******Author's note: Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. There are two reasons: 1) I got rid of the original chapter 13 and split its contents between 12 and 14 and 2) I'm sick. *cough cough, sniff sniff* And it's snowing again. Anyway, it's the longest chapter yet, so hopefully that'll make up for the wait. Enjoy! Neoepiphany*****
Chapter Twelve
McGonagall's Private Lessons
Ron was right; he and Harry had no trouble getting their homework finished on Sunday. It was a pleasant change after last year, when he constantly felt like he was drowning in homework. Fred and George had told the truth when they said that OWL year was the worst.
The three of them, plus Ginny and Neville, went to sit beside the lake and enjoy the warm weather and sunshine while they did their homework. It was a cloudy day, but still nice enough for writing essays and practicing conjuring charms. Hermione helped them with their conjuring, and, by the end of it, they'd all managed to conjure a handful of toothpicks and at least one pencil. Hermione, of course, had advanced to spoons and forks, which she conjured with increasingly pretty decorative handles. Ginny, meanwhile, was working on vanishing, and used her wand to disappear the piles of broken toothpicks, lumps of ash, and crumbly bits of driftwood that appeared when they didn't quite make it.
Classes on Monday weren't too bad, either. In Care of Magical Creatures, they were still working with the wailers. Apparently, the wailers would respond to certain verbal commands, and they were supposed to try and communicate with them. Unfortunately, the wailers only shrieked louder when they were given commands they didn't wish to follow, and by the end of the class, the only verbal command that anyone was trying was "Shut up." They had been prepared for another day of trying to reverse Tonks's curses in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she had decided to move on to something new. They spent the class studying different types of defensive wards, and Tonks told them that they'd be constructing and testing wards over the next few lessons.
That night was the first meeting of the DA. Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed up to the Room of Requirement at a few minutes before seven. Everything was as they'd left it, with the dark detectors on the front wall, and the squashy cushions around the floor. Hermione immediately returned to her reading (her bookmark was still where she'd left it before their last meeting was broken up), and Ron started to poke around the dark detectors, paying particular attention to the Foe Glass.
Luna Lovegood was the first to arrive. She had pulled her long hair into a loose bun, which was bursting out of the elastic holding it, and stuck her wand through it for safekeeping. "Oh, hello," she said, almost as though she'd been surprised to find them there. "I'm very pleased about the first meeting."
"Me too," Harry grinned.
"I hope you don't mind," Luna went on, "but I invited another Ravenclaw. Orla Quirke was asking about things, so I just invited her along. I didn't think it would be a problem anymore."
"Er," Harry said, initially alarmed. He had to calm himself down through an act of will. Umbridge is gone, he reminded himself. Voldemort's back, and we're allowed to meet.
"Sure, Luna, that's fine."
As it turned out, Luna wasn't the only one who'd brought a friend. Even though many of their number had finished school last year and others, namely Cho's curly haired friend Marietta, had just left, the room was even fuller than it had been before. Most of the newcomers were younger Gryffindors, but there were a handful of new Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well.
"Wow," Harry said, surveying the crowd of eager faces staring back at him. "I didn't expect so many new people."
"Don't be daft, Harry," Ginny said. "Everyone wants to be able to defend themselves from the dark wizards. We'll all take whatever help we can get."
"Yes, but how did so many people know about the meeting?" Hermione said. "Umbridge may be gone, but I don't think it'll do us any good to go around advertising what we're doing here!"
There was a lot of nodding from former DA members. "Maybe we should sign another sheet of parchment," Ron suggested.
"Well," Hermione hesitated. "It's not quite that serious. Anymore," she qualified.
"I think it's up to every one of us to exercise discretion," Ernie Macmillan said, his chest swelling pompously. "At some point, we may, for some reason, be forced to reveal the nature of these meetings to others, but, unless that time comes, we must endeavor to remain secretive." Ron rolled his eyes.
"Er, right, Ernie," Harry said.
"A little discretion wouldn't hurt, though," Cho Chang piped up. "Maybe we should make a rule. Anyone who's already brought a friend needs to keep quiet about meetings. Only one newcomer per person."
There were more nods. "Okay. We're all agreed?" Hermione said. "Raise your hand if you're for passing the rule. One invite per person." Hands went up, and Hermione counted. "Passed," she said.
"Great," Harry said. "That's settled, then. Well, shall we get on with it? I think that maybe since it's been a while, and especially since we've got so many new people, we should go back over what we've already covered. Kind of a review."
"Not again," Zacharias Smith muttered under his breath. "I could've been writing my potions essay. OUCH!" He spun around, holding his backside.
"Oooh, sorry, Zacharias," Ginny said, smiling sweetly. "I slipped off my cushion." Ron snorted.
"Like I was saying… Let's start with the Disarming charm and work our way back up to the Patronus. Those of you who've been here for a while can show the newcomers what to do," he said. "Split into pairs, and if this is your first meeting, try to pair up with someone who's got some experience."
Harry expected to pair up with Neville, but he latched on to a wide-eyed friend of Dennis Creevey, and went to work showing him the finer points of Expelliarmus. Harry grinned, and wandered around the room, correcting incantations and demonstrating things where he needed to.
By eight forty-five, only a few people had made it all the way back to the Patronus charm. Hermione, who had partnered with Natalie MacDonald, had managed to get that far. Her silvery otter was dancing around her while she showed Natalie how to do the incantation. The third-year had only managed silver vapor so far, but seemed fairly determined. Padma Patil was showing her Patronus to her partner who was admiring it gleefully. Harry hated to break up the meeting, but if they didn't get back to their common rooms soon, they'd all be in trouble with Filch.
"Ok, everybody!" Harry shouted. "Good work! We'll pick up with the Patronus next week. Oh, and we'll get all the new people a copy of the galleon with the meeting dates on it." He pulled out the Marauder's Map and sent them on their way in groups of three or four. Even though they weren't exactly in hiding, he thought it was still best to play it safe.
As they headed back to the common room, Hermione smiled at Harry. "That was really good again, Harry. You handled that really well."
"Thanks," Harry smiled back.
"Yeah, can't wait for next week," Ron added.
The renewed success of the DA gave Harry a warm, happy feeling that lasted all night. He and Ron stayed up late, teaching the mini quidditch team a variety of exciting moves. When he went to bed that night, it was with a feeling of relief, of belonging, of accomplishing something. If nothing else, Harry was at least helping his fellow students to learn how to fight for themselves.
The following morning's Daily Prophet took a big bite out of his happiness, however.
"Body of Missing Ministry Witch Found in Ireland!" proclaimed the headline.
"That'll be Hestia, then," Harry said with mock disinterest, taking a big bite of porridge.
Hermione, to whom the paper belonged, read aloud.
"The body of Hestia Jones, missing since last Friday evening, has been recovered outside a church near Galway, Ireland. Jones was found after an anonymous owl with a map to the dump site was received by investigators. It is believed that the body was disposed of near the church, but the actual murder took place in an unknown location.
"Arthur Weasley, friend and coworker of Jones, spoke to reporters shortly after her body was found. 'Hestia Jones was a fine woman, a good witch, and a lifelong opponent of the dark wizards. Her loss is not only a tragedy for the ministry, but for the entire wizarding world. Those who never knew her are the worse off for never discovering her sense of humor, her endless curiosity, and her unshakable belief in the importance of doing good for others.'
"The ministry further stated that there is little doubt that Jones's murderers were working under the instructions of none other than He-who-must-not-be-named, himself."
A picture of Hestia, taken some time before her disappearance, graced the bulk of the front page. When Hermione dropped the paper, the little photographic Hestia began smiling and waving at everyone around the table.
Snape was unusually quiet in Potions that day, and, when he came around to mark their progress on the polyjuice potion, Harry thought that he looked exhausted. His face was paler than usual, which made the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more strongly. Harry imagined that Snape had been out late with the Death Eaters, possibly helping to move Hestia's body, or to plan some new attack. He wondered for a moment if it had been Snape who sent the anonymous owl to the ministry, and he almost felt sympathetic. Almost.
"Once again, Potter," Snape said, prodding their potion with his wand, "you've failed to get this up to the consistency I would expect from NEWT level students. Even Granger can't make you get it right." He clucked his tongue, and walked away, his wand scrabbling on his parchment.
Hermione's face was red. "That horrible man," she murmured to herself. "It's absolutely perfect, and he knows it. He's just determined to be unfair. That horrible, horrible man."
Harry swallowed his guilt. "Sorry," he muttered.
Hermione looked mortified. "Oh, no, Harry—it's not your fault! I don't blame you at all," she said quickly. "Don't feel bad. It's just Snape. He's determined to be awful, that's all."
But Harry knew that if she had partnered with anyone else, she'd be getting perfect marks every lesson. He'd be getting zeros, of course, but that was beside the point. He vowed silently that he'd make it up to Hermione somehow.
The week stretched by, and at last, it was Thursday. He didn't really know what to expect from his lessons with McGonagall, and to be honest, he was dreading them from the moment he got up that morning. The gray, rainy weather didn't help his mood at all, either. At breakfast, he received a note from a fat screech owl.
"Mr. Potter,
I will expect you in the Transfiguration room at 7 o'clock sharp. Bring your wand.
McGonagall."
Ron read the note over his shoulder. "You could always fake sick. Fred and George sent along one of their skiving snackboxes. We could give you a nosebleed or something."
"She'd see right through it," Harry sighed. "Anyway, I'd just have to go again next week. There's no escape."
"She is trying to help, Harry," Hermione said. "She just wants to help you become an auror, that's all. Anyway," she leaned forward, "with all the Death Eaters and things running around, I should think you'd be happy about McGonagall helping you learn to defend yourself."
"That's exactly what she said," Harry grimaced.
He managed to make it through Herbology without incident, although Hermione's dragon-hide glove was eaten by an over-eager Ravenous Snapping-fern. "That was my only pair, too," she moaned. "And the first Hogsmeade weekend is over a month away."
Potions wasn't too much better for Hermione. There wasn't much to do in today's lesson. Things mostly just had to stew for a while, an in the next lesson, they'd be actually testing out their potions. They were supposed to make last-minute corrections of mistakes, additions that they'd forgotten, and so on, but, thanks to their experience with the potion, Harry knew that he and Hermione had made it perfectly, and had nothing to worry about or correct. That didn't stop Snape from taking away half their marks for the day for "doing nothing."
Transfiguration was as difficult as ever. Harry had satisfactorily conjured a pencil, so McGonagall had started him on teacups. Hermione, meanwhile, had moved up to more complex compound-objects, and was currently working on conjuring a quill and inkpot. McGonagall gave them homework for the weekend ("Fourteen inches on the benefits and drawbacks of real versus conjured items, and in what situations each would be better.") As they left, McGonagall shouted, "Don't forget about our lesson this evening, Potter. I'll expect you to be on time." Harry felt his ears and the back of his neck heat up, and he knew he was blushing.
That, unfortunately, wasn't the least of his embarrassment. Malfoy was standing in the hallway, surrounded by his usual small crowd of Slytherins.
"What's this Potter?" Malfoy smirked. "Now you have to take remedial transfiguration, too? And I thought remedial potions was bad enough!"
"I'm not taking remedial anything," Harry snapped back.
"Then why the extra lessons, Potty?" Pansy Parkinson said shrilly.
"So that I can fight Death Eater scum like his father," Harry snapped.
There was a collective gasp in the hallway. The Slytherins began muttering angrily, giving Harry murderous looks. Even a few of the Gryffindors seemed to think that this was hitting below the belt. Harry didn't much care. He was almost hoping that Draco would pull out his wand.
"My father—" he began.
"Is in Azkaban, where he belongs," Ron snapped back, smirking slightly. "How's it feel, Draco? Not being able to call on Daddy's muscle any more—must be hard on you. All that money's not doing you a bit of good now everybody knows what you are."
Draco's face reddened. Without a word, he slipped his hand into his robes, and whipped out his wand.
"Don't, Draco," one of the Slytherins hissed.
"What's the matter, Draco?" Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you scared? Come on, then. Give it your best shot."
Harry had never seen Ron looking so confident and unintimidated. He realized for the first time that Ron, who had always been gangly and thin, had begun to grow into himself a bit. He looked less skinny and awkward, and more like Bill, and was now much bigger and taller than skinny, average-height Draco. Draco seemed to notice this too. He backed off a step before speaking in his usual, nasty drawl.
"I can handle the Weasel King," Draco scowled. "It's just a question of which curse—"
"Snape!" Hermione hissed. Sure enough, Harry could just see Snape's head over the crowd of Slytherins who were blocking the hallway. He quickly ducked behind a pair of Gryffindor fifth-years who had stopped to watch the show. No use standing around, giving Snape an excuse to take house points from Ron. Harry stood, just out of view, but he could see what was going on through the space between the two girls in front of him.
"What's going on here?" he demanded. His eyes took in the scene. Harry noticed that he scanned the crowd for a moment longer than seemed necessary—no doubt looking for Harry himself. He gave Ron a cold, calculating look, but Ron braved it very well, staring right back at him. "Draco, put your wand away," Snape said at last. "The rest of you, get to class."
With a few disappointed murmurs, the crowd of Gryffindors and Slytherins split apart, hurrying in opposite directions toward their common rooms and next classes. Harry and Ron said goodbye to Hermione, and headed back to their dormitory, where they dropped off their books.
"Too wet for quidditch," Ron said, glumly.
"We can plan the trials," Harry suggested. Ron perked right up, and they went down to the common room and claimed the two most comfortable chairs near the fire. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and began making a timetable while Ron described all the try outs from the last year again. The afternoon passed all too quickly, and it seemed only moments had passed before Hermione appeared, back from class and they hurried down to dinner.
Harry said goodbye to Hermione and Ron at a few minutes before seven, and left the Great Hall headed for the Transfiguration room. The room was dark; he had arrived before McGonagall even. He lit the lights and sat down at a desk to wait.
He didn't have to wait long. After a few seconds, McGonagall swept into the room, carrying a heavy cauldron stuffed with vials and parcels. "Right on time, Potter! Good," she said, dropping the cauldron on a desk. "Any questions before we start?"
"Er," Harry said, frowning. "No. Not yet, anyway."
McGonagall gave him a calculating look, and nodded curtly. She moved in front of him. "As I promised, we're going to work on whatever is needed to get you work up to scratch to be an auror," she said briskly. "Now, I think we needn't worry about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Tonks—" McGonagall pursed her lips slightly, "is a very qualified teacher and I have no doubt that she'll get you caught up there. What we should concentrate on are your charms and potions." She frowned slightly. "Your marks in Charms are fair enough, and you did well on your OWL. Potions, however, is another story. Professor Snape went out of his way this afternoon to tell me how you're barely scraping by—"
"What?" Harry couldn't stop himself from blurting out. "Professor—our potion is good—" he protested.
"Yes, I went and had a look at it," McGonagall said, her lips thin. "But Professor Snape insists that you've gotten a lot of help from Hermione Granger."
"Of course I have," Harry said angrily. "She's my partner."
McGonagall chose to ignore this comment. "I have it from Professor Snape that the next potion you'll be covering is the Energizing draught. That's a tricky one, but if you can do the Draft of Peace, you can manage it."
Harry nodded. "We did the Draft of Peace last year."
"Good," said McGonagall. "Then you should be fine for the time being and we can move on."
"What—aren't we going to practice the Energizing draft?" Harry said, surprised.
"No, Potter," McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow. "I brought you here to help you to become an auror, not to tutor you in Potions."
Harry felt his cheeks grow hot.
"What I am going to teach you is how to make a basic truth serum. While I'm not as well versed in making such serums as Professor Snape, I think I teach you a few basics. You'll never pass the initial tests for auror training unless you are competent with truth serums and their counters."
"We're doing truth serums?" Harry said disbelieving. "I thought those were regulated by the ministry!"
"Veritaserum is regulated by the ministry, but we certainly aren't starting there," McGonagall said. "There are less potent serums that it is useful to know, and it is even more useful to know their antidotes."
"Antidotes?" Harry said.
"That's right," McGonagall nodded. "Many aurors take truth serum antidotes before going into dangerous situations, just in case they are captured and questioned by dark wizards. Now, the first thing we'll be doing is a basic Candor Concoction. You'll find the instructions—" she flicked her wand, and a small piece of paper fluttered down onto the desk in front of Harry "—on this card. It should take you about half an hour to complete. I'll be at my desk if you have any questions."
McGonagall seated herself and immersed herself in a large and heavy tome, from which she was taking notes on an impressively long piece of parchment. Harry stared for a moment at the card, which was copied out in McGonagall's own prim handwriting. He didn't know how to start.
"Come along, Potter, we haven't got all night. There are two more to do after this one," McGonagall said without looking up.
Harry stood, and hefted the cauldron onto a nearby desk, where he used his wand to light a small fire underneath. He looked at the card.
"Boil a handful of lovage seeds in water for precisely five minutes. In a separate container, toss twenty five shredded shrivelfigs with essence of belladonna so that each one is completely covered…"
Harry silently got to work on the potion. It wasn't a particularly difficult one, but it did require a lot of careful timing. Although he thought that McGonagall was ignoring him, she did occasionally call out instructions without looking up. "I think those tarantula fangs have simmered long enough," or "No, Potter! The daisy root goes in before the grated octopus tentacle!"
Finally, Harry had completed the final instruction on the card, and the potion had turned into pale yellow liquid, roughly the consistency of cream. "I think I'm done, Professor," he said.
McGonagall stood up, and walked over to the potion, which she inspected critically. "Not bad for a first attempt. The color is a bit too yellow—it should be more of an off-white—but I think we can give it a try," McGonagall said. She grabbed an empty vial off of a nearby desk and filled it from the cauldron. She held it out at arm's length. "Here."
"Me?" Harry flushed. "You want me to drink it, Professor?" Harry didn't feel comfortable being fed a truth serum, especially having seen the effects of one in person. The last thing he wanted to do was spill all his secrets to Professor McGonagall.
"Don't be silly, boy," she said, thrusting out the potion again. "It's only a Candor Concoction, not veritaserum. You're not going to start spouting out your every secret. Take a drink."
Harry reached out unsteadily, and grabbed the glass. He held it to his mouth and smelled the slightly spicy odor wafting from it. Quickly, he gulped down a mouthful. It tasted like peppers.
"What's on your mind, Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"Who's the spy in the Order?" Harry blurted out. Horrified with himself, he clamped his hand over his mouth. Although he'd been idly wondering about that ever since his vision, he hadn't meant to ask McGonagall about it.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but her eyes twinkled slightly. "Yes, that seems strong enough. Good work. The antidote is on the back of the card. You can get to work on that now. Evanesco!" She vanished the rest of the potion from the cauldron.
"Er, Professor," Harry began. As long as he'd already asked, he might as well go for it. "Do you know who the spy is?"
"Why so concerned, Potter?" McGonagall said, looking down at him severely.
"Because I think it's Mira," Harry blurted out again. He clapped his hand over his mouth again. He vowed not to say another word until the candor concoction had worn off.
"Mira? Mira McKinney? The housekeeper?" McGonagall said. "What makes you think that?"
"Because she's lying about something," Harry said through the hand clamped over his mouth. He clamped the other hand over it as well.
McGonagall half-smiled, but when she spoke, her voice retained its usual, brisk air. "I have no idea who the spy is," she said. "But you needn't concern yourself about it. We have plenty of people in the Order working on it. And Mira McKinney may be a lot of things, but I doubt very much that she's a spy for He-who-must-not-be-named," McGonagall finished.
Harry nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth.
"Now get to work on that antidote," she said, still half-smiling. "I daresay you need it."
Before McGonagall finally let him go, he had brewed the antidote and another type of truth serum (an Honesty Elixir) and they had tested all three. McGonagall warned him that there was no antidote to the second truth serum, but it would wear off overnight, and advised him to avoid talking to too many people before bed.
"I'll see you again in a month," McGonagall said briskly. Harry felt a sudden surge of relief. A month? He had thought they'd have to meet every week! "But until then," McGonagall went on, "I want you to practice your charms and potions. And," she said, picking up the huge book she'd been taking notes from earlier, "I want you to study the charms in this book. At our next session, I want you to be prepared to perform all the charms in the first fifteen chapters."
"What?" Harry said, his eyes widening. "You're giving me extra homework?"
"If you're serious about your ambition," McGonagall said, "then it will be a pleasure, won't it?"
Harry took the heavy book, "Charms, Spelles, and Enchantmentes for a Wary Wizarde." Harry had seen it once before, in the Restricted Section of the library.
"Don't look so despondent, Potter," she said, her voice a bit softer. "I'm sure you'll find it interesting reading, and no doubt you can incorporate a lot of what you learn in there into your defense club meetings."
Harry's eyes widened. "You know about—?"
"Professor Tonks told me she gave you all permission," Professor McGonagall said, "so you needn't worry." Harry couldn't help but notice the way her lips had narrowed as she said this, but it vanished quickly as she returned her attention to the charms book. "If you get too stuck with the charms, I'm sure your friends—Miss Granger in particular—would love to help you." She glanced down at her watch, and made a sweeping motion toward the door. "You'd better hurry back to the common room, now, it's almost nine o'clock." She shooed Harry toward the door. "One month. And good luck with the quidditch tryouts."
"Good night, Professor," Harry said. He trudged back to the common room, the heavy tome clutched in his arms. The hallways were eerily silent tonight, totally absent of the usual students hurrying back to their common rooms from the library or their clubs. He had to wake the Fat Lady, who seemed to have succumbed to the drowsy silence of the school and drifted off to sleep in her frame. He found the common room still full of people and activity. Hermione and Ron were sitting together at the same table they'd sat at together, talking, the night Hestia had disappeared. Hermione had her copy of "Numerology and Grammatica" propped up in front of her as her quill zipped across a piece of parchment. Ron, meanwhile, had pushed his copy of "Advanced Transfiguration Techniques" to the side, and was playing a game of chess against himself. Harry crossed the room, and sunk into the cozy leather armchair beside them, pushing the spell book onto the table beside Ron's.
"Harry!" Ron said, looking up from his rather excited chess pieces. "How'd it go?"
Harry sighed. "It was grueling. I had to brew two different truth potions, and one antidote, and drink the lot. And she gave me extra homework. I have to learn all the charms in the first fifteen chapters of that," he nodded at the huge, leather-bound tome.
McGonagall had been right when she said that Hermione would be interested in the charms book. As soon as her eyes darted over the peeling letters on the cover, she let out a squeal of delight. "'Charms, Spelles, and Enchantmentes!'" she cried, her face lit up as though Christmas had come early. "I can't believe it! Do you know what this is?"
He wanted to mutter something along the lines of "yes, it's a great big pain in the neck," but the lingering effects of the Honesty Elixir made him blurt out, "No."
"I've seen it, of course, in the restricted section," she said, half to herself. "It's considered the definitive text on advanced charm work—it's the original source for half the spells in the seventh year Charms textbook! This is one of the most famous—"
"I think we get the idea, Hermione," Ron interrupted her.
"You can have a look, if you like," Harry said, nudging the book toward Hermione.
"Thanks," she said, pulling it toward her.
"Look at her," Ron said, making a face as though he were nauseous. "Getting so excited over a spell book."
"Not just any spell book, Ron," Hermione said without looking up from the huge table of contents. This is–"
"The definitive work, yeah, you said," Ron said back. Hermione, however, was too preoccupied to rise to his baiting; she just shrugged and flipped to the first chapter. Ron stretched, pulling his arms high up over his head. "I'm starving. Wish we had something to eat."
"Yeah, me too," Harry said frowning. Brewing all those potions had taken a lot out of him, and he was tired and hungry.
"What about your chocolates?" Hermione said, still not looking up from the book.
"What?" Harry said.
"The chocolates Mira sent you. You have those," Hermione said.
"Oh yeah," Harry said. "I'd completely forgotten." With everything else going on, the box of sweets that Mira had sent had slipped his mind. "I'll go and get them, then," he said.
He had shoved the box under his bed, where it was out of his way. He dropped to his knees and pulled it out. As he carried it downstairs, he wondered how he could have forgotten it; the rich, sugary smell of the peanut-butter fudge bars was intoxicating. He crossed the crowded room, and sat the box down next to Ron's chess board. A crowd of captured pawns jumped out of the, glaring angrily at Harry.
"Here you go," Harry said, pulling off the lid. A few days in storage didn't seem to have hurt the fudge bars; they looked every bit as fresh and gooey as they had when they'd arrived. The aroma was overpowering; a lot of people were turning around, sniffing for the source of the sumptuous smell. Harry reached in to take one, but hesitated, and grabbed a chocolate frog instead. Ron was also eyeing the fudge bars warily; he took the bag of Every Flavor Beans.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Hermione, who despite all appearances to the contrary, seemed to have been watching them. "I very much doubt she's poisoned the chocolate."
"It's not that," Ron snapped back. "It just doesn't feel right, does it?"
Harry shook his head. "They just give me a bad feeling," he agreed. "Like anything could be in there."
Hermione sighed. "I'll eat one, if you want proof they aren't poisoned."
Ron scowled. "Maybe we could feed one to Crookshanks," he suggested.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, defensively. "He's a cat! You can't feed a cat chocolate. It's not good for them. Anyway, you're just being silly."
She was probably right; probably, Mira wasn't the spy, and she had just wanted to send him a little treat. She had probably spent hours making those fudge bars—and no doubt dropped and recovered at least three foreign objects from the batter—and was even now sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, thinking happily of Harry and his friends eating them. Probably. All the same, Harry felt safest sticking to the chocolate frogs.
After a moment, Dean Thomas came over, flanked by Seamus and Neville. "Is that what smells so good?" he asked, eyeing the fudge bars. "You're lucky, Harry—my parents never send sweets."
Neville licked his lips. "Do you have any to spare? I'll trade you a chocolate frog if you like."
"Er," Harry said. Just as he was hesitant to eat them himself, he was hesitant to give them to his friends either.
Ron looked furtively up at Dean. He grabbed the basket out of the box, and thrust it at Neville. "Here, take it. We're not going to eat any."
"What—really?" exclaimed Dean. "It's okay, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Enjoy. We've got the chocolate frogs."
Harry felt a little bit guilty and a little bit stupid, all at the same time. Ron caught his eye and shrugged as Harry watched his chocolate being consumed around the room. He knew he was only being foolish—even if Mira were a spy, she wouldn't have tried anything so irrational and obvious as sending him poisoned sweets—but as he climbed the steps to the boy's dormitory that night, he couldn't shake a nagging, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked over his shoulder at his friends, munching on the gooey confections as they worked on their homework, and wondered for a fleeting moment how many of them would be sick in the morning.
**************
Reader Responses:
Scorpion Lord: I promise, there's lots of action coming up VERY SOON. There's a very exciting fight coming up very very soon. As to the rest of your questions, alas, no answers yet. I can't tell without giving big, important things away! I will, however, point out that Harry had stopped dreaming before he got the ring (in chapter one he woke from a dreamless sleep)
Iniysa: I hope that Harry keeps out of Voldie's head too, but you know how thickheaded that boy can be. Especially when he thinks he's right… I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
FireyMoonlight: That darned ring! Such a source of mystery… Also the spy and the names they've collected. Wish I could tell you! Stick with us a few more chapters…
Ah, the Marauders. Did it break your heart when Sirius died? It broke mine. I make no promises as to whether he lives or dies, but Remus does play a very important role in this story (book?).
And yes, I think Voldemort could do those things, except Harry has control of the link. I think that, theoretically, Harry could start giving Voldemort dreams, and Voldemort might start feeling Harry's moods, but Harry should be able to shut him out, the way he has done his dreams. (Let's hope.)
captuniv: I totally agree! I think Snape is a lousy teacher to boot. But, I don't think Harry would give Snape the satisfaction of going over his head.
Astronut: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't believe I did that. What an idiot I feel. Especially after carefully checking practically every other spelling before I wrote it down. Some interesting trivia: McGonagall's name appears 95 times in the entire text (including unpublished chapters). It appears at least once in every chapter except chapter 3. Chapter 5 is the shortest. Chapter 12 is the longest (so far).
Charlie Magnus: Thanks.
godrick_gal: Thanks! I like the evolving fluffblasters too. I want one. I wish I could set it loose, here in my office. I can just imagine it swimming in the vice-principal's coffee mug, and then turning into a furry volleyball and hiding with the spare PE equipment. *longing sigh*
Wiccan PussyKat: THE CHOCOLATE IS EVIL! THE CHOCOLATE IS EVIL!!
Sorry to keep you waiting! And it's not that I don't like Harry-torture, it just makes me very angry. I want to… to… smite people. With lightning bolts.
Wynjara: Very astute, all around. And that was the fastest review I've ever gotten. Amazing.
Chapter Twelve
McGonagall's Private Lessons
Ron was right; he and Harry had no trouble getting their homework finished on Sunday. It was a pleasant change after last year, when he constantly felt like he was drowning in homework. Fred and George had told the truth when they said that OWL year was the worst.
The three of them, plus Ginny and Neville, went to sit beside the lake and enjoy the warm weather and sunshine while they did their homework. It was a cloudy day, but still nice enough for writing essays and practicing conjuring charms. Hermione helped them with their conjuring, and, by the end of it, they'd all managed to conjure a handful of toothpicks and at least one pencil. Hermione, of course, had advanced to spoons and forks, which she conjured with increasingly pretty decorative handles. Ginny, meanwhile, was working on vanishing, and used her wand to disappear the piles of broken toothpicks, lumps of ash, and crumbly bits of driftwood that appeared when they didn't quite make it.
Classes on Monday weren't too bad, either. In Care of Magical Creatures, they were still working with the wailers. Apparently, the wailers would respond to certain verbal commands, and they were supposed to try and communicate with them. Unfortunately, the wailers only shrieked louder when they were given commands they didn't wish to follow, and by the end of the class, the only verbal command that anyone was trying was "Shut up." They had been prepared for another day of trying to reverse Tonks's curses in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she had decided to move on to something new. They spent the class studying different types of defensive wards, and Tonks told them that they'd be constructing and testing wards over the next few lessons.
That night was the first meeting of the DA. Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed up to the Room of Requirement at a few minutes before seven. Everything was as they'd left it, with the dark detectors on the front wall, and the squashy cushions around the floor. Hermione immediately returned to her reading (her bookmark was still where she'd left it before their last meeting was broken up), and Ron started to poke around the dark detectors, paying particular attention to the Foe Glass.
Luna Lovegood was the first to arrive. She had pulled her long hair into a loose bun, which was bursting out of the elastic holding it, and stuck her wand through it for safekeeping. "Oh, hello," she said, almost as though she'd been surprised to find them there. "I'm very pleased about the first meeting."
"Me too," Harry grinned.
"I hope you don't mind," Luna went on, "but I invited another Ravenclaw. Orla Quirke was asking about things, so I just invited her along. I didn't think it would be a problem anymore."
"Er," Harry said, initially alarmed. He had to calm himself down through an act of will. Umbridge is gone, he reminded himself. Voldemort's back, and we're allowed to meet.
"Sure, Luna, that's fine."
As it turned out, Luna wasn't the only one who'd brought a friend. Even though many of their number had finished school last year and others, namely Cho's curly haired friend Marietta, had just left, the room was even fuller than it had been before. Most of the newcomers were younger Gryffindors, but there were a handful of new Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well.
"Wow," Harry said, surveying the crowd of eager faces staring back at him. "I didn't expect so many new people."
"Don't be daft, Harry," Ginny said. "Everyone wants to be able to defend themselves from the dark wizards. We'll all take whatever help we can get."
"Yes, but how did so many people know about the meeting?" Hermione said. "Umbridge may be gone, but I don't think it'll do us any good to go around advertising what we're doing here!"
There was a lot of nodding from former DA members. "Maybe we should sign another sheet of parchment," Ron suggested.
"Well," Hermione hesitated. "It's not quite that serious. Anymore," she qualified.
"I think it's up to every one of us to exercise discretion," Ernie Macmillan said, his chest swelling pompously. "At some point, we may, for some reason, be forced to reveal the nature of these meetings to others, but, unless that time comes, we must endeavor to remain secretive." Ron rolled his eyes.
"Er, right, Ernie," Harry said.
"A little discretion wouldn't hurt, though," Cho Chang piped up. "Maybe we should make a rule. Anyone who's already brought a friend needs to keep quiet about meetings. Only one newcomer per person."
There were more nods. "Okay. We're all agreed?" Hermione said. "Raise your hand if you're for passing the rule. One invite per person." Hands went up, and Hermione counted. "Passed," she said.
"Great," Harry said. "That's settled, then. Well, shall we get on with it? I think that maybe since it's been a while, and especially since we've got so many new people, we should go back over what we've already covered. Kind of a review."
"Not again," Zacharias Smith muttered under his breath. "I could've been writing my potions essay. OUCH!" He spun around, holding his backside.
"Oooh, sorry, Zacharias," Ginny said, smiling sweetly. "I slipped off my cushion." Ron snorted.
"Like I was saying… Let's start with the Disarming charm and work our way back up to the Patronus. Those of you who've been here for a while can show the newcomers what to do," he said. "Split into pairs, and if this is your first meeting, try to pair up with someone who's got some experience."
Harry expected to pair up with Neville, but he latched on to a wide-eyed friend of Dennis Creevey, and went to work showing him the finer points of Expelliarmus. Harry grinned, and wandered around the room, correcting incantations and demonstrating things where he needed to.
By eight forty-five, only a few people had made it all the way back to the Patronus charm. Hermione, who had partnered with Natalie MacDonald, had managed to get that far. Her silvery otter was dancing around her while she showed Natalie how to do the incantation. The third-year had only managed silver vapor so far, but seemed fairly determined. Padma Patil was showing her Patronus to her partner who was admiring it gleefully. Harry hated to break up the meeting, but if they didn't get back to their common rooms soon, they'd all be in trouble with Filch.
"Ok, everybody!" Harry shouted. "Good work! We'll pick up with the Patronus next week. Oh, and we'll get all the new people a copy of the galleon with the meeting dates on it." He pulled out the Marauder's Map and sent them on their way in groups of three or four. Even though they weren't exactly in hiding, he thought it was still best to play it safe.
As they headed back to the common room, Hermione smiled at Harry. "That was really good again, Harry. You handled that really well."
"Thanks," Harry smiled back.
"Yeah, can't wait for next week," Ron added.
The renewed success of the DA gave Harry a warm, happy feeling that lasted all night. He and Ron stayed up late, teaching the mini quidditch team a variety of exciting moves. When he went to bed that night, it was with a feeling of relief, of belonging, of accomplishing something. If nothing else, Harry was at least helping his fellow students to learn how to fight for themselves.
The following morning's Daily Prophet took a big bite out of his happiness, however.
"Body of Missing Ministry Witch Found in Ireland!" proclaimed the headline.
"That'll be Hestia, then," Harry said with mock disinterest, taking a big bite of porridge.
Hermione, to whom the paper belonged, read aloud.
"The body of Hestia Jones, missing since last Friday evening, has been recovered outside a church near Galway, Ireland. Jones was found after an anonymous owl with a map to the dump site was received by investigators. It is believed that the body was disposed of near the church, but the actual murder took place in an unknown location.
"Arthur Weasley, friend and coworker of Jones, spoke to reporters shortly after her body was found. 'Hestia Jones was a fine woman, a good witch, and a lifelong opponent of the dark wizards. Her loss is not only a tragedy for the ministry, but for the entire wizarding world. Those who never knew her are the worse off for never discovering her sense of humor, her endless curiosity, and her unshakable belief in the importance of doing good for others.'
"The ministry further stated that there is little doubt that Jones's murderers were working under the instructions of none other than He-who-must-not-be-named, himself."
A picture of Hestia, taken some time before her disappearance, graced the bulk of the front page. When Hermione dropped the paper, the little photographic Hestia began smiling and waving at everyone around the table.
Snape was unusually quiet in Potions that day, and, when he came around to mark their progress on the polyjuice potion, Harry thought that he looked exhausted. His face was paler than usual, which made the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more strongly. Harry imagined that Snape had been out late with the Death Eaters, possibly helping to move Hestia's body, or to plan some new attack. He wondered for a moment if it had been Snape who sent the anonymous owl to the ministry, and he almost felt sympathetic. Almost.
"Once again, Potter," Snape said, prodding their potion with his wand, "you've failed to get this up to the consistency I would expect from NEWT level students. Even Granger can't make you get it right." He clucked his tongue, and walked away, his wand scrabbling on his parchment.
Hermione's face was red. "That horrible man," she murmured to herself. "It's absolutely perfect, and he knows it. He's just determined to be unfair. That horrible, horrible man."
Harry swallowed his guilt. "Sorry," he muttered.
Hermione looked mortified. "Oh, no, Harry—it's not your fault! I don't blame you at all," she said quickly. "Don't feel bad. It's just Snape. He's determined to be awful, that's all."
But Harry knew that if she had partnered with anyone else, she'd be getting perfect marks every lesson. He'd be getting zeros, of course, but that was beside the point. He vowed silently that he'd make it up to Hermione somehow.
The week stretched by, and at last, it was Thursday. He didn't really know what to expect from his lessons with McGonagall, and to be honest, he was dreading them from the moment he got up that morning. The gray, rainy weather didn't help his mood at all, either. At breakfast, he received a note from a fat screech owl.
"Mr. Potter,
I will expect you in the Transfiguration room at 7 o'clock sharp. Bring your wand.
McGonagall."
Ron read the note over his shoulder. "You could always fake sick. Fred and George sent along one of their skiving snackboxes. We could give you a nosebleed or something."
"She'd see right through it," Harry sighed. "Anyway, I'd just have to go again next week. There's no escape."
"She is trying to help, Harry," Hermione said. "She just wants to help you become an auror, that's all. Anyway," she leaned forward, "with all the Death Eaters and things running around, I should think you'd be happy about McGonagall helping you learn to defend yourself."
"That's exactly what she said," Harry grimaced.
He managed to make it through Herbology without incident, although Hermione's dragon-hide glove was eaten by an over-eager Ravenous Snapping-fern. "That was my only pair, too," she moaned. "And the first Hogsmeade weekend is over a month away."
Potions wasn't too much better for Hermione. There wasn't much to do in today's lesson. Things mostly just had to stew for a while, an in the next lesson, they'd be actually testing out their potions. They were supposed to make last-minute corrections of mistakes, additions that they'd forgotten, and so on, but, thanks to their experience with the potion, Harry knew that he and Hermione had made it perfectly, and had nothing to worry about or correct. That didn't stop Snape from taking away half their marks for the day for "doing nothing."
Transfiguration was as difficult as ever. Harry had satisfactorily conjured a pencil, so McGonagall had started him on teacups. Hermione, meanwhile, had moved up to more complex compound-objects, and was currently working on conjuring a quill and inkpot. McGonagall gave them homework for the weekend ("Fourteen inches on the benefits and drawbacks of real versus conjured items, and in what situations each would be better.") As they left, McGonagall shouted, "Don't forget about our lesson this evening, Potter. I'll expect you to be on time." Harry felt his ears and the back of his neck heat up, and he knew he was blushing.
That, unfortunately, wasn't the least of his embarrassment. Malfoy was standing in the hallway, surrounded by his usual small crowd of Slytherins.
"What's this Potter?" Malfoy smirked. "Now you have to take remedial transfiguration, too? And I thought remedial potions was bad enough!"
"I'm not taking remedial anything," Harry snapped back.
"Then why the extra lessons, Potty?" Pansy Parkinson said shrilly.
"So that I can fight Death Eater scum like his father," Harry snapped.
There was a collective gasp in the hallway. The Slytherins began muttering angrily, giving Harry murderous looks. Even a few of the Gryffindors seemed to think that this was hitting below the belt. Harry didn't much care. He was almost hoping that Draco would pull out his wand.
"My father—" he began.
"Is in Azkaban, where he belongs," Ron snapped back, smirking slightly. "How's it feel, Draco? Not being able to call on Daddy's muscle any more—must be hard on you. All that money's not doing you a bit of good now everybody knows what you are."
Draco's face reddened. Without a word, he slipped his hand into his robes, and whipped out his wand.
"Don't, Draco," one of the Slytherins hissed.
"What's the matter, Draco?" Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you scared? Come on, then. Give it your best shot."
Harry had never seen Ron looking so confident and unintimidated. He realized for the first time that Ron, who had always been gangly and thin, had begun to grow into himself a bit. He looked less skinny and awkward, and more like Bill, and was now much bigger and taller than skinny, average-height Draco. Draco seemed to notice this too. He backed off a step before speaking in his usual, nasty drawl.
"I can handle the Weasel King," Draco scowled. "It's just a question of which curse—"
"Snape!" Hermione hissed. Sure enough, Harry could just see Snape's head over the crowd of Slytherins who were blocking the hallway. He quickly ducked behind a pair of Gryffindor fifth-years who had stopped to watch the show. No use standing around, giving Snape an excuse to take house points from Ron. Harry stood, just out of view, but he could see what was going on through the space between the two girls in front of him.
"What's going on here?" he demanded. His eyes took in the scene. Harry noticed that he scanned the crowd for a moment longer than seemed necessary—no doubt looking for Harry himself. He gave Ron a cold, calculating look, but Ron braved it very well, staring right back at him. "Draco, put your wand away," Snape said at last. "The rest of you, get to class."
With a few disappointed murmurs, the crowd of Gryffindors and Slytherins split apart, hurrying in opposite directions toward their common rooms and next classes. Harry and Ron said goodbye to Hermione, and headed back to their dormitory, where they dropped off their books.
"Too wet for quidditch," Ron said, glumly.
"We can plan the trials," Harry suggested. Ron perked right up, and they went down to the common room and claimed the two most comfortable chairs near the fire. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and began making a timetable while Ron described all the try outs from the last year again. The afternoon passed all too quickly, and it seemed only moments had passed before Hermione appeared, back from class and they hurried down to dinner.
Harry said goodbye to Hermione and Ron at a few minutes before seven, and left the Great Hall headed for the Transfiguration room. The room was dark; he had arrived before McGonagall even. He lit the lights and sat down at a desk to wait.
He didn't have to wait long. After a few seconds, McGonagall swept into the room, carrying a heavy cauldron stuffed with vials and parcels. "Right on time, Potter! Good," she said, dropping the cauldron on a desk. "Any questions before we start?"
"Er," Harry said, frowning. "No. Not yet, anyway."
McGonagall gave him a calculating look, and nodded curtly. She moved in front of him. "As I promised, we're going to work on whatever is needed to get you work up to scratch to be an auror," she said briskly. "Now, I think we needn't worry about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Tonks—" McGonagall pursed her lips slightly, "is a very qualified teacher and I have no doubt that she'll get you caught up there. What we should concentrate on are your charms and potions." She frowned slightly. "Your marks in Charms are fair enough, and you did well on your OWL. Potions, however, is another story. Professor Snape went out of his way this afternoon to tell me how you're barely scraping by—"
"What?" Harry couldn't stop himself from blurting out. "Professor—our potion is good—" he protested.
"Yes, I went and had a look at it," McGonagall said, her lips thin. "But Professor Snape insists that you've gotten a lot of help from Hermione Granger."
"Of course I have," Harry said angrily. "She's my partner."
McGonagall chose to ignore this comment. "I have it from Professor Snape that the next potion you'll be covering is the Energizing draught. That's a tricky one, but if you can do the Draft of Peace, you can manage it."
Harry nodded. "We did the Draft of Peace last year."
"Good," said McGonagall. "Then you should be fine for the time being and we can move on."
"What—aren't we going to practice the Energizing draft?" Harry said, surprised.
"No, Potter," McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow. "I brought you here to help you to become an auror, not to tutor you in Potions."
Harry felt his cheeks grow hot.
"What I am going to teach you is how to make a basic truth serum. While I'm not as well versed in making such serums as Professor Snape, I think I teach you a few basics. You'll never pass the initial tests for auror training unless you are competent with truth serums and their counters."
"We're doing truth serums?" Harry said disbelieving. "I thought those were regulated by the ministry!"
"Veritaserum is regulated by the ministry, but we certainly aren't starting there," McGonagall said. "There are less potent serums that it is useful to know, and it is even more useful to know their antidotes."
"Antidotes?" Harry said.
"That's right," McGonagall nodded. "Many aurors take truth serum antidotes before going into dangerous situations, just in case they are captured and questioned by dark wizards. Now, the first thing we'll be doing is a basic Candor Concoction. You'll find the instructions—" she flicked her wand, and a small piece of paper fluttered down onto the desk in front of Harry "—on this card. It should take you about half an hour to complete. I'll be at my desk if you have any questions."
McGonagall seated herself and immersed herself in a large and heavy tome, from which she was taking notes on an impressively long piece of parchment. Harry stared for a moment at the card, which was copied out in McGonagall's own prim handwriting. He didn't know how to start.
"Come along, Potter, we haven't got all night. There are two more to do after this one," McGonagall said without looking up.
Harry stood, and hefted the cauldron onto a nearby desk, where he used his wand to light a small fire underneath. He looked at the card.
"Boil a handful of lovage seeds in water for precisely five minutes. In a separate container, toss twenty five shredded shrivelfigs with essence of belladonna so that each one is completely covered…"
Harry silently got to work on the potion. It wasn't a particularly difficult one, but it did require a lot of careful timing. Although he thought that McGonagall was ignoring him, she did occasionally call out instructions without looking up. "I think those tarantula fangs have simmered long enough," or "No, Potter! The daisy root goes in before the grated octopus tentacle!"
Finally, Harry had completed the final instruction on the card, and the potion had turned into pale yellow liquid, roughly the consistency of cream. "I think I'm done, Professor," he said.
McGonagall stood up, and walked over to the potion, which she inspected critically. "Not bad for a first attempt. The color is a bit too yellow—it should be more of an off-white—but I think we can give it a try," McGonagall said. She grabbed an empty vial off of a nearby desk and filled it from the cauldron. She held it out at arm's length. "Here."
"Me?" Harry flushed. "You want me to drink it, Professor?" Harry didn't feel comfortable being fed a truth serum, especially having seen the effects of one in person. The last thing he wanted to do was spill all his secrets to Professor McGonagall.
"Don't be silly, boy," she said, thrusting out the potion again. "It's only a Candor Concoction, not veritaserum. You're not going to start spouting out your every secret. Take a drink."
Harry reached out unsteadily, and grabbed the glass. He held it to his mouth and smelled the slightly spicy odor wafting from it. Quickly, he gulped down a mouthful. It tasted like peppers.
"What's on your mind, Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"Who's the spy in the Order?" Harry blurted out. Horrified with himself, he clamped his hand over his mouth. Although he'd been idly wondering about that ever since his vision, he hadn't meant to ask McGonagall about it.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but her eyes twinkled slightly. "Yes, that seems strong enough. Good work. The antidote is on the back of the card. You can get to work on that now. Evanesco!" She vanished the rest of the potion from the cauldron.
"Er, Professor," Harry began. As long as he'd already asked, he might as well go for it. "Do you know who the spy is?"
"Why so concerned, Potter?" McGonagall said, looking down at him severely.
"Because I think it's Mira," Harry blurted out again. He clapped his hand over his mouth again. He vowed not to say another word until the candor concoction had worn off.
"Mira? Mira McKinney? The housekeeper?" McGonagall said. "What makes you think that?"
"Because she's lying about something," Harry said through the hand clamped over his mouth. He clamped the other hand over it as well.
McGonagall half-smiled, but when she spoke, her voice retained its usual, brisk air. "I have no idea who the spy is," she said. "But you needn't concern yourself about it. We have plenty of people in the Order working on it. And Mira McKinney may be a lot of things, but I doubt very much that she's a spy for He-who-must-not-be-named," McGonagall finished.
Harry nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth.
"Now get to work on that antidote," she said, still half-smiling. "I daresay you need it."
Before McGonagall finally let him go, he had brewed the antidote and another type of truth serum (an Honesty Elixir) and they had tested all three. McGonagall warned him that there was no antidote to the second truth serum, but it would wear off overnight, and advised him to avoid talking to too many people before bed.
"I'll see you again in a month," McGonagall said briskly. Harry felt a sudden surge of relief. A month? He had thought they'd have to meet every week! "But until then," McGonagall went on, "I want you to practice your charms and potions. And," she said, picking up the huge book she'd been taking notes from earlier, "I want you to study the charms in this book. At our next session, I want you to be prepared to perform all the charms in the first fifteen chapters."
"What?" Harry said, his eyes widening. "You're giving me extra homework?"
"If you're serious about your ambition," McGonagall said, "then it will be a pleasure, won't it?"
Harry took the heavy book, "Charms, Spelles, and Enchantmentes for a Wary Wizarde." Harry had seen it once before, in the Restricted Section of the library.
"Don't look so despondent, Potter," she said, her voice a bit softer. "I'm sure you'll find it interesting reading, and no doubt you can incorporate a lot of what you learn in there into your defense club meetings."
Harry's eyes widened. "You know about—?"
"Professor Tonks told me she gave you all permission," Professor McGonagall said, "so you needn't worry." Harry couldn't help but notice the way her lips had narrowed as she said this, but it vanished quickly as she returned her attention to the charms book. "If you get too stuck with the charms, I'm sure your friends—Miss Granger in particular—would love to help you." She glanced down at her watch, and made a sweeping motion toward the door. "You'd better hurry back to the common room, now, it's almost nine o'clock." She shooed Harry toward the door. "One month. And good luck with the quidditch tryouts."
"Good night, Professor," Harry said. He trudged back to the common room, the heavy tome clutched in his arms. The hallways were eerily silent tonight, totally absent of the usual students hurrying back to their common rooms from the library or their clubs. He had to wake the Fat Lady, who seemed to have succumbed to the drowsy silence of the school and drifted off to sleep in her frame. He found the common room still full of people and activity. Hermione and Ron were sitting together at the same table they'd sat at together, talking, the night Hestia had disappeared. Hermione had her copy of "Numerology and Grammatica" propped up in front of her as her quill zipped across a piece of parchment. Ron, meanwhile, had pushed his copy of "Advanced Transfiguration Techniques" to the side, and was playing a game of chess against himself. Harry crossed the room, and sunk into the cozy leather armchair beside them, pushing the spell book onto the table beside Ron's.
"Harry!" Ron said, looking up from his rather excited chess pieces. "How'd it go?"
Harry sighed. "It was grueling. I had to brew two different truth potions, and one antidote, and drink the lot. And she gave me extra homework. I have to learn all the charms in the first fifteen chapters of that," he nodded at the huge, leather-bound tome.
McGonagall had been right when she said that Hermione would be interested in the charms book. As soon as her eyes darted over the peeling letters on the cover, she let out a squeal of delight. "'Charms, Spelles, and Enchantmentes!'" she cried, her face lit up as though Christmas had come early. "I can't believe it! Do you know what this is?"
He wanted to mutter something along the lines of "yes, it's a great big pain in the neck," but the lingering effects of the Honesty Elixir made him blurt out, "No."
"I've seen it, of course, in the restricted section," she said, half to herself. "It's considered the definitive text on advanced charm work—it's the original source for half the spells in the seventh year Charms textbook! This is one of the most famous—"
"I think we get the idea, Hermione," Ron interrupted her.
"You can have a look, if you like," Harry said, nudging the book toward Hermione.
"Thanks," she said, pulling it toward her.
"Look at her," Ron said, making a face as though he were nauseous. "Getting so excited over a spell book."
"Not just any spell book, Ron," Hermione said without looking up from the huge table of contents. This is–"
"The definitive work, yeah, you said," Ron said back. Hermione, however, was too preoccupied to rise to his baiting; she just shrugged and flipped to the first chapter. Ron stretched, pulling his arms high up over his head. "I'm starving. Wish we had something to eat."
"Yeah, me too," Harry said frowning. Brewing all those potions had taken a lot out of him, and he was tired and hungry.
"What about your chocolates?" Hermione said, still not looking up from the book.
"What?" Harry said.
"The chocolates Mira sent you. You have those," Hermione said.
"Oh yeah," Harry said. "I'd completely forgotten." With everything else going on, the box of sweets that Mira had sent had slipped his mind. "I'll go and get them, then," he said.
He had shoved the box under his bed, where it was out of his way. He dropped to his knees and pulled it out. As he carried it downstairs, he wondered how he could have forgotten it; the rich, sugary smell of the peanut-butter fudge bars was intoxicating. He crossed the crowded room, and sat the box down next to Ron's chess board. A crowd of captured pawns jumped out of the, glaring angrily at Harry.
"Here you go," Harry said, pulling off the lid. A few days in storage didn't seem to have hurt the fudge bars; they looked every bit as fresh and gooey as they had when they'd arrived. The aroma was overpowering; a lot of people were turning around, sniffing for the source of the sumptuous smell. Harry reached in to take one, but hesitated, and grabbed a chocolate frog instead. Ron was also eyeing the fudge bars warily; he took the bag of Every Flavor Beans.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Hermione, who despite all appearances to the contrary, seemed to have been watching them. "I very much doubt she's poisoned the chocolate."
"It's not that," Ron snapped back. "It just doesn't feel right, does it?"
Harry shook his head. "They just give me a bad feeling," he agreed. "Like anything could be in there."
Hermione sighed. "I'll eat one, if you want proof they aren't poisoned."
Ron scowled. "Maybe we could feed one to Crookshanks," he suggested.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, defensively. "He's a cat! You can't feed a cat chocolate. It's not good for them. Anyway, you're just being silly."
She was probably right; probably, Mira wasn't the spy, and she had just wanted to send him a little treat. She had probably spent hours making those fudge bars—and no doubt dropped and recovered at least three foreign objects from the batter—and was even now sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, thinking happily of Harry and his friends eating them. Probably. All the same, Harry felt safest sticking to the chocolate frogs.
After a moment, Dean Thomas came over, flanked by Seamus and Neville. "Is that what smells so good?" he asked, eyeing the fudge bars. "You're lucky, Harry—my parents never send sweets."
Neville licked his lips. "Do you have any to spare? I'll trade you a chocolate frog if you like."
"Er," Harry said. Just as he was hesitant to eat them himself, he was hesitant to give them to his friends either.
Ron looked furtively up at Dean. He grabbed the basket out of the box, and thrust it at Neville. "Here, take it. We're not going to eat any."
"What—really?" exclaimed Dean. "It's okay, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Enjoy. We've got the chocolate frogs."
Harry felt a little bit guilty and a little bit stupid, all at the same time. Ron caught his eye and shrugged as Harry watched his chocolate being consumed around the room. He knew he was only being foolish—even if Mira were a spy, she wouldn't have tried anything so irrational and obvious as sending him poisoned sweets—but as he climbed the steps to the boy's dormitory that night, he couldn't shake a nagging, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked over his shoulder at his friends, munching on the gooey confections as they worked on their homework, and wondered for a fleeting moment how many of them would be sick in the morning.
**************
Reader Responses:
Scorpion Lord: I promise, there's lots of action coming up VERY SOON. There's a very exciting fight coming up very very soon. As to the rest of your questions, alas, no answers yet. I can't tell without giving big, important things away! I will, however, point out that Harry had stopped dreaming before he got the ring (in chapter one he woke from a dreamless sleep)
Iniysa: I hope that Harry keeps out of Voldie's head too, but you know how thickheaded that boy can be. Especially when he thinks he's right… I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
FireyMoonlight: That darned ring! Such a source of mystery… Also the spy and the names they've collected. Wish I could tell you! Stick with us a few more chapters…
Ah, the Marauders. Did it break your heart when Sirius died? It broke mine. I make no promises as to whether he lives or dies, but Remus does play a very important role in this story (book?).
And yes, I think Voldemort could do those things, except Harry has control of the link. I think that, theoretically, Harry could start giving Voldemort dreams, and Voldemort might start feeling Harry's moods, but Harry should be able to shut him out, the way he has done his dreams. (Let's hope.)
captuniv: I totally agree! I think Snape is a lousy teacher to boot. But, I don't think Harry would give Snape the satisfaction of going over his head.
Astronut: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't believe I did that. What an idiot I feel. Especially after carefully checking practically every other spelling before I wrote it down. Some interesting trivia: McGonagall's name appears 95 times in the entire text (including unpublished chapters). It appears at least once in every chapter except chapter 3. Chapter 5 is the shortest. Chapter 12 is the longest (so far).
Charlie Magnus: Thanks.
godrick_gal: Thanks! I like the evolving fluffblasters too. I want one. I wish I could set it loose, here in my office. I can just imagine it swimming in the vice-principal's coffee mug, and then turning into a furry volleyball and hiding with the spare PE equipment. *longing sigh*
Wiccan PussyKat: THE CHOCOLATE IS EVIL! THE CHOCOLATE IS EVIL!!
Sorry to keep you waiting! And it's not that I don't like Harry-torture, it just makes me very angry. I want to… to… smite people. With lightning bolts.
Wynjara: Very astute, all around. And that was the fastest review I've ever gotten. Amazing.