Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, locations, etc. belong to J. K. Rowling. I'm not making any money from this story.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the delay on this chapter; I've been travelling. And I'm travelling for most of April, so Chapter 12 could be a while. Thanks again to Yolanda for the beta, and thanks to all of the folks who reviewed!

Chapter Eleven: A Mostly Good Weekend

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were just about to enter the Great Hall for breakfast Saturday morning when a voice stopped them. "Hermy-own-ninny!" All three students turned to see a tall, slim young man hurrying towards them.

"Viktor!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Viktor Krum, internationally-acclaimed Quidditch star and former Durmstrang Champion, came to a halt in front of the trio. "Hello," he said. He kissed Hermione's hand, causing both Ron and Hermione to turn red. Then he shook hands with Harry and Ron. "I vos hoping I vood see the three of you. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to assist vith your Potions classes, and I vonted to tell you about it in person before he announces it this evening at dinner." He smiled a little self-consciously. "So I suppose you vill all haff to call me 'Mr. Krum.' In class, that is. Outside class, you may all of course continue to call me 'Viktor.' And, on your own, you may call me votever you vish." His gaze flicked toward Ron, who flushed again. "At any rate, I am looking forvard to teaching you."

Ron and Hermione both seemed to be in shock, so Harry broke the silence that was threatening to turn awkward. "What about your team?" he asked. "You're not retiring to come teach us, are you?"

"No, no. I haff settled things vith my coach so that I am only required at team practices vonce a veek. Professor Dumbledore has arranged a Portkey to take me there and to the stadiums vere ve vill play the games." His dark eyes turned serious, and Harry knew that he was remembering the last Portkey that had affected the two of them. His mouth set grimly for a moment, and then he shook his head slightly as if to clear the memory. "So I vill be avay for some veekends. The season in Bulgaria stops during January and February because the veather is so bad, so I vill be in residence here… how do you say it… full-time during those months, and then I vill be gone for some veekends from March until the middle of May, ven the season ends."

"Will you be affiliated with any House?" Hermione asked, finally finding her voice.

"No. I vill be vot the American Quodpot players call a 'free agent.' No House affiliations, and thus, it is to be hoped, no House prejudices. I am thinking that your Headmaster is very concerned about those." Krum paused and then gestured toward the door. "But I am keeping you from your breakfast. My apologies. I should be getting to my meeting vith Professor Snape, but I vonted to say Hello." He nodded politely and turned to walk away.

On impulse, Harry stopped him with, "Viktor, our Quidditch team is having an unofficial pracitise today from ten to noon—kind of a preparation for the people who are planning to try out for the open spots. We'd, erm, we'd be really honoured if you'd stop by and watch. Maybe give us a few pointers."

Viktor smiled, one of his rare smiles that made him look younger. "I vood be delighted. I vill see you at ten o'clock on the Qvidditch pitch." He nodded again and set off down the corridor.

Harry looked at Ron and then at Hermione and saw that they were very carefully avoiding one anothers' eyes. He wasn't sure whether to laugh at them or to bang their heads together. He decided that, although either would be satisfying in its own way, neither would be the best of ideas, so he settled on saying, in an overly-bright tone intended to annoy them both, "So, ready for breakfast then?"

They both glared at his cheerfulness, just as he had known that they would, and they followed him into the Great Hall. When they arrived at the Gryffindor table, the current members of the Quidditch team called Harry over to discuss the format of the practise. He told them about inviting Krum to join them, and they were very pleased. They were even more pleased when Harry told them about the new broomsticks, and their excited whoops drew the attention of all the other tables. Harry implored them to quiet down, insisting that he didn't want people to make a big deal about the new brooms. His teammates waved off his protestations, contending that, if the Cleansweep 8C, the Comet 360, and the Nimbus 3000's weren't worth making a big deal about, then nothing was. After they had all calmed down a bit, Angelina said, "There's one other small matter that we need to discuss before Wednesday's try-outs: We need a Captain."

"Harry," Fred and George immediately supplied.

Harry held up his hands in a let's-not-be-hasty gesture. "I'm touched, really, but…."

"Then pipe down and say you'll do it," Fred ordered with a grin.

"At least hear me out first," Harry said. Before he would agree to be Captain, he needed to make sure that it was what the team really wanted. "Captain's a big honour, and I'm the youngest player on the team. The rest of you all deserve it more in terms of seniority, and most of you know the game better than I do. If any of you seventh-years want to be Captain, just say the word. I'll take it if you want me to, but I don't want anyone to feel like they got passed over." He paused. There was no answer. "Anybody?" he said. His teammates all shook their heads and grinned at him. Harry shrugged and grinned back. "Fine. I'll do it." When his teammates boisterous congratulations had died down, he added, "But you'll all have to help me a lot, okay? I've never designed plays before, so a lot of this will be new for me."

"It'll be new for all of us," Alicia observed. "Oliver was such a maniac about designing plays that none of us ever dared to interfere with his system, so we've never done any of that, either." Seeing Harry's worried expression, she added, "But don't worry, Harry; it's not like we're starting from scratch. We can keep practising the old plays—they've been working pretty well for us, after all—and then, after we're all up to speed on those, we'll worry about new ones."

That made Harry feel a little better. He privately resolved to write to Wood and ask to borrow the old playbooks; he hadn't always paid as much attention as he should when Oliver was discussing plays for the other positions, and, now that he was—he swallowed hard—Captain, he'd need to bone up a bit. "Okay," he said. "And I reckon I should talk to Madam Hooch about whatever else Captains need to know. I'll go over to the pitch a little early to do that." He glanced down the table and saw Ginny struggling valiantly to keep up a conversation with Ron and Hermione. "I'll see you there," he said, and he left his teammates to join his friends.

Sliding in next to Ron, he said brightly, "What have I missed?"

Ron and Hermione glowered at him, and Ginny grinned knowingly. "Nothing much," she said. "These two aren't very chatty this morning, for some reason."

Ron and Hermione switched their glowers to her, and she gazed back at them with her most innocent expression. Ron roused himself from his silence to ask what the Quidditch team members had wanted. "Just to talk about the practise this morning," Harry said. "Oh, and they've chosen me for Captain."

Ron perked up visibly, and he, Hermione, and Ginny rushed to congratulate Harry. The conversation continued in a much more animated way, only turning awkward when Viktor Krum appeared at the staff table and Ron and Hermione both lapsed into silence again. Harry, intent on finding a distraction, decided that this was the perfect time to leave to talk to Madam Hooch, and he asked the other three if they wanted to come with him. Ginny quickly answered, "You two go ahead. Hermione and I need to talk about something, and I'm sure you two can find something to talk about on the way." She gave Harry a significant look.

Harry felt utterly baffled, and he looked at Ginny in confusion. She cut her eyes toward Ron, then jerked her head in Hermione's direction. Ron … Hermione … Suddenly, Harry felt like one of those characters in a Muggle cartoon who have light bulbs appear over their heads. He grinned at Ginny to show that he understood, and he and Ron left for the Quidditch pitch. Once they were out of the castle, Harry, deciding to try the direct approach, said casually, "So, are you going to avoid Hermione forever, or are you going to try to talk to her about the Krum thing?"

"What Krum thing?" Ron asked, his would-be innocent tone betrayed by his bright pink ears.

"Oh, just that he's here, and you're both completely panicked about it," Harry replied.

Ron scuffed at the ground with the toe of his trainer. "Reckon she's not panicked about it. Reckon she's ruddy thrilled that her famous boyfriend Vicky is back so they can…."

Harry cut him off with, "Krum isn't her boyfriend. She doesn't even like him. Not like that."

"Why'd she go to the Ball with him, then?" Ron challenged.

"Because he asked her first," Harry said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is, he thought. "Look, just don't quit talking to her, okay? I hate it when you two aren't talking to each other." Ron gave him a strange look, and he added lightly, "Makes it plenty boring for me, trying to carry on a conversation with myself while you two sit and mope and give me one-word answers."

Ron had to grin at this too-accurate description of himself and Hermione during a non-speaking period. After a moment, he said quietly, "I see us sometimes. In the future. Hermione and me. And you, of course, but I think Hermione and I are, erm, together. And I'm not sure if I'm just seeing it or, you know, Seeing it."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Finally, he settled on, "Don't worry about Krum." Ron shrugged, but he looked like he felt a bit better.

The boys were saved from any further forays into serious conversation by the emergence of Madam Hooch from the broomshed. Harry asked her what he needed to know about being Captain. She smiled and replied, "More than I can hope to tell you. All I can help you with is booking the pitch. And there's a Captain's meeting on Tuesday at 6:00."

Harry promised he'd be there, and he went ahead and booked the pitch for three evening sessions each week plus Saturday mornings. Madam Hooch went back to the broomshed to prepare for the invasion of Gryffindor team members and hopefuls, leaving Harry and Ron alone. Harry walked to the middle of the Quidditch pitch and stood silently for a moment. He and Cedric had been taken from this very spot. He closed his eyes, and he could see the Tri-wizard Cup shining before him, could see Cedric's grin as he agreed to Harry's proposal that they take it together. On Tuesday, he'd be meeting with the new Hufflepuff Captain—and, if the rumours he'd heard were correct, with Cho. He took a long, unsteady breath and let it out slowly. Then, he realised that he had been standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with his eyes closed for longer than might be considered normal. He opened his eyes to find Ron standing beside him. "It was the right thing to do," Ron said. Harry must have looked surprised, for he explained unnecessarily, "Cedric. The Cup. You didn't mean him any harm, and, even though it turned out to be a bloody disaster, it was still the right thing to do."

Harry smiled a little shakily and said, "I thought you were a Seer, not a mind reader."

Ron grinned back and replied, "Multi-talented, that's me. C'mon, I think people are starting to turn up."

The boys made their way to the stands, where, as Ron had noted, several of their Housemates were beginning to gather. By ten o'clock, there were twenty-five or thirty Gryffindors, not counting the current team members. They were milling about, talking nervously. Harry spoke briefly to Viktor Krum, who was sitting alone near the front of the group. Ron glowered reflexively at Krum, but then he seemed to catch himself, and he smiled at Krum a little apologetically. Harry saw Ron catch Hermione's eye, grin, and wave to her. She waved back, and Harry smiled to himself, glad that he had spoken to Ron. He surveyed the crowd and wondered if someone should start things moving. When Angelina caught his eye and gestured at the others, he realised that he was the "someone" in question. With a sense of unreality, he called, "May I have everyone's attention, please?"

After the crowd had quieted, Harry introduced himself and briefly explained the format of the practise: they would first divide into groups according to position, and then they would all reconvene for some brief matches. Harry collected the Reserve Seeker hopefuls and spent the next hour or so throwing golf balls and firing off Seeker's Scourges for Dennis Creevey, a fellow second year of his named Rachel Franklin, third-year Mary Wiggins, and first-year Rory Pontner.

At the end of the first hour, Harry called all of the players down. He divided everyone up into two sides, spreading the current players between the sides as evenly as he could and trying not to have all of the people hoping to play a particular position clustered on a side. Then, he explained the rules. Each side would field a team consisting of not more than one current Beater and one current Chaser. He, the current Seeker, would sit out. The rest of the team would be composed of students planning to try out. Every ten minutes, Harry would blow his whistle, and the players who were not current team members would switch out, allowing some of their fellow hopefuls to switch in. The two sides separated, conferred briefly amongst themselves, and sent forward their first teams. Harry blew his whistle, and play began.

During the third round of play, Dennis Creevey, playing for what Harry thought of as Fred and Angelina's team, caught the Snitch. While his teammates were busy cheering, Ginny Weasley and Katie Bell, Chasers for the opposing side, managed to score six goals against Sean Foster, their distracted fourth-year Keeper. In the fourth round, Elspeth Kingsley took a Bludger (hit by Seamus Finnigan) right in the stomach, but she still managed to score on second-year Keeper Natalie McDonald before doubling over in pain. In the fifth round, Dennis caught the Snitch again. This time, Foster kept his attention on his position, and Ginny and Katie only managed to score two goals against him during the celebration. In the sixth and final round, Mary Wiggins, of the George-and-Katie-and-Alicia team, caught the Snitch, and only a spectacular save by Ron kept their team from tying the score. Harry blew his whistle to end play, congratulated everyone on an excellent practise, and sent the hopefuls back to the castle for lunch. After managing to convince Ron and Hermione that the current team members plus Viktor Krum were more than enough bodyguards to get him back to the castle safely, Harry rejoined his team to gather the balls and broomsticks and return them to the broom shed.

By the time the Gryffindor team made it back to the castle after their team conference, showers, and the general messing about that always happened when a Weasley twin was added to the mix, lunch was nearly over. Only a few students, Ron and Hermione among them, lingered in the Great Hall. Harry considered eating with his teammates, but then he had a better idea: They could go to the kitchens to visit Dobby. The house-elf would be thrilled to see Harry (and, more to the point, would be thrilled to feed him until he was ready to burst), and Hermione had been making noises all week about wanting to check on Winky. Harry suggested this plan to his friends, and they agreed with alacrity. Bidding his Quidditch teammates goodbye, Harry set off for the kitchens with Ron and Hermione in tow.

Dobby was, as expected, elated at that sight of Harry. He launched his small, stick-limbed body at Harry as soon as he saw him, shouting, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter is coming to visit Dobby!" He threw his spindly arms around Harry's waist. After a few moments, he let go of Harry to launch himself at Ron with an excited, "And Harry Potter is bringing his Wheezy!" Ron, looking amused, patted Dobby on the head. Dobby greeted Hermione with a bit more restraint; Hermione's efforts to liberate the house-elves the year before hadn't met with much success, and Dobby's reluctant demeanour was nothing compared to the wary glances that the other elves were giving Hermione. Apparently wanting to distract his fellow elves, Dobby asked, "Would Harry Potter and his friends like tea?"

"Actually," Harry said, "I missed lunch, and I was wondering if you had any—" He hadn't finished his sentence before a swarm of elves was pushing him into a seat while another group brought tray after tray of food. Ron, so hungry from the Quidditch practise that he could eat a second lunch immediately after finishing the first, joined Harry at the table, and the house elves plied him with food as well. Hermione looked very disapproving, but she held her tongue. Once Harry had managed to convince the elves that he really didn't need more food and that he didn't want to keep them from their work, Dobby and the trio were left alone. Harry asked Dobby how he had been.

"Dobby has nothing to complain of, sir. Dobby loves Hogwarts, and Professor Dumbledore is the best employer in the world. Dobby is very happy, sir." Dobby bounced up and down in his seat, his usual excited energy underscoring his words.

"And how is Winky?" Hermione asked.

Dobby stopped bouncing and looked very grave. "Winky is a bit better, Miss, but she is still very unhappy. She is missing her Mr. Crouch. She is wanting to go home."

"But Mr. Crouch is, well, dead," Ron said. "Even if she went home, he wouldn't be there anymore."

Dobby nodded. "Dobby is knowing, sir. And Winky is knowing. But she is still missing him." Dobby shook his head slowly, and his bat-like ears flopped. "Dobby cannot understand. Dobby likes being free. Dobby likes being rid of his bad, bad family. But Winky is not liking being free."

Harry's glance fell on the dirty dishes accumulating on the table, and they reminded him of a different table, filled with people and laughter and family. "Dobby," he asked, "after a house elf has been freed, can she ever be, well, un-freed? I mean, if Winky went to work for a new family, would she still be a free elf?"

Dobby cocked his head and appeared to think for a moment. "It is not so simple, Harry Potter, sir. Once an elf is being freed, they is free forever, but, if they is finding a new master, then no one is having to know that they is free."

"So, if Winky found a new master and the new master said that she didn't have to, say, wear clothes, then she could go back to wearing a tea towel?" Harry asked.

Dobby nodded. "When Winky and Dobby is first coming to Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore is telling Winky that she is not having to wear the clothes if she is not wanting to, but Winky is saying that she must be wearing them because her master is saying so. She is not believing that Dumbledore is her master now."

"Dobby, can you bring Winky to us? I want to talk to her for a minute." Harry watched as Dobby trotted off to the depths of the kitchen.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Trying to find Winky a new master," Harry said.

Hermione looked scandalised. "Harry! Once she figures out that she's better off being free—"

"She's not better off being free," Harry cut in. "She's miserable. Dobby's better off being free, but Winky's not." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Dobby arrived, leading Winky by the hand.

Winky still wore the same skirt and blouse, now even dirtier and more faded, but she was standing with ease, and her eyes were clear instead of blurry, so Harry reckoned she had cut back on the Butterbeer. She returned Harry's greeting politely, and she only hesitated for a moment before taking the seat beside him when he offered it. But, when he asked how she was doing, her brown eyes filled with tears. "Winky is missing her family, Harry Potter," she said. "But Winky's family is gone, and she can never be seeing them again." She sniffled, then blew her nose loudly into the sleeve of her blouse.

Before Winky could begin sobbing in earnest, Harry asked, "Winky, would you be happier with a family than at Hogwarts?" She looked up, interested. "I know nobody can replace Mr. Crouch," Harry continued, prudently refraining from adding thank goodness to this observation, "but I know a very nice family who'd love to have a house-elf." When she didn't immediately object, Harry turned to Ron and said, "Hasn't your mum always said that she'd really like to have a house-elf?"
At first, Ron looked startled, but he recovered quickly. "Erm, yeah. Yeah, she has, actually. All we have is a ghoul in the attic, and it's useless."

"Ron's family has this big house, and there's lots of work to be done in it," Harry said. "There are chickens to look after, and a garden with lots of gnomes who have to be chased out all the time, and all sorts of things." Remembering Winky's insistence last year that it wasn't just housework that Mr. Crouch needed her for, Harry added, "And the Weasleys would have to have a really trustworthy elf, one who could keep secrets for them. Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry, so he has important secrets." He glanced across the table at Ron, who was laughing silently into his goblet. When Winky glanced at Ron, though he still hid most of his face behind the goblet, he nodded vigorously. Winky, Harry could see, was softening. He decided to add what he hoped would be the decider. "There's just one thing, though. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't want her house-elf to wear clothes. She'd want you to wear a nice, erm, respectable tea towel." Ron dropped his fork on the floor, and Harry knew that he had only done it so that he could crawl under the table to hide his laughter. Harry agreed—the idea of a tea towel being more "respectable" than clothes was utterly barmy—but house-elves' minds worked in strange ways.

"Winky not have to be wearing the clothes?" she asked.

In as serious a tone as he could manage, Harry answered, "I don't think Mrs. Weasley would allow it." He could feel Ron pounding on the floor with his fist, and Harry had no doubt that his friend was guffawing silently as well. He nudged Ron gently with his foot in hopes of calming him down.

"And Mrs. Weasley will not be minding that Winky has been a bad, bad elf and is getting herself sacked?" Winky asked. Harry could feel Hermione boiling beside him, but she somehow managed to keep silent as Harry answered that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind at all. Winky looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "Will sir be asking Mrs. Weasley if she is wanting Winky to come?" Harry nodded. "If she is wanting Winky, then Winky will go. Winky would be very pleased."

"Great," Harry said. "Ron can write to her tonight." He kicked Ron again, a bit harder this time.

Ron emerged from under the table, looking extremely composed. "Yeah, I'll write tonight and ask her," he said, adding, "I'm sure she'll say yes."

Winky looked happier than Harry had seen her in a very long time, and Harry was glad. Winky had really been through it last year, and it was time she got a little bit of happiness. In addition, the Weasleys could really use the help, especially during summer holidays, when the Burrow was filled to the bursting point with the children and their friends. Harry and his friends bid Winky and Dobby good-bye, promising to return soon with news of Mrs. Weasley's reply.

Once they were out of the kitchens, a chuckling Ron turned to Harry and said, "I thought I was going to explode, listening to you go on about nice, respectable tea towels. Funniest thing I ever heard."

Harry grinned. "I know, I know. But worked, didn't it?"

"Mum'll be over the moon. She's always wanted a house-elf. Bloody brilliant of you, Harry." Ron cast a sly look at Hermione, who hadn't said a word since Winky had arrived at their table, and said, "Wasn't that a good idea of Harry's, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed. "I still think it's completely unfair that house-elves get treated like second-class Beings. But I suppose you're right, Harry; Winky will be happier with a family. She just can't grasp the idea of any other way." Hermione suddenly stopped, apparently struck by an idea. "That's the key. We can't just go in and force them to be free. We have to teach them first. Educate them. Show them that there's more to life than taking orders. I'll have to think about it."

"Great. You think about it. Harry and I will think about a chess game," Ron said as they arrived at the portrait hole. "Mooncalf milk," he said to the Fat Lady, and the three of them clambered into the Common Room. Ron went to get his chess set, and he and Harry played until time for dinner.

At dinner, just before the food appeared, Professor Dumbledore stood to make an announcement. "May I have your attention, please?" The Hall fell silent, and Dumbledore smiled at them. "I am pleased to announce the arrival of our new Potions Master." He gestured to a small, wizened man who was one of the oldest wizards Harry had ever seen. "Please join me in welcoming Professor Jigger."

The students applauded politely, and Hermione leaned across the table to whisper excitedly, "That's Arsineus Jigger, who wrote our textbook! He's supposed to know more about Potions than anybody in the world. He invented the Wolfsbane Potion…." Harry was sure that Hermione could have continued listing Jigger's accomplishments for hours on end, but the applause had finished, and she hushed.

"I am also pleased to present Professor Jigger's assistant, who has kindly consented to take time from his busy Quidditch season to come and help us. Please join me in welcoming Mr. Krum." The applause for Krum was much louder, and Harry grinned, amused that his classmates were more impressed by a professional Quidditch player than by the world's top Potions expert. Ron, he noticed, had clapped for Krum without even a glare from Hermione. Perhaps Ron was going to take Harry's advice and not worry about Krum too much. Harry hoped so.

Dumbledore sat down, and the Hall buzzed with talk again. Hermione spent the rest of the meal singing Jigger's praises. Harry, half-amused and half-exasperated at Hermione's mania for all things scholastic, was almost relieved when Dennis Creevey came bouncing up to ask for Quidditch advice. He spent the rest of the meal talking to Dennis, who, for once, listened raptly instead of interrupting with questions every two seconds. Then he and his friends returned to the Common Room, where they joined the sixth- and seventh-year Prefects in the far corner for their first meeting.

Prefects were required to meet twice per month, once with their Houses and once with their years, but these "meetings" were seldom formal enough to deserve the name. Harry, Ron, and Hermione learned this quickly when, upon their arrival, Lucy Berlin asked, apropos of absolutely nothing, what Quidditch team the fifth-years reckoned Professor Flitwick supported. When they responded with complete bafflement, she explained, "We have to do something to pass the time in these meetings, so Judith and I decided to try to figure out what team all of the Professors like. We decided Snape has to like the Falcons—"

"You and Lee decided Snape has to like the Falcons," interrupted Patrick Croaker. "Patrick, they're the nastiest team in the league, and all their players are foul-tempered thugs. He'd love them," Lucy replied.

"Yes, but they aren't subtle enough for him. They always get caught. He wouldn't support a team that isn't devious enough to get away with their fouls," Patrick argued.

"I think he'd overlook a bit of Bludger-happy play if it's in the service of good, old-fashioned bullying," Lee countered.

The meeting continued in this vein for at least twenty minutes. By the end, they had come to no decision on Snape—one side clung fast to the Falcons suggestion, another favored Patrick's "more subtly intimidating" Wigtown Wanderers, and Rajeev Prasad, a quiet seventh-year, reduced the group to hysterics with the casual observation that Snape might support the Bats, as he was a dead ringer for Barney the Fruitbat, their mascot—but they had settled on the Kestrels for Flitwick, deciding that their leprechauns would amuse him. After they had come to this agreement, Angelina glanced at her wristwatch and said, "I suppose we should move on to business. Let's see: Nobody's lost an excessive number of House points, so we don't have to take anyone aside for the "honour of Gryffindor" speech. No new announcements from the Professors. No reports of homesickness from the first-years. Rajeev and Lee and I found a couple kissing in an empty classroom when we were on Prefect duty, but we didn't take House points since they were both Professors." Her fellow Prefects made such loud exclamations that several of the other students turned their heads to see what was happening, and Angelina grinned wickedly. "Just threw that in there to make sure you were listening. Oh, speaking of Prefect duty, you fifth-years have your first one tomorrow after dinner, right? Here's what you need to know: When you're making your rounds, stay away from Filch's office. He takes House points off anyone who sees him without his false teeth in. If you catch anyone where they aren't supposed to be, send them back to their Common Room, and use your judgment on whether to do anything else. If you want to speak to their Head of House or one of the Prefects in their House, go ahead. If you don't think it's necessary, don't bother. Same for taking House points. Any questions? Good. Then we're finished here."

As the Prefects rose to disperse, Lucy Berlin added, "Next time, be prepared to discuss McGonagall's Quidditch team."

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione settled down at their usual table, Harry noticed Ron shaking his head. "What?" he asked.

"Just thinking about Percy," Ron said. "All that time, he made being a Prefect sound like such a big deal, when really it's just sitting around figuring out McGonagall's Quidditch team."

"Ron! That's not all there is to being a Prefect," Hermione protested. "I'm sure there will be weeks when we have important things to discuss."

Ron grinned across the table at Harry, and Harry wondered whether his friend had made his observation about Percy for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of Hermione or if that was just a fortuitous side-effect. Hermione, seeing Ron's grin, realised that she had taken his bait, and she immediately changed the subject by suggesting that they do some homework. When Ron objected that it was Saturday night, Hermione noted that, since they had Prefect duty after dinner, they needed to get a head start. "After all," she finished, "we wouldn't want to set a bad example by putting it all off until the last minute." Ron banged his head on the table at this mention of setting a bad example; when he finished, Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "I'll just go get my Potions book and meet you two back down here in a five minutes," she said, as if the matter were already resolved—which, if the truth were told, it was. Harry and Ron, marvelling at Hermione's ability to overmaster them, went to fetch their textbooks.

*

After lunch on Sunday, when the Gryffindors were settled in the Common Room, Hermione rose to make an announcement. "Justin Finch-Fletchley asked me to meet him and some of the other Hufflepuffs to study for the Herbology O.W.L., and I'm going to the Great Hall to do that in about half an hour. Any fifth-years who want to join us are welcome to come."

When she sat down again, Ron glowered at her. "Were you planning on telling us about this study session?" he asked.

"I just did," she answered serenely.

"Half an hour beforehand?"

"Well, I didn't want you to have time to come up with an excuse, did I?" was Hermione's reasonable reply.

Harry had to grin; Hermione knew them too well. She and Ron were facing off, each trying not to smile before the other did. Ron cracked first, and Hermione smiled back triumphantly. Harry caught Ginny's eye and nodded toward his two friends, who were still smiling at one another. Ginny shook her head in amusement and returned to her work. Harry, to break his friends' reverie, asked, "Are you planning to make a move any time soon, Ron?"

Ron looked startled, then realised that Harry was talking about their chess game. He and Hermione both flushed; she returned to her book, and Ron proceeded to pick off Harry's loudly-protesting bishop. Harry managed to keep the game going a bit longer than usual—his practise this summer had helped a little—but Ron still had his king in checkmate in plenty of time for them to leave early for Hermione's study session.

When the trio rose to leave for the Great Hall, the rest of their fifth-year Housemates rose, too, and Harry had to smile. Ever since The Walkout (as Fred and George had taken to calling the Potions class imbroglio), the Gryffindor fifth-years seemed to have become a bit more tightly-knit. When their group arrived in the Great Hall, most of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw fifth-years were already there. Justin smiled apologetically when Hermione raised an eyebrow at the size of the crowd. He explained, "I mentioned to Kevin in Potions class on Friday that we were meeting today, and I suppose the word must have spread. I hope you don't mind. I should have asked first—dashed rude of me—but I didn't expect so many people to be interested."

Hermione waved away his apology. "The more the merrier," she said. Fixing the group with a McGonagall-worthy stare, she added, "So long as everyone here plans to take this session seriously…."

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws immediately put on their most studious expressions, and the Gryffindors all tried to hide their amusement. Harry and Ron ducked behind Dean and Seamus so that they could laugh at Hermione's no-nonsense act without feeling her wrath. Once they managed to calm down, they settled in at the table with their fellow students. Hermione asked how many in the group had a copy of How To Survive the O.W.L.s While Still Managing to Eat and Sleep at Least Five Days Out of Seven; all of the Ravenclaws had it, and about half of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. There was a bit of seat-swapping as students who didn't have the book shuffled about to sit next to someone who did have it. Once everyone was settled into the right seat, Hermione had them turn to Chapter Seven, "Everything You Never Wanted to Know about Magical Plants But That the Test Will Ask," and they all worked through the chapter together.

Neville, who excelled in Herbology despite his difficulties in some other classes, got into a dispute with Hannah Abbott about whether Mandrakes grew better with lots of water once a day or with less water twice a day, and Hermione sent them to the library to look up the answer. (Harry suspected that Hermione already knew the answer, but he knew that she was a firm believer in the precept "You'll remember it better if you look it up yourself.") When Neville and Hannah returned with Don't Drown Them, But For Merlin's Sake Don't Let Them Shrivel, Either—A Guide to the Care of Magical Plants, they were accompanied by Queenie Greengrass. She explained that she and some of her Housemates were doing O.W.L.s revision in the library, and she asked if they could join the other Houses. Hermione agreed—to the obvious surprise of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs; the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry was notorious—and Queenie returned a few moments later with her fellow Prefects, Blaise and Tracey, plus Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode. Harry tensed at the presence of these last three, remembering the run-in between Millicent and Hermione at the first (and last) meeting of the Duelling Club in their second year, but Hermione didn't seem to mind them, and the new arrivals settled in to work. After Hermione had to threaten to send Crabbe out for flicking paperwads at Neville, the session continued peacefully, and, before dispersing to their separate House tables for dinner, the group agreed to meet again the following week to work on Charms.

As they settled into their seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron expressed his amazement that Crabbe had stopped flicking paper wads when Hermione had told him to. Hermione replied, "I don't think I was the one he was obeying; I think it was Blaise. I couldn't see for certain, but I think Blaise's wand was out."

"Holding your idiot Housemates at wandpoint—now that's what I call setting a good example," Ron declared. Hermione sniffed disapprovingly, but Harry saw her hide a grin.

"I was surprised Crabbe and Goyle came at all," Harry remarked.

Hermione sniffed again. "They're followers, aren't they? It's all they know how to do. Now that Malfoy won't let them follow him, they have to find someone else to follow, and it looks like Blaise is it."

"Poor Blaise," Ron muttered. Harry agreed wholeheartedly with this sentiment, but he reckoned the world would be much better off with Crabbe and Goyle trailing after Blaise Zabini than Draco Malfoy.

After dinner was over, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned their books to Gryffindor Tower and then left for Prefect duty. It was, as Angelina had implied, fairly straightforward, not to say rather dull. The only students they saw for the first hour-and-a-half were on legitimate errands—returning a book to the library, going to Madame Pomfrey for a Headache Potion, and so on. The closest they had come to doing anything official was advising at third-year Ravenclaw boy to get a friend to accompany him when he needed to leave his Common Room; there wasn't a rule against walking about alone, but, given the events in the world outside Hogwarts, the teachers and Prefects tried to discourage the practise.

As they were heading down the Charms Corridor for at least the fifth time, a noise from Professor Flitwick's room stopped them in their tracks. Harry's hand flew to his wand pocket, and he immediately felt foolish. Paranoid, that's what he was. When he noticed Ron's and Hermione's hands on their wands as well, he felt a little better. The three of them grinned sheepishly at one another, and they went on toward the classroom to investigate.

Hermione, taking charge, knocked briskly on the door and called, "Hello, Prefects. Is anyone in there?"

Harry and Ron snickered at "Hello, Prefects," but their smiles vanished when they saw the red eyes and woebegone expression of the first-year girl who opened the door. Rachel Simmons, Harry thought. She was a Gryffindor, but he didn't know her very well. She was quiet, and she always seemed a little distracted. "Am I in trouble?" Rachel asked.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, ignoring the girl's question of whether she was in trouble.

"I'm worried about my mum," the child replied. "We haven't heard anything, and it's been such a long time…." She trailed off and turned away, trying to hide her tears, and Harry mentally smacked himself in the head. Simmons. Of course. He hadn't made the connection before, but her mother had to be Althea Simmons, the missing Head of the Department of Mysteries. Hermione stepped forward to put an arm around Rachel, and Harry and Ron stood awkwardly. Harry was trying to think of something encouraging to say, but he couldn't. There wasn't much to be encouraging about. Of the many witches and wizards who had disappeared during Voldemort's first reign, few had been found—alive, anyway—and, of the ones who had been found, most were now in St. Mungo's, either dreamy from Memory Charms or, more often, insane from excessive application of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry hoped that Rachel didn't know this, but he reckoned that the truth probably wasn't notably worse than whatever she was imagining.

Rachel pulled away from Hermione, her tear-stained face set in a mask of quiet determination. "I'm okay now," she said firmly. "It just … gets to me sometimes."

"So you come here to be alone," Harry said.

Rachel nodded. "Professor Flitwick never locks the door," she said. She added, half to herself, "Mum always locked the door. Always. Dad and I left to go to the store, and I heard her lock the door behind us, but it was open when we got back, and she was gone. I don't know how they got in. No sign of tampering—not even 'Alohamora,' not that it would have been strong enough…." She trailed off again as though suddenly remembering that she wasn't alone, and Harry had vivid mental image of this child, sitting alone, going over and over the events in her mind, wondering where it had gone wrong.

"Whatever happened wasn't your mum's fault," he heard himself saying. Rachel looked at him, surprised, and so did Ron and Hermione. "Sometimes, you can do everything right—lock the doors, and double-check the spells and enchantments, and do everything that you're supposed to do—and, even so, they get in. And there's nothing anybody could have done differently that would have kept them from getting in. You remember that, okay?" Rachel nodded, wide-eyed. Hermione patted her shoulder and said something about getting her back to the Common Room, and they all set off for Gryffindor Tower. Ron and Hermione were talking to Rachel—neutral topics, like classes and Quidditch teams—but Harry hung back, his mind spinning.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken the Prefect position. Maybe he wasn't ready to be the one who had to deal with the children whose parents had been taken. This child's mum was, for now, only missing, and he didn't know what to say; how would he handle it when the parents were known to be dead? What would he say to the first student whose family his dreams had not been quick enough to save?

After scrambling through the portrait hole and sending Rachel off to a group of first-years with a few encouraging words, Harry, Ron, and Hermione collapsed into chairs at their usual table. Hermione said quietly to Harry, "That was good, what you said to Rachel. She needed to hear that it wasn't her mother's fault."

Harry snorted dismissively. "Doesn't do much in the way of getting her mum back, does it?" he said.

"No. But she still needed to hear it," Hermione replied.

Harry sighed, but Hermione's encouragement did make him feel marginally better. He had said the right thing, or at least as right a thing as there was to be said. It wasn't much, but it was all he knew to do. Harry sighed again and gave himself a little shake to try to push away his cheerless thoughts; it had been, all in all, a good weekend, and he didn't want tonight's unwelcome reminder from reality to spoil it. Harry dug out Professor Smith's spare copy of The Iliad and gave himself over for the rest of the evening to stories of a war that he didn't have to fight.