Chapter Two: Coping
Harry barely listened to the announcements after dinner. The student body was introduced to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Visit, and nearly everyone, Harry included, immediately forgot his name. The man was short and nondescript, and wore thin, square-shaped spectacles.
As they shuffled toward the doors of the Great Hall, Harry remembered the reason he'd originally come over to the Hufflepuff table. "What's our password?"
Justin shrugged. "I don't know."
A moment later, they were joined by Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw who would be rooming with them. "Hello. So, where are the Hufflepuff dorms?"
"By the kitchens," Harry and Justin said together. Justin gave Harry a searching look.
"I don't remember telling you that."
"Ernie did," Harry said, not wanting to elaborate on his fourth-year adventures. "Last year sometime."
Those who would be using the Hufflepuff dorms moved away from the crowd and clattered down a flight of stairs. Terry produced the bit of parchment he had been given at dinner. "Password's appeared at the bottom," he said. "It's 'infinite possibilities.' Who comes up with your passwords?"
Justin shrugged. "Prefects, I guess. I don't know."
"Ours were always based on the wizarding world," Harry noted as the group came to a halt near a painting of a pretty, dark-haired young woman. She waved at them and called, "Nice to see you're all back again! And so many new faces!"
"She's called Sibyl Vane," Justin said.
Apparently, none of the others had figured out the password yet. Terry carefully pushed past the confused students and said, "I think the password's 'infinite possibilities.'"
Sibyl beamed. "It sure is! Have a good evening!" The portrait swung forward to admit them.
Harry looked around in awe at the Hufflepuff common room. He'd never been in another house before, except for his brief visit to Slytherin in second year, and it was very different from the Gryffindor room - which, he realized with a pang, he might never see again.
The room was long and low. There were two openings in the wall opposite from the painting, which revealed stairs spiraling upwards, presumably toward the dormitories. The fireplace was set in between the stairwells and surrounded by half a dozen armchairs. The wooden floor was covered with a mosaic of rugs, most of them clashing horribly, and fifteen or so tables for studying were placed almost randomly.
"This way," Justin said, and led the way to the right-hand stairwell.
Harry was, by that time, getting tired. He was glad to discover that their dorm was only the second one up - many more stairs and he might've fallen over.
Justin immediately flopped down on the bed nearest the door. "Whichever you like," he said, waving a hand vaguely, then whispered loudly, "Harry, please take the one next to me so Crabbe doesn't!"
Harry grinned and looked around. "Our luggage - "
"Oh, who cares, you can move it if you need to!"
However, Harry had by then noticed that his trunk was, indeed, at the end of the second bed. "All right." He sat down and looked around again. The room seemed smaller than the Gryffindor dormitories, and the beds had no canopies. "It's...homey."
Terry Boot and Crabbe entered a few moments later. Crabbe glared at Harry for no apparent reason before going to the third bed, and Terry sauntered down to the fourth.
Justin, with a terrified look at Crabbe, opened his trunk and began digging around, presumably looking for his pajamas. Harry got up and did the same, feeling a bit nervous about changing in front of these strange boys, and then scolded himself. /They're not strange, I've known them - or known of them, at least - for six years.../
This, Harry could tell, was going to be a very trying experience.
-----
Harry, who had difficulty sleeping in such a strange place without the comfort of Neville's snores or Ron's nocturnal mumblings, made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast much earlier than usual.
He still didn't manage to get there before Hermione.
She glanced up at him from the Gryffindor table and waved, smiling broadly. "Hello, Harry!"
"Hi," he said, sitting beside her. "Good morning. You're...very cheerful."
"Schedule," she said, pointing at hers, which was lying beside a plate of pancakes. "Mine's marvelous. I have Arithmancy and Transfiguration this morning, what about you?"
Harry remembered having a schedule and fished around in his pockets until he found it, all crumpled up. "D.A.D.A. and Transfiguration, yeah, and Divination this afternoon."
Hermione made a face. "Oh, so now you can't take the time to say 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'?"
"It's too early in the morning, Hermione, leave me alone." He reached for a goblet of orange juice.
They ate in companionable silence for perhaps ten minutes before Ron burst into the Great Hall, stormed over to the table, and flung himself down across from them, fuming.
"I hate Draco Malfoy," he snarled.
"Yes, we all hate him," Hermione said soothingly.
Harry speared a sausage with his fork. "What's he done now?"
Ron glared at his plate in silence for a few seconds before muttering, "He took the bed closest to the fireplace."
Hermione sat back, lips twisted into an amused grin. "That git."
Ron grabbed a fork in one hand, a knife in the other, and began shoveling food onto his plate. "And he's insisted that we all call him Draco, since we're all roommates, and he's got /two/ trunks - I mean, two! /And/ he's Head Boy. Luckily, I've only got Charms with him, and that's not till Wednesday."
Hermione seized upon that to begin a lecture Harry had been expecting for awhile. "Now, it's seventh year, and we have our NEWTs coming up. I'm sure you'll both be studying like mad, but I just want to let you know that, since this year is so important, I'll be glad to color-code your notes. But, as always, I won't do the work for you - "
"Hermione," Ron whined, "not on the first day. Give us some time to get used to the horror, please."
Hermione gave him a small frown. "Every day counts, Ron."
"Well, yes. But not the first!"
Harry quickly cut them off. "So, how're rooming arrangements? I mean, besides Malfoy."
Ron shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Zacharias doesn't talk much, and I don't know about Anthony. He's a Ravenclaw, already had his books out last night. I think he's DA, don't remember him though. Awful cold dungeons, too, hate them. I hate all this, in fact."
Hermione considered the question, glancing around as the hall began to fill up. "Well, it's only been one night. I don't think I can say yet. I agree, though, the dungeons are cold. I'd much rather have my own room, like I'm supposed to."
"Oh," Harry said. "That's right. Head Girl. Right."
They finished eating and headed off. Harry and Ron parted from Hermione at her Arithmancy classroom, and continued on to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
There was no one in the classroom when they arrived, and, at Ron's suggestion, they took seats in back. "Spiders," he said, as if that explained everything. "What's the professor's name again?"
"I don't remember."
The professor shuffled into the room just then, along with a few of the other seventh years in the class. He wasn't much taller than Harry, and his square glasses were inching determinedly down his nose. He sat down at the desk in front of the room and began going through some papers.
He began class five minutes late, standing up and looking around. "I'm Professor Visit," he said, in a voice that was surprisingly deep and strong for someone so nerdy-looking. "This is my NEWT-level Defense Against the Dark Arts class, correct?"
Hesitantly, the students nodded.
"Right. Well, Headmaster Dumbledore has informed me that you've covered curses already. I think we'll begin the year with a review, then, does that sound all right?"
Receiving another nod, he broke into a grin and returned to his desk. "You've been told to buy the Anthology of Eighteenth Century Curses and Counter-curses and its companion, the nineteenth century book. I think that for the first term we'll just go right through the book, learning the tamer curses and all of the counters, if that's all right with you."
Harry exchanged glances with Ron. Most of their teachers, even Professor Trelawney, knew exactly what they would be teaching for the entire year. Professor Visit was probably new to the whole business.
They practiced a few curses that day, most of them easy ones that the DA had mastered long ago. It was actually very relaxing, and after the long class was finally over, Harry left feeling that perhaps seventh year wouldn't be as horrible academically as everyone said.
Professor McGonagall shot that down straight away, by way of a surprise exam as soon as they set foot in her classroom.
Turning beetles into buttons should have been easy, they'd been doing it for years, but Harry's somehow retained its antennae. Ron grew flustered, almost stabbed the beetle, and finally managed a button with legs that fled.
Hermione breezed into the class and, naturally, produced a perfect button on the first go.
When the entire class had taken their seats, Professor McGonagall looked around. "Welcome to your last year at Hogwarts," she said. "I see that most of you have not forgotten everything. I'm very glad of that.
"To start the year off, we shall begin with a rapid review of everything we've covered. We'll get into transforming humans into both animate and inanimate objects, transfiguring animals into other animals, and some of the more difficult spells. There will be many reviews throughout the year so that you are prepared for your NEWTs. Next term we'll be discussing Animagi, though I will not be teaching you how to transform, of course. Now, then, who remembers how to turn a chair into a table?"
----
They went to lunch secure in the knowledge that, should they ever have a chair and a pressing need for a table, their skills would serve them well.
Hermione, as usual, pulled out a book as soon as she was done eating. Ron slammed his fork down, swallowed, and cried, "You can't have homework, it's the first day!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. I'm reading for pleasure. It's our last year, you know, and I must get S.P.E.W. going so that other caring people can - "
Ron shook his head. "You're mad."
"The house-elves - "
"Hermione, we've been through this. We keep going through this. They don't want to be free. They are not going to want to be free anytime soon. The best thing you can do for them is leave well enough alone."
Hermione glared at him and stood abruptly. "I'm going to go sit with Padma."
Ron twisted to stare across the Great Hall. "But...at the Ravenclaw table? You're a Gryffindor!"
"Not anymore, Ron. Houses don't matter, now, do they?"
Ron watched her stalk off with his mouth open. "But..." He stared at Harry. "But she...I mean, she can't. We're still Gryffindors, we'll always be...I mean, you just don't..."
Harry said nothing. There didn't seem to be much to say.
----
The first week wore on. Harry was taking five NEWT classes - Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Divination, and Potions - along with the rest of his regular classes. There wasn't much homework, just a lot of review. Harry began to wonder why everyone panicked about seventh year.
He found out during the second week.
While desperately searching through books one evening for a way to add two more inches to his Potions essay, Harry happened to glance up in time to see Justin stagger into the common room, a dozen heavy-looking books in his arms.
"Professor Visit must die," he pronounced in tones of great suffering.
It took the harassed Harry a moment to remember the DADA project - each student had to write a biography of a famous Auror. Instead of the typical measurement in inches, Professor Visit had asked for at least a thousand words.
Harry got up and ran to take some of the books from Justin before he collapsed. "Really? Why?"
"I can't find a spell to count words," Justin moaned. "I'm going to have to do it by hand. And I can't remember this man's name, ever, and it's very annoying, and it's due in three days and these are the only books I could find that even mention him, whoever he is."
"Calm down," Harry said, setting the books on his table. Justin dumped the rest of them on top and slumped into a chair. "It's not that bad of an assignment. How many words have you got?"
"Three inches." Justin shook his head. "No, I mean, I don't know! And I've got to go to the greenhouse tonight to see the night-blooming roses, and I've got Astronomy tomorrow night, and I'm never going to sleep again!"
Harry awkwardly patted Justin's shoulder. "I'll, er, go and talk to Professor Visit. Maybe he's got a word counting spell."
He walked through the halls, not really paying attention to his surroundings. It was so strange not to be helping Ron with his essays. In fact, he rarely saw Ron anymore outside of classes and meals.
It came as a great surprise to turn the corner and nearly crash into Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy.
Snape was supporting Malfoy, who had his hands over his face and was whimpering. He still managed a sharp glare at Harry, though it was nothing compared to the sheer loathing on Snape's face.
"Out of our way, Potter," he commanded. "We've no time for you."
Harry stepped out of the way. "What happened?"
"Your friend Weasley knocked out one of Draco's teeth. I shall be speaking to the Headmaster about this, make no mistake. Come, Draco, the Hospital Wing is just here, Madame Pomfrey will soon make it better..."
Harry shook his head. He wondered what condition Ron was in, and impulsively abandoned his quest for a spell and headed for the library. Hermione would be there, he could get the Slytherin password from her and sneak in to see Ron. He vaguely remembered where Slytherin house was from second year.
However, Ron was also in the library, as evidenced by his loud ranting and Madame Pince's shushing. Just as Harry opened the door, Hermione dragged the redhead out, one hand twisted in the collar of his robes, the other holding a book.
"...and it's not even like he - oh, hi, Harry." Ron waved, then pulled away from Hermione and straightened his robes huffily. "I was just telling her about - "
"Beating up Draco Malfoy? I heard. What happened?"
Ron shrugged. "I was trying to study. He was snogging Parkinson, loudly, and I couldn't see them because of the curtains on his bed, so I just asked him - you know, nicely - to please go somewhere else, and he came out all pink in the face and told me to get out and study in the common room, and I said I didn't want to because it's my room too, and he insulted my family so I hit him, and he just started screaming - totally overreacting, you know Malfoy, and Parkinson was shouting, and Snape came in and yelled at me and dragged Malfoy off, and it was very satisfying and I don't regret it, Hermione, and how'd you hear about it, Harry?"
Harry blinked, and then said, "I ran into them - Snape and Malfoy, I mean - on my way to see Professor Visit about a spell for getting word count."
Hermione opened her book and took out a slip of paper. "I got that yesterday. Honestly, Harry, leaving it until the last minute. It's - "
"Seventh year," Ron and Harry chorused.
"It was seventh year yesterday," said Ron.
Harry added, "It's still going to be seventh year tomorrow."
"You don't need to keep reminding us."
Hermione made a face and handed Harry the slip of paper. "Tap the document with your wand twice and say that. The word count will appear at the bottom and fade away after a few moments."
"Thanks. I've got to get back. See you in Potions tomorrow, Hermione."
"Of course. Have you finished the essay yet?"
"Uh..."
"Thought not."
Ron grinned. "I am so glad I gave that up."
Harry turned and headed back toward the Hufflepuff dormitories, which he still didn't consistently think of as his. He was overcome with a sudden wave of homesickness. He wanted his bed with a canopy, with a window for Hedwig to bring him post at night. He wanted to talk to Ron and Dean. He wanted Seamus and Neville back.
For now, though, he would have to deal with Dumbledore's little experiment.
He only hoped that, maybe, it would be over soon.
----
As usual after he got an injury, Malfoy slouched into Potions wearing a look of intense despair. There was a bandage on his nose so that it would heal straight - if, indeed, it had been broken at all - and he showed all the Slytherins in the class his tooth, which looked perfectly normal.
"I could have been horribly disfigured," he said to Pansy Parkinson. "Would you still have loved me?"
"Of course, Draco darling," she simpered, clinging to his arm. "I'll be glad to help with anything you need, Draco."
"I think I shall be all right," Draco said, "thanks to Professor Snape, of course."
Snape smiled tolerably at Draco, then snapped at the class in general, "Hand your essays forward." He waved his wand at the blackboard and muttered something; a set of instructions appeared in a sort of reverse- fade. "Split up into pairs and make this potion. When you're done, you may take out this year's text and search for it. The first person to inform me of the potion's name and function will win ten points for their house."
Hermione, surprisingly, did not raise her hand at once.
"Didn't you read the book?" Harry asked, lighting a fire under their cauldron with a flick of his wand.
"Only the first half. I was more interested in our Defense books, to tell you the truth."
Harry glanced up at the board, reading the list of ingredients. "How much do you want to bet he doesn't give us the points if we're first?"
"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, too," Hermione reminded him, and went to fetch supplies from the Potions cupboard.
There were only twenty-six students in the NEWT class, a mixture of all four houses – a sure sign of how much everyone hated Snape; even Professor Visit had two NEWT classes, and many of the seventh years had opted for other classes, relying on the DA to prepare them for fighting the Dark Arts. Harry looked around. He'd been in Potions with the Slytherins for so long that he was having difficulty adjusting to this setup.
Somehow Malfoy and Pansy were the first done. Snape pronounced their concoction "perfect" and awarded them the ten points even before they'd found the information. Harry bit his lip and tried not to yell about unfairness - not so early in his last year, he didn't want any trouble right now...
After cleaning up, Malfoy wandered over. "Hello, Potter, Muggle-born." He grinned when Harry made to hit him. "It's not an insult when I put it that way, Potter, is it? An unprovoked attack on an injured student...detention for sure."
"You're not even hurt," Hermione hissed, stirring the potion. "This is like third year all over again."
Harry smiled coldly. "Going to try to get Ron executed, Malfoy?"
"I am deeply offended, Potter. Deeply offended. I would never wound a dormmate. Unfortunately, it appears that the Weasel doesn't feel the same way. He's obviously got no morals."
Harry briefly considered his usual "Ron's worth twelve of you, Death Eater scum," and decided to go for the more subtle. "Of course Ron has no morals," he said, and caught Hermione's horrified look. "Because, of course, Ron's the one who goes around spouting evil propaganda and not thinking for himself. No morals. Sure. You're absolutely right." He couldn't resist it. "Death Eater scum."
Malfoy went pink. "Shut up, Potter. You've no idea what my father - "
"Your father's in Azkaban, Malfoy, for more than a year now. I thought you said he'd be out soon?"
"He's biding his time!"
Harry leaned closer, itching to punch Malfoy and break his nose for real. "I think your father can't get out. I think you're all alone. Poor Draco Malfoy, his father's not around to give him pocket money. That's all he's good for. He certainly doesn't give you any sense of right and wrong - "
Malfoy punched him.
Harry stumbled back and crashed into Hermione, who screamed and grabbed the cauldron for balance. She immediately screamed again and snatched her hands away from the hot metal. Malfoy smirked and was gone, back to his work station and Pansy.
"My, my," Snape drawled. "Had an accident, Miss Granger?"
Hermione glared at him through eyes wet with tears, shaking her burnt hands. "May I go to the Hospital Wing, Professor? Please?" Her voice barely shook.
Snape examined the potion, and said grudgingly, "This seems to be in order. I suppose you may go, Granger, but I'll expect a six-inch essay on safety in the Potions laboratory."
"Excuse me, Professor," Pansy Parkinson piped as Hermione hurried toward the stairs, "but I think such a careless accident warrants ten inches at least."
"Ten," Snape agreed. "Due on Friday before class, Granger."
Hermione nodded miserably, and was gone.
Harry finished the potion, cleaned up the workstation, and handed in the vial that would be graded. He spent the rest of the class reading the book and wondering how Ron had survived over a week with Malfoy without hitting him before.
----
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed – you guys are great. Hope I'm not confusing anyone with this. The H/D will be along eventually, I swear. ;)
Harry barely listened to the announcements after dinner. The student body was introduced to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Visit, and nearly everyone, Harry included, immediately forgot his name. The man was short and nondescript, and wore thin, square-shaped spectacles.
As they shuffled toward the doors of the Great Hall, Harry remembered the reason he'd originally come over to the Hufflepuff table. "What's our password?"
Justin shrugged. "I don't know."
A moment later, they were joined by Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw who would be rooming with them. "Hello. So, where are the Hufflepuff dorms?"
"By the kitchens," Harry and Justin said together. Justin gave Harry a searching look.
"I don't remember telling you that."
"Ernie did," Harry said, not wanting to elaborate on his fourth-year adventures. "Last year sometime."
Those who would be using the Hufflepuff dorms moved away from the crowd and clattered down a flight of stairs. Terry produced the bit of parchment he had been given at dinner. "Password's appeared at the bottom," he said. "It's 'infinite possibilities.' Who comes up with your passwords?"
Justin shrugged. "Prefects, I guess. I don't know."
"Ours were always based on the wizarding world," Harry noted as the group came to a halt near a painting of a pretty, dark-haired young woman. She waved at them and called, "Nice to see you're all back again! And so many new faces!"
"She's called Sibyl Vane," Justin said.
Apparently, none of the others had figured out the password yet. Terry carefully pushed past the confused students and said, "I think the password's 'infinite possibilities.'"
Sibyl beamed. "It sure is! Have a good evening!" The portrait swung forward to admit them.
Harry looked around in awe at the Hufflepuff common room. He'd never been in another house before, except for his brief visit to Slytherin in second year, and it was very different from the Gryffindor room - which, he realized with a pang, he might never see again.
The room was long and low. There were two openings in the wall opposite from the painting, which revealed stairs spiraling upwards, presumably toward the dormitories. The fireplace was set in between the stairwells and surrounded by half a dozen armchairs. The wooden floor was covered with a mosaic of rugs, most of them clashing horribly, and fifteen or so tables for studying were placed almost randomly.
"This way," Justin said, and led the way to the right-hand stairwell.
Harry was, by that time, getting tired. He was glad to discover that their dorm was only the second one up - many more stairs and he might've fallen over.
Justin immediately flopped down on the bed nearest the door. "Whichever you like," he said, waving a hand vaguely, then whispered loudly, "Harry, please take the one next to me so Crabbe doesn't!"
Harry grinned and looked around. "Our luggage - "
"Oh, who cares, you can move it if you need to!"
However, Harry had by then noticed that his trunk was, indeed, at the end of the second bed. "All right." He sat down and looked around again. The room seemed smaller than the Gryffindor dormitories, and the beds had no canopies. "It's...homey."
Terry Boot and Crabbe entered a few moments later. Crabbe glared at Harry for no apparent reason before going to the third bed, and Terry sauntered down to the fourth.
Justin, with a terrified look at Crabbe, opened his trunk and began digging around, presumably looking for his pajamas. Harry got up and did the same, feeling a bit nervous about changing in front of these strange boys, and then scolded himself. /They're not strange, I've known them - or known of them, at least - for six years.../
This, Harry could tell, was going to be a very trying experience.
-----
Harry, who had difficulty sleeping in such a strange place without the comfort of Neville's snores or Ron's nocturnal mumblings, made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast much earlier than usual.
He still didn't manage to get there before Hermione.
She glanced up at him from the Gryffindor table and waved, smiling broadly. "Hello, Harry!"
"Hi," he said, sitting beside her. "Good morning. You're...very cheerful."
"Schedule," she said, pointing at hers, which was lying beside a plate of pancakes. "Mine's marvelous. I have Arithmancy and Transfiguration this morning, what about you?"
Harry remembered having a schedule and fished around in his pockets until he found it, all crumpled up. "D.A.D.A. and Transfiguration, yeah, and Divination this afternoon."
Hermione made a face. "Oh, so now you can't take the time to say 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'?"
"It's too early in the morning, Hermione, leave me alone." He reached for a goblet of orange juice.
They ate in companionable silence for perhaps ten minutes before Ron burst into the Great Hall, stormed over to the table, and flung himself down across from them, fuming.
"I hate Draco Malfoy," he snarled.
"Yes, we all hate him," Hermione said soothingly.
Harry speared a sausage with his fork. "What's he done now?"
Ron glared at his plate in silence for a few seconds before muttering, "He took the bed closest to the fireplace."
Hermione sat back, lips twisted into an amused grin. "That git."
Ron grabbed a fork in one hand, a knife in the other, and began shoveling food onto his plate. "And he's insisted that we all call him Draco, since we're all roommates, and he's got /two/ trunks - I mean, two! /And/ he's Head Boy. Luckily, I've only got Charms with him, and that's not till Wednesday."
Hermione seized upon that to begin a lecture Harry had been expecting for awhile. "Now, it's seventh year, and we have our NEWTs coming up. I'm sure you'll both be studying like mad, but I just want to let you know that, since this year is so important, I'll be glad to color-code your notes. But, as always, I won't do the work for you - "
"Hermione," Ron whined, "not on the first day. Give us some time to get used to the horror, please."
Hermione gave him a small frown. "Every day counts, Ron."
"Well, yes. But not the first!"
Harry quickly cut them off. "So, how're rooming arrangements? I mean, besides Malfoy."
Ron shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Zacharias doesn't talk much, and I don't know about Anthony. He's a Ravenclaw, already had his books out last night. I think he's DA, don't remember him though. Awful cold dungeons, too, hate them. I hate all this, in fact."
Hermione considered the question, glancing around as the hall began to fill up. "Well, it's only been one night. I don't think I can say yet. I agree, though, the dungeons are cold. I'd much rather have my own room, like I'm supposed to."
"Oh," Harry said. "That's right. Head Girl. Right."
They finished eating and headed off. Harry and Ron parted from Hermione at her Arithmancy classroom, and continued on to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
There was no one in the classroom when they arrived, and, at Ron's suggestion, they took seats in back. "Spiders," he said, as if that explained everything. "What's the professor's name again?"
"I don't remember."
The professor shuffled into the room just then, along with a few of the other seventh years in the class. He wasn't much taller than Harry, and his square glasses were inching determinedly down his nose. He sat down at the desk in front of the room and began going through some papers.
He began class five minutes late, standing up and looking around. "I'm Professor Visit," he said, in a voice that was surprisingly deep and strong for someone so nerdy-looking. "This is my NEWT-level Defense Against the Dark Arts class, correct?"
Hesitantly, the students nodded.
"Right. Well, Headmaster Dumbledore has informed me that you've covered curses already. I think we'll begin the year with a review, then, does that sound all right?"
Receiving another nod, he broke into a grin and returned to his desk. "You've been told to buy the Anthology of Eighteenth Century Curses and Counter-curses and its companion, the nineteenth century book. I think that for the first term we'll just go right through the book, learning the tamer curses and all of the counters, if that's all right with you."
Harry exchanged glances with Ron. Most of their teachers, even Professor Trelawney, knew exactly what they would be teaching for the entire year. Professor Visit was probably new to the whole business.
They practiced a few curses that day, most of them easy ones that the DA had mastered long ago. It was actually very relaxing, and after the long class was finally over, Harry left feeling that perhaps seventh year wouldn't be as horrible academically as everyone said.
Professor McGonagall shot that down straight away, by way of a surprise exam as soon as they set foot in her classroom.
Turning beetles into buttons should have been easy, they'd been doing it for years, but Harry's somehow retained its antennae. Ron grew flustered, almost stabbed the beetle, and finally managed a button with legs that fled.
Hermione breezed into the class and, naturally, produced a perfect button on the first go.
When the entire class had taken their seats, Professor McGonagall looked around. "Welcome to your last year at Hogwarts," she said. "I see that most of you have not forgotten everything. I'm very glad of that.
"To start the year off, we shall begin with a rapid review of everything we've covered. We'll get into transforming humans into both animate and inanimate objects, transfiguring animals into other animals, and some of the more difficult spells. There will be many reviews throughout the year so that you are prepared for your NEWTs. Next term we'll be discussing Animagi, though I will not be teaching you how to transform, of course. Now, then, who remembers how to turn a chair into a table?"
----
They went to lunch secure in the knowledge that, should they ever have a chair and a pressing need for a table, their skills would serve them well.
Hermione, as usual, pulled out a book as soon as she was done eating. Ron slammed his fork down, swallowed, and cried, "You can't have homework, it's the first day!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. I'm reading for pleasure. It's our last year, you know, and I must get S.P.E.W. going so that other caring people can - "
Ron shook his head. "You're mad."
"The house-elves - "
"Hermione, we've been through this. We keep going through this. They don't want to be free. They are not going to want to be free anytime soon. The best thing you can do for them is leave well enough alone."
Hermione glared at him and stood abruptly. "I'm going to go sit with Padma."
Ron twisted to stare across the Great Hall. "But...at the Ravenclaw table? You're a Gryffindor!"
"Not anymore, Ron. Houses don't matter, now, do they?"
Ron watched her stalk off with his mouth open. "But..." He stared at Harry. "But she...I mean, she can't. We're still Gryffindors, we'll always be...I mean, you just don't..."
Harry said nothing. There didn't seem to be much to say.
----
The first week wore on. Harry was taking five NEWT classes - Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Divination, and Potions - along with the rest of his regular classes. There wasn't much homework, just a lot of review. Harry began to wonder why everyone panicked about seventh year.
He found out during the second week.
While desperately searching through books one evening for a way to add two more inches to his Potions essay, Harry happened to glance up in time to see Justin stagger into the common room, a dozen heavy-looking books in his arms.
"Professor Visit must die," he pronounced in tones of great suffering.
It took the harassed Harry a moment to remember the DADA project - each student had to write a biography of a famous Auror. Instead of the typical measurement in inches, Professor Visit had asked for at least a thousand words.
Harry got up and ran to take some of the books from Justin before he collapsed. "Really? Why?"
"I can't find a spell to count words," Justin moaned. "I'm going to have to do it by hand. And I can't remember this man's name, ever, and it's very annoying, and it's due in three days and these are the only books I could find that even mention him, whoever he is."
"Calm down," Harry said, setting the books on his table. Justin dumped the rest of them on top and slumped into a chair. "It's not that bad of an assignment. How many words have you got?"
"Three inches." Justin shook his head. "No, I mean, I don't know! And I've got to go to the greenhouse tonight to see the night-blooming roses, and I've got Astronomy tomorrow night, and I'm never going to sleep again!"
Harry awkwardly patted Justin's shoulder. "I'll, er, go and talk to Professor Visit. Maybe he's got a word counting spell."
He walked through the halls, not really paying attention to his surroundings. It was so strange not to be helping Ron with his essays. In fact, he rarely saw Ron anymore outside of classes and meals.
It came as a great surprise to turn the corner and nearly crash into Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy.
Snape was supporting Malfoy, who had his hands over his face and was whimpering. He still managed a sharp glare at Harry, though it was nothing compared to the sheer loathing on Snape's face.
"Out of our way, Potter," he commanded. "We've no time for you."
Harry stepped out of the way. "What happened?"
"Your friend Weasley knocked out one of Draco's teeth. I shall be speaking to the Headmaster about this, make no mistake. Come, Draco, the Hospital Wing is just here, Madame Pomfrey will soon make it better..."
Harry shook his head. He wondered what condition Ron was in, and impulsively abandoned his quest for a spell and headed for the library. Hermione would be there, he could get the Slytherin password from her and sneak in to see Ron. He vaguely remembered where Slytherin house was from second year.
However, Ron was also in the library, as evidenced by his loud ranting and Madame Pince's shushing. Just as Harry opened the door, Hermione dragged the redhead out, one hand twisted in the collar of his robes, the other holding a book.
"...and it's not even like he - oh, hi, Harry." Ron waved, then pulled away from Hermione and straightened his robes huffily. "I was just telling her about - "
"Beating up Draco Malfoy? I heard. What happened?"
Ron shrugged. "I was trying to study. He was snogging Parkinson, loudly, and I couldn't see them because of the curtains on his bed, so I just asked him - you know, nicely - to please go somewhere else, and he came out all pink in the face and told me to get out and study in the common room, and I said I didn't want to because it's my room too, and he insulted my family so I hit him, and he just started screaming - totally overreacting, you know Malfoy, and Parkinson was shouting, and Snape came in and yelled at me and dragged Malfoy off, and it was very satisfying and I don't regret it, Hermione, and how'd you hear about it, Harry?"
Harry blinked, and then said, "I ran into them - Snape and Malfoy, I mean - on my way to see Professor Visit about a spell for getting word count."
Hermione opened her book and took out a slip of paper. "I got that yesterday. Honestly, Harry, leaving it until the last minute. It's - "
"Seventh year," Ron and Harry chorused.
"It was seventh year yesterday," said Ron.
Harry added, "It's still going to be seventh year tomorrow."
"You don't need to keep reminding us."
Hermione made a face and handed Harry the slip of paper. "Tap the document with your wand twice and say that. The word count will appear at the bottom and fade away after a few moments."
"Thanks. I've got to get back. See you in Potions tomorrow, Hermione."
"Of course. Have you finished the essay yet?"
"Uh..."
"Thought not."
Ron grinned. "I am so glad I gave that up."
Harry turned and headed back toward the Hufflepuff dormitories, which he still didn't consistently think of as his. He was overcome with a sudden wave of homesickness. He wanted his bed with a canopy, with a window for Hedwig to bring him post at night. He wanted to talk to Ron and Dean. He wanted Seamus and Neville back.
For now, though, he would have to deal with Dumbledore's little experiment.
He only hoped that, maybe, it would be over soon.
----
As usual after he got an injury, Malfoy slouched into Potions wearing a look of intense despair. There was a bandage on his nose so that it would heal straight - if, indeed, it had been broken at all - and he showed all the Slytherins in the class his tooth, which looked perfectly normal.
"I could have been horribly disfigured," he said to Pansy Parkinson. "Would you still have loved me?"
"Of course, Draco darling," she simpered, clinging to his arm. "I'll be glad to help with anything you need, Draco."
"I think I shall be all right," Draco said, "thanks to Professor Snape, of course."
Snape smiled tolerably at Draco, then snapped at the class in general, "Hand your essays forward." He waved his wand at the blackboard and muttered something; a set of instructions appeared in a sort of reverse- fade. "Split up into pairs and make this potion. When you're done, you may take out this year's text and search for it. The first person to inform me of the potion's name and function will win ten points for their house."
Hermione, surprisingly, did not raise her hand at once.
"Didn't you read the book?" Harry asked, lighting a fire under their cauldron with a flick of his wand.
"Only the first half. I was more interested in our Defense books, to tell you the truth."
Harry glanced up at the board, reading the list of ingredients. "How much do you want to bet he doesn't give us the points if we're first?"
"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, too," Hermione reminded him, and went to fetch supplies from the Potions cupboard.
There were only twenty-six students in the NEWT class, a mixture of all four houses – a sure sign of how much everyone hated Snape; even Professor Visit had two NEWT classes, and many of the seventh years had opted for other classes, relying on the DA to prepare them for fighting the Dark Arts. Harry looked around. He'd been in Potions with the Slytherins for so long that he was having difficulty adjusting to this setup.
Somehow Malfoy and Pansy were the first done. Snape pronounced their concoction "perfect" and awarded them the ten points even before they'd found the information. Harry bit his lip and tried not to yell about unfairness - not so early in his last year, he didn't want any trouble right now...
After cleaning up, Malfoy wandered over. "Hello, Potter, Muggle-born." He grinned when Harry made to hit him. "It's not an insult when I put it that way, Potter, is it? An unprovoked attack on an injured student...detention for sure."
"You're not even hurt," Hermione hissed, stirring the potion. "This is like third year all over again."
Harry smiled coldly. "Going to try to get Ron executed, Malfoy?"
"I am deeply offended, Potter. Deeply offended. I would never wound a dormmate. Unfortunately, it appears that the Weasel doesn't feel the same way. He's obviously got no morals."
Harry briefly considered his usual "Ron's worth twelve of you, Death Eater scum," and decided to go for the more subtle. "Of course Ron has no morals," he said, and caught Hermione's horrified look. "Because, of course, Ron's the one who goes around spouting evil propaganda and not thinking for himself. No morals. Sure. You're absolutely right." He couldn't resist it. "Death Eater scum."
Malfoy went pink. "Shut up, Potter. You've no idea what my father - "
"Your father's in Azkaban, Malfoy, for more than a year now. I thought you said he'd be out soon?"
"He's biding his time!"
Harry leaned closer, itching to punch Malfoy and break his nose for real. "I think your father can't get out. I think you're all alone. Poor Draco Malfoy, his father's not around to give him pocket money. That's all he's good for. He certainly doesn't give you any sense of right and wrong - "
Malfoy punched him.
Harry stumbled back and crashed into Hermione, who screamed and grabbed the cauldron for balance. She immediately screamed again and snatched her hands away from the hot metal. Malfoy smirked and was gone, back to his work station and Pansy.
"My, my," Snape drawled. "Had an accident, Miss Granger?"
Hermione glared at him through eyes wet with tears, shaking her burnt hands. "May I go to the Hospital Wing, Professor? Please?" Her voice barely shook.
Snape examined the potion, and said grudgingly, "This seems to be in order. I suppose you may go, Granger, but I'll expect a six-inch essay on safety in the Potions laboratory."
"Excuse me, Professor," Pansy Parkinson piped as Hermione hurried toward the stairs, "but I think such a careless accident warrants ten inches at least."
"Ten," Snape agreed. "Due on Friday before class, Granger."
Hermione nodded miserably, and was gone.
Harry finished the potion, cleaned up the workstation, and handed in the vial that would be graded. He spent the rest of the class reading the book and wondering how Ron had survived over a week with Malfoy without hitting him before.
----
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed – you guys are great. Hope I'm not confusing anyone with this. The H/D will be along eventually, I swear. ;)