They were interrupted, however, by the sight of Professor Snape storming through the entrance hall. Seeing as Snape never missed an opportunity to make a snide remark, Harry braced himself for a particularly searing insult, or threat. But Snape swept past without even seeing them, or any of the other students, apparently. They heard the heavy creak of the door, and soon Snape was swooping back in the direction he'd come, this time, followed by two figures wearing heavy black hoods.

For a split second, Harry's heart froze over – were they Dementors? But no…these figures walked. And their hoods were not ratty, and did not waft in invisible wind, but hung closely at their sides.

"Who on Earth?" Hermione muttered.

"I think I might know," Harry said, "And if I'm right, we won't see their faces."

But as the shorter figure turned in their direction, Harry thought he caught a glimpse of blood-red lips, hidden in the shadow of the black hood.

"You don't…er…know those people, do you Harry?" Ron muttered.

"Not personally. But I think we've met," Harry said. He filled them in on his encounter with Mieva Pamira and her companion, Louis, carefully leaving out his suspicion of their being vampires – as much as he didn't like Snape, and as creepy as he found his friends, he figured that was not his secret to tell.

Hermione seemed to have already guessed, at any rate. "No wonder they were wearing hoods," she muttered, "Risky to be walking about in broad daylight."

Harry thought that it was odd she should be so quick on the uptake about some things, and so slow on the draw on others – like the fact that it had been he, not Ron, who she'd been arguing with in the common room last night…

"I imagine he's escorting them to the dungeons even as we speak. No windows," Harry whispered.

"Figures Snape's mates would be just as creepy as he is," Ron muttered, "On the other hand, I'm sort of amazed he has any friends at all."

"I don't think they're friends," Harry said, lowering his voice, "I think they're here to help with the Order."

"That lot?" Ron said, startled, "They look more like Death Eaters to me…"

"The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters," Harry said, quietly, and the trio fell silent. Sirius had told them that last year.

"Come on, we'll be late," Hermione said, breaking the silence, and the three followed where Snape had headed, down to the dungeons.

There was no sign of Mieva Pamira or her friend in the Potions classroom – not that Harry had really been expecting them to sit in the back of the classroom, but Professor Snape was late, which hardly ever occurred, so he assumed that they must be hiding nearby.

Harry wasn't sure how the Potions lesson would go – he hadn't had a good track record with Snape recently. First, he'd discovered he was a half-vampire, and then, at their last Occlumency lesson, they'd glimpsed Voldemort's plan to attack Hogwarts, and Sybil Trelawney had burst in to deliver a second half of the Prophecy to Harry.

He wondered vaguely, with a sense of incredulity bordering on the ridiculous, if any of this was going to affect his grade.

But Snape, much as he had last year, decided to completely ignore Harry during the lesson, and again, Harry was delighted to find that he could clear his mind and focus on the potion at hand with relative success. He hated to admit it, but he could almost see what Snape found appealing about it – the exactness of it, the simplicity. There were rules, and they had to be followed – he wished the rest of his life were so easy.

Mentally shaking himself, he reminded himself he'd probably been spending too much time with Snape poking about his brain, and set to work once more.

He managed to hand in his sample just moments before class ended.

"Potter," Snape said, silkily, "Do not think that some minor, precursory improvement is going to excuse you from your Remedial Potions lessons. I expect to see you at the same time this afternoon."

Draco, as usual, smirked smugly at Harry from his desk, but there was that certain edge there that Harry hadn't noticed until this year – something desperate, and mean. A bit taken aback, Harry simply nodded to Snape, and walked stiffly out of the dungeon, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Can you believe him?" Harry ranted to Hermione later, as they walked to lunch.

"Err…maybe you weren't listening, Harry," Hermione said hesitantly, "For Snape, that was practically…nice."

"He did say you'd improved," Ron piped up, and it was the fact that Ron was uttering five words to him at once more than anything else that made Harry feel better.

"Harry!" waved Ginny as they entered the Great Hall.

"Oh," Harry said, his stomach rumbling uncomfortably, "I forgot."

"We'll save you something for later," Hermione said, reassuringly, "Ron can bring it to your Divination class. I'm sure Firenze wouldn't mind."

Ginny caught up to them, "Hey, have you seen the sign-up sheet yet? I'm a Seeking for the Hippogriffs!"

"Really?" Harry asked, his expression brightening, "That's great, Ginny!"

"I think it's all filled up, by now," she said, "Let's go look before we start research."

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling his mood lifting already, "Err, see you guys later."

"Bye," Hermione said, with a signature sneaking-in-the-corners smile.

"See you," Ron said, raising Harry's spirits even higher.

Harry followed Ginny hurriedly to the poster, and found that all the positions had been filled. The poster now read:

Hogwarts HinkypunksHogwarts Hippogriffs

Draco Malfoy, SeekerGinny Weasley, Seeker

Vincent Crabbe, BeaterAndrew Kirke, Beater

Gregory Goyle, BeaterJack Sloper, Beater

Ron Weasley, KeeperAngus Bletchley, Keeper

Harry Potter, ChaserCho Chang, Chaser

Katie Bell, ChaserRoger Davies, Chaser

Zacharias Smith, ChaserErnie MacMillan, Chaser

"Excellent!" Harry said, excitedly, "It looks like the houses are all split up pretty evenly. Who's that Bletchley fellow? Isn't he –"

"Slytherin, yes!" Ginny replied, animatedly, "That's what's so exciting about it! He's friends with that tall seventh year…you remember, the one who stopped you in the Great Hall? Lots of them reckon Malfoy and his lot have chosen the losing side…I wouldn't call them fans of yours, but it seems they're really willing to try for some inter-house unity!"

"That's really great," Harry repeated, scanning the list again. He was pleased that Sloper and Kirke were Hippogriffs…Crabbe and Goyle were much larger and stronger, which would give them an advantage. He was temporarily shocked to discover he'd been thinking of any association with them as an advantage...

"So," Ginny said, "Shall we head over to the Room?"

"Oh…sure," Harry said, nervously. He still hadn't decided what, or how much, he should tell Ginny about his metamorphmagus ability. Besides – the last time they'd been in the Room of Requirement alone together, odd things had happened…Come to think of it, both of his "real" kisses (Hermione's didn't count, he figured) had occurred in the Room of Requirement.

"Probably jinxed, that place," Harry thought sulkily, "All girls who enter get the uncontrollable urge to burst into tears and then snog."

"Or maybe I'm jinxed," he muttered aloud.

"Hmm?" Ginny hadn't heard him, as she was waving hello to Hannah Abbott at that particular moment.

They reached the Room, but had to pretend to be chatting casually for several moments, so stragglers could make their way to class. When the coast was clear, they walked past the Room, several times, but Harry was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but Ginny, and his growling stomach. When they finally entered the Room of Requirement, Ginny laughed aloud.

"You must be really hungry!"

A stack of sandwiches and a frosted pitcher of pumpkin juice were waiting for them on the table, along with fresh parchment and the stack of books on goblin wars that Harry recognized from the last time.

"So," Ginny said, closing the door behind them, "What happened?"

"Oh…you mean with my eyes," Harry said hesitantly, seating himself at the desk.

"Of course! Was it a hex? Or was it something to do with your mother?"

"Err…"

Harry stalled for time, staring at his feet. If he told Ginny, she'd probably feel she had to go to Dumbledore…or worse, she'd simply stare at him like he were some kind of freak, or wunderkind, which would be even worse.

Wasn't he, though? Between his corporeal Patronus, and his Parseltongue, and his budding Occlumency and Legilimency skills, wasn't he something of a freak? Normal wizards couldn't do all this…maybe on of them, or even two, but not all of them…

He didn't feel proud, or accomplished, or special – if anything he felt like he'd grown an extra head.

"Harry," Ginny said, softly, and Harry looked up to meet her soft brown eyes, "I'm used to keeping secrets. I know Hermione, and the first thing she'd do is probably run directly to Dumbledore, or at the very least, tell Ron. I'm good at keeping secrets. If you don't want this to leave the room, it won't."

Harry felt such a wave of sudden relief, that he had the urge to confess everything to her, immediately.

"I'm a metamorphmagus," he blurted, "like Tonks. I'm sorry. I don't know why I can do all these things – I'm a freak, and it's just one more reason for Dumbledore to raise his eyebrows and stare at me without really explaining anything. And everyone will probably discuss it, and the whole Order will have another bloody meeting about me, and debate what it means, and how I should use it, and I'll have to take 'Remedial Transfiguration' lessons from Tonks, and it's just one more thing to make me different from everybody else," he finished in a rush.

Ginny's eyes widened slightly, and Harry looked at his trainers and blushed. He hadn't quite meant to say that much…

"But you are different, Harry," Ginny said, gently.

"I don't want to be different!" Harry said, vehemently, and he didn't realize how strongly he wished this until he was saying it, "I'm tired of being a freak! I wasn't a normal Muggle, and now I can't even be a normal wizard…Being the Boy Who Lived is exhausting enough, but you saw how everyone reacted when they found out I was a Parselmouth –"

"Which saved my life," Ginny interrupted, folding her arms, as though bracing for battle.

"And you saw how Susan Bones was goggling when she found out I could make a corporeal Patronus –"

"She was just impressed, Harry. And by the way, that 'freakish' ability saved your life, and Hermione's life, and Sirius's life," she said, and then stopped herself abruptly, looking as terrified as though she'd set off a bomb.

"Yeah. Well, seeing as I also cost Sirius his life, I don't suppose that counts," Harry muttered.

"Harry."

The one word contained the truth…Harry knew she was right, that it wasn't his fault, but at the same time, blaming himself felt better – it was easier. Easier to shoulder the blame and hate himself, than to realize he had no control, that things were at motion so much larger than himself…

"I don't think you're a freak, Harry," Ginny said softly, her face drawn with concern, "But I do think you're different from everybody else. And I don't care. We all love you, just as you are."

"But that's just it!" Harry said, putting his elbows on his knees, and leaning forward to meet her earnest gaze, "Everyone only cares about me because I'm different – I want people to care about me just because…well, just because!"

Ginny smiled, "You're funny."

Harry blinked owlishly. "I'm what?"

"Funny," Ginny said, and her freckles bunched at her nose as she smiled, "It's just, I hear Ron complaining all the time about how everyone else is so different and special and he's so bloody average. And he just doesn't understand that everyone loves him just because…and here you are, complaining that you're so special, wishing that everyone would just love you because. What you don't realize is that you're both wrong, and you're both right."

"Ah," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "We're both wrong, and we're both right. Thank you, Professor Trelawney…"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, and Harry laughed aloud.

"What I meant, is," she continued, trying to look severe, but grinning nonetheless, "Ron is special. Isn't he?"

"'Course," Harry muttered. He felt a bit ridiculous talking about his best mate that way, but Ron was special – wasn't he what he "would sorely miss" in the Second Task of the TriWizard? Harry knew better than almost anyone how special a person Ron was…

"And you're normal, Harry, in so many ways," Ginny said, smiling, "Trust me, I grew up with six brothers. You worry about things, and go to school, play sports…you have friends, and family…you're crap with girls," she added, thoughtfully.

"Hey!" Harry said, scowling, but Ginny just laughed.

"Don't get offended, look at Ron, he's crap with girls, too. Then again, most boys are."

"Thanks for your overwhelming vote of confidence," Harry said, feeling heat creep up his neck. This conversation was getting too close to home for comfort. "Are you speaking from experience, here?"

Ginny laughed, "I guess you have a point – I did do a lot of dating last year…"

"I was just taking the mickey," Harry said, concernedly, "I didn't mean to –"

Ginny waved him off, and made a face as though to say it didn't matter.

"The point is, Harry, that both you and Ron feel like you need to change in order to be worthwhile people…and you refuse to believe that people are right to care about you, or believe in you. But they are…and they do."

Now it was Ginny's turn to blush, and look away. Harry caught himself observing her again – she'd worn her hair down today, the way she had in first year, with a strand from each side of her face pulled back. She was so different from when they'd first met – her face was fuller, and her frame, though she was still quite short. She perched on the chair across from him, one leg tucked casually under the other, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. Harry thought she was perhaps the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

She cleared her throat nervously, and ventured, "Can…can I see?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure."

Harry felt a bit nervous. He'd never tried to do this on command before, let alone in front of someone.

"Err, what shall I do?"

Harry spent the next half-hour changing noses, just as Tonks had done, much to Ginny's delight and amazement. He managed a broad one, like Lee Jordan's, and then did Hermione's pert button nose, and even Snape's beaky hook. When he finally managed to put his nose back to its proper shape (after a few panicked failures) Ginny began pinching and running her fingers over it, a scientific scowl of curiosity on her face.

Harry laughed aloud, partly at her expression, and at the awkwardness of having her paw at his face.

"Err, please, go ahead."

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Ginny said, laughing and blushing as she withdrew her hand, "I should've asked first, or something."

"No, it's fine!" Harry said, grinning. Everything suddenly seemed very funny. He felt a warm pressure swelling in his chest, something he hadn't felt in a while – he was happy.

"Well, we didn't get much work done," Ginny said, eyeing the stack of books woefully.

"We still have some time," Harry said, glancing at the clock that had suddenly appeared on the wall, "Let's have some sandwiches and get another couple inches done for Bill and Fleur."

"Alright," Ginny said, pushing up her sleeves, "Oh, and Harry?"

"Mm?"

"You don't need to worry."

She met his eyes, and he again felt as though he'd stepped into the sunlight as she beamed at him reassuringly.

"I won't tell anyone until you're ready. I promise."

When Harry breezed into Firenze's Divination class ten minutes late, he felt as though a helium balloon had filled up his chest, making every step lighter.

"You look happy," Ron said, warily.

"Yep!" Harry said, flopping down to the enchanted grass of the fake forest. He suddenly seemed to realize something was out of synch – students were chatting animatedly with one another. Some were making the pretense of studying their Divination notes, others were simply gossiping or playing gobstones.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, searching for Firenze, and finding him staring into a pile of rocks with a serious expression on his face.

"Dunno," Ron said, "He just told us to spend the class however we felt like."

"Really?" Harry asked, his face becoming a mask of concern, though inside, he was still so happy from his lunch with Ginny, and over the fact that he was now having a full-blown, casual conversation with Ron, that he doubted he'd care if Delores Umbridge had decided to adopt him.

"Yeah," Ron said, scowling nervously, "I think we'd maybe better go try and talk to him."

"Sure," Harry said, a bit too energetically, and scowled like Ron, to counter his tone of voice.

The two made their way over to the shady corner of the room where Firenze was kneeling. For a while, neither of the two said anything. Harry observed the hoof-shaped bruises still peppering Firenze's chest.

"I could not make them understand," Firenze said, without looking up, "They did not want to hear it from me. A traitor to my herd…"

Mrs. Black's cries of "blood traitor" rang in Harry's ears, and he found his cheerful mood sliding slowly into anger.

"Then they're just being really stupid," Harry said, firmly, "Don't worry, Firenze. They'll all know we're right in time."

Firenze looked up at him, and Harry wasn't expecting his look of slight disdain.

"It is no longer a matter of who is right or who is wrong. Though, ironically, you are correct to say so. They will all know we were right, Harry, and soon. I am only concerned for the safety of my herd, and for the safety of the school."

Harry felt a bit abashed, and decided to hold his tongue for a while.

"Do they not believe you?" Ron asked, timidly, "Or wouldn't even listen?"

"Both," Firenze said, "They will not fight. They will not come to the aid of humans. It is not their way. I told them that the centaurs must serve others to save themselves, but they would not listen. Dark things have lurked in the forest before – they are content to let them pass, so long as they do not interfere with their ways, or their laws. They do not understand that they will not receive the same courtesy from Lord Voldemort."

Harry observed Firenze's deft fingers gently, almost lovingly caress and rearrange the stones in front of him. He thought he recognized several squiggly symbols on them from Hermione's Ancient Runes textbook.

"Why aren't we doing any work today?" he asked, quietly.

"Because there is little point," Firenze said, and did not elaborate.

"What do you See?" Harry pressed, even more quietly.

Firenze remained quiet for a while, his long-fingered hand continuing is slow and elegant dance over the stones scattered in the grass.

"Death," Firenze said, "and Rebirth. Change. Painful change. I see Fire. And I see it happening soon. Sooner, I think, than we suspect."

Ron shifted uncomfortably, "But, the second part of the Prophecy has the exact – "

"I know what the Prophecy says," Firenze said, quietly, "You should know Ronald, that I am not yet making any judgement. You asked what I Saw," he said, his cold eyes meeting Harry's, "and I told you."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine, and felt even worse when he thought he detected a flash of his own nerves lurking in the tension of Firenze's shoulders, and the strain of his voice.

There were other signs that the castle was slightly out of sorts. When Ron and Harry arrived for their Defense class, Hermione was waiting for them, along with a confused gaggle of D.A. members.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

"Shh," Hermione said, and only then could Harry hear Lupin's voice ringing out from the closed classroom door, and the dull murmur of students' voices…young voices, it sounded like.

He looked again at the door, and found a note tacked there, in Lupin's tidy script:

"Fifth through Seventh Years – am taking the day to review Protego and Expelliarmus with younger years. I'd like two feet of parchment explaining the difference between passive-defensive spells (i.e., Protego) and aggressive-defensive spells (i.e., Leg Locker Curse), a comprehensive list in each category, including pros and cons. Please practice as much as you can. (Please see me or Ms. Granger for guided practice sessions.)

"Two feet!" exclaimed Neville desperately, who had just arrived, and was reading over Harry's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Neville. You're in the D.A., you'll do fine," Hermione said, reassuringly, "I'll help you if you need it."

"No," Neville said, mopily, "If I don't do it myself, I'll never remember."

"Guided practice sessions?" Harry asked Hermione, his eyebrow raised.

"He means the D.A.," Hermione said, "Or private lessons with him, I suppose. I personally would like to work on my Patronus a bit –"

"Your Patronus is fine," Harry said, distractedly interrupting her preening, "They really think students are going to be attacked?"

Hermione, who Harry had never seen at a loss for words, simply shrugged uncomfortably. After an uncomfortable pause, she recommended that they head to the library and get a jump start on their essays, and everyone present agreed, a bit too loudly, that that was a splendid idea.