For the first time in his sixteen years of life, Geoffrey felt he had a purpose. He refused to be a slave to his destiny; he would overcome it, rewriting history if necessary. No more would he aimlessly exist, hoping that someday everything would turn out all right. He would make it happen.

Ever since that afternoon in the trophy room the previous week Geoffrey had thought hard about what he'd discovered, developing a strategy that would allow him to escape his fate. He was spurred on by a few casual words in his Common room that had yielded a wealth of information about his older self; he would not become the man they described.

"I overheard some Slytherins talking about Professor Norman this afternoon," he'd remarked to Ernie and Hannah during a game of Exploding Snap. "They said he's not half as good as their last Potions professor. Has Norman just started here, then?"

Hannah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, frowning slightly. Ernie grimaced and replied hesitantly, "Yes, he's new. He came right around Halloween, after our last professor was killed."

"Killed? How?" Geoffrey pretended to be shocked by this revelation.

"Fighting You-Know-Who." Ernie's voice dropped to a whisper as he said those three words then returned to its normal volume. "It was quite a shock, you see. Most of us believed he'd be more likely to support You-Know-Who than oppose him. But it turns out we were wrong."

They'd thought he was a Death Eater? Geoffrey pretended to be examining his cards, hoping to hide his surprise. After a moment he asked, "Why would you think a Hogwarts teacher would support Vold- You-Know Who? I can't imagine old Dumbledore would hire someone like that."

"Well, he was head of Slytherin, and everyone knows most of them turn bad eventually," explained Hannah as she drew a card. "And he was frightful scary, sneaking around in shadows all the time hoping to catch students breaking rules."

"He was always playing favorites too, giving unfair advantage to his own House any chance he could," Ernie added. "I don't think he ever deducted points from Slytherin, no matter what the circumstances. So I'm not surprised they'd prefer Snape to Norman."

"Sounds like he was a popular fellow," Geoffrey jibed sarcastically. Why should he be surprised to hear of his own bad reputation, Geoffrey didn't know. It merely served to harden his resolve to change things. He joked with his housemates, joining in their derision of the "pathetic old bat" while waiting impatiently for the game to end so he could be alone to think.

And now, he understood what he needed to do. First, he'd deduced why he'd stayed at Hogwarts after graduation instead of going out into the world as he'd planned. Geoffrey believed the answer to this question was fairly straight-forward; he hadn't been able to find other work. Oh, he'd been intelligent enough and performed passably on his OWLs, but he was far from the model student. That would need to change. He would throw himself into his studies, earning as many NEWTs as possible so that he would be qualified for any job he wanted after graduation. Maybe he'd even start his own business after he'd saved enough money, and he'd run it loads better than his father ran his. In any case, knowledge was power, and if he studied hard enough he would have the power to be anything he wanted to be. What exactly that was, he didn't know; but he knew he would not be a teacher.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey's busy schedule left little time for extra study. Quidditch practice filled three evenings per week, and every afternoon was already taken up with his "remedial studies" with Hermione. Additionally, Geoffrey found that he spent a great deal of his free time socializing with his Hufflepuff housemates. The novelty of having friends that actually seemed to enjoy his company was hard for Geoffrey to resist, so he spent more time playing Exploding Snap and listening to gossip in the Common room than studying. But now that he'd set a goal, he would channel his willpower into achieving it. He forced himself to resist the urge to waste time playing by heading straight for the library after supper on his non-Quidditch evenings.

More often than not, Hermione spent her evenings in the library as well. Geoffrey found himself sneaking glances at her from across the room on a fairly regular basis. He didn't think she noticed, as she was always fully engrossed in her books. He admired her dedication to her studies, her ability to stay focused for hours on end. And he noted with amusement that she, too, chewed the end of her quill when deep in thought. He wondered what else they had in common.

Tonight, Geoffrey was trying to concentrate on his arithmancy homework, but his mind kept drifting to the girl he was struggling not to stare at. They'd been going through Professor Snape's – his – old notebooks in search of some clue as to how he'd defeated the Dark Lord so many years in his own past. Geoffrey chuckled as he recalled how easily Hermione had been distracted from their task by the description of some new and interesting potions in his notes.

"Do you enjoy Potions, then?" he'd asked.

"Of course!" Hermione'd nodded enthusiastically. "It's fascinating how some substances that are individually poisonous can combine to form a benign, even beneficial potion. Skele-gro, for example, contains acid from Florimander roots, which if you absorb through your bare skin will turn your bones to fluorite."

"Fluorite? What's that?"

Hermione's eyes practically lit up as she'd broken into an explanation of some muggle sciences called "chemistry" and "mineralogy." Geoffrey had never really cared one way or the other about the muggle world and its theories, but he had to admit that he was intrigued by the way Hermione'd explained the connections between the interaction of potions ingredients and their molecular makeup. They'd discussed the topic until Hermione realized with chagrin that it was time for supper. Laughing, he promised he would try to keep them on track the next day.

Geoffrey squinted to see what Hermione was reading over at her table. He couldn't make out the title but it looked like their arithmancy text. He debated with himself for several minutes as to whether he should invite himself to join her before finally gathering the nerve to approach her.

As he stood and gathered his things, a tall red-headed boy shot past him to throw his arms around Hermione from behind her chair.

"Guess who?" the boy laughed. Geoffrey's eyes narrowed as the boy kissed the top of Hermione's head.

"Hello, Ron, I thought you had Quidditch practice tonight?" Hermione replied, eyes still looking down at her book.

"I was supposed to, yes. But Katie's sick, so it's been cancelled." Ron was rubbing her shoulders now. "I was thinking maybe you could, you know, take a break from studying so we can take advantage of Katie's misfortune. If you know what I mean."

Hermione snorted. "I'm sure Katie appreciates your sympathy."

"Come on, Hermione, be a sport!"

"Oh, Ron, I just can't! I've got too much to – oh, hello, Geoffrey!" Hermione spotted him as she turned to face Ron. "Geoffrey, I don't think you've met Ron yet."

Geoffrey instinctively took a step back. "No, but I don't want to interrupt you."

"Nonsense," replied Ron good-naturedly. "You can help me convince Hermione here that she won't fail all her NEWTs if she takes one little night off from studying."

Hermione sighed, making an exasperated face, but leaned against the other boy's arm nonetheless. "Geoffrey, meet Ron Weasley, my rather unstudious boyfriend. Ron, this is Geoffrey Horton. He's the new –"

"The new student student from far, far away, yes, I know. I was there when he was sorted, remember? And you've mentioned him a time or three, you know. Anyway, nice to meet you, Geoffrey." Ron reached behind him to hold out one hand to shake, his other arm still around Hermione.

Geoffrey wanted to dislike him, this lanky, irresponsible fellow who'd laid prior claim to Hermione. And a not so infinitesimal part of him wanted to pull him away from her, to tear his hands off her. But, there was also something about Ron that was just… likeable, in the same way that many of his new housemates were so easy to like. Besides, Hermione wouldn't like it if he were rude to her boyfriend. Geoffrey felt himself accepting the proffered hand. "Likewise, Ron."

"So, Geoffrey, how have you been liking Hogwarts so far? I hope this one hasn't been working you too hard. She tends to do that – ouch!" Ron grimaced as Hermione mock-punched him in the ribs. "Come on, Hermione, you know you have a little bit of a tendency to obsess about your schoolwork!"

"I don't mind," Geoffrey interrupted. A little flattery might get him somewhere. "Hermione's an excellent teacher."

"Really? You mean she doesn't just ramble on and on about what Hogwarts: A History has to say about the prevalence of skort mold in the dungeon walls, or something equally boring?"

"I'm sitting right here, Ron," reminded Hermione. "And would you like me to remind you just how many times my 'obsession' has gotten us out of a scrape? Devil's snare, anyone?"

Geoffrey had no idea what Devil's Snare had to do with anything, but apparently Ron did because he blushed nearly as red as his hair. "Yes, well, are you coming with me or not? I might not have another free night until the weekend if Katie feels better soon. And it's been simply ages since we –"

"Ron, please!" Now Hermione was the one blushing. "Don't you ever think before you speak? As I was trying to say earlier, I can't go with you tonight because I promised Geoffrey I'd help him with his arithmancy homework. Isn't that right, Geoffrey?"

Geoffrey nodded at Hermione's plaintive expression. No, she hadn't promised, but if Hermione was trying to fabricate an excuse not to run off with the obviously hormonally charged Gryffindor, he would gladly assist. "Sorry, Ron. I've just been having so much trouble understanding the application of Wittenbaum's theorem to quantum mechanical predications, and your girlfriend here was kind enough to offer to explain it again. Would you like to join us? It's fascinating stuff."

Ron's eyes had begun to glaze over as Geoffrey rattled off many large and unfamiliar words, but they became nervous and wary at the suggestion that he join them in studying. "Um, no. Thank you for the offer, but arithmancy just isn't my cup of tea. I suppose I'll just go find Harry, see if he wants to play a game of chess or something." With a quick kiss to Hermione's cheek, Ron scampered off.

Once he was out of earshot, Hermione burst out laughing. "Quantum mechanical predications? You just made that up, didn't you? I swear I've never heard of such a thing! And I've only just told you about quantum mechanics this afternoon!"

"Ah, but the desired result was achieved, was it not? I sensed that given Ron's distaste for study, and the fact that he is not taking arithmancy with us, he would likely retreat posthaste from any attempt to include him. I was not wrong in assuming that you preferred he not stay, am I?" Geoffrey tried to sound casual, but inside he was dying to know why Hermione had wanted her self-proclaimed boyfriend to leave.

"Yes, well, it's not so much that I wanted him to leave as it is that I find it so hard to get any quality studying done with him here. He'd be constantly tickling me or playing with my hair or otherwise focusing my attention on him. Much as I adore him, he's got the attention span of a boggart unless the subject is Quidditch, chess, or Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" repeated Geoffrey. "He's a frequent topic of conversation?"

"Unfortunately. Harry and Ron hate Draco, not that he's one of my favorite people either, but I'd just as soon pretend he doesn't exist. But since Draco is constantly trying to get us into trouble, Harry and Ron tend to ramble on for ages about how awful he is. He's always been a prat, of course, but he's been ten times worse since you killed his father. Oh, bollocks!" Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. "I should not have said that!"

Stunned yet again by this unexpected revelation, Geoffrey sat down in the chair next to Hermione and leaned in close. "Well, now that you did say it, you'd better explain it!"

"I am getting to be worse than Hagrid, I swear," Hermione berated herself, shaking her head. "Oh, bother. If I don't tell you know you'll probably just pry the information out of someone else. I know I would. So I might as well tell you."

She looked around as if to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned closer toward Geoffrey until her lips were an inch from his ear. Geoffrey momentarily forgot all about Malfoy as his body stiffened, responding to her breath against his ear. He imagined her sucking gently on his ear -- but then her words jarred him back into reality. "Draco's father, Lucius, was one of the worst Death Eaters – and once of Voldemort's most trusted servants. He hated muggles and muggleborns, just like Draco does, and so Voldemort put him in charge of the mission that I told you about, the one you thwarted the night you were killed. Apparently, he confronted you after you'd seen the children to safety. You dueled, and you killed him. No one knows the details, though."

"Wait a minute. If I killed Lucius, then who killed me?" Lucius Malfoy had always seemed a cruel git, so Geoffrey was not sorry to hear he'd caused his end. He was more concerned with his own fate.

Hermione shrugged. "We're not really sure. Someone brought your body back to the edge of the Hogwarts' grounds afterwards. We presume it was one of Voldemort's men, perhaps the one who killed you."

She leaned back and looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry I keep mentioning these things. It must be just dreadful to know about your own death. I can't imagine how it must be for you."

"It doesn't matter," shrugged Geoffrey. It doesn't matter because it isn't ever going to happen, he thought before changing the subject. "We should get back to work. Now that we've scared Ron away, would you prefer to work alone, or would you like to study together? I was just about to tackle my arithmancy problems anyways."

Hermione frowned. "Well, it's okay as long as we really study. I do have a lot of work to do."

"Of course," he agreed. "As do I. We have the same assignment, you know."

"All right, then," she nodded before turning her attention back to her book and popping the end of her quill between her teeth. A sure sign that the conversation was now over.

At first, Geoffrey could hardly believe his luck. She'd let him stay, but sent Weasley packing! He didn't humor himself that the reason was anything other than what she'd said, that the Gryffindor made a dreadful study partner. But this knowledge was useful. Very useful. Hermione was studious, and she bemoaned that Ron was not. Ergo, if Geoffrey were more studious than Ron… he might be able to impress Hermione with his academic prowess and then… who knows?

Armed with this plan, Geoffrey turned his attention to his work. It was perfect, really. He could study for his NEWTs, working toward his goal of professional independence while simultaneously impressing (and hopefully wooing) Hermione Granger.