Harry woke slowly and fitfully, with his scar tingling ever so slightly. A voice…he'd heard a voice…Was he in the Department of Mysteries again? Or was it the Hogwarts corridor? Every time he tried to remember, it was as though he came up against a brick wall. He almost wished his scar would just outright hurt, if that meant he could remember…

"Ron?" he murmured, his voice crackly and deep with sleep.

"I think he already left," Neville's voice came, from behind the velvet hangings. Harry pushed them aside blearily, and reached for his glasses.

"You look awful," Neville said sympathetically, as he tried to shove his feet into his shoes while fidgeting with his tie at the same time, "Was it a bad dream?"

"Can't remember," Harry said, stretching.

"Well, that's a good sign, isn't it?" Neville asked uncertainly, "I mean…if it were anything bad, you'd…it'd be really clear."

Harry nodded vaguely as he went to his trunk and got his towel. He realized Neville was probably thinking, "If it were anything bad, you'd probably be screaming and thrashing and vomiting all over the place, like usual."

But Harry almost wished he had been – because he knew that Voldemort was planning something big – and the fact that he wasn't having horrible nightmares about it could only mean one thing – Voldemort was hiding something from him.

At the thought, "hiding something," all the events of the previous night came rushing back to Harry, from his "mistake" with Ginny, to his discovery of his Metamorphmagus ability, to the entire fiasco with Hermione in the common room, and he actually groaned out loud.

"What is it?" Neville asked, anxiously.

"Err – forgot to do my homework," Harry lied swiftly, which, he realized, was also very true. He was bound to do poorly this year. At least it wasn't NEWT year...

With yet another nervous realization, Harry reflected that next year would be his NEWT year – and his very last year at Hogwarts.

"If I survive that long," the obligatory voice of doom chorused cheerfully in the back of his mind.

"I think I'll go back to bed," Harry muttered desperately.

Neville laughed sympathetically. "Shall I save a spot for you at breakfast?"

"Yeah, thanks, Neville."

With a groggy mumble, Dean rolled over noisily, and by now, they knew it to mean, "Some of us are trying to get an extra five minutes, here."

Harry gave Neville a silent smile and nod, and made his way to the showers.

Clean, warm, and refreshed, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall, silently reminding himself to stay calm, and face the day as best he could - after all, he'd made this bed, and it was time to lie in it, whatever that meant. And really, they did have plenty of important things to focus on – maybe everyone would be so caught up in class work, and Quidditch, and the D.A., and all their extra work for the Order, that it would be like yesterday had never happened.

"If I just act normally," he dared to hope, "Maybe Hermione won't have figured anything out, and Ginny will just forgive me for yesterday, and maybe Ron will come around…maybe everything will just sort of go back to the way it was."

He spied the usual gang of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna sitting together, and made his way over.

"But you said –" Ron was saying, angrily.

"Ron, I told you! I must have dreamed it," Hermione said placidly, "Just let it go."

Ron snorted, and muttered to his eggs, jabbing at them with his fork.

"I don't believe it. We don't fight enough during the daytime, so she dreams that we're fighting…and now, we're fighting about it."

"Morning, Harry!" Ginny said, a bit over-cheerfully.

"Hello," Harry said to the table in general, feeling his nerves come seeping back in, "Err – what's going on?"

"Hermione says that I showed up in the common room last night and had a complete conversation with her," Ron said, belligerently, "When I was simultaneously in the Owlery talking to Ginny."

"What were you doing in the Owlery, in the middle of the night?" Luna asked, innocently.

"Mailing a letter," Ron said, stubbornly, his ears going slightly red. He met Harry's eyes, and glanced away, quickly.

"Ron, I already told you, it must have just been a really vivid dream," Hermione repeated. She looked up at Harry briefly, her expression unreadable.

"Well, that's not what you said when you were biting my head off this morning!" Ron said, helplessly, "All I say is, 'Oh, hello, when did you get in?' And before I know it, I'm being thrown to the wolves!"

"Ron, just drop it!"

"You know, Ronald," Luna said, with the air of someone pondering some very lofty academic theorem, "I've been thinking that your temper might actually be an allergic reaction to the color yellow. You might want to try dressing in purple more often – it's opposite on the color wheel. I could loan you a book on Prismahumorics, if you like."

"Mm. What's opposite green on the color wheel?" Ginny asked, casually, making eye contact with Harry, and obviously trying to tell him something.

Harry was briefly confused, but suddenly he remembered – his eyes were green again! So Ginny must have realized he'd found a way to turn himself back – and that meant she'd want to know what had caused it, and how he'd managed to reverse it. What was he going to tell her?

"Red, actually," Luna said, "Although I don't think Harry would look very good in red. That is why you asked, isn't it?"

Ginny blushed, and looked down at the table.

"It's a lovely shade on you, though," Luna said, cheerfully, and resumed trying to feed Neville bits of omelet with her butter knife.

There was a brief moment where everyone paused to sneak surreptitious glances at one another and try to comprehend some of the many layers of subtext that were flying across the table. Harry could feel the heat of Hermione's stare. She had on the same suspicious, curious look she usually wore when she was doing her Arithmancy homework, or trying to solve a particularly interesting puzzle. Ginny was fiddling with her fingers clumsily, and Ron was sneaking glances between her and Harry, obviously very bewildered as to what was going on with everyone this morning.

"So, when did you get back, Hermione?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Late last night," Hermione said, "When did you get back?"

"Hmm?"

"From the D.A. meeting. You must have been there awfully late. I didn't see you come in."

Harry cursed silently. She was on to him. She might not know exactly what had happened, yet, but she knew it had something to do with him.

"You should have been there, last night," Ginny said, obviously trying to change the subject, "It was…well, I guess you couldn't say it was cool…"

"It was creepy," Neville said, with a slight shudder, "But yeah, I know what you mean…Like something Professor Moody might have done…"

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit concerned.

The subject of their D.A. meeting ate up a few uncomfortable minutes. Even Ron perked up a bit, and seemed genuinely sorry he'd missed it. Harry went out of his way to smile at Ron, and try to reach across the chasm that had somehow grown between them over the past month or so.

"And then Neville saved me," Luna said, matter of factly. "It was very heroic."

Neville blushed. "It was just a Stunner. You'd all do the same for me."

"It was brilliant," Ginny said firmly, grinning at Neville.

Harry smiled, but still felt a bit unsettled by the image of Neville, and half of his friends, lying prone and motionless on the ground.

"How'd the trip go?" he asked Hermione.

"Ugh. Disaster," Hermione said, her tone instantly becoming quite frank, "Nobody was even remotely interested in coming to help. Well, why would they be? They still teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang…like it's just another class. And the wizards who haven't gone bad certainly don't want to stick their necks out for anyone but themselves. The entire school is like the worst of Slytherin house. Maybe we should have tried Himmelicht School instead…"

"Plus, Krum is a complete git," Ron supplied, darkly.

Harry was expecting a defensive objection from Hermione, but to his surprise, she simply gritted her teeth, and said, "Yes, he is."

"What happened?" Harry asked, concernedly.

"He…" Hermione cleared her throat delicately. "He may have been confused as to the real purpose of my visit to Bulgaria."

"He wasn't 'confused,' he was being a complete git," Ron repeated, mashing his eggs mercilessly with his fork.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked, concernedly.

Hermione smirked. "Let's just say, I took a page out of your spellbook, Ginny. I think he'll keep his hands to himself from now on."

But she sighed, and slumped in her chair a moment later.

"Unfortunately, it also means that I haven't got anyone from my trip to come and help. And Krum might not even come back, now."

"And what a shame that is," Ron muttered, with just a hint of a smirk.

"We need all the help we can get, Ron," Hermione said, but Harry noticed that despite her disappointment for the Order, Hermione's signature grin was creeping in the corners.

Harry wondered briefly whether Ron knew that he and Hermione were "off," at least temporarily. He had a feeling not – if that were the case, he would have been much more sullen and moody. He might have even avoided them that morning. On the other hand, they weren't making googly eyes at one another, or holding hands, or anything. Maybe this is the way they'd always been, that they'd already been trying to tone it down in front of him, and he just hadn't noticed…It seemed silly all of a sudden – even if they didn't act on it, their feelings for each other would be there, just the same. He wondered whether Hermione was planning on telling him they were "on a break," or whether she'd changed her mind. He found himself hoping it was the latter.

Just then, the school owls came winging their way into the Great Hall in a rush of feathers and hooting.

A barn owl winged low in front of Harry, struggling with a thick scroll, as large as a Sunday Prophet, and tied with twine. He dropped it unceremoniously in the middle of the table, and wearily began his ascent, heading directly to the Owlery for a rest.

"What is that monstrosity?" Ron asked, completely surprised out of all sullen-ness.

"Dunno," Harry said, untying it cautiously. He recalled the hate-mail that had scalded Hermione's hands with bubotuber puss in their fourth year. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good news…

The heavy scroll unwound itself as Harry loosened the twine. As it did, a small note written in crisp, white parchment slipped out. Harry picked it up, and Neville looked over his shoulder.

"It's from the Ministry!" Neville said, excitedly.

"Dear Mr. Potter," Harry read, aloud:

"Have received your letter. Enclosed, please find the House Elf Registry you requested. I feel much more confident leaving it in your hands. Please don't let me find that you (or any of your friends) have been owling apparel to the house elves' homes, as giving out this list could potentially get me sacked. As a matter of fact, please destroy this letter when you have finished it.

Sincerely,

Ms. Orkishun

Head of the Office of House Elf Relocation

(PS. Please do tell Miss Granger to stop writing.)"

Harry winced. He didn't think Hermione would be pleased about that last line, but when he looked up, she was positively beaming.

"You see?" she said, excitedly, and Harry could tell that all thought of her argument with "Ron" had flown instantly to the back corners of her mind, "I knew it! If we just kept after her…"

"Err…I think it might have had a bit more to do with – owch!"

Ron never finished his sentence, and Harry had the distinct impression that Ginny had trod on his foot.

"Ms. Orkishun? As in, Florence Orkishun?" Luna asked, bemusedly.

"Yes, actually," Hermione said hesitantly, as though she were afraid Luna was about to confess that Ms. Orkishun was in fact a transfigured hinkypunk, "Why?"

"She's friends with my Dad," Luna said, dreamily, "She's quite a fan of the Quibbler. She must have read your article, Harry. Well, I suppose it's Rita's article…or the Quibbler's…or the Prophet's, really, now we've sold it…"

"Well, whatever the reason," Hermione said, her eyes shining, "We're finally starting to make some headway! We'll have to meet up with Dobby straight away – what are you doing during lunch?"

"Err," Harry stammered, tempted to say, "Eating."

"Yeah, I guess we could go down to the kitchens," he finished, trying to suppress a sigh.

"Great," Hermione said, cheerfully, "How's the Goodwill Game going?"

"Oh," Harry said, looking towards Ron. They made eye contact briefly.

"We haven't had much of a chance to talk about it yet," Harry said, truthfully.

"Well, why don't you two meet up after classes tonight?"

Harry waited for Ron to say something, but it seemed that Ron was waiting for Harry to say something as well.

"Actually, I was hoping we could finish some research on goblins tonight, Harry," Ginny said a bit apologetically, and he knew she was itching to find out what had happened to his eyes.

"But that should only take a half-hour or so," she added hastily. He realized she was also worried about he and Ron…

"That's alright, then," Hermione said lightly, as though this completely resolved the matter, "We'll visit Dobby at Lunch, and after Defense, you can go and work with Ginny for a bit, and tonight, you and Ron can discuss the Goodwill Games while we do homework."

"Just out of curiosity," Ron said, a bit of his old humor sneaking back into his voice, "Just how are we going to do homework and talk about Quidditch at the same time?"

"You usually manage," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Quidditch! Bugger, we've got a match with Slytherin coming up, and I haven't even scheduled a practice yet," Harry said, rubbing his brow.

"Err," Ginny said, apologetically, "Katie booked the pitch for Saturday. Hogsmeade weekend's been cancelled, so it'll be a great time."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. On the one hand, he was embarrassed that Katie had had to do it for him, but for the main part, he was just grateful that they'd be able to get at least one more practice in before the match.

"Why's Hogsmeade been cancelled?" Neville asked, crestfallen.

"Why do you ask, Neville?" Hermione asked, a grin tugging the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, no reason," Neville said blushing, and grinning shyly, as Luna daintily helped herself to the rest of his breakfast.

"It's because the Hog's Head had to shut down. The owner's disappeared. Nobody feels safe there, anymore," Ginny said, sadly.

"What do you mean, 'disappeared?'" Harry asked, with a sinking feeling.

"Well, that's the sad thing really – everyone's pretty confident that something happened to the owner of the Hog's Head," Ginny explained further, "That he got attacked, or abducted, or something. Everyone else has just run away, we think. But some of them didn't tell anyone they were leaving, so there's a possibility that more people have been 'disappeared.'"

Hermione's brow wrinkled, "How do they know that the owner of the Hog's Head was attacked?"

"The mark," Ginny said softly, "It was hanging over the Hog's Head for almost an hour, until the Aurors arrived. The only reason it's not in the Prophet, is because the Ministry wants it hushed up. Bad for business," she added, bitterly.

"Do you think they'll send us all home?" Neville asked, quietly.

They all sat with the question for a moment. Harry realized that Neville was probably just as reluctant as he to leave Hogwarts – at least here, he was away from the haranguing of his grandmother, he had friends, and even a girlfriend, he supposed. And at least here, Harry could be with his friends, his only friends – away from the Durlseys, away from another long, lonely summer missing Sirius –

"Dumbledore won't send us home," Harry said firmly, trying to believe it as much as he could, "He'll want to keep the school open as…as long as possible."

He finished lamely, realizing that even as he spoke, he was admitting that when things got rough enough, Dumbledore was eventually going to have to send students home. He remembered the conversation he'd overheard between McGonagall and he in his second year…they'd considered closing the school for the Chamber of Secrets. McGonagall had said it would be, "the end of Hogwarts." Compared to a full-scale assault from Voldemort, and an army of Death Eaters and Dementors, Harry felt like slaying a basilisk and jamming a fang into a book were relatively easy fixes by comparison.

"I'm staying," Ron said, squarely, so that everyone jumped – they'd all been lost in thought, and Ron had hardly spoken since Harry arrived.

"Of course," Ginny added, speaking for all of them.

"Whoops," Luna said, casually, "Class has started."

"What?!"

Everyone was jolted out of their reverie, and as they looked around them, they saw that the majority of the Great Hall, had indeed, cleared out. Only Goyle, Millicent Bullstrode, some other Slytherin Harry didn't know, and a gaggle of gossipy Ravenclaws remained.

Hermione was already half-way out the door.

"Come on!" she shouted, anxiously, and darted off to class.

"I've never seen her move that fast," Luna said, idly.