Harry Potter and the Quest for Book 6

by Muppetboy

Harry & Co return to Hogwarts for year 6. Everything you'd expect from a year at Hogwarts, including Quidditch, ghosts, Firewhiskey, duels, girls and the Hospital Wing. Please read & review

3. Chapter 3

September

The end of the summer holiday moved quickly for Harry since he'd been staying at the Burrow.

After receiving this terms book list, as usual, delivered by owl, from Hogwarts, they had all taken a trip to Diagon Alley. In addition to his books, Harry also bought a new set of green dress robes. They also got to see the outside of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, located at number ninety-three. It was painted a brilliant shade of red that matched the twins' hair. There was a sign on the door that said "Closed: By Order of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

And before Harry had time to catch his breath, the morning when they had to catch the Hogwarts Express rolled around. Mrs. Weasley opened the door to Ron's bedroom and yelled at them to wake up and get some breakfast before they missed the train.

There was a lot of commotion at the window, and Harry rolled over to see Ron reaching for a hooting Pigwidgeon, who could barely contain his excitement as Ron untied a letter from the owl's foot.

"Knock it off, Pig," Ron muttered sleepily. "Blimey, my hands don't work this early in the morning."

Harry consulted his watch on the bed table beside him. "Actually, it's not that early. It's already nine o'clock."

"Nine o'clock?!" Ron cried. "I've still got to pack my broom!" He dismissed Pigwidgeon with an owl treat and took off downstairs in his pyjamas.

Harry quickly dressed and made his bed. He searched Ron's room for anything that might be his, but most of clutter was Ron's. Harry couldn't imagine having enough possessions that he had to leave some of them behind while he went to Hogwarts.

With a small amount of sentiment, Harry said goodbye to Ron's bedroom and pulled his trunk downstairs. He went to the kitchen windowsill and collected Hedwig. She had enjoyed the free roaming at the Burrow and was a little reluctant to get back in her cage. But Harry assured her that he was only taking her to Hogwarts, where she'd be free to hunt all night again.

Harry took a seat at the kitchen table and grabbed a piece of toast and buttered it, then helped himself to a glass of orange juice. Hermione sat down in the seat next to him.

"Good morning," she said brightly. Harry thought that the first day back at Hogwarts was her favourite day of the year - except for the first day of exam week.

"Morning," he replied, eagerly eating his toast.

"All set?" she questioned. Harry nodded. "Where's Ron?"

Harry gestured outside to where Ron was sprinting outside of the shed in the backyard, carrying his broomstick. He was still wearing his pyjamas when he rounded back into the house.

"He's running a bit behind schedule," Harry replied, grinning.

Morning brought with it the usual rush of excitement, always associated with the start of school. Mrs. Weasley was rushing to find everyone's toothbrushes, hairbrushes, socks, scarves, and school bags. Shoes were assembled in the kitchen, while missing items were being looked for among the other rooms and closets. Harry had already packed his trunk, leaving him the only one capable of stringing together more than two sentences, which didn't begin or end with "where did you put it?"
Harry was sitting at the kitchen table listening to Ron's complaints about Mrs. Weasley going mental, a glass of milk in front of him, and the daily prophet in his hands. He was trying to concentrate on the Quidditch scores, while Ron ranted. Hermione and Ginny were upstairs trying to help Mrs. Weasley find the last minute items, before they left for Kings Cross. The twins had arrived shortly after seven that morning, bringing with them an assortment of treats and pastries. They were sitting at the table with Ron and Harry, trying to read over Harry's shoulder, while they listened to Ron's complaints.
"Well, you're mother is nearly ready," Mr. Weasley said, joining the boys. He looked worn out and tired, not surprising, since Mrs. Weasley had the man chasing about the house all morning in search for mislaid items.
"Mum won't be ready, until Christmas," George complained, pouring more coffee for himself, and a cup for his father.
"She's been this way every year since I can remember," Fred told them, a smile on his face. "Even with Bill and Charlie, she was a nutter the last day of summer."
"Your mother just wants to make certain everything is packed, and goes well. It's just her way," Mr. Weasley insisted, knowing his boy's were right.

"What are you all just sitting around for?" argued Mrs. Weasley. "Get a move on, or you'll be late. We have to be leaving in a few minutes. Arthur, go contact Remus and Moody. We can't go until they get here, and we're running out of time."
"Calm down Molly," Lupin said, entering the room beside Moody. "We have everything under control."
"Well it's about time," Mrs. Weasley argued.
"Relax mum, or you'll have an stroke," George teased.
"Besides, the Hogwart's express doesn't leave for another two hours. We'll get there on time," Fred insisted.
"You two going back to school, then?" Ron teased, his mouth full of the muffins sitting in the centre of the table.
"Not a chance," George said.

Lupin and Moody led the way in Kings Cross, as Mr. Weasley and the twins brought up the rear. Mrs. Weasley walked next to Harry and Ginny, with Ron and Hermione on the other side of her. Harry knew from the way she walked with her hands in her pockets, she had hold of her wand, and for once, Mr Weasley wasn't looking at the muggle trains. He felt strange, knowing how much these people were putting on the line, in order to protect him.
It was, of course, unnecessary. Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters were not hiding behind the dustbins neither did they swoop down from the ceiling. That was the job of the countless grey pigeons that sat among the struts that formed the structure of the roof.
They came to the wall entrance of Platform 9 3/4, stopping and looking around casually. The muggles were too absorbed in their newspapers, or reading the large electronic boards that displayed travel information to take much notice of anything else. Harry could tell that Mr Weasley was enjoying himself immensely; he could hardly tear his eyes away from the Inter-City 125 as they walked along the platform.
Lupin and Moody leaned against the bricks nonchalantly, quickly disappearing through them to the other side. Next were Ron and Hermione, followed by Harry and Ginny. Behind them were Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and the twins. The Hogwarts Express stood next to the platform, billowing grey smoke and white steam. Whenever the autumn breeze blew in the right direction, parts of the platform would disappear behind a grey cloud. The hissing and puffing gave the illusion that it was really a great beast breathing hard and that it was alive. The students on the platform were reflected in its scarlet paint, and a red glow was cast when the sun caught the cylindrical boiler. He had never appreciated how beautiful and magnificent it was.
Harry looked around the platform, seeing a number of students he recognised from the past years at school, as well as a large number of first years, all bidding their parents good-bye, many tearfully hugging and a couple of them begging the adults who were pushing them into the train, not to send them.
"Now hurry up you four," Mrs. Weasley was saying, as Mr. Weasley, Fred and George loaded the trunks and cages of animals onto the train, to await their owners. "Be sure to stay together, and be very careful."
"Blimey, mum," Ron complained. "We're not babies, you know? We've done this every year for the past five years. I think we can get on the train, by ourselves."
"Don't give me any lip, Ronald Weasley," his mother insisted. "And Harry dear, please try and stay out of trouble."

"I never try to get into trouble, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her. "Trouble just sort of finds me."

"Remember Harry, if you need us, just owl," Lupin told him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder.
"And keep your eyes and ears open. Constant vigilance" Moody reminded them.
"Be sure and let Dumbledore know of any more dreams," Mr. Weasley insisted, shaking his hand.
"Don't worry, I will." Harry promised.
"Hey Harry," Fred said hurrying up to his side. "Have a good year, and tell Filch we said hello." Harry frowned, as George crowded closer to his side, pulling his hand out of his pocket, keeping it out of sight of their mother, as he slipped a brown wrapped package into it Harry's hand.
"Yeah, tell old Snape hello for us too," George said with a wink. Harry nodded, hiding the package behind his back.
"Come on," Ron complained, seeing the way several of the students stared at them as they passed by. "Lets get a compartment, before we get stuck sharing with Crabbe and Goyle."
"Have a good year, Gin," whispered Mrs Weasley. "Be sure to write. I'll see you at Christmas."

Then she turned to Harry. "And you too dear. Don't be afraid to send and owl now and then. And be good," she added. She slipped Harry a kiss on his cheek and told them to go ahead.

Ron lead the way into the train, pulling his trunk and holding Pigwidgeon's cage, followed by Hermione, who carried Crookshanks, and Harry and Ginny, who carried along Hedwig and their trunks. They found an empty compartment and piled in, lifting their trunks to the luggage racks and putting the cages with the birds on top. Hermione let Crookshanks out of his cage, and then sat next to Ron. Harry looked out the window as he sat down, remembering what it was like last year at this time. He remembered the large black dog lumbering beside the train as it sped away, and felt a pang of grief strike through him.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine"

It wasn't long before Neville Longbottom's round face appear around the door.

"Hello Harry! Hello Ginny!" Neville greeted as Harry and Ginny slid along the seat to make some room for him. "How was your holiday?"

"It was great," Harry replied automatically. "How was yours?"

"Excellent," Neville said, his eyes lighting up. "As a reward for bravery for - well, for last year," he said nervously, "Gran took me all over Europe to see some of the strangest plants that exist. We took a tour of the desert plants of Arabia and we even went over to China to see the Great Wall of Fungi. Which, well, technically isn't a plant, but it was great fun."

"That's nice, Neville," Ginny said. "What else did you..."

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Ron interrupted. He took a piece of parchment out of his pocket. Harry recognised it as the letter he'd received this morning. He unfolded it and handed it to Hermione. "I got this from McGonagall. She said that I'm supposed to meet with Snape in his office after the feast tonight."

"Sounds like fun," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it," he replied sarcastically. "I bet he's looking forward to laughing in my face too."

"Ron, you don't know that he's going to say no," Hermione said.

"Oh yes I do," Ron replied. "There's no way Snape is going to bend the rules and let me take his N.E.W.T. class because I didn't get an Outstanding grade."

"You're trying to get into Professor Snape's class?" Neville questioned. "Why?"

Ron sighed. "Because, well, I've been thinking about becoming an Auror, and the only way the Ministry will accept you is if you test well on the N.E.W.T. exam in Potions."

"Oh yeah, I've thought about becoming an auror too," Neville said.

Stunned, Ron nearly choked on his own breath. "Don't tell me you got an Outstanding O.W.L. in Potions, Neville, or I'll throw myself onto these train tracks."

"Oh no, of course not. I barely passed," he replied. "But Gran says that sometimes the Ministry will train people who don't have N.E.W.T. experience in Potions.

"I think that Snape is a terrible teacher for only taking students who have received an Outstanding on their O.W.L.s," Hermione said. "Everybody has their strengths and their weaknesses."

"I don't mind," Neville said. "I wanted to take Herbology anyway. Professor Sprout says that I show some real promise."

Harry wasn't surprised. Herbology had always been Neville's best subject. Ron turned to him, his eyes cast down on the floor. "Er, the letter says something else as well..."

"What else did McGonagall say?" Harry questioned. He didn't like the expression on Ron's face, or the way he cheeks were slightly red, or the way he wouldn't look Harry in the eyes.

'Anyone heard from that Loony girl over the holiday?' asked Neville. Everyone shook his or her heads except Hermione.

Ron turned to her. "I didn't know you liked Luna."

Hermione shrugged. "She's grown on me. We've been exchanging letters all summer. She wanted to hear all about New York City."

"At least somebody did. Ouch!" Ron winced as Hermione punched him in the shoulder.

"Oh, isn't this sweet. One big, happy, Weasley family," a familiar voice snarled outside the compartment.

"Malfoy," Harry spat.

He was standing in the doorway, with his two goons Crabbe and Goyle right behind him. His hair seemed even paler than usual, slicked back in a greasy wad, and his nose seemed to have grown a bit longer over the summer holidays.

'Don't tell me Crabbe & Goyle actually passed something' said Ron in dsibelief.

"No need to be rude, Weasley," Malfoy replied. "I was just stopping by to discuss what your mum and dad may have left at Grimmauld Place."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," Ron lied.

"Oh, I think you do," Malfoy said. "In fact, I think there was a little bit of Potter's filth there as well. At least according to the late house elf."

Hermione sucked in her breath. She was very partial to house elves. "What do you mean, the late house elf?"

"Ah yes, you always were softhearted for your equals, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "Kreacher - was that his name? He certainly wasn't very fond of you. Spilled all of your secrets, I'm afraid."

"It was too bad he fell into the fire while making dinner one evening. I guess he just couldn't catch his footing after I pushed him. A pity that we couldn't find enough of his head in the charred remains to hang up on the wall in the hallway," he laughed.

"You horrible, evil..!" Hermione cried.

Harry had never seen her so angry before. She was even more cross than the time Malfoy stirred up trouble for Hagrid with Buckbeak. It was at that point that he actually feared for Malfoy's life. Nobody messed with Hermione's house elves.

She sprung out of her seat on the train, and then cursed at both Ron and Neville for holding her back. She was clawing at them, trying to get to Malfoy. At first, Draco looked worried, but then he laughed as Hermione struggled in Ron's arms.

Malfoy laughed and gestured to his two goons. "Let's get out of here, before Weasley wets his pants."

As he turned to leave, Harry shouted, "How's your dad, Malfoy? Enjoying his time in Azkaban?"

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. Harry saw him finger his wand in the pocket of his robes. He turned on Harry, his wand raised and ready. "Care to ask me again, Potter?"

'I said "how's that scumbag you call a father"' replied Harry.

Malfoy drew his wand, as did Harry. They stood motionless, facing each other across the compartment.

"It just goes to show you that money and well-placed threats doesn't conquer all" said Harry, trying to goad Malfoy into making the first move.

"Now, now, just what's going on here, boys?" the witch asked as she passed the compartment with her trolley full of sweets. She glared at Malfoy, her dimpled face scowling.

Malfoy's eyes were still fixed intently upon Harry, and Harry's stare didn't waiver. He would love to take on Malfoy in the train and put him in his place once and for all, even in the presence of the witch.

Neville's voice piped up out of no where. "N-nothing ma'am," he said, letting go of Ron, who calmly took his seat on the train. "We were just... catching up."

She eyed Malfoy's wand. "I see. Well, put your wand away please, young man," she said to Draco. "We haven't arrived at Hogwarts yet. Anything from the trolley?" she asked.

Everyone shook their head in agreement, and the compartment was silent until the squeaking of her wheels vanished down the hallway.

"This isn't over," Malfoy spat. "I'd watch your backs this year if I were you. My father may be in Azkaban, but it won't be long before..." his voice trailed off as he glanced in the direction that the witch had gone. "It won't be long before he's not anymore."

'Anytime Malfoy. Just you & me. Leave your boyfriends at home' retorted Harry 'or are you going to chicken out like you did in the first year?'

Malfoy tucked his wand back into his robes, and then turned on his heel and out of their compartment.

Ginny sighed in relief and sat back in her seat.

"D'you think he was serious?" Harry asked. "About knowing all of our secrets?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"But he was serious about Kreacher," Hermione said bitterly. "I hate Malfoy. I just... I hate him. It's people like Malfoy who make me want to entirely reconsider my career path."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, rubbing his arm. Harry had given it a good twist while trying to hold him back from Malfoy.

"Well, I'd really like to continue with S.P.E.W."

"Not again!" Ron cried.

Hermione held her hand up to silence him. "Do you think that what happened to Kreacher was really fair? Really? He was killed for no reason by some snot-nosed brat - probably after being tortured for information."

"I doubt it," Harry said. "I don't think that the Malfoys would have had to torture Kreacher to spill his guts."

"Still," Hermione replied, "it's wrong. I feel that wizards owe it to the house elves to look after them. They've looked after us for centuries. It's time to return the favour."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the countryside becoming progressively wilder the closer they got to Hogwarts. The bright sunny day that started in London was slowly changing into a lead sky with dark clouds that threatened rain.

"Hey, Harry, did you bring that advanced spell book with you?" Hermione asked "Yeah, why?"
"Wasn't there a spell in there, to ward off the killing curse?" Harry frowned. He had read so many spells, charms, hexes and curses; he couldn't remember all of them.
"I think there was mention of it, but I can't recall. Why do you ask?"
"If there was a way to avoid the killing curse's effects, why wouldn't it be public knowledge?"
"Maybe it doesn't really work," Ron said.
"Or maybe it's just too hard for the average wizard, like the Patronus ," Ginny added.
"If it was easy, it wouldn't have been in The Advanced Book of Dark Arts and Forbidden Curses," Harry agreed. "Some of those spells were really complicated."
"Why are you so concerned about the killing curse?" Ron asked.
"I'm just thinking of ways Harry can protect himself, when he confronts You-Know-Who," Hermione said. "You know he's going to try and use the curse on Harry, so it's only logical to learn all we can about the curse, and find ways to protect against it."
"Just like you, Hermione," Ron grumbled, reaching for another box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean. "Even when there's no homework to be done, you find something to study."
"And what's wrong with that, Ronald Weasley?" Hermione asked, bitterly. "My studying has saved your skin a number of times."

"So who do you think the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be?" Ron asked.

"I think I know who it is," Hermione said, grinning.

"Who?"

She turned to Harry, still grinning. "Well, I think it's going to be Lupin. You know how he told Harry, 'I'm sure you'll be seeing me soon,' before he left the other day? I wonder if Dumbledore's going to give him another shot at the job."

"That'd be excellent!" Ron cried. "He was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had."

"I don't think it's him," Harry replied, feeling guilty. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about the real function of Remus's gift. Harry was almost positive that was the only reason Remus said he'd be seeing him soon.

"Lupin said he's going to be really busy with the Order and everything." Hermione seemed unconvinced.

"Aren't you two supposed to be doing prefect duties?" asked Neville to Ron & Hermione

"Oh no! I forgot." said Hermione getting to her feet, and pulling Ron up.

"I'm not that bothered" commented Ron, who really wanted to remain in the compartment.

"Get going Ronald Weasley" said Hermione as she pushed him out into the corridor.

The express trundled on, swaying gently from side to side. All the while, as they travelled North, the sky became darker. Nightfall brought with it the thunder and lighting of a typical Scottish autumn night. The drizzling rain beat against the windowpanes, as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. Harry and Ginny had already changed into their uniforms and robes, when Ron and Hermione joined them once they had finished their prefect duties

Ron spent a great deal of the time helping Hermione round up Crookshanks, who had snuck out of the compartment shortly after they boarded the train, and had yet to return. He then helped her gather up the books that she had brought out to study, and even pulled her trunk down and helped her repack her belongings.

The train huffed and puffed, as the students disembarked, looking around the wet dark night for friends from the previous year. Harry looked to the end of the platform, seeing the lumbering frame of Hagrid, holding the large lantern, calling to the first years. Harry smiled, waving a friendly greeting to the large man. He, Ginny, Neville, Ron and Hermione hastened to find an empty coach to take them away from the rain and onto the castle. As usual, a large thestral, looking like a demonic cross between a horse and a flying reptile from another era, was harnessed within two struts in front of the carriage. It watched the group with it's red eyes as they approached, occasionally flexing it's leathery wings, and stamping it's hooves in the mud. Despite it's terifying appearance, the thestral was relatively tame, having been raised by Hagrid. Clearly it wasn't overjoyed about having to stand around in the rain.
They had just climbed in, when the door opened again, revealing the far off, mystical expression of a wet Luna Lovegood.

"Hallo," she said. "Can I join you?" Harry was happy to see her, having gone through so much last year, he was afraid she would have chosen not to return to school.
"Come in," Hermione said, scooting closer to Ron to give them room.
"How was your summer?" Luna asked, her eyes revealing the almost trance like gleam.
"Not bad," Harry said "How was yours?"
"All right," she said, sitting next to Ginny as Neville sat across from her. "My father and I went to Australia to find the Clabbert. My father's magazine was doing a feature on them, and he wanted to investigate their natural habitat."
"What's the Clabbert?" Ron asked, glancing around the small carriage as it began bouncing toward the school.
"The Clabbert," Hermione began, in her usual bookish tone. "Is an arboreal creature, which resembles a cross between a monkey and a frog. It has smooth mottled green skin, short horns and a wide grinning mouth. It has long arms with webbed hands and feet that allow it to move easily through the trees. It also has a large pustule on its forehead, which flashes red when it senses the approach of danger and Muggles."

"Gross," Ron complained, the sour look on his face was indisputable despite the gloom.
"They are also highly intelligent, and clairvoyant," Luna added, receiving a disapproving look from Hermione, who rolled her eyes. "It is said the Clabbert can predict the future."
"That's rubbish," Hermione said, folding her hands across her chest. "The Clabbert is not clairvoyant and can not predict anything more than an immediate threat of danger."
"You should have read The Quibbler, this past August," Luna said, her tone filled with her usual mysterious tone. "You would have known the truth about the Clabbert." Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by Ginny, who saw the impending argument about to erupt.
"Sounds like you had a wonderful holiday," she said smiling.

The rest of the trip to the school was uneventful, with only the soft rustling of the wind and constant drumming of rain on the carriage roof to keep them from drifting too far into their own thoughts. Harry looked out of the rain spotted window for his first glance of the school, and saw its many towers silhouetted against the black sky whenever a bolt of lighting lit the sky.
Once the carriages stopped in front of the large stone steps of the main entrance, the excitement of being back to school filtered into them, and they jumped to the rain soaked grass. They gathered their trunks, animals and pulled their cloaks around them tighter, hurrying up the steps to the large doors. Once inside, the trunks were put aside, Pig's and Hedwig's cages sat on top along with Crookshanks, as the six of them hurried into the great hall.

The ceiling was bewitched to resemble the outside sky, and Harry looked up to see the lightening streak above his head. The large house tables were lined with golden plates and goblets, with the promise of a large feast to come. Ron's stomach growled loudly next to him, and Harry smiled while Ron blushed. They hurried to their table, saying good-bye to Luna and sat down; Harry and Ginny on one side, Ron and Hermione and Neville on the other. The sounds of the weather outside crackled through the excited chatter of the students, bringing a momentary halt to the endless conversations.
"I wish they'd hurry up," Ron grumbled, his hand on his stomach. "I'm starving."
The students continued to fill the great hall, noise and laughter rebounding off the stone walls. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, the Creevy brothers; Colin and Dennis, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown soon joined the rest of the Gryffindors, and greetings were exchanged. Harry smiled and waved as each joined them. He was amazed at how many had returned to school, and delighted that the mood was very happy and joyous.

Harry looked up at the High Table. There was one empty seat at the end of the table, which Harry assumed was for Hagrid. Harry recognised all the other teachers, except for a woman who was seated next to McGonagall.

"Who is that?" Ron muttered under his breath. They took a seat near the head of the Gryffindor table. "She looks like McGonagall's twin or something."

Indeed, the woman sitting next to McGonagall looked exactly like a younger version of her. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, but it was all black, unlike McGonagall's salt-and-pepper hair that had been turning grey over the years. She wore the same square spectacles as Professor McGonagall and had the same beady eyes. The two of them were talking energetically and both were smiling.

"Think she has a younger sister?" Harry asked. "Or a daughter?"

Hermione shrugged. Ron swore under his breath. "Just what Hogwarts needed - two McGonagalls."

Harry didn't bother hiding his grin as Professor McGonagall suddenly stood up and retrieved the Sorting Hat. A hush fell over the Great Hall as the first years were brought inside, huddling together from the frigid trip across the lake. Harry watched Hagrid slip inside and take his place at the end of the staff table.
Professor McGonagall set the dusty sorting hat on a three-legged stool in front of the four tables. She took a step back as the brim of the hat opened up and began its song:

A year ago I told you all,
The tale of the all the Founders' fall.
Centuries later it's my duty to warn,
Throughout the year the school with be torn.
Strength in friendship and family and love,
Will prove to be the only weapon against pure blood. Choose your side carefully, no matter your house,
For in the end my sort will not matter an ounce.
Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Slytherins,
Will all have a chance to prove exactly where they fit in.
Loyal souls, clever minds, brave hearts, and a thirst for power Will all come together in the final hour.
So it is with a heavy burden I say goodbye,
A hat hiding a tear,
Because I hope, dear students of Hogwarts,
That I will see you again next year.

There was an awkward silence after the hat finished its song. Dumbledore was the first to clap, and then the staff joined in.

"Bit of a downer," Ron said quietly, reluctantly giving his applause. Harry had to agree. "I think we need a new hat"

"Let the Sorting begin!" Dumbledore announced

Professor McGonagall stepped up to the stool and read the first name from a piece of parchment. "Benjamin Aho."
Harry watched as a small boy with pale blonde hair took a seat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. After a few moments, the Hat shouted out, "Hufflepuff!" Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table as he joined them in an empty chair.

"Is it just me, or are the first years getting smaller and smaller?" Ron questioned.
Hermione scoffed. "Your head's just getting bigger and bigger, that's all Ron."
"Very funny. You know, I think I was a lot taller when I was a first year..." he began, but Hermione shushed him.

Professor McGonagall continued to call first years up to the Sorting Hat's stool until there was only one very intimidated girl by the name of Helen Warren left. All of the students in the Great Hall cheered as she joined the Ravenclaw table.

When Dumbledore stood from his seat at the centre of the high table, Harry couldn't help noticing that he too looked as though he had grown older during the summer holidays. But when he smiled at the four house tables, his blue eyes twinkling wildly, he looked much younger. An immediate silence fell over all of the students as Dumbledore cleared his throat and began his speech.

"Newcomers, old friends, and new friends, I welcome you, once again, to Hogwarts. I promise I only have a few announcements to make and one introduction. As always, the Dark Forest is off limits to all students, at all times - no matter what sort of creatures may prowl between trees."

Harry was quite sure that he was distinctly addressing his section of the Gryffindor table at this point. He sank into the back of his chair, hoping to blend in with the rest of his house. In fact, Harry had no desire to go into the Dark Forest to visit Grawp.

"The caretaker, Mr. Filch, has also informed me that the Forbidden Object List now consists of 469 items, and can be viewed in his office at the request of any student. He also wishes me to remind you all that the mischievous events that took place last year will not be tolerated. Please don't get any ideas, as we are still trying to clean up the mess the Weasley twins left behind."

There were nervous chuckles all around the Great Hall. Ron was blushing a little, but he straightened his shoulders and met the eyes of anyone who stole a glance at him and his shed of Weasley-red hair. He was proud of Fred and George, and so was Harry. They would be Hogwarts legends.

"Also, I must impress upon you all the severity of using Dark Magic on these grounds," Dumbledore said. His face was graver, and he looked old again to Harry. "Anyone caught using Dark Magic will be expelled immediately and handed over to the proper authorities, where stern punishment will result." He seemed to be looking directly at the Slytherin table as he spoke. "There will be absolutely no tolerance."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged worried glances.

"And finally, I would like to introduce you all to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Leurre." The professor next to McGonagall gave a short nod and a thin-lipped smile. "And without further ado," Dumbledore said, "let the feast begin!" And with a clap of his hands, food appeared before Harry on the table.

"Leurre?" Hermione said out loud. "Where have I heard that before?"

Ron shrugged. "What do you think that warning about using Dark Magic was about?" he asked, digging into the meal in front of him.

"I suppose he's just making things clear for the Slytherins," Harry suggested. "They've been warned.

"You know, that's something that's bothered me over the summer," Hermione whispered, biting her lower lip. "I mean, if you think about it, our side has Dumbledore's Army. We have D.A. What if the other side has some junior D.E. club?"

"D.E.?" Ron questioned.

Harry frowned. "Death Eaters."

The meal, as always, was excellent. Ron's table manners hadn't improved during the summer, and he outdone himself by managing to almost complete a sentence with a mouthful of food. A loud belch succeeded this achievement, just as Nearly Headless Nick's head rose through the table.

"Ah Mr Weasley. Enjoying your meal I hear" said Nick

"Yeah, Fanks" said Ron, craming more potato in.

Hermione was revolted, and told Ron so.

"It's a compiment in Japan" he retorted, "so really you could say I've got excellent table manners"

After Ron and Harry had eaten so much they felt ill, they made their way slowly to the common room.

"Argh, I've eaten too much" groaned Ron, cletching his distended gut. "I think I need to lie down"

"Well you shouldn't have had four helpings" nagged Hermione. "It's entirely your own fault"

Harry collapsed into a chair in the common room across from Hermione and started massaging his stomache in the hope that it would ease the discomfort. Ron moaned about how evil Snape was as he departed for his consultation with him, leaving the two of them alone for a dull and uneventful game of Wizard's Chess. He was beating the pants off of Hermione without even trying. Harry could tell she was distracted. She would look at the board, a befuddled expression on her face, and chew her lower lip. Her eyes were clouded and far away.

"Do you think Snape will let him in?" she questioned.

Harry shrugged. He was afraid to hope for anything.

"I mean, it's not like he doesn't try. Okay, well, maybe there are some days where he plays Quidditch instead of doing his Potions homework, but everybody needs to have a little fun now and then... er, everyday..." She sighed. "

"Check," Harry said, moving his bishop diagonally from Hermione's king.

She moved it forward one space. "I saw this protest outside of a steakhouse while on holiday. It was amazing. People were carrying signs with photos of dead carcasses and meat processing plants on them. There was even a cow outside with a sign strapped around its neck that said, 'Don't eat me!' in big, blood-red writing."

Harry laughed. He moved one of his few pawns forward a space, hoping to catch Hermione in a trap.

"They had all of these pamphlets filled with information, too. And they were giving them away for free. I was thinking that maybe I could organise a rally for S.P.E.W. or something here at Hogwarts.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I guess. Checkmate." He was about to capture Hermione's king when Ron burst through the common room door, out of breath, his face flushed.
"You're not going to believe what Snape wants me to do!"

"Snape is crazy!" Ron shouted. A group of first years glanced wearily at Ron and left for their dormitories. "If he expects me to follow through with his evil plan, he's got another thing coming!"

"What did he say, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Is he going to let you take the N.E.W.T. class?" Harry questioned.

"Well, yes and no." Ron flopped into a chair at their table. "Snape said that he'll let me attend the N.E.W.T. potions class. Then I have to take the Potions O.W.L. exam again at the end of the year."

"That's good, isn't it?"

Ron shook his head. "Snape is going to make me go to every single N.E.W.T. Potions class and do all of the homework. Then, if I get an Outstanding, he'll consider passing me in the course."

"What does that mean?" Harry said.

"It means," Ron spat, "that I can do all the work for Potions, score an Outstanding on the O.W.L. exam, and he can still say that I never took the N.E.W.T. Potions class and I did all of the work for nothing."

"So basically, you'll be participating in class, but not be graded?" Hermione asked.

"Exactly. And he can just choose not to pass me. I asked him how do I know that he's not just going to make me do all of this work for nothing? And he folded those greasy hands of his into his lap and said, 'Well, Mr. Weasley, you'll just have to trust me.' Me? Trust Snape? I don't think so."

"But it's the only way," Hermione said. "Ron, if you really want to be an Auror, you've got to make some sacrifices."

"This is so stupid!" Ron exploded. "All because I got an E. An E isn't even bad! An E stands for exceeds expectations!"

"Settle down," Harry said. "Snape just wants to get you riled up, that's all."

"How do you know?" Ron demanded. "I don't know where this blind faith has suddenly come from, Harry, but you're mistaken. Snape doesn't care whether or not I become an Auror."

Harry held up his hands as a sign of a truce. "Hey, don't get mad at me."

"Harry's right," Hermione said. "You need to turn this anger into determination. You need to show Snape exactly what kind of Potions Master you are."

Ron's face-hardened. He seemed to be considering everything in his mind. "You're right. I'll show him. Snape hasn't got anything over me. By the end of the year I'll have him convinced that I deserve to pass N.E.W.T. Potions!"

"That's the spirit!" Hermione cried.

Ron's face fell. "Except..."

"Except what?"

"Now that I'm not technically signed up for Potions, I had to get into a different class."

"Which class?" Hermione questioned.

"Herbology." Ron slammed his head onto the tabletop. "It was a stupid decision, I guess. The only other class that was open was Care of Magical Creatures. And after I heard Neville on the train, I thought, well, if Neville can do it, so can I. Now what did I get myself into? This year is going to be ten times harder."

"Ooh, but that's really good," Hermione said. "When you pass Potions, you'll have six N.E.W.T. classes. And if an extra one is Herbology, the Ministry will think a lot more of your application."

"Great." Ron yawned. "I'm sure it'll make mum and dad happy."

Hermione winked. "Percy would be proud."

Harry could tell that the two of them were going to go at it about Percy again, but before either one could open their mouths, he quickly interrupted them. "Look at it this way, Ron. Snape may have the power to not give you credit for the N.E.W.T. class, but at least he doesn't have the power to fail you."

The next morning, Harry was concentrating heavily on his breakfast in the Great Hall when Ginny sat down next to him.

"Morning," Ginny said cheerfully, helping herself to some muffins.

"Morning," Harry replied, staring into the depths of his bowl of porridge. He could barely hear her over the excited chatter of everyone in the Great Hall. The Heads of Houses were passing out class schedules to everyone.

"Ready for your first day of fifth year?" Hermione asked, sitting down across from them.

Ginny nodded. "I think so."

"Fifth year is hell," Ron said, sitting next to Hermione. "Although, I'm afraid my sixth will be just as bad. Make sure you score high on your O.W.L.s, Gin. Start studying now."

"What do you want to be?" Hermione questioned curiously. "Do you want to be an Auror too?"

Ginny snorted. "I'd rather be a troll guard." She chuckled. Then she looked around at the sullen faces around her. "No offence to you three. I just don't think that an Auror is up my alley. I mean, I like to lend a hand when I can, and I like the," she lowered her voice, "the D.A. meetings." She straightened up in her chair. "I just don't think I want to do it for a living. The chance that I may turn out like Mad-Eye is a little frightening."

Harry laughed. He couldn't blame her. Who would want a career where she was risking her neck with every assignment she took.

A flutter of wings announced the arrival of the post owls, which flew across the Great Hall sprinkling the students with water. Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling; it was raining again.

Hermione paid the delivery owl for her copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it and read the headlines.

"Well" she said to herself "I can't say I'm surprised. He had it coming"

Harry looked at the paper, intrigued. A small article half way down the page explained Hermione's comment.

STOLEN CAULDRON STING

Magical law enforces smashed a stolen cauldron ring last night following an anonymous tip off. It is believed that they were going to be exported to Romania. The ringleader Mundungas Fletcher claimed that he was looking after them for a business associate and had no idea they were stolen.

"Fletcher has long been suspected of dealing in stolen goods" said a Ministry spokesman "I expect he'll be going straight to Azkaban"

"Mum will be pleased" said Ron "She never did like him"

"What about the Order?" asked Ginny

"Speaking of the Order," Hermione said, "are we going to round up the old D.A. crew?"

"Yeah!" Ginny cried. "Dean and Seamus already asked me about it. They're anxious to pick up where we left off last year."

"Even Seamus?" Harry asked. "He's only been to one meeting." Harry thought back to the year before, when the two of them had been at odds. Seamus's mother thought that Harry was dangerous, and she didn't want her son going to the same school as him, let alone sharing a dormitory.

"Well, I guess it made an impression on him," Ginny replied indifferently. "So what do you say Harry? Is D.A. reborn?"

Harry didn't know if he wanted the responsibility of teaching Defence of the Dark Arts to his closest friends. He couldn't help worrying that he was going to get them all in way over their heads. He didn't know enough. He didn't trust himself to really prepare them for battle with Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters. After what happened at the end of the last year - when his desire to save Sirius overpowered his duty to keep his friends safe - he didn't trust himself with the role of D.A.'s leader. Sirius's blood was already on his hands.

He was just about to reject the idea of a reunion of Dumbledore's Army when McGonagall strolled past, handing out slips of parchment. "Class schedules," she said, giving one to each of them. Harry noticed that Ron's, Hermione's, and his all had their names on it, but Ginny's merely read "5th year." Their schedules were personalised.

"What have you got first?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry's schedule. "Muggle Studies?"

He nodded. "Who teaches it, anyway?"

"It's Professor Avis," Ron answered. "She and my dad get on real well. She's got more muggle gadgets and plugs than he does."

Somehow, Harry found that difficult to imagine. "How come I haven't seen her before?"

Ron shrugged. "She spends all of her free time with Muggles. Takes pictures and everything. Uses their money, buys their clothes. She even goes out to bars and to the picture shows. A real Muggle-friendly woman. Anytime dad has a question, he asks her first. Or you," he added. "Whoever is closer."

"Honestly, the two of you are wasting your time," Hermione said haughtily. "You already know about Muggles - especially you, Harry. You're not going to learn anything."

"You'd be surprised," Ron said. "And why are you so against Muggle Studies all of a sudden? You took it during your third year. What's the problem with it now?"

"Now," Hermione snapped, "we have better things to worry about. I took the class merely out of curiosity to see how wizards taught about Muggles. I didn't specifically learn anything I didn't already know. You don't even get to use your wand. Now that I think of it, it was a tad boring."

"Well, good," Ron answered. "I need a boring class. If I've got the N.E.W.T. Herbology and Potions, I'm going to need a slack class."

However, Harry was feeling bad about wasting his time with a class about Muggles. He had lived as one for the first eleven years of his life. Maybe he should have taken Herbology instead. If he wasn't going to learn anything new, then why was he wasting his time when he could be spending it studying something important - something to do with being an Auror? And why had Mr. Weasley encouraged him to take the class, then?

Ron saw the look on his face. "Don't let Hermione get to you. She likes making people feel guilty for their decisions." This statement earned him a kick in the shin under the table. "Ouch! I think she's getting more violent as we get older, don't you?"

"What have you got first, 'Mione?" Harry asked.

"Arithmacy," she answered. "Then after lunch, I've got Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Us too," Ron replied. "Looks like we've got basically the same schedule. Except I've got Herbology before dinner on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Harry studied his schedule. He didn't have anything before lunch or dinner. Everyday he only had two classes for an hour and a half each. Now he felt really guilty for not taking harder classes. This year was going to be a piece of cake.

The Great Hall began to thin out as the time for the first bell to ring approached. Hermione said goodbye to Harry and Ron to go to Arithmacy. The two of them headed down the first floor corridor to the Muggle Studies classroom, which was next to a portrait of owls sitting on telephone lines. Harry realised that this was the only painting he'd seen at Hogwarts that had any indication of the existence of the Muggle world. The owls were sleeping on the telephone lines, and every few seconds one would give a small "hoot."

The room itself reminded Harry of a normal classroom from his primary school. There were about twenty individual metal desks set up in five neat rows. There was a wooden teacher's desk on the side of the classroom. It had a swivel chair behind it, along with some books, a day calendar, and a framed photo of a woman surrounded by some schoolchildren. Harry could only assume that the slightly podgy woman with short, wavy blonde hair was Professor Avis. A shiny red apple sat on the corner of the desk, glinting in the sunlight from the window. Harry guessed it must have been a bewitched window because the room wasn't anywhere near real windows at Hogwarts. At the front of the classroom there wasn't a chalkboard, but a white dry-erase board with multicoloured markers. In the back of the classroom, there was a bookcase filled with Muggle children's books and a box of toys. The only thing that looked out of place was the old brick fireplace on the right-hand side of the classroom.

"Wow," Ron breathed. "She really went all out."

The two of them took seats near the front as other students poured in. Harry saw that their class was made up of mostly boys, except for a few girls from Hufflepuff, Padma Patil from Ravenclaw, her sister Parvati Patil, and Lavender Brown from Gryffindor. They all sat together at the front of the classroom, chatting nervously and studying the room around them. Justin Fitch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan sat with some other boys from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. There were no Slytherins in the class, though that didn't surprise Harry. Their general hatred for Muggles was a well-known truth. Draco Malfoy wouldn't be caught dead in a class about Muggles.

In fact, all of the boys from Harry's house were in the classroom. Dean and Seamus sat behind him and Ron, and Neville rushed into the classroom just before the bell rang. "I couldn't find the portrait!" he explained as he sat in the empty desk next to Harry. "When I walked by, there were only electric lines, no owls."

Moments after the first bell rang, the door from the classroom opened and shut, and the woman who Harry had seen in the photograph waltzed inside. Harry was impressed. She was dressed very muggle-like in a navy blue pinstriped business suit. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, secured by plastic clips. She even wore a matching scarf. But instead of wearing shoes, she was wearing floppy, bunny-eared slippers.

"Good morning, class," she said in a singsong voice. "My name is Professor Avis." She turned to the dry-erase board and wrote Professor Avis in loopy letters. "I don't think that I've had any of you as students before, but I'm very excited to introduce all of you to the Muggle world. I am honoured to be teaching the N.E.W.T. Muggle Studies class, as I have been for the past sixteen years. However, this year is going to be very exciting, as the headmaster and I have come up with some new ways for all of you to learn about the fascinating lives of Muggles.

"The first thing I should tell you is that you won't be needing your wands for this class. I do not even want to see them out of your robes. We are going to learn about Muggles, like Muggles. I have a no magic policy inside of my classroom." She turned and wrote on the board, Rule #1: No magic. Harry saw some of the boys from Ravenclaw slip their wands back in their pockets, looking slightly disappointed. "Secondly, I do not have any tolerance for racism in my classroom. Anybody who says anything offensive about Muggles or their daily lives will be receiving detention immediately. One of the reasons this course exists is to teach tolerance of our human counterparts."

Tolerance. There was that word again. Harry was noticing a pattern. No tolerance for Dark Magic, no tolerance for Muggle racism. Was Dumbledore trying to prepare them for a war in which Muggles were involved?

Under the first rule, Professor Avis wrote #2: No racism. She continued to write Rule #3: Ask questions! "I understand that as a student coming from a family of only wizards, many of you have absolutely no knowledge of how the Muggle world works. Please, any of you, don't hesitate to ask questions. There are no dumb questions about Muggles, so don't be embarrassed to raise your hand and ask. They are truly fascinating creatures. It is amazing how we live side by side with them on the same planet."

Professor Avis walked over to her desk and produced some sheets of paper. It was not parchment, but bleached white Muggle paper. She handed them out to the first person in each row and they passed them back. On the top it read Syllabus. And Harry was quite sure that the syllabus had been typed out on a computer and photocopied, which couldn't have been done on the grounds of Hogwarts. Professor Avis really went all out to maintain her no-magic policy.

"In addition to your textbook, A Guide to Muggle Survival, I will also be handing out other books to you." There were audible groans from some of the students. However, she smiled when she heard them. "These books will usually be fiction novels, and I assure you, they will not be mundane reading. Muggles are captivating, and so is their literature. Now, if you'll all take a look at your syllabus," she held up the paper she had just passed out, "I'll discuss what we'll be studying and when we'll be studying it."

She cleared her throat. "Our first unit will be about Muggle life. We'll be studying the common Muggle inside its natural habitat. We'll discuss the differences between our daily actions and theirs. The second unit is going to be about science, or how Muggles survive without magic," she explained. "This will probably prove to be the most difficult topic to understand, but we won't be tackling it until around November. Our third unit is going to deal strictly with tolerance. How we tolerate muggles and muggles tolerate us. We will be discussing how Muggles come up with their explanations that magic doesn't exist and some of the philosophies behind those who did believe. The fourth and final unit will be the shortest, but it discusses the most important part of this class. If you'll all please take a look at your syllabus..."
Harry glanced at the paper in front of him. It read, Unit #4: Why the Wizarding World Must Remain Secret.

"This concept is also sometimes hard for young wizards to understand. There have been many students who disagree with keeping the magical world a secret, but there are many reasons why Muggles aren't ready to be exposed to the wizarding world. Professor Dumbledore and I have decided that we will be having a debate at the end of the year, in front of the entire school, as to whether or not Muggles should be aware of the existing magical world.

"This is just one of the events I have planned for this year," Professor Avis continued. "Every Wednesday afternoon, at the beginning of class, a special guest speaker will discuss their interaction with Muggles on a daily basis. But I'll wait until Wednesday to make any sort of introductions."

"Finally, the Headmaster has agreed to allow us to do something very exciting on Halloween." She paused, as though she were waiting for every head in the classroom to look up at her. "We will be taking a field trip to London, where we will interact with Muggles on one of the most magical nights of the year."

The classroom burst into chatter. He could tell that Ron was excited. Harry didn't know if he'd been to London for anything other than catching the Hogwarts Express or visiting the Ministry of Magic.

Professor Avis shushed them. "In fact," she said, "it may be the only night where a class like ours can blend into the Muggle World, unnoticed as outsiders. Not to mention that it is a relatively stress-free Muggle holiday, so most of them will be in very friendly moods. We can also participate in the long-time Muggle tradition called Trick-or-Treating."

There were gasps from the class. Harry laughed. He wondered if they were going to need costumes or not. He had the mental image of twenty sixteen-year-old wizards knocking on the door to someone's flat, crying out "Trick-or-Treat!"

Muggle Studies may be an easy class, Harry thought, but at least they were going to have some fun.

After lunch, Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked the familiar path to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"I wonder how Dumbledore found someone to take the job this time," Ron said. "You'd think he'd have a harder time getting a new Professor than last year, after what happened with Umbridge."

'Anyone know what happened to her yet?' asked Hermione

'Who cares' replied Harry, remembering how the horrible toad faced woman tried to ruin his life last year.

'Fred said she saw her working in the shoe shop in Diagon Alley' snorted Ron

"I think what happened to Umbridge was the Ministry's fault," Hermione said. "I'm sure that there are some educated people out there who aren't afraid to take the job. I mean it's not like every teacher has ended up dead."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Although, this one reminds me too much of McGonagall."

"Two McGonagalls would be my worst nightmare come true," Ron announced.

"Oh come on, Professor McGonagall isn't that bad. Especially after last year and the way she stood up to Umbridge." Hermione always defended McGonagall, probably because they had so many of the same ideals. "Besides, if we do have someone like her teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, think of how much we're going to learn." It was startling how much of a resemblance there was between the two of them.

But as the three of them entered the classroom and took their seats, it was clear that in the visual category, Professor Leurre looked more like Professor McGonagall than Hermione did. She even appeared to have the same stern look on her face. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun again, and she was wearing robes of a rich chestnut colour. She sat at her desk with her hands folded, studying each student with harsh eyes.

Most of the sixth years were in Defence Against the Dark Arts, including Malfoy and his groupies. He was sharing a desk with Pansy Parkinson; Crabbe and Goyle were sitting in front of them. The classroom was a little cramped, and by the time the bell rang, all of the seats were taken.

Harry had seen the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom under the wing of five teachers before Professor Leurre. She appeared to be somewhat of a bookworm. Old dusty books that smelled of mould were scattered around the classroom. There were piles on the floor and on her desk. There were also a few magical contraptions that Harry didn't recognise. One was a big, white globe on a pedestal that reminded Harry of a giant Moon Guide, like the miniature globe he carried in his pocket.

At the sound of the bell, Professor Leurre stood up and clasped her hands behind her back and paced the classroom in very McGonagall-like fashion. "Welcome to the N.E.W.T. Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Most of you already know who I am, but just in case you've forgotten, I'll remind you. My name is Professor Leurre. You may only call me Professor Leurre. I demand respect in this class just as you demand a proper education."

She turned on her heel and faced the class, studying the rows of students. Ron looked positively fearful. "The headmaster has informed me that last year you merely copied spells from the pages of your textbooks. I assure you, this year will be much different, as I prefer the hands-on approach to the Defence of the Dark Arts."

Hermione turned her head and smiled back at Harry and Ron. She hated Umbridge's open-book method. Harry was relieved to hear that they would be practising the Dark Arts again. Then maybe no one would want to join D.A. again because they would get enough homework from Professor Leurre.

"I am very disappointed, however, that you are already in your sixth year and you haven't studied a spell's worth of ancient magic."

Some of the students gasped. Harry apparently didn't understand the magnitude of what she'd just said. His only knowledge of ancient magic consisted of Voldemort's ignorance. Ancient magic was the reason that he was the Boy Who Lived.

"Some of you may be more familiar with ancient magic than others. As many people are well aware of, ancient magic was the key to Voldemort's end sixteen years ago, and ancient magic was the very thing that brought him back." She was staring directly at Harry as she said this, and his stare did not waiver from hers.

At the mention of Voldemort's name, there were cries of astonishment from the class. Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all wince, the way Snape did when Harry spoke the Dark Lord's name. Ron made a little whining noise.

"In my class, there will be no mention of the Dark Lord or You-Know-Who. If you are going to speak of him, you must call him Voldemort and nothing else."

Harry was a little surprised. He had heard very few people besides Hermione and Dumbledore speak his true name. The rest of the class was in shock, however. Malfoy looked outraged. "But Professor," he said, not bothering to raise his hand, "you can't possibly expect us to..."

"Oh I can, Mr. Malfoy, and I do," Professor Leurre interrupted. "If you cannot bring yourself to say Voldemort, then perhaps you shouldn't say anything about him at all," she snapped.

Now Harry was surprised that Professor Leurre even knew who Malfoy was. He studied the professor, and decided that she did look about the same age as Narcissa, Malfoy's mother. Perhaps they had gone to Hogwarts together.

"Fearing a name is a waste of time," she continued, sitting down at her desk. "What you should all really fear is the wizard himself. But we're not going to debate about this right now." She began searching her desk, and there was a loud boom as she accidentally knocked some of her books on the floor. A mushroom-shaped cloud of dust floated through the air, and she coughed. She grinned sheepishly, pulling her wand out of a drawer. "First we are going to discuss the origin of ancient magic. For homework for the next class, I want you all to do a good twelve inches on what you already know about ancient magic, and also feel free to write any questions you have about it in your essay."

Harry knew next to nothing about ancient magic, but he was pretty sure he could fill up three feet's worth of parchment with his questions about ancient magic. Immediately, a question that had been burning inside of him for years and years popped into his mind:

Was ancient magic powerful enough to bring somebody back to life?

"I thought Professor Leurre was absolutely wonderful!" Hermione said enthusiastically. It was dinnertime, and the Great Hall was loud and noisy from the excitement of the first day of classes. "Finally, we're going to talk about ancient magic. I have so many questions about it."

"I think she was a tad strict," Ron replied. "Have you had her yet, Ginny?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't have Defence Against the Dark Arts until Wednesday. And I doubt we'll be studying ancient magic. It's not on the O.W.L. examination."

Hermione sighed. "Well, we'll just have to tell you all about it during the D.A. meetings, right Harry?"

Harry frowned. He certainly didn't want to talk about D.A. meetings over dinner. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked at him expectantly, as though they wanted him to make some kind of announcement about when the first meeting would be. He loathed his role as their fearless leader. He tried not to look at them, but instead, studied the meal in front of him.

"'Arry!" exclaimed a voice from behind him. He turned to see Hagrid, the big half-giant gamekeeper and current Care of Magical Creatures instructor. "Good ter see ya!" He gave Harry a slap on the back that was more painful than friendly. "Hermione, Ron, Ginny." He nodded to each one of them.

"Hello, Hagrid," they replied automatically.

"Say, did ya get yer birthday gift?" he asked.

Harry gulped. He'd forgotten all about the other half that Hagrid had promised him at Hogwarts. "I did, thanks," he replied.

"Oh just you wait, 'Arry. You'll be thankin' me when you see her."

Her. There it was again. The curiosity and worry was overcoming him. "Hagrid, it's not an animal, is it?"

He just smiled. "You'll have ter wait and see, 'Arry. Just wait and see. You can stop by t'morrow night, if you like."

Harry wasn't sure he could wait until then. "What about tonight?"

Hagrid thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, it'll be better if ya wait 'til tomorrow."

He briefly wondered what Hagrid would be doing tonight, but Harry didn't question him. It was only the first day of class, after all. He probably still had lesson plans to create and a giant half-brother to visit. "All right Hagrid, I'll be at your hut tomorrow night then."

Hagrid grinned and ruffled Harry's hair. "I look forward to it. And you'd all better take care of yourselves this year, ya hear?"

"We always do, don't we?" Ron said, confused.

"You know what I mean," Hagrid replied. He lowered his voice. "No funny business. With You-Know-Who..."

"Voldemort," Hermione interrupted. Hagrid, Ron, and Ginny winced. A couple of third years looked fearfully at Hermione, but her glare turned them away.

"With him runnin' around, you need to watch yer backs," Hagrid whispered. "And anything with that scar, 'Arry, you go and tell Dumbledore. He'll take care of ya."

Harry, feeling self-conscious, quickly flattened his fringe over his scar, trying to hide it. "Er... thanks Hagrid. I'll keep that in mind."

And with that, the giant winked and headed towards the staff table, the silverware clattering on the table with each step he took.

"That was odd," Ron said, chewing on a mouthful of bread.

"He's just worried," Hermione supplied. "And with good reason."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, we don't need to worry about this. As long as I'm at Hogwarts, I'm safe. As long as Dumbledore's around, we don't have to worry about anything."

"You know, they always say that," Ron said, "but somehow, Voldemort always manages to infiltrate Hogwarts's defences. It's a good thing you've got us, Harry." He grinned. "I've got your back, mate."

"Me too," Hermione said quietly. "So Ron, what did Professor McGonagall want to talk to you about after Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Ron stopped chewing and swallowed the food in his mouth in one gulp. His ears turned slightly red. "Ah... I don't think now's the best time to talk about it, Hermione."

"You had to meet with McGonagall already?" Harry said. "Did you get a early detention or something?" he joked.

"Er... no. Not a detention."

"Oh, that's right!" Ginny cried. "I heard it from Colin Creevy in the Common Room. Congratulations, Ron! Fred and George would be proud."

"Proud about what?" Harry had the distinct impression that everybody knew something he didn't. He turned to Ron, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "What's going on?"

"You know, you're right Ron, we should talk about it later," Hermione said suddenly.

"Why?" Ginny demanded suddenly. "Harry's going to find out soon enough."

"Find out what?"

Ron sighed. For a few endless moments, he played with the scalloped potatoes on his plate. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry. I tried to tell you on the train before Seamus came in. When McGonagall wrote me about meeting with Snape, she also congratulated me on making captain." He spoke quickly, his words all in one breath. "Please, don't hate me. I didn't ask for it. It's just, after last year - after you were banished from Quidditch..."

Harry felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He was shocked. He was angry. Jealous. He heard a voice inside of his head commanding him not to feel. Act normal. Show no emotion. "Oh, that's... that's really great Ron. You deserve it."

Ron scowled at Ginny. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry. It's just that, last year you were banished from Quidditch so technically you're not even on the team anymore. And there aren't any seventh years on the team..."

"No, it's great, Ron." Harry heard himself speaking, but he wasn't quite sure where his voice was coming from. "I understand." There were loud voices all around him from the other tables. He tried not to concentrate on the disappointment he felt. The anger. Stupid Umbridge - stupid Malfoy. It was his fault Harry had been banished from Quidditch in the first place.

And then it began to sink in. He realised what Ron was saying to him. "What do you mean that I'm not technically on the team anymore?"

Ron exchanged glances with Ginny again. "Well, as of right now, Ginny holds the seeker position on the team."

Harry felt the rush of blood through his ears as his anger boiled inside of him. He couldn't even look at Ginny. The thought of her taking over as seeker hadn't even crossed his mind. Did he really think he could just waltz back onto the team - onto Ron's team - when he was absent for nearly all of the last season? If he couldn't be seeker for the Gryffindor team, he didn't know if he wanted to play Quidditch at all.

"But you could tryout for seeker, and if you're better than her at tryouts, you can have your old position back." His voice was quiet. He was torn between his sister and his best friend.

Ginny's face had turned as red as the hair on her head. "Actually, Ron, I was kind of hoping to take Angelina's position," she said. "Harry can be Seeker."

"I don't want your..." Pity was what came into his mind. Ginny pitied him. She felt sorry for him. "I don't need your charity."

"It's not charity," she quickly replied. "I'd rather be working with the Quaffle and scoring some points. You know, where the real action is." She grinned wickedly at Harry.

"Well, that works out great then," Hermione said. "Harry can have his position as Seeker and Ginny can tryout for Chaser."

"Great," Ron said lightly. "That makes my life a lot easier."

"I bet it does," Harry said quietly. "So do I still have to try out?"

Ron shook his head. "Only if somebody else wants to try for that position. But I wouldn't worry about it. Although, it would be nice to have you around at tryouts on Thursday."

"Why?" Harry questioned.

"Because I've only been on the team for one year. I'm going to need all the help I can get." Ron smiled carefully.

Harry realised that he was getting upset over something he had absolutely no control over. So what if Ron was the new Quidditch captain? Ron hardly ever got anything he wanted. He had to become a prefect before his parents would even get him a decent broom. Harry scolded himself. He should be proud of Ron. He'd come a long way in a year. And besides, there was always next year for him to be captain. If he could manage not to get suspended from Quidditch again and survive whatever Voldemort had planned for him.

Harry managed to return his smile. "Right. I'll be glad to help out - if you need it."

Hermione let out her breath as if she'd been holding it for a long time. "Well, that was a lot of trouble over a game"

Harry and Ron looked at her. "It's not just a game"

Ginny stood up and grabbed a piece of bread from the table. "Oh, there's Neville. I've got to go ask him a question about my Herbology homework." She sauntered off to the other end of the Gryffindor table.

"So Harry, about D.A., I really think we should get started as soon as possible," Hermione began.

"Hermione, would you just lay off?" Harry said shortly. "It's the first day of school. I'd like to enjoy it a little before we have to get down to business." He was still feeling a bit raw from the shock of losing Quidditch captain to his best friend.

"'Arry's right," Ron said, his mouth full of pork roast. "Give it o' rest for one day."

Hermione frowned, looking disgusted at Ron's lack of table manners. "I don't know how you can eat that."

"Eat what?" he asked.

"Do you know what they did to that pig before they slaughtered it? How they treated it?"
Ron swallowed in one gulp, looking confused. "I suspect they gave it a nice home inside a barn somewhere and fed it all the slop it wanted."

"You are so ignorant." Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed back her plate, the roast left untouched. "I'm going to the library to get started on that essay for Professor Leurre."

"Ah, yes, the first day of school wouldn't be complete without an evening journey to the library," Ron said quietly as he and Harry watched her leave the Great Hall. "There's no pleasing her," he muttered, and went back to his plate of pork.

Harry awoke with a start, his breath catching inside his chest. His scar was tingling, but it didn't hurt. It just felt overly sensitive in the cool night air. Had it been a dream? Sometimes it was difficult for him to distinguish a vision from a dream. But it must have been a dream. Sirius was there. No, he wasn't physically there, but his voice was. Harry could hear him. The vividness that had awakened him disappeared into the cloudiness of his mind. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. If only he could remember. What was Sirius saying?

And as he tried to fall back asleep, visions of Ron being carried across the Quidditch Pitch with the Cup in his hands paraded through Harry's mind. But instead of feeling relief and excitement, all he could feel was bitterness and resentment.

He felt empty, realising that there was really nothing for him to look forward to. He would always be a bit envious of Ron, wearing the sparkling "C" captain patch on his house robes. Harry felt his own failure with Ron's promotion. There was no excitement for Quidditch..

Feeling more alone than ever, Harry reached out from his four-poster to his nightstand. Very quietly, he opened the drawer and grabbed Remus's Moon Guide. After slipping on a robe, he crept quietly to the deserted Gryffindor common room, leaving the snores of his roommates behind him.

Harry plopped down onto one of the red plush couches. The room was almost completely dark except for the smouldering orange ashes in the fireplace. After surveying the room one more time, making sure that he was absolutely alone, he pulled out the Moon Guide.

"I solemnly swear I only want to watch," he said quietly.

The small white orb began to quiver slightly in his hands. Harry brought it to his eye like a monocle as it glowed brightly in the darkness. All he could see was white, and for a few moments he thought that maybe he hadn't done it properly. Then suddenly, he saw a reflection of his own green eye, and an illustration of Remus came into focus.

Harry had thought he would find him in a bed somewhere, sleeping in the early hours of the morning. On the contrary, he was sitting in an old dusty rocking chair, reading a book. He looked content. He was wearing a dressing robe, his socks rolled down to his ankles. He had on small reading glasses and his hair was swept back from his face in a ponytail.

Harry wondered where he was. He didn't recognise the furniture or the room around him. He wished he could have been inside the vision of Remus, like he was inside the memory in the pensive. Harry wished that he could talk to Remus. Not even about what was happening at Hogwarts, but just about anything normal. About the weather. About the way Bulgaria had swept the World Cup away from Estonia earlier that month. About how much he missed Sirius.

"I have seen all there is to be seen," Harry whispered. The small orb lost some of its glow as Harry pulled it away from his eye.

He thought briefly of writing a letter to Remus. But what would he say? He knew if he picked up a quill and parchment all of his thoughts and emotions about Quidditch and Ron and Ginny would spill out of him. He didn't want to burden Remus with his silly schoolboy problems.

Instead, he slipped the Moon Guide into the pocket of his robe and stared at the fireplace until the ashes turned grey.

Since the Order had abandoned 12 Grimauld Place, their meetings had been moved to The Burrow. The mood was sombre, as it always was now that Sirius was gone. Molly Weasley felt that if Harry were there he wouldn't last two seconds in the room without bursting into tears and running away. In fact, the air was so thick with sadness that Molly wanted to do exactly that. Everyone missed Sirius. He had brought such a life of happiness into the Order and in the midst of darkness lightened everyone's mood. Molly finally understood why Harry loved him so much.

The order seemed to have been sucessful in recruiting new members during the summer. Several new faces sat around the large oak table.
Dumbledore stood to address the group. "Welcome, especailly to our new members. I've gathered you all here for a very important reason. Severus has returned to us with very bad news. Severus, if you please"
Dumbledore turned his head and nodded to Sanpe Snape nodded and all eyes in the room focused on him as he stood up.
"As you know, I've just returned from another Death Eater meeting. I would like to first inform you that Voldemort hasn't picked up on the fact that I am a spy for the Order and I doubt he will anytime soon."
A few sighs of relief were heard in the room.
Snape cleared his throat and continued. "On a much more serious note, Voldemort has mentioned that he has a plan to convert Potter to the Dark Side. He has assured us that with no doubt the plan won't fail.
"He knows the people Potter holds dearest to him are dead. James and Lily Potter and Sirius Black. As he did last year, he will send dreams to Potter of these people. Supposedly, they are to torture him until he turns on the Order. He has not said any more of the details.
"What worries me the most is that Potter will have no power to stop these dreams. After his failed attempts at Occlumency this past year, I'd be surprised if he could block anything.
"Also, I worry that death has affected the boy in a way that he won't recover from, a deep depression or something of that sort. He might not even want to stop the dreams just so he can see those he loves again. If that is the case, Potter can be easily lured to the Dark side. For now, this is all I know. As more information is given, I shall report to you."
Snape sat back down.
Dumbledore stood up. "Thank you, Severus. It is of the greatest importance that you put aside your personal issues with Potter and continue with the Occlumency lessons."
Snape nodded.
"Does anyone have anything else to add?"
He surveyed the room. No one seemed to have anything to say.
"That will be all. Have a good night."

"I swear, McGonagall is getting more strict with age," Ron said. "These new essay regulations are going to kill me."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the stairs down to the dungeon for their first Potions lesson of the new year. Ron was still in a sour mood from Transfiguration earlier that morning when Professor McGonagall had informed them that she would no longer be accepting essay parchments that had margins larger than in inch.

"Fred and George would turn in homework with two-inch margins and two-inch lettering," Ron continued.

"And look where they are now," Harry said glumly.

"Yeah, they're facing an inquiry from the Ministry," Hermione said. "Or have you forgotten?"

"Doesn't matter," Ron replied. "They're still wealthier than I am."

He kicked a loose stone on the dungeon floor and it sailed into one of the walls, ricocheting down the hallway. "Snape better not tell anybody about our deal. I can just picture Malfoy getting off on that one. 'Weasley can't even get an Outstanding on his O.W.L., and he's a prefect.' What I wouldn't give to slug him one with my bare hands..."

"And you said that I was getting more violent," Hermione laughed.

Harry couldn't help but feel a little resentment towards McGonagall about Ron being the new Quidditch captain. But he had shoved most of his emotions in to the pit of his stomach, stifling them from ever showing again. He wanted to be numb.

They made it to Potions just in time. In contrast to Muggle Studies the day before, the Potions class had nearly every Slytherin in it. Harry wondered if Ron would have scored an Outstanding on the O.W.L. had Snape been his head of house.

As they entered the dungeon, it seemed even more dank and dreary than Harry remembered. Harry and Ron sat next to each other and Hermione settled in an empty desk in front of them. A few moments later, Hannah Abbott sat down next to her

Malfoy leered at Harry from across the room. "Hey Potter, looks like all of those remedial Potions lessons paid off last year. You've somehow managed to land in this class." There were sniggers from the Slytherin corner of the dungeon.

Harry felt his cheeks go red. He wasn't going to let Malfoy get to him. He wanted to be indifferent. He didn't even bother to grace Malfoy with a reply or a glance. Malfoy's taunting seemed beneath him. It wasn't worth taking offence to. Harry couldn't be bothered with petty taunting after what he had been through at the end of last year. The only tragedy in Malfoy's life was the incarceration of his father in Azkaban, which he still seemed to be in denial about.

The banter before class was only a mere indication of the unpleasantness of the first Potions lesson of the year. Professor Snape looked even paler than usual and spent most of the class barking at them about how incompetent they were. Most comments, however, were directed at Harry's side of the room. By the time Harry had finished his antidote to a sleeping draught, he was immune to Snape's snide remarks. He took a sample from his cauldron and placed it on Snape's desk. Harry could feel his dark eyes staring at him from behind his greasy hair.

Harry didn't meet his eyes. Although he knew more about Snape than he ever wanted to, he had mixed feelings about the professor. On one hand, Snape had such a grudge against Harry that he stopped at nothing to get him in the most trouble possible. He was unfair, rude, and ignorant. On the other hand, Harry felt guilty about how his father had tormented Snape during his own education at Hogwarts so many years ago.

But Harry was tired of feeling guilty. He was tired of feeling anything, period. He couldn't help it if he looked so much like his father. And I can't change the past, he thought bitterly as he made his way back to his desk. Suddenly, he heard the sound of glass breaking on the floor.

"Clumsy, Potter," Snape snarled.

Harry whirled around to find his sample of his antidote in a puddle on the dungeon's floor. His eyes narrowed in suspicion at Snape, who leered back at him, his smile unwavering.

"Pity," Snape replied. "Looks like you'll need another sample. And you'd better stay after to clean up the mess you've made."

Harry was speechless. Snape had just purposely smashed his potion again. The same thing had happened the previous year. Harry hoped that Hermione didn't wash out his cauldron like she had before.

But when Harry returned to his seat, he saw that Hermione was busy trying to talk to Hannah Abbott about the woes of cattle raising. He found another empty vile and hastily filled it with his potion. He returned it to Snape's desk. The bell signalling the end of class sounded.

"Potter, a word," Snape spat. It was not a request.

Harry stayed put at Snape's desk. He should have suspected as much. Snape was probably anxious to hand out some sort of punishment for knocking over his first sample. The dungeon cleared out quickly, but Ron and Hermione lingered near the doorway of the classroom.

"I can't stay," Ron said quietly. "I've got Herbology in five minutes."

"Go on," Harry announced. "I'll see you both later."

He studied the chalkboard behind Snape's head, determined not to meet his gaze. What could he possibly want?

"How brave of your comrades to offer to escort you," Snape said. There was a bounce in his step as he approached Harry. His voice was angry. "Your only strength is with your friends, Potter. I hope you don't end up killing all of them."

Harry's insides burned. He wanted to lash out at Snape. He wanted to draw his wand and hex him into oblivion. But that would only amuse him. Harry tried to be indifferent; to show nothing. There wasn't anything that Snape could say that would show the weakness of his emotions.

"Strong and silent," Snape muttered. He continued to walk past Harry, and then circled around his back. The hair on Harry's neck stood on end. He wondered if Snape would attack him when his back was turned. Did Snape fight cowardly?

Snape's shuffling stopped. "The headmaster has demanded that we continue our Occlumency lessons until you are ready for the next step."

"The next step...?" Harry began.

Snape ignored him. "Starting Thursday, we will begin having our Remedial Potions lessons at seven o'clock sharp on every Tuesday and Thursday thereafter." Harry suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Snape turned him around in one hard shove. "And this time you will not be sticking your head in places it is not permitted to go!" he snapped. Harry could almost feel the dungeon walls shaking with Snape's rage.

Harry didn't know if he was more surprised that Snape had shoved him or that he was actually agreeing to help Harry with Occlumency. Part of him was grateful. He wanted to be able to control his vulnerability to Voldemort. His scar was a two-way mirror. Voldemort could see what he saw, and he could see what Voldemort saw. If he learned to control the mirror, then maybe he could help the Order.

"Yes sir," Harry answered. He didn't dare meet Snape's fierce eyes.

"Now, get out of my sight." Snape circled around him before heading towards his office door.

"Professor..." Harry began. He heard Snape's heavy footsteps come to a sudden halt. Harry didn't know what he wanted to say. He wanted to show his gratitude. Hell, he almost wanted to apologise for his father's actions all those years ago.

"What is it?" Snape demanded.

Without facing him, Harry mumbled, "Thank you."

He heard Snape's footsteps again, and then his office door slam shut. Harry quickly picked up his books and supplies and took off for the dormitory. He didn't want to be around when Snape came back out of his office.

Hogwarts found itself in the midst of an Indian summer. The grounds were still flourishing with summer vegetation. Harry hadn't bothered to run up to Gryffindor Tower to grab his cloak after dinner. Instead, he headed straight for Hagrid's Hut. As he approached the wooden cabin, he could hear Fang explode with greetings on the other side of the door.

"'At's enough, Fang!" Hagrid shouted as he opened the door.

But there was no stopping the bloodhound. He tackled Harry and attempted to give his face a bath. Hagrid pulled the dog off of him and sent him outside. "Sorry, e's a little excited. Hasn't seen yeh in a while an' all." Hagrid grinned.

"Hagrid, you look... interesting," Harry exclaimed. His clothes had absolutely no holes in them, and he had a very nice tweed jacket that was a little short on his arms. His hair was actually trimmed, pulled back in a ribbon. His beard was still as unruly as ever. But as Harry looked him over, he did begin to resemble more of a professor at Hogwarts than the gamekeeper.

He blushed. "Well, Maxine may 'ave had a bit to do with that. She says that any husband of er's got ter be nicely dressed 'n jackets and look presentable."

"Husband?" Harry questioned. "You mean you two..."

"Oh no, I was just tryin' it on," Hagrid replied. "It's just 'at... Well, I wouldn't mind bein' a husband someday. I've thought about proposin'..." He grinned. "And the jacket makes me feel a little better 'bout teachin'."

Harry laughed. "That's great, Hagrid."

"So are you ready for the rest o' your gift?" Hagrid asked.

Harry gulped. "Ah, Hagrid, about that..." But Hagrid didn't seem to hear him. He ushered Harry outside of his hut. Harry followed closely behind him. "Is... is it something I can keep at the castle? Near my bedroom?"

"Oh no, 'fraid not, Harry. In fact, this will have ta be our little secret until the end o' the year." He winked.

Harry gulped. This was not good.

"You can tell Hermione and Ron, o' course." He grinned. "But other than that, nobody ought ter know." He paused. "Okay, close yer eyes now, 'Arry. You're gonna love her."

Her. Harry silently prayed as he tightly closed his eyes. He could hear some commotion and the clanging of metal. He envisioned a giant wire cage containing some deadly, gruesome animal, yet "cute" by Hagrid's standards. Maybe Harry could make a run for it.

"Okay, 'Arry, open 'em."

Bracing himself for the worst, Harry opened one eye. There was no cage. There was something standing upright on the ground. He opened his other eye. An object covered with a blanket. And best of all, it didn't appear to be breathing. In fact, it wasn't moving at all.

"It's not exactly somethin' ya can wrap an' send," Hagrid explained. "Go on an' see."

Harry approached his "gift" with extreme caution. Maybe it was sleeping. No, it was definitely too oddly shaped to be an animal. His curiosity was getting the better of him. He took a deep breath, and then removed the blanket.

It was Sirius's motorcycle. It was vintage, but it's blue paintwork and chromed engine gleamed in the sunset like brand new. Hagrid had obviously put a little elbow grease into cleaning it.

"I know he'd want yeh ter have it," Hagrid announced.

'Excellent' said Harry grinning from ear to ear. 'How does it work?'

Eventually, he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. "Snap dragons," Harry muttered to the portrait of the Fat Lady

"Same to you!" the Fat Lady replied as the door swung open. He made his way inside the common room where Hermione and Ron were sitting. Harry sat on the couch next to Hermione.

"So what did he get you?" she asked.

"What?" Harry stalled. He didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione the truth. He had to think of something - anything - that would satisfy their curiosity.

"Hagrid, silly," she answered. "Was it animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"C'mon, 'Mione, we know it was an animal. Right Harry?"

"Er... Right," Harry replied. He bit his lower lip.

"Was it something big?" Ron asked. "Something ferocious?"

"No, it was, um, Sirius's motorcycle" he said quietly, so that no one else would here.

"Cool" said Ron, "I wish I had a bike instead of masses of homework"

"Ron's been complaining about all of his homework for the past hour, and it's only the second day of classes." Said Hermione

"Hey, I don't see you taking six classes," Ron grumbled.

"Life must be so hard for you," Harry commented sarcastically. "Six classes, being a Prefect, Quidditch Captain..."

"Well aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?" Ron said. But he didn't seem offended. But deep down, Harry knew the answer to that question. The motorcycle was dripping with history and emotions. The motorcycle had been Sirius's. Hagrid had used it to deliver him to the Dursleys' on that fateful night sixteen years ago. It had been on many journeys.

Harry didn't want to know where it was going to take him.

Harry and Ron were both anxious to get to Muggle Studies the next day. Ron had struggled through Charms earlier that morning. Ron had spent most of lunch whining about how hard his classes were, and he only stopped after Hermione promised to help him out when Harry had Occlumency that night. A break in Muggle Studies was exactly what they needed.

"Wonder who the speaker is?" Ron said. "I hope we don't have to take notes or anything. My hand is still cramped from when Flitwick launched into the necessary motions for that reflection spell."

"I don't think I've ever seen him write quite so fast," Harry agreed. "Hey, if you get the last of the spell regulations from Hermione, will you let me copy yours?"

"Sure." Ron nodded. and the two of them walked silently down the corridor.

Professor Avis was already at her desk. She glanced at them as they sat down just before the bell rang. Harry couldn't tell if she was angry or not. Promptly, she stood and walked to the front of the class.

Today she was wearing a denim skirt and a bright orange sweater. She would have looked positively muggle if it weren't for the leather jacket and matching feather boa she had tied around her waist. It was very hard to take a teacher seriously when she dressed like Professor Avis did.

"Good afternoon, sixth years. As you are all well aware of, today is the day we will begin our weekly discussion with our guest speaker. He will be lecturing the class for the first hour. I want you all to treat him with the same respect you would give any other teacher. He has kindly taken time out of his busy schedule with the Ministry to educate all of us on the wonders of Muggle Life. I'd like you all to welcome Mr. Arthur Weasley."

There was some applause as Mr. Weasley stepped out of Professor Avis's office. Harry heard Ron make a small squeaking noise. He sank low into his chair, trying desperately to become invisible.

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind," Mr. Weasley said. He took over Professor Avis's spot in front of the chalkboard. She took a seat at her desk and folded her hands in front of her, watching Mr. Weasley inquiringly. "Once again, good afternoon to all of you. As Professor Avis mentioned, I am Arthur Weasley. I work at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters in London. I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, where we often work with Muggles and some of their amazing devices."

Mr. Weasley scanned the class, his gaze stopped when it reached Ron and Harry. He winked. Ron sank lower into his seat. "Please don't talk about me," he whimpered. "Please don't talk to me."

Harry didn't understand why Ron was embarrassed to have his dad lecture the Muggle Studies class. If anything, Harry thought he would have been proud that his father was so involved with the class.

He cleared his throat. "Now, throughout my lectures, please don't hesitate to interrupt and ask questions. I understand that some of you know very little about Muggle life, especially those of you who come from ancient wizarding bloodlines. Some of you may also be very familiar with the ways of Muggles. Some of you may have even thought you were Muggles up until you received your letter from Hogwarts. But I digress..."

Mr. Weasley began to pace the front of the classroom. "Now, to stick to Professor Avis's plan, we'll first be discussing the daily life of a Muggle. Does anybody have any questions before we start?"

A hand shot into the air. It belonged to Ravenclaw boy. Mr. Weasley called on him, and he asked about what Mr. Weasley did at the Ministry.

"I have been involved with raids of illegally enchanted objects. I am also first on the scene during Muggle Relations incidents. For example, if a Muggle somehow ends up with a bewitched object, I go to where the accident occurred. I assess the damage and also working with the Wizarding Task Force to perform memory modifications and emergency spells, if necessary. Last week we had a problem with one of those flesh-engraving quills. A poor chap was trying to address a love letter to his mistress and wound up with her address etched on his forehead for his wife to see. Needless to say, it was a very messy cleanup, not to mention all of the morality issues we had to deal with."

A flesh-engraving quill? Harry wasn't aware there was a name for Umbridge's cruel detention tool. When Harry looked down, he could still sometimes see the scars reading, I must not tell lies on his hand.

Mr. Weasley launched into stories about some of the most complicated and funniest situations he'd ever run into at the ministry, including stories of shrinking keys. After a few tales of misfortune, Ron was no long embarrassed by his dad but seemed proud. He had even joined in on some of the stories. "Dad, tell the one about the spitting tea pot!" he cried.

The class also had the utmost respect for Mr. Weasley, listening carefully to his stories. Harry didn't need to take notes on the lecture - he was sure he would remember all of it. There wasn't a moment of boredom. The hour had passed by so quickly that everyone was sad to see Mr. Weasley leave. He assured everyone that he would be back again next week and they would stick to the topic at hand. "I'm afraid we went off on a bit of a tangent," he added.

"That's quite all right," Professor Avis said. "I hope all of you realise that these tales of Muggle misfortune may seem funny, but they are very serious."

"Indeed," Mr. Weasley agreed. His voice was grave. "It is very difficult for the Wizarding World to remain secret when there are so many wizards out there with a sick sense of humour. Muggles have also been killed in these so-called harmless practical jokes. And the Ministry is not just trying to keep our world a secret, but also protect the innocent. Teaching tolerance is the only way to prevent these incidents from happening."

Harry expected Mr. Weasley to mention something about Voldemort's return and the threat to the Muggle world, but he didn't. After saying goodbye to the class, he headed back into Professor Avis's office, where Harry assumed he had a Portkey waiting.

Professor Avis spent the rest of the class talking about the punishment for such practical jokes played on muggles. "Many cases have resulted in heavy fines, breaking wands, magic bans, or even sentences in Azkaban. This is a serious issue and has jeopardised many of our Muggle relations. Now, for next week, I'd like you all to read the first three chapters in your textbooks. And take good notes. We'll be having a discussion about it on Monday, and I'll also be passing out our Muggle fiction novel. That's all for this week."

The bell rang, signalling the end of the class. All of the students were quickly taking their books and leaving the room. Ron turned to Harry. "Bet Hermione'll be kicking herself now. Thought she wouldn't learn anything," he said. "I'm sure we'll be learning loads from my dad."

Harry didn't say anything out loud, but he doubted that Hermione would agree. At one point, she had wanted to take Muggle Studies to see how professors in the wizarding world would teach about Muggles. But now she just thought that the class was a waste of time in her case.

The two of them returned to the dormitory and dropped their books on their nightstands. "It's my afternoon off," Ron announced, plopping on his bed. What should we do?"

"Homework?" Harry suggested, grinning. "Nah."

"Want to play some Quidditch?" Ron asked. "Have to keep you in shape since you don't have to tryout on Thursday."

"That's only because I've got Occlumency," Harry muttered.

"No it's not, Harry. You know that you've got your Seeker spot back. You've got nothing to worry about. Things can just go back to normal."

Harry knew that things would never be normal now. Playing Quidditch didn't bring the relief to him that it used to now that Ron was the captain. And then he felt ashamed for his envy. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that he couldn't have everything? Was he so self-centred that he could only think of himself?

"How about helping me come up with some plays or something?" Ron questioned, disturbing his thoughts.

"I don't know." Harry stared out the window. It was a humid day and there were dark clouds in the distance. The grey smoke from Hagrid's chimney rose high into the sky and blended into them. "Might rain."

"If we're quick, we could make it," Ron said hopefully.

"Yeah, all right then".

Whenever Harry was dreading something, time moved quickly. So quickly, in fact, that when he found himself outside of Snape's office in the dungeon on Thursday evening, he wondered how he'd got there. Had it only been the day before when his heart had been light and he was happy with the world? He'd spent the entire afternoon brooding over what was to come for his Occlumency lesson. He would have much rather been at Quidditch tryouts, but under the circumstances, McGonagall insisted that Harry attend Occlumency.

Harry took a deep breath and knocked on Snape's door. The air smelled vaguely of the spiced salmon they'd eaten two days earlier for lunch. Harry wondered if the house-elves had mistaken Snape's office for a rubbish bin. It would have been understandable.

Instead of inviting Harry in, Snape met him at the door and closed it quickly behind him. He was carrying a leather-bound book in his greasy hands. "Have a seat, Potter. There are things we'll need to discuss before tonight's lesson."

Harry didn't protest, and took a seat behind one of the tables in the Potions classroom. Snape sat on the edge of his desk at the front near the blackboard and tossed the book over to Harry. "This is a dream diary," Snape spat. Harry flipped through the brown book quickly, and saw that it was filled with blank parchment. "Use it everyday. When you wake up every morning, you must record what you can remember of any dream you had the night before. If you have any sort of visions, sleeping or not, you are to record them in these pages. If you feel any pain, you are to write about it."

Harry frowned. A diary? His duty to the Order was to confide everything in a diary? Like some schoolgirl? "I don't know..." Harry began.

"You have no choice, Potter," Snape replied. The tension was growing between them. Harry wished that he hadn't thanked Snape earlier in the week. It was a moment of weakness. Why should he thank such a horrible monster of a person? "The pages are bewitched to copy to an identical journal. Whatever you write will be viewed by the Order. Do you understand?"

He nodded. The only way the Order could keep tabs on what sort of information he and Voldemort were exchanging was by monitoring his dreams and visions. Harry wondered where the other diary was, and who would be viewing it when he wrote. This would not be like keeping a dream record as he had done for Professor Trelawney. This was strictly business.

But all summer he hadn't dreamt about Voldemort at all. Of course, there had been just nightmares in general about the Dark Lord and Sirius's death, but nothing like a vision.

"Get up," Snape commanded. "It's time to see how much you've been practising."

Harry glared at Snape, then reluctantly stood up from his seat. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and then took a deep breath.

"Clear your mind, Potter," Snape said. "I'm not going to go easy on you."

He didn't expect anything less. The two of them assumed the duelling position. Harry did his best to clear his mind and have a defence of absolutely no thoughts. Of course, there were always the lingering thoughts of Ron's captain position. Harry tried to push that out of his mind.

Snape raised his wand and glared at Harry with his dark eyes. "Legilimens!"

Harry was a blank. He was a clean slate. He couldn't - wouldn't - allow Snape to access his memories. But he was weak. He had tried to practice on his own over the summer.

He'd managed to squeak out a feeble boil curse before he was taken inside his own memories to the Department of Mysteries, staring at the shelves of Prophecies. But it was no use; he fell to his knees on the dungeon floor.

"Tisk, tisk, Potter," Snape said, lowering his wand. "I thought you'd do better than that." But there was one tiny boil that had appeared on the tip of Snape's nose. He probably couldn't see it with his greasy hair in the way. Harry had at least succeeded in one thing. "Again."

Harry got up on his feet again, poised and ready for the next attack. He had to close his mind. He couldn't let Snape see inside of him. He had to be indifferent, the way he'd felt all summer. He could show no emotion. He could remember nothing.

"Legilimens!"

He gasped. His mind had been more vulnerable the second time. There were beads of sweat forming in the creases of his forehead. He must not let Snape see. He had too much to hide. He had too much pride.

Harry whispered the banishing spell at first. Then he saw a vision of Snape in Professor Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore peered down at him from the telescope on the upper level. Dumbledore was younger. His hair was still white, but his beard was not as long. "You're late, Severus. The alignment has passed."

Snape's memory snapped him back to reality and Harry found his voice. He shouted the spell at the top of his lungs. Snape was thrown back into his desk. The banishing charm was not nearly as powerful as it should have been, but it still had swept him off his feet.

Snape regained his composure. Something in his eyes changed as he watched Harry. "Good job, Potter." Had Professor Snape actually congratulated Harry? Harry thought that perhaps Snape had hit him with a delusional spell when he wasn't paying attention. However, the impressed glimmer in Snape's eyes quickly disappeared, and there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Snape enjoyed torturing him. "But let's see how much you can take." He raised his wand once again, barely giving Harry time to take a breath, and bellowed, "Legilimens!"

He was playing dirty. Snape hadn't given him the chance to recover and he was thrown off balance. Suddenly, he was in Dumbledore's office again. However, it was an older Dumbledore, the one that Harry knew, and he was sitting patiently at his desk as Harry threw his possessions around the room.

"No..." Harry brought his hands to his forehead, covering his scar. He didn't want Snape to see that. He was ashamed. That had been a time when he had lost control of his emotions.

Dumbledore was still at his desk, and Harry's heart quivered as a small tear ran down the headmaster's cheek. "NO!"

The Harry in the dungeon fell forward, painfully landing on his knees. Snape pulled his wand away. "Temper, temper, Potter," Snape said, making a clicking noise in the back of his throat.

Anger was rising inside of Harry. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds. He wanted to launch himself across the room at Snape and rip him apart with his bare hands. But this was what he needed to control. He couldn't lose his temper. He couldn't show emotion. He needed to be numb.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he watched Harry struggling to conquer his own feelings. "Maybe there's hope for you yet," Snape muttered. "Again!"

Harry stumbled back to Gryffindor Tower, his heart heavy and his scar sore and aching. The weight of the leather-bound diary felt like he was carrying a body underneath his right arm. There were still people in the common room when he returned, including Ron and Hermione, but Harry didn't even bother to stop and speak to them. He went directly up to his dormitory and plopped down on his bed.

How was he supposed to find the strength - the energy, even - to practice Occlumency twice a week? According to Snape, it was only going to get harder from here on. When was he supposed to do his homework?

He felt himself drifting off to sleep and quickly stood up from the bed. He hid the diary inside of his nightstand and managed to get undressed before falling into bed out of exhaustion. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The first few hours of sleep were dreamless. He didn't hear the other boys enter the dormitory or Neville's heavy snores from his bed. It was during the in-between time, when the moon had disappeared but the sun didn't rise yet, that he slowly slipped in and out of consciousness.

Harry found himself in a room, unfamiliar and musty, sitting in a rocking chair. He could hear the wooden rocking chair creaking against the dusty floor, squeaking with every move.

He could see in the darkness. He could see his pale, bony hands folded in his lap. His dark robes stretched down past his feet. Creak. Creak. Creak. His rhythm did not waiver as a giant snake coiled at his feet, its red eyes glowing brightly.

Harry didn't know how to explain it, but he knew the snake was warning him that someone was approaching. "It is only Wormtail," he said. There was a knock on the door. Harry stopped rocking. "Come in. What news do you have?"

A short and feeble man, who Harry recognised as Peter Pettigrew, entered cautiously. "We have bargained with one of the guards. He will let them go in return for money and safe passage out of England, Master," Wormtail replied. "But it is a lot of money. He requests one-hundred thousand Galleons."

"Give it to him," Harry replied

"Yes, Master.

A jolt of pain flared inside of Harry's head. He lifted his boney hand to his forehead, where he rubbed his scar.

Scar? He had no scar.

"He is watching!" hissed a distant voice. "He will suffer this year, my associates will see to it."

The pain in Harry's head became unbearable. He felt as though it were splitting in two. He sat up quickly in his four-poster. It took him a moment to understand where he was. He had just been someplace else. A dusty room with a snake and a rocking chair and boney hands.

The visions had returned.

He was panting heavily in the darkness of the dormitory. Thankfully, it appeared that everyone was still asleep. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do. At another time, he would have jumped out of bed and wrote a letter to Sirius. But it was no use thinking of the dead now.

He could write to Remus instead. But then there was always the chance that the letter would be intercepted. He could go to Dumbledore. But somehow, Harry couldn't bring himself to wake up Dumbledore just before dawn to confess a vision to him.

And then he knew there was only one answer: the diary. He had almost forgotten about it. Quietly, he got out of bed and dug the journal out of his nightstand. He grabbed a quill and tip-toed down to the common room.

Afraid that the vividness from his dream would disappear, Harry threw the diary down on the nearest table and hastily lit a candle. He tried to recall everything from the vision, but it was all getting blurry. He could still hear the creaking of the rocking chair, but what exactly had Wormtail said?

There was something about money. They were going to bribe someone. They were going to bribe a guard to set someone free. To set them free

He wrote down everything he could remember about the dream. If only Wormtail had mentioned some kind of timetable. When were they planning on getting rid of the guard? When would the Death Eaters be free? Would it be possible to prevent their escape?

As Harry scratched the quill against the parchment, he realised that it was no ordinary paper. Every inkblot he made would duplicate itself in a blurry puddle, and then eventually sharpen into one copy of his handwriting. He wondered, eerily, who had the other journal, and where it was being kept. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt like he was being watched.

"Can you not sleep, Harry Potter, sir?" squeaked a voice from the corner of the room.

Harry slammed the diary shut and jumped out of his chair. He reached for his wand, then realised he'd forgotten it in his robe in the boy's dormitory. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that it was Dobby, the house-elf. He was dressed in brilliant scarlet shorts - hand-knitted, of course - and a vest of gold fabric. He looked a little bit like a genie from a movie Harry saw clips of once, but at least it was better than a tea cozy.

"Dobby!" Harry cried. "You scared me."

"Sorry, sir. I is just wondering why Harry Potter is up so early, sir." He approached Harry with wide eyes. He tugged nervously on one of his big ears.

"It's all right, Dobby," Harry replied. "Early?" Harry glanced out the window. The sun was peeking over the horizon. He could almost see the outline of the grounds below. He sighed. There was no point in going back to bed now.

"Early by wizard time," Dobby replied. "I is running late with chores, sir. My apologies, Harry Potter, sir."

"No problem," Harry replied. "How was your summer, Dobby?"

Dobby squealed. His eyes tightened with wetness as he took a step closer to Harry. "Harry Potter is asking Dobby about his summer? Oh, Harry Potter is truly the most kind, most generous..."

"It was good, then?" Harry interrupted with a grin. He did not want to hear about how great he was from the house-elf for just being polite.

"Oh yes, sir. Dobby went to London for five days, sir. The most days Dobby has gone without working." He seemed to be holding back from punishing himself. "I visited with other house-elves."

"Freed house-elves?" Harry questioned.

Dobby nodded. "Oh yes, sir. In fact, there is a group of freed elves in London."

Harry turned his head sharply. "What?" The only free house-elves he'd ever heard of were Dobby and Winky, and only Dobby was actually enjoying his freedom. Was there really a clan of free house-elves somewhere?

"How's Winky?"

"Winky is getting better Harry Potter sir. She drinks only a bit"

Suddenly, Dobby slammed his head on the table Harry was working at. "Dobby is running late, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby must bet back to work!"

"But Dobby..."

"Dobby is sorry, sir. Perhaps we can chat another time. Next time Harry Potter cannot sleep, sir, he should come down to the kitchen for some tea, sir." He tugged on his ear again. "But Harry Potter should leave his Wheezy and Young Miss at home, sir."

Harry laughed. Hermione hadn't exactly made the best impression on the house-elves with her liberating ideals. With a small smile and wink, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared from the Gryffindor Common Room.

After returning the diary to his nightstand drawer, Harry plopped back down on his four-poster and tried to fall back asleep, but it was no use. As the dormitory lightened from the sunrise, his fellow Gryffindors were waking up and getting dressed, hurrying down to breakfast. Harry waited for Ron to stir and the two of them headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione was already there, reading her copy of The Daily Prophet over morning tea. She watched Harry carefully as he sat down next to her. "How was Remedial Potions?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh, wonderful," Harry replied sarcastically. He looked around the table, making sure that nobody was listening. He explained about the diary.

"I've seen one of those," Ron whispered. "Mum had one when she went to Hogwarts. It's called a Diary Duplicator. She and one of her friends would write back and forth to each other during their History of Magic class."

Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was the same diary that Mrs. Weasley had used during her school years. Perhaps she had the counterpart to the one Harry was using. He'd have to watch his language if Mrs. Weasley was the one reading what he wrote.

"Did you write anything in it yet?" Ron asked.

Harry looked down at his plate of eggs. He'd suddenly lost his appetite. "Well, yes. I did have a dream - a vision - last night." He told the two of them about how he'd been Voldemort again, and Wormtail was telling him all about the plan to break the Death Eaters out of Azkaban.

"This is serious, Harry!" Hermione interrupted. "I know you wrote it down in that diary, but you should really go and talk to Dumbledore about it."

"That's your answer to everything, Hermione!" Harry snapped. He hated running to Dumbledore for every little problem he had. "Besides, I'm sure that he already knows. Probably, the whole purpose of this diary is so that I don't have to run to his office every time I have a vision. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the Order and the Ministry already have everything under control over at Azkaban."

Hermione still looked sceptical, but she dropped the subject. Harry was grateful. He hadn't made a trip to Dumbledore's office yet this year, and he wanted to prolong his first visit for as long as possible. Whenever Harry went to his office, it was almost always bad news.

One afternoon Harry found himself trying desperately hard to stay awake during Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had spent half the night before in Snape's dungeon practising Occlumency. Snape was out for blood. And it wasn't enough torture in Occlumency - Harry had the impression that Snape enjoyed watching his misery in Potions as he fumbled for his ingredients. At this rate, he would have no chance at passing a N.E.W.T. Potions test. He could kiss being an Auror goodbye.

Professor Leurre was pacing the front of the classroom, glancing down at some notes she had written. She'd just finished discussing the basics of duelling defence when she turned to the class, her face serious. "The time has come," she said, "for me to answer some of your questions about ancient magic. I must say that you are a very observant group. Most of your essays were impressive." She glanced in the direction of several Slytherins, her eyes narrowed. Harry knew that Malfoy didn't like Professor Leurre much.

The Slytherin house had been treating Malfoy like a hero. Even though his father was in Azkaban, he declared his innocence at every opportunity to anyone who would listen. Harry knew he was only doing it to keep up appearances. He was loyal to his father like some mangy old mutt. However, Harry thought Malfoy was a coward, and if he had actually dealt with Voldemort, he would probably wet himself.

"Now, I only have time to give you a general background on the subject today," Professor Leurre said. Harry glanced at his watch. There were only a few minutes before the bell rang. "But as I said before, ancient magic is limitless. It will never go away. It is hidden in the darkest of places. No witch or wizard truly understands all of its capabilities. Not even Voldemort." Most of the students in the class still shuddered at the sound of his name. Professor Leurre ignored them. "Not even Dumbledore." She paused and leaned back against her desktop. "The only masters of ancient magic, the only ones who really understand all of its secrets, are house-elves."

At the mentioning of house-elves, Harry saw Hermione's head instantly snap to attention. There was some noise from the rest of the class as well.

Harry had never thought of it before, but now it made sense. Dobby had some kind of powerful magic that let him disapparate on Hogwarts grounds. It was hard to believe that such power was given to such a small race. And the entire purpose of a house-elf was to serve a wizard, when in fact, they could rule the world if they wanted to.

"House-elves have served wizards for centuries," Professor Leurre continued. "Their magic knows no bounds. The origin of the first house-elf is unknown, but legend has it that the first house-elf was bound to a wizard family by a curse. The first house-elf had abused its power, and each house-elf thereafter would be forced to carry out his sentence until he was given back his dignity by receiving clothes."

Malfoy glared at Harry with his beady eyes. Dobby had been the Malfoy's house-elf until Harry had sent him free during his second year. Dobby had been the one to save him from Lucius Malfoy's wrath.

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Professor Leurre called on her. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What exactly did the first house-elf do to receive this kind of punishment?"

"Excellent question," Professor Leurre said. "According to legend, the house-elf tried to become immortal by feeding off of the wizarding family. So from then on, he had to serve the family to repay them for the pain he had caused."

"And who decided this punishment?" Hermione asked. "Because it all seems rather unfair to me."

"Big surprise," Malfoy spat. "Stupid Mudblood, asking stupid questions."

"Watch your mouth, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Leurre scolded. "Ten points from Slytherin."

"Ten points well worth it," Malfoy muttered. But the professor didn't hear him. Ron, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to launch himself across the room and beat Malfoy into a pulp.

"Actually, the house-elf decided the punishment with the spell he was using. Ancient magic works in mysterious ways. I know this is all very confusing and hard for you all to understand, but there is a certain balance that magic achieves. The house-elf used the family, so in return, the family used the house-elf."

"So just because one house-elf made a mistake, the rest of the race has to suffer for eternity?" Hermione interrupted.

Harry thought Professor Leurre would be upset with Hermione, but she smiled with that same spark in her eye she'd had before. "Who said it was for an eternity?" she questioned coyly. "However, it has always been in the house-elves' nature to serve others. Now, as much as you'd like to discuss the mistreatment of house-elves, I'm not going to allow you to do it during my class time. I'm lecturing on ancient magic, not house-elf history."

But before she could continue, the bell rang signalling the end of class. She sighed. "Next time we'll be discussing a little bit about chapter seven and a lot about ancient magic. Class dismissed."

Most of the class jumped out of their seats and headed towards the doorway, but Hermione had stayed behind. She looked as though she were going to ask some more questions about house-elves.

Harry wondered if Hermione knew of this clan of free house-elves in London. Professor Leurre seemed to be rather knowledgeable about the subject; perhaps she had heard of them too. He considered staying behind and asking, but he could tell that Hermione's mind was on the S.P.E.W., and he wanted to steer clear of that conversation if at all possible.

Professor Leurre was fussing with a jar of toads she'd used for a demonstration. As Harry and Ron walked by her desk, one of them jumped from its open jar and hopped along the floor. Professor Leurre tried to pick it up, but she nearly dropped the jars she was holding. Harry quickly bent over and tried to catch the frog. He got it by the hind legs but it hopped away. He took another step forward and caught it with both hands.
"I've got it," Harry said. He gave it back to Professor Leurre, who put it in a jar with a secured lid and added it to the other frogs on her desk.

"Thanks, Harry," she said brightly. Harry saw that maybe she didn't look so much like McGonagall now that he was closer to her. Her expression was almost child-like. She had a twinkle in her eye that McGonagall only had when she spoke of Quidditch. "Oh, I think you dropped something," she said. She walked over to where Harry had caught the frog and picked up a small, grey orb.

Harry gasped. It was Remus's Moon Guide.

"Don't want to lose that, Potter," she said. "Keep it safe. Oh, the headmaster wants to see you in his office."

What had happened? Why would Dumbledore want to see him? "I... okay..."

Professor Leurre took a step closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "The password is Ton-Tongue Toffee."

He didn't know if he was more shocked because he'd actually been called to Dumbledore's office, or because the headmaster was a fan of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Harry nodded and glanced wearily at Hermione and Ron. As they walked by Hermione, Ron grabbed her by the sleeve and hauled her outside into the corridor, which was now teeming with students. She looked like she would have rather bombarded Professor Leurre with questions about house-elves.

"What was that all about?" Ron questioned.

"That was really odd, Harry," Hermione agreed. "D'you think she really knew what it was?"

Harry shrugged. They didn't know the whole story. "There's something I didn't tell you two. Not only does this show me the phases of the moon," he said quietly, "when I look into it, I can see where Remus is. I can see what he's doing."

"So it's like a surveillance item?" Hermione questioned. "Incredible! It even works on Hogwarts grounds? It must be more than an enchanted object."

"Wait, so you can spy on Lupin?" Ron asked.

"As long as he's wearing this special chain around his neck," Harry replied. "He said that it was another gift from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. I think it's a one-of-a-kind magical item."

"Do you think she knew what it really was?" Hermione questioned.

"Don't know. I've got to go," Harry said. "Professor Leurre said that Dumbledore wants to see me in his office straight away."

"What for?"

Harry shrugged. "I've no clue. I hope it's not something serious."

"Pacificous Totalus"

Ron suddenly became rigid, then keeled over gracelessly and landed face-first on the floor. In a flash Harry drew his wand and span round to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle holding onto the wall and howling with laughter.

He raised his wand and prepared to cast his jinx at Malfoy

"POTTER!"

Harry stopped mid-curse. It was Filch, accompanied by his detestable cat, Mrs Norris. Almost at once a crowd began to gather around the scene, attracted by his shout. He wheezed his way along the bustling corridor. Apart from Snape, Filch was the one thing Harry had not missed during the school break. He hated everything about him, from his greasy shoulder length hair, his bulging eyes, quivering jowls, to his kwik spell magic course in his office. Filch hated Harry back, just as much.

"Oh yerse, caught you red-handed, haven't we" he announced triumphantly. "Practising magic in the corridors with your disgusting little friends"

"But" began Harry, but Filch carried on, overcome with his apparent good fortune

"You boys, you saw him do it, didn't you?" he asked, looking at Malfoy, who had managed to stop laughing.

"Yes Mr Filch" drawled Malfoy "we saw him, didn't we". Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

"Pity Madam Umbridge isn't here, yerse pity," said Filch glumly. "Still, Dumbledore will have to do. Follow me"

"But it wasn't him" said Hermione.

"I've got witness young lady" replied Filch, who clearly wasn't interested in anyone else's version of events. "Now move along, all of you"

"You" he snapped, looking at Hermione. "You'd better get him off to the hospital wing"

Malfoy and his cronies quickly slunk out of sight and the crowd began to disperse. Filch grabbed Harry by the arm and led him through the castle to the statue of a stone gargoyle, planted at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He walked up to the wall and said, "Ton-tongue toffee." The statue rolled away and revealed a spiral staircase which Harry and Filch ascended to Dumbledore's office.

When they reached the doorway, Filch knocked forcefully on the oak door. "Come in," Dumbledore called.

Harry opened the door and they stepped inside the circular office. Behind Dumbledore's desk was the ancient sorting hat, and next to it, glinting in the autumn sunlight hung Godric Gryffindor's silver sword, with it's ruby encrusted hilt; the same sword that Harry had used in his second year to defeat the Basilisk.

"Professor Dumbledore" pronounced Filch "I've caught Potter using magic in the corridors"

"I see" said Dumbledore gravely. "Thank you Mr Filch. I shall deal with this matter myself. You may return to your duties."

Filch walked backwards towards the door and bowed himself out, shooting a malicous look at Harry as he did.

"It was Malfoy. He used the body bind curse on Ron. I didn't get a chance to curse him before Filch turned up". Harry explained in a rush.

He glanced around at the portraits of previous headmasters hung on the walls. Some were sleeping, but oddly enough, Harry noticed that most of them were quietly watching him

"Don't mind them," Dumbledore announced. He gestured to the chair in front of his office. "Have a seat, Harry "

Harry was a little apprehensive as he sat down. He was afraid to meet Dumbledore's eyes, but when he finally did look the old man in the face, he was relieved to see a smile.

"I am not interested in spending time pondering Mr Filch's accusations" Dumbledore said in a wheezy voice. "If I did, I would do very little else. No doubt Miss Granger knows the counter curse to free Mr Wealsey"

"Professor Leurre said you wanted to see me, sir" said Harry, feeling a little less nervous now,

"Yes, Harry. Don't be alarmed. I just thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to have a little chat." He folded his hands together on the desktop. "I understand that you've been busy with Occlumency lately."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I realise that you and Professor Snape have had your share of differences, and I truly appreciate your patience. However, I must stress the importance of you recording all of your dreams down in the diary."

Harry was concentrating on the grain of Dumbledore's desk. "Yes, sir."

"The Order has decided that you play an indispensable role in our defence."

Indispensable? Harry was confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Once you learn to control these... visions, as you call them, you will prove to be invaluable. You are our weapon, Harry." When Harry still looked puzzled, he continued. "Not only are you the key to Voldemort's demise, but you share the same sight. Though this sight is a burden, it gives an advantage to our side. That is why we are having you record your dreams, and also why we want to set up a few meetings for you with the Order."

"Meetings?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "The first one will be to discuss the vision involving the Death Eaters escape." Harry's heart blazed inside. "The Order will choose a time and place for this meeting, and we will set up some transportation for you to meet with them."

"You mean I'm going to leave Hogwarts?"

"Only at night, I assure you," Dumbledore replied. "I wish that these meetings could take place on the grounds, but the fact remains that it would be entirely suspicious to watching eyes if all of the members suddenly showed up in my office. It would not be safe. Which brings up something else I should share with you."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. He gulped.

"Owls are not safe. The Order had a message intercepted only last week and we believe that Voldemort has been tracking us somehow. Please, do not give away vital information in your letters. Use code if at all possible. And finally, there is one last thing I wish to discuss with you. Just between the two of us."

Harry winced. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with using a Fever Fudge Snackbox to get out of Charms a few days before. But when he looked up at Dumbledore, he was smiling.

"I wonder, Harry, when you are planning to resurrect my army?"

Harry's jaw dropped. He didn't know what to say.

"Everyone in the Order was very impressed with D.A. last year. We agreed that you need to put all of your emotions - all of your anger - into something productive. Continuing to teach Defence of the Dark Arts to your peers would be a very healthy outlet."

"I... sir... but you see..." Harry stuttered. How could explain to Dumbledore that he didn't want the responsibility of endangering the lives of his friends?

However, the headmaster seemed to understand his thinking. "Harry, you are not putting them into mortal peril. You are preparing them for the final battle. This nonsense about responsibility just will not do. You must continue with the meetings."

Harry was still in shock, but part of him was wondering where he'd find the time for D.A. Between Occlumency and Quidditch starting and his own studies, he barely had time to breathe. "But Professor..."

"Harry, you are a minor, and as a minor you are too young to join the Order of the Phoenix. However, that doesn't mean you can't make a difference."

Dumbledore was right. Harry was being too cautious. He was behaving like a coward about D.A. He was in Gryffindor wasn't he? He would just have to be brave and take the plunge again. They needed to learn. They needed to know how to protect themselves.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "I'll spread the word."

"Good." Dumbledore's blue eyes were twinkling as he stroked his long white beard. "There are a lot of people who care about you, Harry. Myself included. Please, don't hesitate to stop by if anything is on your mind."

"I won't sir," Harry said. "Thanks." He stood up from his seat and headed towards the exit.

"Oh, and Harry," Dumbledore said, "I'm sorry about Quidditch Captain, but I'm afraid there was no way around it. Professor Snape was a stickler for the rulebook. But there's always next year," he added hopefully.

Snape. Harry's hands coiled into fists at his side. So he was behind it all.

Ron was livid at Malfoy's ambush and swore revenge at the earliest opportunity. This irritated Hermione who kept nagging at him not to do anything that he'd regret later. Ron's reply was that he'd never regret doing anything nasty to Malfoy, and this annoyed her even more.

The next weekend couldn't arrive soon enough for Harry. Not only was it a break from his classes, but it also meant the beginning of Quidditch. Harry was actually anxious for their first practice as a new team when he woke up on Saturday morning. Ron had finally calmed down and booked the Pitch for a few hours after dinner that night so that they could warm up. The two of them had spent most of the day going through Oliver Wood's old playbook, which had been passed down from Angelina.

Even though Harry wasn't the captain, he couldn't help but feel a certain right of passage as he and Ron stepped into the locker room, armed with their brooms and ideas for gruelling practices. They were the oldest players on the team, and Harry was the most experienced.

Ginny had made her Chaser position, along with a girl in third year, Natalie MacDonald. The third chaser was Vicki Frobisher, who had tried out for the team the year before, but had said that Charms Club would have taken priority over Quidditch. She was still a pretty good flier, and she had since rearranged her priorities. The two beaters who had taken Fred and George's place last year, Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, had also proved to be the best beaters at the tryouts.

Ron stood at the chalkboard where there was a drawn outline of the Quidditch field. He cleared his throat. "All right everybody," he began, "I know that we're a young team this year, but that didn't stop us from winning the Cup last year, and I have no doubt that if we work hard, we'll be taking it again this year.

"Our biggest opposition will not be Slytherin," he declared. "I believe that Ravenclaw will prove to be the team to beat. It's Chang's last year, and as captain and seeker..."
And my ex-girlfriend, Harry thought.

"She will be out for blood. I had to fight her to book the field for tonight," he added. "We've only got a few hours, so I think it would be best if we run a few drills and get reacquainted with our brooms from the off-season."

After a few more encouraging words form Ron, the Gryffindor house team stepped out onto the Quidditch Pitch. The sun was setting in the west, casting long, hoop-shaped shadows onto the grassy field. It felt good to be back in the air. Harry could almost picture the Pitch full of spectators and hear Lee Jordan commentating. He wondered who would be commenting during the games now.

Ron gave them a gruelling warm-up. Harry was almost dizzy from the diving and twirling. Afterwards, the balls were released. The Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch soared into the air. Harry brought his hand to his sweaty forehead to shade his green eyes from the sun as the golden Snitch disappeared from his sight.

He took the opportunity to look down on his fellow team-mates. Ron appeared to have the confidence of a veteran player as he guarded the hoops from Ginny's advances. However, a few of her hits managed to get through. Natalie and Vicki were not as successful, though. Andrew and Jack were having some problems with the Bludgers, but by the end of practice, they seemed to have their game more under control.

By the time they hit the showers, Harry was exhausted. He stumbled back to Gryffindor Tower, wishing he could just fly up to his dormitory on his broom.

He noticed that the moon was full. His Moon Guide had been growing darker and darker ever since Professor Leurre had asked him about it. Harry felt a desire to look into the small orb, to make sure that Remus was okay, but he was also afraid of what kind of horror he might see.

After some mindless chatter with Hermione and Ginny, Harry and Ron both turned in at the same time. Harry's muscles were heavily fatigued and he had to walk off a leg cramp before he finally fell into bed and slept.

But he found no relief in his sleep. Suddenly, he was Inside the Department of Mysteries again, as he had been in the dreams that haunted him over the summers. However, this dream was different. He was on stage in the amphitheatre, where the curtains were drawn back. He could hear whispering coming from the veil.

Subconsciously, he knew he was only dreaming. He could see himself as though he was outside of the dream, looking down on the boy - no, the young man - on centre stage. The young man with wild dark hair that stood up in the back. The young man with deep green eyes, sparkling behind an old pair of glasses. The young man with the lightening bolt scar on his forehead.

"Dance," commanded a voice. It boomed throughout the theatre, reverberating off the walls.

Dance? Harry thought. There was no music.

Clear as day, a violin and cello began a distant duet, sweet music filling the theatre. It was a song Harry had heard before. It had an eerie melody. The violin was playing low, throaty notes, and the cello was high, past its normal range. They had switched roles.

"Dance."

Dance? Harry questioned again. But he had no partner.

A phantom shadow of a woman appeared. He could see through the smoky figure. He couldn't make out any distinguishable features, but he could feel someone feminine beside him. He could smell her scent, gentle, yet fierce in its presence. It was a contradiction in one unmistakable scent that penetrated his nostrils.

"Dance!" The voice was more desperate than commanding.

Dance? Harry asked. But he didn't know how.

Suddenly, her scent was all over him. He felt her small body against his, her arms around him. His feet began moving to the slow ballad of the violin and cello. He could feel the music permeate through his feet, as though he was above a noisy party and sharing a dance with a beautiful woman.

And the Harry that was removed watched as he danced with this phantom girl. They were graceful together, never missing a step. It had not been like this at the Yule Ball where he was awkward and unpleasant. There was no leader or follower. It was like dancing with a reflection. Every way was the right direction.

But it was troubling. The music was harder to hear. The voices beyond the veil were getting louder and louder. Harry had a hard time distinguishing the eerie melody from the ghostly mumbling.

The shadow of the woman was slipping away. Her taste was gone, her scent fading. Harry's leg began to hurt from the dancing.

"DANCE!" the voice cried. It sounded as though it had come from the veil. As though someone was weeping. And then Harry recognised the voice - how could he have missed it before? It was Sirius. Sirius had been shouting at him from beyond the veil, from inside the theatre. Sirius was weeping.

Harry let go of the figure of the woman. The pain in his leg was growing. "Sirius!" he cried. But he couldn't hear his voice over the shouts of the other people behind the veil. "Sirius!"

"Dance," Sirius whispered. The others' voices suddenly died out into the silence. "Dance, Harry, before you forget how."

And the Harry who had watched all of the events unfold, like an omniscient narrator, watched himself collapse on the stage, his body slamming against the hardwood floor. His legs had given out, and the last thing he saw was the dark ceiling of the theatre, an entire galaxy of stars sparkling down on him, the a full moon glowing in the darkness.

Suddenly, Harry was on his bed, clutching his calf. He gasped in pain, then quickly stood up. He groaned as he paced back and forth along the dormitory floor.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked sleepily, rolling over in his four-poster.

"Yeah, leg cramp," he replied. But Ron had already fallen back to sleep.

The sharp pain eventually went away, but Harry's leg was still tender every time he flexed it. He sat down on the edge of his bed, wide awake, and not entirely sure what to do.

It had been a dream, but it was not a vision of the present. Voldemort hadn't been there. It was just another dream about Sirius. Surely, he wouldn't need to write about it in the diary. The thought of Mrs. Weasley reading about the amphitheatre and the dance was enough to make his insides churn. She would only feel sorry for him. Or worse, what if Snape had the other copy of the diary? Harry shuddered to think what Snape would do if he knew about the dreams Harry had been having about Sirius. No, it would be best for Harry just to keep this to himself.

He lay back down on his bed, wondering if he should conjure up some sort of comforting spell for his calf, and trying his best to ignore the tingling of his scar.

It was the first Quidditch match of the season and it looked as though it would be a perfect day. Harry knew it the moment he opened the curtains around his bed and stared out at the blue, cloudless sky through the window. The queasy feeling in his stomach was back again. It always returned every year, just before the opening match. Resolution gripped him as he began to dress for breakfast. His dorm mates were restlessly stirring, but none of them were awake yet. Harry glanced around at the familiar surroundings. Scarlet and gold on his robes, on his badge. Quidditch players zooming over the posters on their walls, disrupted only by Dean's picture of the West Ham football team. Harry decided not to wake Ron before slipping down the steps to the common room. He could never have explained this inner sense of conviction even to his best friend. There was no logical reason for it, but he had never been, strictly speaking, logical. And that morning, he knew what he had to accomplish.
"Harry?"
Harry jumped. It was a sign of how distracted he was that he hadn't noticed her sitting there until she spoke to him. Usually, he could pick out Hermione the moment he entered any room in which she happened to be, but he was almost to the portrait of the Fat Lady before her voice stopped him. He turned around, struggling to hide this sense of purpose from her, as he indifferently replied, "Yeah?"
Hermione stood from her chair by the fire. She was already decked out in full Gryffindor regalia. In some ways seeing her like that added to the stress of the game; if they lost, the team wouldn't be the only ones disappointed "Er...would you like some company?" she asked. He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
Harry held the portrait open for Hermione to pass through first. He saw her shoot him an anxious little look as she passed him, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. It must have worked, because she smiled shyly back at him.
As they descended the multiple flights of stairs that would lead them to the Great Hall Harry nerves began to ebb away. He found he could even eat when they got to the Great Hall. Perhaps his normal appetite wasn't back in full force, but he didn't choke on every bite. Ron joined them a few minutes later, joking about his ability.
One by one, the team filed in. Ginny stared anxiously at him from all the way across the table. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper shuffled into the noisy, boisterous room looking like they wanted to disappear into the floor. They didn't speak a word to anyone, not even each other. Harry understood how they felt, but, he didn't share their bleak outlook. They were going to win.
Ron looked across the room to the Ravenclaw table. He saw Cho Chang, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, and his resolve weakened a bit. Cho was in her seventh and final year, an excellent Quidditch player, one of the most popular girls in school.
Ron returned his attention to his own table and the girl sitting next to him. Hermione flushed under his scrutiny, stopping with her spoon halfway to her mouth to look at him. "What?" she asked, discomfited.
Ron searched his mind for a plausible answer. Harry looked up from his own breakfast to stare at them, and Ron felt his ears start to burn. "Nothing," he mumbled, turning away.
"I know what it is, Hermione!" Seamus Finnigan snickered from a few seats away. "Ron wants a kiss for luck."
Ron's whole face turned scarlet as all those near enough to hear started chuckling at Seamus' joke. Ron noticed even his own little sister joined in. So much for Weasley solidarity. He couldn't look at Hermione. He wanted to kill Seamus. "Sod off," he gritted out to his former friend.
"Leave him alone, Seamus."
Harry's voice made all the laughter stop. Seamus instantly turned back to his conversation with Dean. Ron had never been so glad to have Harry as his best mate.
Deciding breakfast was going to undermine all the confidence with which he had awakened if it continued any longer, Ron pushed his plate aside and rose. He glanced across the table at Harry, still carefully avoiding Hermione's eyes. "Ready?"
Harry met his stare grimly. "Yeah, let's go."
They marched out of the Great Hall, steadfastly ignoring the Slytherin table as they passed. Harry had barely turned the corner when he heard footsteps careening after him. He turned around, expecting Hermione to have followed them.
"Luna!" He barely withheld his laughter at the sight of the small, strange, blonde girl nearly lost under the giant eagle hat. There was also a very small part of him that was sorry she wasn't wearing the lion. "How are you?"
Luna stared up at him with her dreamy, distant eyes, and he wondered if she had followed him without knowing it. It wasn't out of the question with Loony Lovegood. "Oh, good luck, Harry," she said eventually, in that vague way of hers.
"Er...thanks," he replied, eager to get away from her. He needed to get down to the pitch. "Anyway, I..." He gestured behind him to indicate his need to leave, but if Luna noticed, she didn't seem to care.
"I'm supporting Ravenclaw, you know," she went on. "I'm a Ravenclaw, so I really believe I should." Luna paused suddenly, looking up at him with those bulging, bright eyes, as if she expected him to confirm she was doing the right thing.
Harry looked both ways for an escape. "Er, well, right. Of course you would support your own house."
Luna smiled and nodded vigorously. "That's what I thought. So I'm cheering for Ravenclaw."
"Do you still support Chudley Cannons Harry?" asked Luna Harry nodded.
"I heard from Daddy why the Chudley Cannons haven't won a championship in ages,' Luna went on. 'Of course, they wouldn't have. They were under an Imperius Curse by Cornelius Fudge. He got tired of assassinating goblins and decided to rig Quidditch matches.'

Merlin H Pendragon, she is completely barking mad, Ron thought.

Harry nodded and smiled fearfully. 'Right,' he said."It's really incredible,' said Luna breezily. 'Fudge had a whole underground Quidditch gambling ring. Very sinister, and totally illegal."
"Yeah. That makes sense" Ron released an exasperated sigh. The longest most pointless conversations of their lives was going to be spent with this girl, it seemed. "Look, Luna, we really need to go."
Her eyes widened - something Harry wasn't sure was even possible until then. "Don't you think you should have thought of that before you left your dormitory? You know, there are some charms you can do that free you from having to"
"Hey, Luna, mind if I talk to the boys for a moment?" With no further introduction than that, Hermione Granger swooped upon them and dragged the pair out through the front doors of Hogwarts.
Harry barely had time to decipher Luna's cloudy meaning and register Hermione's rather irritated state before he was outside under those promising blue skies. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, before Hermione had a chance to say a single word.
"I thought we'd never get away from her." Added Ron Hermione looked slightly mollified at Ron's reaction. She gave him a searching look, but what she was looking for, Harry had no idea. "Luna just doesn't understand the way certain things are," she replied cryptically.
"Huh?" Ron still felt about three steps behind the conversation.
"Never mind." Hermione waved the subject away. "You have more important things to worry about...not that you need to worry, of course," she rambled on, flushing. "I just meant...well, you know what I meant. I...good luck."
"Thanks, Hermione," he managed, though his voice was starting to squeak Hermione nodded her head and was turning to the doors when Ron reached out and grabbed her arm. "Hermione, I just want you to know...I'm going to win this game."
She stared up at him for a long time, her brown eyes searching deeply into his expression. Ron found himself straightening to his full height, and the kind of cold focus that came upon him every time he played chess was upon him now. Hermione must have seen it too, because she nodded. "Okay then."
And that was all there was. Hermione went back to the Great Hall to wait for the game to start, and Harry & Ron walked the rest of the way to the pitch by themselves.
Ron's pre-game pep talk had been a blur to Harry. He had barely listened as Colin Creavy introduced the teams. The whole Gryffindor crowd, however, seemed more excited than usual before a Quidditch match; they were expecting Ravenclaw to be crushed. Ron & Cho shook hands, as Gryffindors and Ravenclaws lined up across from each other. Ron zoomed to his goals as fast as he could, a look of keen purpose on his face. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and the game began.
Ron never let his eye move from the Quaffle. He imagined it was Malfoy's head; he was going to clobber it.
Ravenclaw had won the first race for it, due to the chasers longer arms. He swerved away from Ginny's outstretched hands. He dodged past Katie and Alicia. And then, he was coming to the goalposts. Harry saw Ron panic. He saw the look of confidence on Anthony's face, not a doubt of his ability to get the Quaffle through the hoop. Before Goldstien had even thrown, Ron had psyched himself out of the grab for it. His self-assurance, that morning so unstoppable, crumbled in an instant. The Quaffle went soaring through the left most hoop.
Ravenclaw scored.
Gryffindor had possession. Harry watched Ginny head straight for the Ravenclaw goal, Quaffle firmly in place. A Bludger went roaring at her, misdirected by Sloper, and caused her to lose control. Harry cursed at the Beater's ineptitude. If only Fred and George were there.
And in that instant a thought hit Harry out of the blue: Sirius. He watched the game with only half his attention, as the Chasers and Beaters flew back and forth across the field, no one staying in possession for long. The rest of his mind was running over the past. The time Sirius had watched him, transformed into that big, black dog.
Sure, maybe in the grand scheme of things, a Quidditch match wasn't as important as the fight against evil. But if Harry was ever going to amount to anything, he needed to get control of himself. He couldn't spend his life sitting around being miserable while the world went on around him.
Bradley had made a breakaway with the Quaffle. No Beaters, Chasers, or Bludgers stood between him and the goal posts. Nothing was blocking him, except for Ron.
You can do it Ron! He thought to himself silently.
Bradley started to veer to Ron's right, but Ron didn't follow. He went left, just as Bradley released the Quaffle in what was supposed to be a surprise attack. Ron made an amazing save. An enormous roar rose up from the Gryffindor side. The Slytherins were suddenly tensely silent.
Ron flung the ball as far as he could, directly into Ginny's waiting arms. The moment she had the Quaffle in her hands, she sprung into action, racing down the pitch. Before the Ravenclaws had recovered, she had reached their goalposts and tossed the Quaffle through.
"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!!!!" Colin Creavy's amplified voice rose above the crowd.
Harry felt his heart thumping wildly in his chest. The game was on. He looked up to Cho Chang circling the pitch, eyes roving for the Golden Snitch.
Time for some fun thought Harry to himself. He'd been dying to try the Wronski Feint, remembering how Victor Krum did it at the World Cup.
He shot past Cho, circled her, as if chasing the snitch, then headed straight for the ground. Cho followed, flat out on her broom.
"HARRY POTTER HAS SEEN THE SNITCH" The crowd's attention turned to watch Harry pull sharply out of the dive, and Cho plummet straight into the mud.
Cheers from the Gryffindor end were met with boos from the Ravenclaw's. A brief time out was called so that Cho could regain her composure and continue. Like Krum had done, Harry used the time to search for the snitch.
Madam Hooch's whistle brought his attention back; the game was back on. Ravenclaw had possession The whistle blew again. A penalty for Ravenclaw this time Harry muttered under his breath again at the inept beaters. Andrew probably hadn't even meant to lock brooms with Goldstien. He was simply unfit to be on a broomstick in the first place. The Ravenclaw chaser was lining up for a penalty, and once again, it was all on Ron to stop him. The entire stadium seemed to stop breathing. Dead silence reigned as he charged, zigzagging towards the Gryffindor scoring area. Ron went into a double eight loop around the hoops, the wind rushing past him as he forced his Cleansweep to its highest speed. Ron barrelled to the centre post and caught the Quaffle a foot from the goal. The scarlet and gold section of the crowd went wild, and the game went on.
After this attempt, Ravenclaw seemed to realise they were going to have to play serious Quidditch after all. The Gryffindor team was at strength, even without their former star players. They recovered their familiar synchronicity. Harry was a distant blur as he scoured the field for the elusive Snitch.
But the team still had a weak link. Two of them, in fact. Not all the enthusiasm in the world could hide the fact that Kirke and Sloper were horrible Beaters. Half of Gryffindors scoring opportunities were lost due to their mistakes. Ravenclaw was awarded penalty after penalty, thanks to them.
Yet somehow, Ron only seemed to grow more impenetrable with each attempt at his goals. For they were his now, and no one would have access to them without his say so. He would guard them as though Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were lined up behind him with a dozen Death Eaters approaching. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Colin screamed, all his boundless energy back in full force, as Ron blocked the seventh penalty shot. "WEASLEY EXECUTES A PERFECT STARFISH AND STICK. NO GOAL! YOU'RE MAKING YOUR BROTHERS PROUD, RON!"
Ron beamed, hearing the compliment from the sky. He watched as Andrew tried to hit a Bludger at the Ravenclaw chaser; It missed by at least ten yards. Sudden inspiration struck Ron, and he called a time-out.
The team gathered around the Gryffindor goalposts. "What's up, Ron?"
"I had a thought. No offence, guys," nodding at Jack and Andrew, "but you're having a bit of trouble with your accuracy. What if, instead of trying to follow the Bludgers, you follow the Chasers instead?"
Ginny frowned in annoyance. Harry could see what she was thinking. The last thing she wanted was the two clumsy beaters in her way. "I don't see how that's a solution, Ron."
"But it is," he continued, his gift for strategy becoming more apparent. "They need to stay with you when you have the Quaffle, so that the Bludgers don't have access to you. The Ravenclaw Beaters are killing us. We've only scored twice, but we would be fifty points up if it weren't for their attacks. You guys are getting slaughtered." He gestured to Katie's bloody lip and splintered nose. "So if Andrew and Jack flew closer to you--not close enough for their bats to come in contact with you..." He glowered at the other two men on the team. "But close enough to guard you--they could at least take some of the impact away from the Chasers."
"It's a good plan," Harry spoke up. While Ginny and the other Chasers were deliberating, a noise began to rise from the crowd. Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He never lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
Colour rose in Ron's face again. He looked down at the Gryffindor stands, where Parvati Patil was leading the rendition "Don't let it your head too much, or you'll never get off the ground" Ginny growled, as she turned away from Katie and Alicia to face the rest of the team again. "If this plan of yours fails, I'll personally take Jack's bat to your head."
Ron wasn't all that sure she was joking.
Ron once again signalled Madam Hooch, and the game continued, with Andrew and Jack keeping a close eye on all the Gryffindor Chasers. The effects of this were seen almost immediately in the absence of further Gryffindor fouls. Ron found the pressure was actually off him a bit, as Ginny, Bell, and Frobisher did the kind of Chasing that had made them the best team Hogwarts had seen in many years. The scoreboard never stopped ringing.
"FROBISHERS'S GOT THE QUAFFLE! SHE'S SOARING. OOH, BLUDGER COMING AT HER," Colin yelled, as if everyone in the crowd didn't have eyes to see it anyway. "YES!!!! SLOPER THROWS HIMSELF IN FRONT OF HER. GONNA LEAVE A NASTY BRUISE, BUT DAMN, IT'S GREAT TO SEE HE'S GOOD FOR SOMETHING."
"FROBISHER'S RAISING HER ARM TO THROW...NO! SHE'S DROPPED THE QUAFFLE DOWN TO WEASLEY! SHE SHOOTS AND SCORES!!!!"
Harry cheered with the rest of his House as the Chasers completed a successful Porskoff Ploy. He hazarded a glance at the scoreboard. Ninety to ten, Gryffindor in the lead. Amazing, but it didn't solve everything. If he didn't catch the Snitch, Ravenclaw could still win.
Bradley had grabbed the Quaffle. Andrew and Jack weren't even bothering to follow him. They seemed to realise they would accomplish nothing. Ginny sailed up beside him, trying to knock the ball away, but he merely urged himself forward towards the Gryffindor goals.
Ron tensed, ready to spring into action. Bradley soared high then dived suddenly, plunging far below the hoops, and tossing the Quaffle across as he passed, tilting it to the right. Ron lunged, removing both hands from his broom and jumping so far, he was almost convinced he was going to plummet off the Cleansweep, but the ball was secure. The Gryffindors went wild.
Harry was watching Ron, when a sudden flash of gold caught his eye. He flew straight towards the Ravenclaw end, urging the firebolt on. His arm stretched out and wrapped around something small and bright and golden...and fluttering not five feet from Cho.
"HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!!!!!"
For a moment Harry hung in mid air. Then, as he saw the rest of the team heading towards him. They toppled to the earth in the midst of their team-mates.
"We did it" Ron was yelling, patting Harry on the back.
Then he turned his attention to his sister "Great shooting Ginny" he said, picking her up.
"Ron, put me down!" Ginny giggled. Then, more seriously, "Ron, if you don't put me down this instant, I will hex you."
Her request was obeyed immediately. He had been on the wrong side of her Bat-Bogey Hex one time too often. But it didn't matter. She was still grinning up at him, and the team was surrounding them, screaming and shouting.

As the crowds slowly wound out of the stadium and Madame Hooch replaced the Quidditch balls in their box, the Gryffindor team members congratulated one another on their first victory this year. Harry, Ron and Ginny were jubilantly praising one another when a voice called out across the stadium.
"Harry!" Luna Lovegood was hurrying across the Quidditch pitch toward them.
"Well, see you later Harry," Ron said animatedly. He and Ginny hastened after the rest of the Gryffindor team, heading back to the common room to celebrate.
"Harry, you played really well" she said happily as they walked toward a secluded part of the stands.
"It was a good game," said Harry. "By the way, I love the hat."
Luna looked particularly pleased by Harry's compliment.
Madame Hooch had now left the pitch and the last of the spectators had now filed out of the stadium, leaving the two of them alone.
"Er, so..." Harry began unsteadily.
"Oh, for goodness sake," said Luna, "you boys don't know the first thing about attraction, do you?"
"Er..."
Luna laughed lightly and, Harry thought, a bit mockingly. He smiled at her.
"Come on," said Luna.
She led him out of the stadium, chatting animatedly about the highlights of the game, especially Harry's tricking of Cho into diving headfirst into the ground, thinking Harry had seen the Snitch.
"Why are you pleased? She's in your house." asked Harry, bewildered, but not surprised. He was talking to Luna after all "Oh, no reason" Luna explained in her usual dreamy They settled under an oak tree, enjoying one of the last warm days of the year, chatting quietly as the sun went down. Luna was as odd as ever, but, Harry thought with a grin that he didn't mind her that way; she made him feel more comfortable to be himself.
As the sun set and the night began to get cold, Harry and Luna got up and wandered slowly back toward the castle.

The next morning at breakfast, Hedwig arrived with a letter for Harry, and a copy of The Daily Prohpet for Hermione.

"About time too" she exclaimed reading the headlines, and then showing them to Harry. For once, The Daily Prophet reported some good news; aurors had captured half a dozen Death Eaters that had been planning to kidnap members of the Ministry of Magic special magical task force.

Harry turned to his letter. He recognised the handwriting. It was from Remus. He waited until he was back in the common room before tearing it open and reading it.

Dear Harry,
How are you? I hope this letter finds you well. Tonight is the full moon, and I must say that I am anxious for it to pass.
I had a great time at your birthday party. I hope that you have found my gift helpful in the loneliest of times. I know that I cannot physically be there for you, but I am always only a glimpse away. I hope you like the bike.
I hope everything is fine at Hogwarts. Have you started Quidditch yet? You must be anxious to play after a year off. I also heard that you've started Remedial Potions again. I know it's difficult, but keep studying Harry. It will prove to be very helpful in the end.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Remus

After Harry finished reading the letter, he resisted the urge to crumple it into a ball and throw it into the fireplace. Did Remus really think it would be that easy just to fill the void that Sirius had left? And now that Sirius's voice was so fresh in his memory from his dream the night before, he couldn't imagine running up to Gryffindor Tower every time something exciting happened to write a letter to Remus.

There was no harm in writing a short letter so that Remus would have something to read after the full moon. Perhaps it would cheer him up a bit after his transformation. He found some spare parchment and a quill and quickly scratched out a letter. Harry said that he was fine, and that his first Remedial Potions lesson had gone very well. He ended by writing that they'd had their first Quidditch match the day before and that Ron, as captain, thought that they had a good chance at winning the Quidditch Cup.

He glanced over at Ron, who looked half-asleep over his Herbology book. He was sharing a table with Neville and Ginny. Neville seemed to be beaming with the attention he was getting. Ginny had been having problems with her Herbology homework, and Ron and Neville were working on a project together. Harry wasn't sure if Ron could really make it through this year. It was going to be hard. Between Quidditch captain, Prefect, and six N.E.W.T. classes, he was going to have his work cut out for him.

However, it was great to see Neville so happy. He seemed to have matured more over the summer. He was less clumsy, and he'd even managed to remember the Fat Lady's password, which he usually always forgot during the first few weeks. He had finally gained a little confidence.

Harry felt a little envious of him. Neville could have had the same destiny as he did now, if Voldemort had chosen Neville instead of Harry in the prophecy. But honestly, he was glad that Neville was able to enjoy his life. After all, his parents were crazy and locked up in St. Mungo's, and he lived with his batty grandmother. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Neville.

Ginny put her books away and stood up. "Thanks Neville, I think I've got it now. I'll see you later".

Once she had gone, Harry looked around to see if anyone could here what he was about to ask.

"Neville, I was wondering if you could tell me some things about wizarding culture."

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, puzzled.

"Well, the Potter family might have been Pure-bloods for all I know. . . ."

"They were, although not one of the really famous families." Neville reminded himself of Harry's upbringing.

"Anyway," Harry went on, "remember, I'm as Muggle-raised as anyone can get. I don't know much about the cultural ideas, except what I've picked up from you and Ron, or that Binns teaches us by accident."

"True," Neville admitted. "What do you need to know?"

"I need to know about wizarding debts" Harry replied "Dumbledore says that Snape owes me a debt because my father saved his life. Does that mean I owe you and the others for following me to save Sirius?" Harry didn't want to mention Wormtail to Neville yet.

"Snape and your father disliked each other, right?" Neville asked.

"They HATED each other," Harry replied.

"Then Snape owes the debt because there were no other ties. In fact, he was saved by an enemy, which raises the debt. You inherit the debt, because that level, the highest, is for life unless Snape saves your life and you, as an adult, release him."

"So Snape has to try and save my life until I'm an adult?"

"And until you, as an adult, release him. Most would say that he would have to save you at least once as an adult before you should consider releasing him, but that's up to you. You never have to release him."

Harry thought about that. "What about you lot, say Ginny for example?"

"The same applies to a lesser degree, but it wouldn't be inherited, because of your ties with Ron. Plus, didn't you stay with the Weasleys before you saved Ginny?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I did. They rescued me from the Dursleys the summer before."

Neville pulled out a small pocket notebook and started scribbling. "But you and Ginny weren't friends yet, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed.

"Who rescued you?"

"Fred, George, and Ron."

"Did you give Fred and George your Triwizard money to start that joke shop?"
"I did," Harry admitted. Neville had been one of the twins main victims; Harry hoped he didn't hold a grudge.

Neville looked up from his notes after a few moments of study. "Then I'd say there was no wizard debt involved on either side, because of the closeness of you and the Weasleys. As for me, well, you're my friend, and, because of the DA if nothing else, you're something of a mentor. We owe each other our support, and no debts can really be transferred. Just like we don't owe Dumbledore an official debt for saving us at the end."

Harry nodded again. "Thanks Neville."

After finishing his letter and sealing it an envelope, Harry opened the portrait door to run up to the Owlery to deliver it to Hedwig.

Harry opened the heavy door and went into the Owlery. The room reeked of hay and journeys to far away lands, and a little bit like owl droppings. There were skeletons of mice and moles near every cage.

Hedwig stuck out like a bright white light against the dark feathers of the other owls, her head hidden beneath her snowy white feathers. She glanced at Harry as he approached her and pulled the letter out of his back pocket. She quickly stood at attention, waiting patiently for Harry to tie the letter around her claw. She ruffled her feathers a little to get Pigewidgeon's attention in the next nest. Apparently, she wanted to show him how it was done properly.

Harry pet her gently. "Back to Remus. No hurry," he added. The later he got the letter, the later he would write back, and the later Harry would feel obligated to keep him informed of the events unfolding in his life.

She nipped his fingers a bit and gave a soft hoot of acknowledgement, then took off out of the Owlery window.

Occlumency was draining Harry. Every day he had it, after his classes were over, he would hurry to the library and try to finish all of his homework for the next day. He could barely make it back to the dormitory after Snape's invasion of his mind, let alone concentrate on his schoolwork.

Flitwick had given the entire class extra homework for performing badly on an advanced summoning charm. Everyone but Hermione, of course. They had to do an extra essay about the art of the Peragro charm, which was summoning items through obstacles, like walls, without damaging the object or the obstacles themselves.
He was running late as he sprinted down the dungeon stairs. He didn't even bother to catch his breath when he burst into the Potions classroom. Snape was already there, wand in hand, and waiting.

"You're late, Potter," he snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"Sorry, sir," Harry replied, breathless.

"Let's begin." Snape sneered at him, as though he were insulted by his apology. He raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

Harry assumed the position, still trying to catch his breath. He pulled his wand from his robes and braced himself. He tried to clear his mind, but Snape hit with the spell and it was too late.

He couldn't catch his breath. The familiar pain had returned to his leg. This time he was in the graveyard with Cedric. Running away, carrying his body, limping to the trophy. He reached out, grasped it, and felt something pull behind his navel.

He was on the floor, Snape standing over him. "I am very disappointed, Potter. You are weak. Get up."

Harry got to his feet, taking his breath in sharp inhalations. The pull of the Portkey had turned into a pain in his ribcage. Or was it because of Snape's spell? He hoped to regain his composure before Snape hit him again, but as soon as he reached his feet, Snape turned on him and pummelled him. "Legilimens!"

The pain in his leg returned, and suddenly he was in the amphitheatre in the Department of Mysteries. It was his dream. He was dancing with the shadowy figure, and for a moment, felt comfort in her arms. But the security soon disappeared.

"Dance," Sirius's voice called, "before you forget how."

Whimpering, Harry called out for his godfather, then realised he was once again on his back on the cold, hard dungeon floor.

Snape, however, did not have the look of complete triumph on his face that he usually did when he took Harry off his feet. He looked smug. "You didn't write that dream down, Potter."

Harry jumped to his feet. So Snape knew of the first vision of Voldemort and Wormtail. Perhaps he did have the counterpart of his Diary Duplicator. "I... I didn't think it was important."

"Important?" Snape spat. "I told you, Potter, to write down every damn thing that you dream about in that diary! I expect you to share everything about your dreams, whether they are about some invisible girl or your dearly departed loved ones."
"It's not fair that everyone gets to see into my private thoughts. My private dreams," Harry replied. If Snape knew about his dreams, he didn't know how many others did.
"It is a sacrifice for the Order, Potter," he declared. "In times like these, we must make sacrifices."

Harry sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll write it down."

"Don't bother with this one now," Snape replied. "He's dead. He is not worth dreaming about."

Anger welled up inside of Harry. He took a step forward, about to launch himself at Snape.

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. How will you ever master Occlumency if you cannot even control your own anger?"

Harry's fists curled at his sides. He was shaking with hatred. How could Dumbledore expect him to study with a man who hated Sirius so much? A man who was probably overjoyed that the only parent Harry could even remember was dead?

Snape could see the hesitation in Harry. "Good, Potter. It looks like some of my lessons may have been penetrating through that thick skull of yours."

Harry couldn't get violent, but he had to defend Sirius's honour. If he didn't, he would never forgive himself. He couldn't let Snape walk all over him like this. He was too proud. "You will never be half the man that Sirius was," Harry spat.

Snape's eyes were cold. He raised one greasy eyebrow in Harry's direction. "Odd, considering that he was only half a man himself."

Harry's anger caught in his throat. He was boiling over. He had to leave - he had to get out of the dungeon. If he didn't, he would do something he would regret. He knew that Snape had taken it too far, and that in return, Harry wouldn't be able to control his actions. Harry took a step towards the door.

"I'm done," Harry whispered. "I'm leaving."

Snape sneered. "Quitting, Potter?"

"For today," Harry replied. He put his wand back inside of his robes and didn't look back as he stepped out of the dungeon door. He just couldn't tolerate another second of Snape's hatred without ripping him apart with his bare hands.