, I would recommend it. Always makes me pine for Paris. *sighs*

There's also a bit inspired by Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat, but you probably got that.

Finally, this chapter should in no way be viewed as advocating drunkenness.

DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

It is a stupid habit, really, as our characters ultimately discover. There are better things for you to be going on with. Besides, you are probably not stuck in a castle, hiding from Deatheaters and surrounded by dragons.

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