Harry ate his toast in silence. To be more accurate, he had eaten his entire meal in silence, and the toast was but the final act. It was not that he was alone. He was surrounded by his usual cast of friends – Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Seamus and Dean – but they had found little to discuss so far that meal. It might well have been the calm after the storm; the group was trying to find level ground after the previous evening's excesses. Harry suspected, rather, that Ginny had decided to share her insights with the circle, and the taciturn meal was the first consequence. Harry knew it would not last; such things could not be borne silently.

            "Oh, for crying out loud!" Ron erupted.

            Harry was not surprised that his old friend had been the first to break. He continued eating his as if nothing had yet been said.

            "Harry!" Ron exclaimed, abandoning his own meal and locking eyes with the newest pariah.

            The rest of the group, happy to maintain their own silences, watched interestedly, as if a train wreck had occurred at their section of the table.

            "Yes, Ron?"

            "What was it? A month ago? When you were ready to spill Malfoy's blood for touching my sister?" Ron sputtered, now beside himself.

            "I remember something about that," Harry said dryly.

            "And now look at you! Dating a-" Ron paused, recollected himself, and continued in a quieter voice. "Dating a Slytherin. That's hypocrisy."

            Harry did not rise to the challenge. Remaining calm, he sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "We were laboring under the delusion that Ginny could not handle herself," Harry said pointedly, glancing at Ginny. "I am no longer sure if that was the case, but I don't know. I won't speculate. Nor do I know if there is any good to be found in Malfoy. What I do know is this: I know what I am doing. I also know Pansy a lot better than any of you, and I know that she is a beautiful person."

            "Oh, Harry," Ginny said as she collapsed in half-concealed sobs. Hermione put her hand gingerly on the girl's back and stared daggers at Harry.

            "Are you off your rocker, mate?" Ron asked. "There is no beauty in that girl. Her soul is as black as-"

            "Can it, Ron," Harry growled, surprised at the malice in his own voice. "I care about that girl."
            Stand-off. The two Gryffindors eyed each other warily for a moment.

            "She used to date George, you know," Ron said angrily.

            "What?"

            "Last year. Just for a little while. I don't think anything really came of it, but you can bet he doesn't have anything good to say about her."

            Harry fumed, wondering if this were true. "That's hardly any of business," he said quietly. "And none of yours."

            "What do you expect us to do? Just watch while you throw your life away, mate?" Ron persisted.

            Harry rolled his eyes. The rest of the group held their silence. Harry wondered what the group was coming to – when Ron was the voice of reason for the lot of them. "Mate," Harry said in a clipped voice. "What I expect is that you will continue to be my mate. I know you don't support or agree with my decision, but I expect you to stand by me like a friend would."

            No response.

            Harry finished his coffee, and rose from his seat. "I'm going to the library. I've got work to do. I'll see you around."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

            Over the course of several hours, Harry was able to push the morning's confrontation out of his mind, or at least bury it under a stack of backlogged homework. He slaved away at Transfiguration, labored at Charms, and ran the gauntlet of Defense spells he had to learn. Just to mix it up, he quizzed himself over Potions recipes, and was delighted to find a suitable level of mastery with them.

            It was not as though the day had been entirely uneventful. In the midmorning, a pair of careless students had laid siege to the courtyard on the eastern face of the castle with a barrage of dungbombs. This action was not entirely new, especially of late. The result this time, took a slight variation. It involved Snape hauling Crabbe and Goyle away from the scene by their respective ears, and making generous use of the word "Expulsion." Harry knew that the greasy Potions master would likely not go through with it (Who would play beater for Slytherin?), but it was fun to watch anyway.

            He set his books down and rubbed his eyes wearily. He looked around him for what felt like the first time in days. He was not too surprised to see that it had grown dark outside – the dull rumble in his stomach reminded him that he had not had lunch. He rose from his seat, stretched for a moment, and treated himself to a short jaunt around the library. When he returned, he discovered that he had no more will power left with which to continue his efforts. Sighing, he packed up his bags and left the library.

            It was still a bit early for dinner, so Harry decided to take a stroll around the castle, hoping to clear his head. He wandered past groups of younger students from all houses, and his thoughts turned to a stirring speech given to him by Professor Nemo on the nature of his duty. He watched them. Groups of third year Hufflepuffs tittered over who snogged who the night before. A pair of Slytherin fourth years shared a private kiss behind a statue. A solitary fifth year from his own house sat underneath a tree, reciting facts from his History of Magic notes.

            Harry came to a stop in the eastern courtyard. Down in the middle sat a ring of first years, and as near as Harry could tell, each house was represented in their ranks. The sight gave him pause; it was an unprecedented occurrence in his experience. They had laid out a few blankets, and lit a dozen or so candles. In the middle of the group, the students danced in pairs. There was little in the way of music, it was true – just the sound of their own voices offering up a timeless tune – but they danced on anyway. They were just children, not a one of them older than twelve. At their age, Harry had been wrestling dark wizards for the Sorcerer's Stone, had been braving Basilisks in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry wanted to go and sit down with them, add his voice to their chorus for just a song or two. Maybe Ginny could have done it. Maybe Luna. But not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the would-be assassin of He-Whose-Name-We-Will-Not-Speak. The group before his eyes were breaking down the old divisions that shaped his generation so powerfully. He could not join them without disturbing their perfect unity, and so he kept his distance, watching from the shadows.

            Nemo had made it perfectly clear that he was a man apart from these kids. He was free to envy them, but he could not join them. While others were free to pursue their usual dreams, to love and to live freely, he had only one choice to make – fight for their freedoms or perish. But he was never to know their pleasures. A single, salt tear trailed down his right cheek. He raised the cuff of his left sleeve to wipe it away, but then stopped himself. He felt a cool breeze blow across his face, the sensation magnified upon his moist right cheek.

            He lost track of time again, lost in the fragile beauty of that lucid moment. He was pulled from it by no less than the arrival of a small, insistent screech owl. It hopped excitedly from one shoulder to the next, giving nervous squeaks and hoots. Ahead of him, a few young heads craned his way interestedly. Frowning severely, Harry took several steps away from the group, leaving them in peace. No matter; overhead a loud bell clanged, giving notice that dinner was served. The children would scatter; perhaps getting as far as the Great Hall intact. There, they would disperse into their houses and learn to hate one another. It was an age-old theme, and one of which he was well aware.

            The persistent little beast would not give him peace. Reluctantly, Harry took the note from its leg, and was rewarded when it left him in silence. He held the small note in his forefingers, trying to work up the will to read it. Had Crabbe and Goyle, sequestered in Snape's office, decided that it would be a master stroke to paint lewd pictures on the wall? With a sense of disgust, Harry pulled open the note and read it quickly.

            And then reread it. "Well, that's moxie," he breathed aloud.

            To the Official Hogwarts Liaison of WWW:

                    Capture and severe hexing of Harry Potter

                    Sunday at dinnertime

                    Nemo and Flitwick -- "The Irascible Duo"

          Professor Nemo's own advice came quickly to Harry's mind. In any combat situation, a wizard has at best two options; fight or flight. If one thinks they can win, then fight. If not, they had better hope to fly. He glanced around furtively at his surroundings, and took the temporary shelter offered inside of a small garden, which was lined by two feet of cement wall. He dropped to the earthen floor and concealed himself in the bushes. He seized his wand with one hand, and pulled out the Marauders' Map with the other. He consulted it quickly, locating his assailants with ease. They were on their way to his present location from the library, and closing fast. He wasted no time in clearing the map and stowing it.

            Harry rifled through his bag frantically, and cursed himself when he realized that he had left his Invisibility cloak in his room. "No matter," he muttered. "When I was a child, I spake as a child. When I became a man, I put away my childish things." He was not sure where the quotation came from, but it fit the occasion. He rapped his wand sharply on the crown of his skull, and performed the Disillusionment charm on himself. A powerful sensation of cold swept over his body, and he found that he had almost entirely vanished.

            Harry was reasonably sure that, no matter how good his hiding place might be, he would not be safe there for long. He left his bag there in the bushes, and pulled his second wand, stealing across the open courtyard just as Nemo and Flitwick were arriving.

            "Where is he, old chum?" Nemo growled sportingly, scanning the area in a single broad stroke.

            "Somewhere in this courtyard," Flitwick answered.

            "Well, check the map," Nemo called over his shoulder. His wand was out in front of him, the tip glowing red.

            "I am checking the map!" the excitable little man responded, not without aggravation. "It is not precise!"

            Harry, pressed against the wall, Disillusioned among the shadows, was apparently out of sight. He held his breath quiet to the best of his ability, but it was no small feat. His heart was hammering with adrenaline, and cold beads of sweat broke out across his body.

            "Oh, he's close," Nemo said confidently, taking cautious steps forward, into the courtyard and away from Harry. "I can smell his fear."

            Flitwick abandoned the sheet he had been consulting and brandished his own wand. Harry stiffened; despite his appearance, the diminutive Charms master was a champion dueler. Even so, Nemo remained Harry's principal concern.

            "Ho ho, what have we here?" Nemo called loudly, reaching into the bushes where Harry's possessions were stowed.

            "What is it?" Flitwick called. He and Nemo had their backs to the other, so that between them they patrolled the entire courtyard. Harry gave the exit a furtive glance – he would never make it that far.

            "An old friend of mine," Nemo answered. "The Marauders' Map."

            "What's that?" Flitwick asked, his eyes narrowing at the shadows in Harry's vicinity.

            "I'll show you," Nemo said. To Harry's horror, the Defense professor tapped it with his wand, proclaiming "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

            "What's that?" Flitwick repeated, calling his message over his shoulder. His little eyes continued to scan the courtyard.

            "A map made by Harry's father, perhaps the most impressive prankster to yet walk these halls, at one point handed down to me by the reigning pranksters at this school," Nemo answered. "This map is a far more precise version of the map you were just consulting."

            Harry was sweating bullets. Any second, when that map finished revealing itself, his assailants would know his exact location. It was fight or flight, and flight had ceased to be an option. "Impedimentia!" he called, casting with his right handed wand.

            The spell hit Nemo full in the chest and sent him sailing into the bushes. Flitwick, with a speed that belied his age, dropped to a knee and fired at the sound of Harry's voice. "Obliviate!" Harry had just enough time to get his other wand down and deflect the spell back at his Charms professor. The little man again defied logic with his speed and followed Nemo into the bushes.

            "Accio Map!" Harry hissed, getting not one but two for his efforts. He dove to the ground as a pair of stunners came over the enclosing wall in his direction. He tucked his own map into his robes and left the other on the ground, and then crept along the ground in the direction of the exit, but was headed off by another pair of red bolts, aimed at the ground level, but closer to the door than he was. There would be no exit in that direction.

            "Nice spell work, my protégé," Nemo called tauntingly from the safety of the garden enclosure. "But do you think you can contend with us?"

            Harry said nothing, but hugged the ground, aiming his wands at the enclosure.

            "You know why this is happening, don't you?" Nemo went on. "Well, I met with my partner Flitwick yesterday, and we were concerned about the adverse affects of your shenanigans at the Quidditch match."

            Harry watched helplessly as Flitwick flopped over the far wall of the enclosure. He had not had much of a shot, but he did not take it. He regretted his lack of action --now that Flitwick was free, and he could find a vantage point at his leisure and start taking pot shots at Harry. He tried to tune Nemo out – it was obvious what he was playing at. The diatribe was designed to distract Harry from their actions, or worse, to lure him into responding verbally and giving away his location. 

            "Can you believe the indignity?" Nemo railed. "Hufflepuff? Beating Ravenclaw? No, my esteemed colleague and I could not let that stand."

            Harry leapt away in a hurry as Flitwick, popped around the corner and sent a wide-angle Concussive out. He dodged the brunt of it, but the spell clipped him anyway, knocking the breath out of him. No doubt, while that was taking place, Nemo had extricated himself from the enclosure. Things were getting radically worse, as Harry no longer had either wizard pinned down, and he was further than ever from the exit. A plan occurred to him. He looked over his shoulder at the castle behind him, gauging their relative position to the lake. Grinning broadly, he concentrated on a boyhood trick he had learned – throwing his voice. He was not especially good at it, but he did well enough. Flitwick and Nemo sent off Concussion spells in distinct arcs (both far from their target) as Harry said the words to the Irrigation Portal charm.

            "What's he saying?" he heard Flitwick call in alarm, right before a seam opened in the sky between them, and thousands of gallons of lake water crashed down on their approximate positions. When one is transferring a lake to a new home for tactical purposes, "pretty close" is close enough.

            Harry dashed for it, laughing a little too himself. Nemo would be quick to recover and close the portal, and they would be hot on his trail. He tore inside and raced down the deserted corridors. He suddenly considered the other map, which he should have brought with him but left behind foolishly. He rounded a corner and set off down the intersecting hallway, red and orange energies crisscrossing behind him.

            Harry's game plan shifted back to Flight, but only momentarily. In a straight race, he could leave the older wizards behind, he figured, or at least Professor Flitwick. Harry took another quick turn, not surprised that malevolent spells were still at his back. On the other hand, they had the map to chase him with, and he could not run forever. Where does one hide from Professors? He came upon a staircase and tore up them, taking three steps at a time. The stairwell he was ascending was on the edge of a tall, narrow chasm in the school. There were two stairwells on either side, with crosswalks between the two of them at each level, but the chasm itself was a column of open air rising up ten stories.

            He doubted the Disillusionment charm would do him much good when racing madly from one place to the next. He was beginning to strategize ideal places to make his doomed stand when Professor Flitwick overtook him. Running was fast, but flying was faster. The older wizard had taken flight, borne on the sure wings of Wingarium Leviosa, and was now firing down at Harry from the open air of the chasm above.

            Changing course, quickly Harry left the stairs after a single level of increase. Breathing hard, he took the narrow crosswalk toward the alternate set of stairs. "Coming across!" Flitwick screamed, alerting his partner to the position of their cornered prey. As he did so, the Charms professor sprayed the cross walk with a Concussive spell that would have put Harry in the hospital wing for more than a day or two. At the last second, though, Harry dove from the cross walk and into the open air. Flitwick's powerful spell slammed into an old bookcase full of bronze pots, reducing the wood to splinters and sending out a resounding clang of spell on indignant metal.

            Harry, meanwhile, was airborne, diving head first into the oncoming ground. He cast Wingardium Leviosa on himself with one wand, and then fired upward with the other at the same time. The surprise tactic must have been a good one, because Harry's attack hit home. Flitwick, aloft in the air, was suddenly engulfed in snake-like ropes, pinning his wand arm to his side and rendering it useless. The old man dipped in the air, and then began tumbling downward. Harry, now on his way up, gritted his teeth, and used his free wand to save the Charms professor from an untimely death.

            It was at this moment that Nemo reappeared from the woodwork, popping out of the first stairwell onto the crosswalk. He watched as Harry negotiated a safe landing for Flitwick, and then fired a wide angle concussive blast up at his young student.

            Harry felt the spell rake across his body, sending stars into his line of vision. His upward progress was halted, and he barely managed a rough landing on the fourth floor. He groaned, and rolled over on his back, his entire body protesting.

            "Fourth floor!" Nemo shouted. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

            Flitwick was no doubt already free of his bonds.

            Harry thought desperately. He considered another irrigation portal, but was no longer sure the lake was in the right place. A grim smile crossed his features, and he rolled bodily behind a thick bookshelf, aiming his wand at the landing where his attackers would be arriving from shortly. "I think he's already out!" Nemo called to his partner.

            Sure enough, Nemo topped the rise with his wand blazing, but Harry beat him to the punch, firing stunners from both wands. Nemo managed to deflect the first one harmlessly aside, but took the second on the chin. He flopped over the ledge and toppled back into open air. Harry found that he was laughing out loud in delight. It would have to be Fight, he knew, and his best bet was to press this fleeting advantage, no matter what his hurting flesh might say.

            He took a moment to weigh his options. Flitwick would have made a safe landing for Nemo by now, and would be setting about reviving the deadly Defense teacher. They would expect him to fire down on them from the relative safety of his overhang, but that would be well answered by a potent concussive jinx from Flitwick. The midair trick had worked once for him against his Charms teacher; he was willing to try again. The tricky part would be in the timing. Grinning, he took two steps back and raced toward the overhang at a full run. He had nearly reached it when he heard Flitwick pronounce the single word "Ennervate!". Harry gauged from the sound that the two were on the second floor crosswalk. As his mind was wrapping around this, though, his body was launching itself into the open air in a freefall dive. He had four levels between him and a messy end, so he employed both wands to deliver narrow Concussive Jinxes his attackers. He laughed in excitement to see that they were indeed on the second floor crosswalk, and both spells hit home with impressive accuracy and potency.

            Flitwick dove for cover inside the stairwell and made it. Nemo on the other hand, was still coming around from the stunner. He wobbled in place for a second, and conjured a weak Aegis Charm in a vain effort to protect himself. Both spells rained down on top of him, and broke through his shield like water against sand.

            Harry had other things on his mind. He used the flotation charm again and steered himself over to the third floor, where he could fire down and across at his remaining adversary. He landed and went immediately into a roll, both wands at the ready. This was fortunate, as Flitwick was already firing a stunner at him. Harry deflected the red spell deftly back with one wand, and chased it with another stunner from his other wand. Flitwick retreated back into his cover.

            "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

            Harry's blood run cold at the sound. Down on the first floor, a look of unimaginable anger on her weathered features, stood Minerva McGonagall. Harry hoped his Disillusionment charm was working. Flitwick conjured a white flag on the end of his wand, and waved it out from his shelter in the staircase. From where the deputy headmistress stood, the small man was out of sight.

            Harry Illusioned himself again, feeling the heat run over his aching body. He stuck his wands into his robes, and held his hands out for Flitwick to see.

            "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" McGonagall bellowed again, apparently dissatisfied with her initial response.

            Flitwick appeared from inside the stairwell. "A training exercise, Minerva," he called down to her.

            Harry smiled in spite of himself – Flitwick sounded every bit as scared as he was. He wiped his hand under his nose, only to find that it spouting dark blood.

            "Potter?" McGonagall hissed. "Is this true?"

            "Yes ma'am!" Harry called down.

            "Well, where is Nemo?" McGonagall yelled, still quite livid. "I thought he was in charge of Potter's training."

            "He's up here," Flitwick answered, gesturing to the decimated second floor crosswalk. "He may – He will require medical attention."

            Professor McGonagall's eyes got even wider with rage. "Both of you, get down here immediately!"

            Flitwick conjured a stretcher for Nemo, and was soon leading him down the staircase.

            Harry shrugged, and took a great leap from where he was standing. McGonagall gave a shriek of terror, but Harry grabbed his wand and floated to an easy landing beside her.

            "Never…" she breathed, her voice quaking. "In all my years… Mr. Potter, you will be serving the rest of your life in detention, and I will take one hundred points from Gryffindor, and… you're lucky we don't expel you!"

            All in all, Harry felt this was somewhat unfair, considering that the previous week she had been talking Head Boy. Harry bent double at the waist, breathing heavily. A thin stream of blood ran from his nose and spattered on the ground. He put his hand underneath, hoping to avoid any further mess. Then he stood up straight and tilted his head back.

            "Are you okay, Potter?" she asked, her voice switching from angry and maternal to worried and maternal in a heartbeat.

            Harry tried to laugh at it, but it came out as more of a gurgle, the blood now running down his throat. "Sure," he said weakly. "Just a training bump or two."

            "I never…"

            "Minerva," Flitwick said, arriving at the scene with Nemo in tow.

            "Merlin's Beard!" the witch exclaimed, horrified at the sight. Nemo was bruised and battered; and even bleeding from several small cuts. "What happened to him?"

            Flitwick frowned, wiping blood away from a cut above his right eye. "Harry," he said simply.

            "You did this?" McGonagall choked out the words.

            Harry frowned, but did not respond. He was determined not too feel guilty about laying Nemo out.

            "Potter!"

            Harry held his silence. Ensuring his future career at Hogwarts did not seem to matter much at present, but finding a place to sit down was rapidly rising on his priorities list.     

            "Minerva," Flitwick said again.

            "What?"

            "I don't think it would be fair to punish the boy for this," Flitwick groaned.

            "There is a trail of destruction leading from the courtyard, down several hundred feet of corridor, and leading to this disaster!" the witch cried, gesturing to the room with broad strokes.

            She had a point there; the room was trashed. Concussive Jinxes had torn apart three landings, obliterated two crosswalks, and torn large chunks out of much of the staircases in the vicinity.

            "It isn't his fault," Flitwick said. "Harry was a rather unwilling participant in these undertakings."           

            "I'm not sure I understand," McGonagall said slowly.

            "I can explain later. For now, we need to get to the Hospital wing."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            Harry lay awake on his narrow bed, trying not to move much. In the other room, he could make out most of the conversation between McGonagall and Flitwick.

            "You AMBUSHED him?"

            "We felt that it would be more authentic…"

            "You AMBUSHED a student? One of MY students?"

            Harry smiled a little. It was unfortunate that Flitwick was getting into trouble for this. As far as he was concerned, this was simply a case of boys playing rough. It was the most fun he had had in months. He considered it for a moment, and amended the decision. It was the most fun he had had with his clothes on in months. From the moment he had gotten the warning by Owl, his body had been bloated on excitement and adrenaline. He had been able to cut loose, for just a moment, in the ways he had wanted to since his arrival at Hogwarts years ago. It was a potent blend of entertainment that was hard to match.

            His thoughts turned inextricably to the group of first years he had seen in the courtyard that evening. He had envied them their peace of mind, the quiet joy they took in their daily life. It was a kind of pleasure he had never really known – things had never been simple. On the other hand, he wondered if any of them would ever command the same skill with a wand that he did. In all likelihood, the romp he just taken with the Irascible Duo was something they would never be capable of. In truth, he had to admit that his life did not contain their joys. But they would not know his either.

            "CONCUSSIVE JINXES?"

            Harry glanced over at the bed next to him, where Nemo lay, still unconscious. He was not in critical condition, but nor was he in especially good shape at present, either. Harry sighed. If his DADA professor had not raised that Aegis Charm at the last possible instant, he would have been in far worse shape.

            After a while, the angry words in the next room died down, and then out. Professor Flitwick, having suffered nothing serious, was released to go his own way. Harry wanted to be released himself, but Madame Pomfrey was her usual unrelenting self. He pretended to sleep while she had made her final rounds for the night, and then got up and let himself out quietly.

            Under the cover of darkness, Harry walked the halls of the castle. It was difficult to tell what time it was (midnight? Later?), but it was after lights out. If caught in the halls, Harry could expect trouble. Even so, he did not bother Disillusioning himself, nor to plot his course with the aid of the Marauders' Map.  Instead, he walked quietly and listened attentively for approaching footsteps. Ever since his unfortunate encounter with the statue of St. Brutus, Filch had become somewhat scarce in the halls of the school. Rather than patrol the corridors for misbehaving students, he was spending most of his time in his office, ostensibly hiding.

            Harry's stomach growled so abruptly and so loudly that it startled him. He smiled in spite of himself. Looking around to see that no one had heard his gastric symphony, he passed on Gryffindor tower in favor of the kitchen. Within minutes he arrived at a portrait of a giant fruit bowl, and tickled the green pear on it. Promptly, a green handle appeared there, and he pulled the door open and entered the kitchen. He had been in the large room for only a minute when he was mobbed by a fleet of House Elves.

            "Is you hungry, sir?"

            "Is you wanting something to eat?"

            Harry grinned; the reception in the kitchens was predictable. Hogwarts employed at least a hundred of the diminutive servants. They did not seem to know or care about curfews for the students – anyone who found their way into the kitchen could expect expedient and generous food service at any hour.

            "Harry Potter!"

            Harry looked down to see Dobby, the particular elf he'd come to know quite well. They had met, incidentally, in the Dursley home before Harry's second year, and had encountered one another a few times since. Dobby felt a powerful compulsion to assist Harry in any way possible, since the young wizard had engineered Dobby's liberation from the Malfoy family that he had served. Dobby, now free of his old vestments, was free to wear whatever clothes he saw fit. Over the years, the small creature had proven to be of eccentric taste, and he did not disappoint on this occasion. He wore a pair of oven mitts on each foot, and wore a red towel as a sash around his entire body.

            "Dobby!" Harry exclaimed. "It's good to see you!"

            "Is you hungry, Harry?" Dobby squealed. "Or did you come to see your Wheezy?"

            "Wheezy? Is Ron here?"

            Dobby nodded and, seizing Harry by the front of his robes, pulled him toward the back of the kitchen. A crowd of expectant elves followed along dutifully. Dobby took Harry over to a large round table set up in the back of the kitchen, ostensibly just for occasional guests. Seated around the table were Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville. In front of them, in the center of the table, was a punch bowl filled with vanilla ice cream, topped generously with chocolate syrup, several pounds of whipped cream, and a handful of cherries. He noticed that Ron appeared to have no lower half to his body – he must have borrowed Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

            "Harry!" Ron proclaimed, jumping to his feet. "What are you doing here, mate?"

            "I was hungry," he answered honestly.

            "Dobby will be right back!" The house-elf piped, darting off to into the kitchen. Two other elves followed him at once, and four of them remained at the side of the table in case they were needed.

            "Well, sit down!" Hermione called. She scooted over on the circular bench, making room for him to sit down. "Where were you all day, Harry? You weren't at lunch or dinner, and after breakfast…"

            Harry took the proffered seat, and was only mildly surprised when a tall flagon on milk appeared in front of him. "Well, you know," he demurred. "I spent most of the day in the library, getting caught up. I wanted to come to dinner, and was on my way, but I got waylaid by a couple of highwaymen."

            "Come again?" Ron asked, looking bewildered.

            "Highwaymen," Luna interposed, her voice wafting over them like a soft breeze. "Spirits from the ninth dimension, brought here to-"

            "What are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione cut her off.

            Harry smiled. "Well, it seems that some people weren't pleased with the outcome of the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match, and they seemed to think I was the guilty party." He gave his friends a conspiratorial smile. Luna, who appeared to be examining Ron's chin, did not notice. "So they thought they would teach me a lesson in Advanced Hexing."

            Ginny gasped, Neville choked on his milk.

            "Who was it, Harry?" Ron asked.

            "The Irascible Duo – Nemo and Flitwick," Harry answered, flashing a grin.

            "As in… professors Nemo and Flitwick?" Hermione asked, looking appalled.

            "Yeah," Harry laughed.

            "I never would have imagined…" Ginny's voice trailed off.

            "Of course," Luna tittered. "Professors attacking students is hardly rare. Once-"

            "Do you think that's we heard?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione significantly. "Right at the beginning of dinner?"
            "You could hear us?" Harry asked, impressed.

            "Oh yeah," Hermione intoned. "It was deafening. It sounded as if the building were collapsing."
            "So, what happened?" Ron asked, rapt with attention.

            "Uh… well, I tried to hide and run away, but they chased me inside. So, I tried to fight them, and then-"

            "Both of them?" Ginny asked. A cherry spilled from the end of her spoon into her lap. She did not seem to notice.

            "Yeah."

            "Wow. What happened?" Neville asked. "Did you… win?"

            Harry shrugged. "Hard to say. McGonagall showed up and called things off just when it was getting interesting," He told them. He reflected on it for a moment and then added "I guess I was winning. I managed to take Nemo down, anyway. I was about to square off with Flitwick when McGonagall arrived."

            "Wow, Harry," Hermione muttered. "That's really… impressive. You weren't even hurt?"

            Harry smiled slyly. "I was a little beaten up afterwards. Madame Pomfrey healed me right up. She wanted me to stay overnight, but I snuck out after she left. But I think Nemo might be in there for a couple of days – I roughed him up him a little bit."

            Ron looked supremely impressed for a moment, then slouched back in his seat dejectedly. "Of course, that means that Snape will probably take over his classes tomorrow."

            Harry scowled – he was likely right. "If he is, I'm not going."

            "Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, setting her flagon of milk down emphatically. "You can't cut class whenever you want."
            "Oh, lay off it, Hermione," Ginny giggled. "Harry obviously doesn't need to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. If anything, he should be teaching the lessons while Nemo's out."

            Further discussion of the point was interrupted by the reappearance of Dobby with Harry's meal – roast beef, mashed potatoes, and string beans. "Thanks, Dobby," Harry said appreciatively. "It looks wonderful."

            Dobby appeared to blush.

            After he had eaten, Harry accompanied his friends back to their tower, dropping Luna off at Ravenclaw house on the way. He was pleased; he had a good day in many regards. More than that, it seemed that his relationship with Pansy was not going to cost him his friendships with Hermione, Ron and the others. All in all, he could not ask for much more. For the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of deep contentment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            "A word, Mr. Potter?"

            Harry frowned. "Go on ahead, guys, I'll catch up with you," he told Hermione and Ron. Once they had left the Transfiguration classroom, he made his way to McGonagall's desk alone. "Yes, Professor?"

            McGonagall, busy writing some notes in a thick green book on top of her desk, did not look up but continued to write while she spoke. "As you know, Professor Nemo is still in the Hospital Wing, and may be there for a few days yet, seeing as how he has not yet regained consciousness."

            Harry looked down. In spite of his intentions, he was beginning to feel somewhat guilty about Nemo's situation.

            "Professor Snape will be taking over his classes for the time being," McGonagall went on.

            Harry did not feel the need to inform her that he would not be attending those classes, and fortunately she did not ask.

            "However, there is still the matter of your… lessons to be addressed. You are to report here at the normal hour, and I will work with you. Understood?"

            "Yes," Harry answered. "What will we be studying?"
            McGonagall stopped writing, and looked up at Harry with a smile. "I understand that you have a… let us say, genetic predisposition toward animagism. Is that true?"

            Harry nodded, thinking back to a fateful night during his third year.

            "Dumbledore feels that this would be a good skill for you to develop," McGonagall told him. "And I might be the best one to teach it to you. I will see you this afternoon, Mr. Potter."

            That afternoon, Harry found that he had some extra time on his hands, and decided to swing by the Hospital Wing to see if Nemo had awoken yet. Ignoring Madame Pomfrey's dirty looks, he wandered into the wing alone. Inside, he found that Nemo was in fact awake, and that he was not alone – a man Harry had never seen before was sitting in a wooden chair at the end of Nemo's bed.

            "Oh!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Professor Nemo, I didn't know you had company. I'll come back later."

            "Nonsense, Harry," the man spoke, getting to his feet. He was a tall man, roughly the same age as Nemo, with dark hair and thick eyebrows. He wore an expensive suit and several pieces of jewelry. "Come join us." He produced a wand from his pocket and conjured another chair for Harry.

            Harry glanced at Nemo, who nodded. He crossed the room to the newly arrived chair.

            "I'm Buckley Fudge," the man said in an officious voice. He extended a hand and shook Harry's. "I believe you have met my father."

            "Minister Fudge?" Harry asked. "Yeah, a time or two."

            "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," Fudge told him. "Do sit down."

            Harry did as instructed, and Fudge sat down after him.

            "I had stopped by to see my old school chum," he explained. "You can imagine my surprise when they told me he was here."

            Nemo smiled weakly. "Buck, it's not like one of us wasn't in here every week when we went to school," he said. He looked pale and sickly.

            The other man gave a deep, rumbling laugh in response. "Too true, too true. I find it most amusing that you were laid low by a student, though," Fudge chuckled. "Although, perhaps there are special circumstances that must be taken into consideration." He peered at Harry with interest.

            "So, Buck," Nemo said suddenly. "Do you hear anything from Lucy Bones anymore?"

            "No," Buck answered shortly. "Not in some time, anyway. You know, Harry, the last time I was on Diagon Alley I had the fortune of speaking with the Weasley brothers. Fascinating pair, really. Did you know them?"

            "Yeah," Harry said. "I'm good friends with their little brother."

            "Is that so?" Fudge said mildly. "They told me about their last day at Hogwarts, when they rode out of here on their brooms. I knew Umbridge of course – never cared for her. I thought that was exactly the sort of abuse she deserved. Those two had me laughing for the better part of an hour over that one, I'll tell you."

            "Yeah," Harry said, laughing slightly. "It was pretty funny."

            "And they're doing pretty well for themselves, of course. Most businesses are going under or at least struggling, what with this blasted war going on, but they are still turning a pretty good profit."

            "In the darkest times, we need the most diversion," Nemo said morosely.

            "Indeed. I find it interesting, though, they seem to be doing so well, in spite of not finishing their formal education," Fudge went on. "Do you ever feel that you've had enough of this place, Harry?"

            Harry was stunned by the question. "Um, no, not really. I like it here," he said resolutely.

            "Hmmm, yes," Fudge mumbled. "I only ask, because… Nemo has told me that you are hoping to be an Auror someday, isn't that right?"

            "Yeah…"

            "Well," Fudge said, looking extremely pleased. "As it happens, I oversee that particular division of the Ministry, and we're always looking for promising new recruits, especially in these unfortunate times."

            Harry was not sure he understood. "But, sir… I still have another year to finish. I thought one needed to do very well on their NEWTS to-"

            "Yes," Fudge interrupted. "Normally that is so, but-"

            "Buck!" Nemo hissed.

            "Hmmm? Yes, perhaps you're right," Fudge said, looking disappointed. "I should be going. I can't seem to stay away from the office these days!" He got to his feet, stretching theatrically. "It was good to see you again, Ant, and I hope you will both consider what I have offered. In fact, Harry, why don't you take my card?"

            Harry accepted the card without comment. The card had a picture of Buck beside his father, smiling brightly. A single line of text underneath that rotated through the following messages:

                                    Buckley Fudge

                                    Senior Chairman, Board of Directors

                                    Division of Aurors and Magical Enforcement

                                    Ministry of Magic

            "Then I suppose I'll be off," Fudge said loudly. "Good day to you both." Without a further word, he strode out of the Hospital Wing with long strides.

            Harry watched the son of the Minister of Magic depart, and then turned around to face his DADA professor. "That's your old friend?" he asked.

            Nemo frowned. "Yes."

            "I don't think I like him," Harry said darkly. "Sorry."

            "Don't be, Harry," Nemo answered. "He's not the same man he was when we went to school together. I'm afraid he's the victim of many years of bureaucracy, too long being someone important."
            "He's an Auror, though?" Harry asked, curious. "Or was?"

            "Not in any real sense of the term," Nemo said coldly. "His father would never allow him to take any real assignments. He spent a total of three months in the field before he was promoted to the Board of Directors. I doubt he's seen any real danger since he left Hogwarts."

            Harry smiled.

            "When I found that he was here, I had hoped that I could keep him away from you," Nemo said quietly. "I was afraid he might pull a stunt like that. I'm glad you weren't interested."

            Harry smiled. "I know where I belong."
            Nemo gave him a bemused look. "Is that so? Tell me, Harry, aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

            Harry hung his head, laughing. "Okay, that's a good point. But Snape's teaching your classes today, and I'm not going near him."

            "I see."

            "So, how are you feeling, anyway?"

            Nemo frowned. "Terrible," he answered. "But not as bad as I should be feeling, I think."
            Harry blinked in surprise. "Come again?"

            Nemo did not answer at once. He frowned, wadding up his the sheets on his cot into fist. He held it for a moment, squeezing tightly, and then released it. "It isn't for me to talk about," he said at last. "I have always been proud of my dueling ability. I understand that, as your instructor,  I should be pleased by the progress you've shown, but the competitor in me… finds it a little more difficult to  accept. Do you understand?"

            Harry nodded glumly.

            "Harry, I wanted to tell you that I was proud of your performance last night. You put up an amazing effort against two excellent duelers," Nemo said, maintaining his eye contact with Harry. "You seem to have picked up the skills of two-wand dueling with remarkable speed. You demonstrated poise under pressure, and an inventive flair that served you well."

            "Thank you."

            "That said, your greatest weapon in your arsenal will always be the force that you are able to bring to your spells. When you cast a Concussive Jinx, it could well be the sort that levels buildings," Nemo said slowly. "As it was, you did not put your full force into your spellwork. I understand that this was something of a game, just a drill. When you are in an actual battle, though, you will need to employ far more force in your spells."
            "Yes sir."

            "But we will work on that when I am out of here," Nemo went on. "For the time being, you have my congratulations, and my respect."

            Ten minutes later, Harry was heading back to Gryffindor Tower when a hand seized his shoulder from behind, pulling him roughly backward. In a flash, his wand in his hand, pointed at his enemy, and half of the Stunning spell was out of his mouth.

            "Whoa, Harry!"

            "Pansy!" He exclaimed. "Don't do that! I would feel terrible if I accidentally killed you!"

            She laughed, her silken voice music in his ears. "Well, I probably wouldn't like it too much myself," she said softly, beaming at him. She leaned in close and kissed his lips softly. "Where were you yesterday? I missed you."

            "Ah, see… what had happened was…" Harry proceeded to relate to her, in brief detail, the happenings of the day before.

            "Oh, Harry," she moaned. "That's crazy."

            "No, it wasn't that bad, really," Harry told her, shrugging nonchalantly. "I actually enjoyed myself."

            "Enjoyed yourself, did you?" she asked. "Well, what about me? I was bored to tears."

            "Sorry sweety," Harry mumbled. "I'll make it up to you, tonight. Meet me at our place, you know, by the lake, at midnight."

            Pansy smiled brightly. "Sounds great. I'll see you then."