Chapter 20: Made It
The train ride was fairly uneventful. A number of seventh-years discovered Remus and hauled him off to their compartment to talk with them about Defense N.E.W.Ts. Fred and George stopped back every now and again to drop off their earnings, which were accumulating at an alarming rate. The food trolley came by, and Ron insisted on treating everyone, beaming with pride at actually being able to pay for something.
Mostly, though, the eight of them just talked. Blaise was a witty conversationalist, and Colleen might be quiet, but she was worth listening to when she did say something.
Blaise, it developed, was in a number of the classes Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also taking – N.E.W.T. Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, Care of Magical Creatures, and the interdisciplinary Muggle defense course. Colleen was also in Charms with them, and she would be continuing in Herbology and (to Harry's surprise) Potions.
"I don't like Snape," she admitted. "He scares me. But he's a good teacher when he's not being mean, and I like Potions. It makes sense to me – do certain things, get a certain result."
"I don't much like him myself," Blaise said, looking a little shamefaced. "I guess that's not very loyal of me, but to tell the truth, I'm not sure what I should be loyal to. Slytherin House is kind of divided against itself right now. I want to get ahead in life, and I like knowing what other people might not know, so I'm a Slytherin – but there are a lot of Slytherins who are just interested in being Dark. I'm sure you know who I mean."
"Nope, no idea at all," Ginny said airily. Everyone laughed.
"He goes about trying to recruit," Blaise said in disgust. "Talking about how much better off we'll all be after the Mud – er, Muggleborns," he amended hastily with a glance at Hermione, "are gone. Most of the Slytherins in our year are on his side. I may ask to move dormitories. Got any room up there in the attics?"
"Better attics than dungeons," Ron said with a snort. "Is it true your common room's under the lake?"
"Oh, it's true," Blaise said. "Goyle tried to get into the girls' dorm one time and proved it."
"So you're not allowed in either?" Harry said. "Ron tried to get up the stairs of the girls' side once – an alarm went off, and the whole thing turned into a slide."
"Thanks for sharing," Ron said, elbowing Harry.
"So how did Goyle prove the Slytherin dorms are under the lake by trying to sneak into the girls' dorm?" Hermione asked loudly.
"The ceiling opened up and about twenty gallons of water fell on his head," Blaise said gleefully. "With a fish or two included. It was brilliant. He smelled like seaweed for three days – it would have been even funnier if I didn't have to sleep in the same room with him."
"He always smells like seaweed, though," Luna said thoughtfully. "And Crabbe smells like old socks."
Blaise almost fell off the seat laughing. "The worst part is," he choked out, "she's right!"
"Do they ever bathe?" Harry asked, grinning.
"On the rare occasion Draco's not in the bathroom, yes, I have seen them go in there," Blaise said. "But I'm not sure if they know how to use the showers or not."
"Do they ever talk?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Rarely. And not much when they do. I think 'Pass the potatoes' is the most I've ever heard one of them say at a time."
"How do you find your common room?" Ron asked. "Ours is behind a painting, but yours is just a blank bit of wall – how do you find the right bit?"
Blaise frowned. "How'd you know that?"
"Saw Malfoy going in one time," Harry said quickly, stepping on Ron's foot. This was neither the time or the place to discuss their adventure in second year with the Polyjuice Potion.
"Well, it's just like getting to anywhere else in the castle. You learn where it is, and then you know. Besides, if you look really closely, there's markings in the stone. Probably from a thousand years of sliding open and shut. Yours is behind a painting? That's right, I remember Halloween of third year, when Sirius Black got in the castle, he slashed the painting when the person wouldn't let him in without the password…" Blaise stopped at the look on Harry's face. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Sirius Black was Harry's godfather," Colleen said quietly. "Do you… miss him?" she asked Harry a little awkwardly.
Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.
"I'm sorry," said Blaise, looking uncomfortable. "I forgot. I did read about that in the Prophet. The ceremony and all."
"It's all right," Harry said in a distant voice. Ron handed him a Chocolate Frog. Absently, Harry opened it, pulled out the card, and looked at it. And looked again.
"What's wrong?" Neville asked.
"Nothing." Harry quickly slid the card back into the box and took a bite of frog.
"You got yourself, didn't you?" said Luna from behind her magazine.
"You've got a Chocolate Frog card?" Ron said in disbelief.
"Diddum wump wum!" Harry protested through his mouthful of chocolate, and swallowed. "Oh, here, go on, you'll see it eventually anyway…"
He pulled it out and handed it around. It was a picture of him flying against the Hungarian Horntail at the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, two years earlier.
"Good picture," Ginny said, watching the photographic Harry swoop and dive around the dragon. "You were pretty impressive, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry said, feeling a little better.
He listened a lot the rest of the way to the castle, learning more about what it was like living in a less crowded magical house than the Weasleys' – Blaise was an only child, and Colleen had one sister, three years older than she was.
"She's out of Hogwarts now, obviously. She was a Ravenclaw, played Chaser for their Quidditch team, and she signed with the Ballycastle Bats straight out of school. Mum and Dad wanted her to become a Healer, but they had to settle for me," Colleen recalled. "I'm a bit of the black sheep of the family, they were flattened when I was sorted into Gryffindor – Dad accused Mum of cheating on him, and it was only half a joke. My family's been almost all Ravenclaws as far back as we're magical."
"How far's that?" asked Neville curiously.
"Two generations. Three of my grandparents were Muggleborn, the other one was a half-blood."
"And then there's me," Blaise said, with a curious mixture of pride and annoyance. "Some of the oldest wizarding blood in Europe runs in my veins… and none of it can make me any better thandecent at almost everything magical. I think that was when I realized a lot of the pureblood propaganda was rot – when I got to school, and I was no better than most of the Muggleborn students, and a lot worse than some of them. A hell of a lot worse than you," he said to Hermione.
"Thanks," Hermione said. "I think."
Fred rapped on the compartment door. "You lot better get changed, we're almost there," he said through the glass. "They're calling all prefects to the front compartment."
Harry couldn't resist having a look at himself in the window, to see how the prefect badge looked on his black robes, and stifled a laugh as he remembered Ron doing the same last year. He, Ron, Hermione, and Blaise made their way to the front compartment, where David Masterson, looking rather hassled, was waiting.
"There you are," he said as they came in. "I think that's everyone – right, then, passwords. I want it clearly understood that these are not for casual use. You are not to tell anyone else another House's password, and you are not to enter another House's common room except in a case of urgent need. And you may have to justify 'urgent need' to me, Miss Chang, your Head of House, or the Headmaster, so don't take this lightly. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
"All right. Slytherins, your password is Draco."
Ron bit his lip hard and Hermione turned faintly pink as Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Gryffindors, Titillandus. Ravenclaws, Nunquam. Hufflepuffs, Dormiens."
Hermione had a bit of a coughing fit.
"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" Masterson asked, frowning.
"Fine – " Hermione coughed, her eyes starting to water. She wiped them and took a deep breath. "Just fine. Something caught in my throat."
"Good. We should be there in a moment or two, so spread out, help anyone who needs it, and I'll see you all at the Feast."
"What was that about?" Harry asked Hermione as they waited their turn at the door.
"The passwords – don't you know what they are?"
"No."
"Put them together. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. Doesn't that sound even the least bit familiar, to either of you?"
"No," Harry said frankly. He waved to Blaise as the Slytherin left the compartment.
Ron's forehead was wrinkled with thought. "I've never heard it before, but I've… seen it somewhere," he said slowly. "It's something to do with the school…"
Harry's brain triggered. "It's the school motto," he said. "On the Hogwarts crests, under the shield, isn't it?"
"That's it," Ron said, snapping his fingers. "I knew I'd seen it. What's it mean?"
"Never tickle a sleeping dragon," Hermione recited.
Ron snorted as they finally made it through the door. "Good advice. Dragons bite bloody hard."
Harry looked into a nearby compartment – it was filled with very nervous-looking first years who appeared to be glued to their seats. "Someone's going to need to help them," he said as the train started slowing down.
"Will you do it, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously. "At least one of us should be down at the other end, in case Malfoy starts something…"
"All right. See you at the carriages."
"See you," Ron said, moving off.
Harry swallowed hard and pulled the door of the compartment open.
"Come on, everyone out," he said in what he hoped was a polite and cheerful tone.
All the first years stared at him. "Are you Harry Potter?" one of the girls said in a whisper.
"Yes, that's me," Harry confirmed. "Are you hungry?"
She nodded, her eyes never leaving him.
"Well, there's a start-of-term feast at the castle, but you have to get there first," Harry said. "And that means you have to get off the train."
A boy spoke up. "I heard we have to row in boats across a big lake with a giant cracking a whip," he said fearfully.
"I heard we have to wrestle a troll to find out what house we belong in!" said another boy.
"I heard the Potions Professor will lock you in a dungeon if you don't do your homework!"
"I heard – "
"I heard – "
"Hold on a second," Harry said loudly as the train stopped. "Let's get off the train first, and then I'll tell you the truth. Leave your luggage here, they'll take care of it for you."
To his amazement, every single person in the compartment did what he said. They stood up, leaving their trunks behind, and followed him into the hallway. For a miracle, they beat most of the rush, and were actually the first group off the train.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" called the voice Harry had been waiting for.
"That's Hagrid," he said to the first years. "He's big, but he's not a giant, and he doesn't have a whip. He'll take you across the lake. You don't have to row, the boats move by themselves."
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid called, catching sight of him.
"All right," Harry answered, waving. "Be right over." He turned back to the first years. "You do not have to wrestle a troll – I remember someone told me that in my first year too, but it isn't true. And you don't want Professor Snape mad at you, but he doesn't lock people in dungeons. Not even if you have detention with him. Anything else you need to know?"
"Can I have your autograph?" said one boy in the front of the group.
Harry sighed. "Talk to me about it tomorrow."
"All right!"
"Come on, then," Harry said, and led them down the platform through the growing crowd to Hagrid. Dean Thomas shouted a greeting to him as he passed, and Colin and Dennis Creevey waved frantically to him through the windows of the train. "Here you go, Hagrid," he said as the first years filed past him. "All yours."
"See yeh at the feast!" Hagrid said, and gave him a pat on the back that almost knocked him over. Harry just grinned – he'd gotten used to it after five years of being friends with Hagrid – and joined the throng of students jostling toward the exit.
"Harry, over here!" Ginny's clear voice floated over the crowd noise as he emerged. He looked around and saw her waving at him from beside a carriage. He shuddered slightly as he saw the thestrals. Creepy-looking things…
"Thanks," he said, arriving at the carriage slightly breathless from all the shoving.
"I've got Hedwig, Harry," Neville said as Harry climbed in. "We're just waiting for Ron – "
"Here he comes," Ginny said. "Ron, Ron, here – oh no!"
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, but saw for himself as Ron came into his line of sight, panting – he had a slight trickle of blood from one nostril, and his robes were mussed.
"You've been fighting already?" Hermione said shrilly. "We're not even at the castle yet!"
"Malfoy," Ron said, wiping his face with the handkerchief Ginny handed him. "He almost shoved a couple of second years onto the tracks because they were in his way." He imitated Malfoy's drawl for the last few words. "Gryffindors, of course. I told him he was a great bullying git, and he told Crabbe to improve my looks. Goyle grabbed me from behind – I kicked him and got away before Crabbe actually hit me."
"How'd you get a bloody nose, then?" Harry asked curiously as the carriage started to move.
Ron colored. "Ran into a pillar," he said very quietly.
Neville coughed and looked down at his plant. Ginny snickered openly. Luna looked Ron up and down, then said matter-of-factly, "Well, there's no way the pillar could have run into you."
The reaction to this lasted almost all the way to the castle and completely destroyed any vestiges of a bad mood in Harry. He waved cheerily at Malfoy, who stared at him from the carriage behind his, released Hedwig so she could head for the Owlery, and climbed the castle steps still grinning. Spotting his trunk in the piles in the entrance hall, he left Hedwig's cage on top of it and headed for the Great Hall with the rest of the students.
The Great Hall looked much the same as ever: the ceiling was a uniform black, sprinkled liberally with stars, reflecting the still, clear night outside; the four long tables for the four Houses were set with golden plates and goblets, but still bare of food; the resident ghosts were hovering about, waving at favorite students (Nearly Headless Nick tipped his head to Harry as he passed); and the staff table was filled with teachers and guests.
Ron almost tripped over his own feet as he saw two of the guests. "What're they doing up there?" he whispered urgently to Harry.
"Don't know… you'd think they'd sit with us. It's not like they were gone a long time – they were students last year."
"Isn't that Madame Fleming?" Hermione asked, nodding at the tall, brown-haired woman sitting beside Albus Dumbledore, on the other side from the vacant seat of Professor McGonagall, who was standing on the dais with the Sorting Hat and the list of first years in her hands.
"Yeah, that's her… and look who's next to Snape!" Harry hissed with glee.
Remus Lupin, wearing his usual pleasant expression, was making polite conversation with Professor Sprout, while Professor Snape glowered at his back.
"He's not teaching again, is he?" Ron asked.
"Don't know… you'd think he'd have told us if he was…"
"Wish he would," Ron said firmly. "Whoever we're going to have is probably going to be awful."
"Ron, don't say that," Hermione said with a sigh. "We don't even know who it is yet."
"Maybe that's why she's here," Harry suggested, looking at Madame Fleming. "Maybe she's taken the job."
The doors opened. Hagrid led the usual line of white-faced first years up the aisle between tables. One of the girls Harry had talked to gave him a small smile as she passed. She was a pretty little thing, Harry noticed absently, with thick dark hair and big brown eyes…
Everyone's attention was riveted on the Sorting Hat as Professor McGonagall placed it on the stool. The rip near the brim opened – there was a pause –
"Hem, hem."
All the returning students, and most of the faculty, broke into hysterical laughter. The Hat had done the most perfect send-up of Dolores Umbridge anyone could imagine.
"It must have been talking to Peeves," Harry murmured to Ron and Hermione as the laughter died and the Hat began its song.
I welcome you to Hogwarts,
You first-years young and new,
Now let me introduce myself
And tell you what I do.
The Sorting Hat they call me,
And that name is quite sincere;
I'll tell you where you ought to live
While you're a student here.
If you would dwell among the clouds
And study all day long,
Then I will shout out "Ravenclaw!"
For that's where you belong.
If you're a strong determined sort
With both feet on the ground,
I'll send you straight to Hufflepuff
Where types like you abound.
If deep and dark your thinking runs,
With clever plans sublime,
The noted house of Slytherin
Is where you'll spend your time.
If you can face your fears alone
And never turn a hair,
Then you belong in Gryffindor,
And I will send you there.
But now I must remind you
Of a thing that's oft forgot;
It is not always Slytherins
Who lay a cunning plot.
It is not always Gryffindors
Who fight their awful fears,
And not alone are Ravenclaws
In wisdom for their years.
The Hufflepuffs are not the only
Strong and loyal kind;
These Houses and their attributes
Are found in every mind.
I tell you only which of them
Is strongest within you;
The other three will someday
Come to be important too.
So do not spurn the students who
Wear other colors bright;
The day may come when you will need
Their help against the night.
And if you think the Sorting Hat
Has less sense than a crup,
To you I have one answer;
Come on down, and step right up!
Under cover of the applause, Ron made a face. "If it's trying to tell me to get in touch with my inner Slytherin, I'm out of here."
Harry nodded, concealing his inner qualms. He had never told anyone, except Dumbledore, that the Hat had considered putting him in Slytherin.
"Abrams, John!" Professor McGonagall read from her scroll. A thick-set boy came forward and sat down. She lowered the Hat onto his head – there was a pause –
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Harry watched for his little group of first years. The boy who had asked for his autograph, "Kilewski, Brandon", had his eyes shut as the Hat descended onto his head. It took only a moment to shout "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry applauded with everyone else, but inwardly groaned. Another member for my bloody fan club. Great.
The girl he had noticed was "Romano, Antonia", and it took the Hat a while to Sort her, but finally she was placed in "SLYTHERIN!"
Have to get Blaise to keep an eye on her.
When "York, Patrick" had become a Hufflepuff, the Sorting Hat and stool had been removed, and Professor McGonagall had returned to her place at the high table, Professor Dumbledore rose, and the Hall quieted.
"Greetings, one and all, and a warm welcome to the start of a new school year. There are many things which must be discussed, new faces among us who must be introduced, new rules which must be explained – but all this can wait. The more important things of life are at hand – namely, an excellent dinner – and therefore any further remarks will be postponed until we are all satisfied."
"Which, in your case, would be never," Hermione said to Ron as the food appeared on the tables and the Hogwarts student body made a collective grab for it.
"Oh, lay off, Hermione. Just because I eat a lot – "
"You eat a lot? That's like saying Hogwarts is large – it's true, but it's not quite enough. How about, you eat enough to satisfy three normal people, you never pass up food when it's offered, and you can't even wait for cookies to cool off before you start making a pig of yourself?"
"So I eat too much, is that what you're saying?"
"Yes, that's what I'm saying."
"Well, you read too much."
"I do not!"
"Oh, yes, you do. I've never seen you anywhere without a book. You even take a book to Quidditch matches – why? In case they get boring? In case we need to know the rules all of a sudden? Your library fines for your whole life could probably buy a house – "
Harry was about to intervene when he noticed that neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to be really angry. In fact, Hermione was holding her knife like a drumstick and tapping out a rhythm pattern on the table, something she only did when she was happy.
I think I'll stay out of it.
He applied himself to his roast chicken and baked potato.
Ron and Hermione had moved on to one another's annoying quirks of speaking (Ron's swearing and Hermione's use of large words) by the time dessert was served. Harry helped himself to treacle tart and watched as Ron passed Hermione the butter pecan ice cream and Hermione pushed the chocolate pudding closer to Ron, both without being asked and without missing a beat in their ongoing…
Well, call it a debate. Sounds better than argument.
Even their debate, though, had to stop when Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.
"Now that I have a chance of holding your attention for more than a few seconds, I would like to introduce the newest additions to our teaching staff for this school year. First, for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, may I introduce Professor Athena Fleming."
Professor Fleming rose and gave a small bow to the students, seating herself again amid polite applause.
"You were right, Harry!" Hermione whispered to him.
"They're going to let the witch who turned my sister into a cat teach us?" Ron said, looking aghast.
"She did apologize, Ron, don't be such a – "
"Secondly, for the new course in Practical Magic which many of our older students will be taking, may I introduce two people who need no introduction to most of you, though you have never had them as teachers before – Professors Fred and George Weasley, who will be team-teaching the course."
Ron's mouth fell open. Fred and George were taking extravagant bows from the end of the staff table. Harry looked down the table at Ginny and found her doubled over in her seat. Concerned, he looked closer, only to see that she was laughing so hard she couldn't sit up.
That will be an interesting class.
"And lastly, the interdisciplinary course in Muggle defense. It is my privilege to announce that this course will also be team-taught, by Professor Fleming, Professor Snape, and a familiar face to many of you, a part-time addition to our staff this year, Professor Remus Lupin."
The fourth through seventh years, who had been taught by Remus during his previous professorship, went wild, screaming and pounding on the tables. A chant arose: "Lu-pin, Lu-pin, Lu-pin…" Remus had to take a second bow before everyone shut up. Snape's face was so puckered, it looked as if someone had tied an invisible string between his bottom lip and the middle of his eyebrows. Athena Fleming looked faintly amused, Professor McGonagall openly so.
"I would also like to announce that all items created or sold by the company known as Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, by order of Mr. Filch, have been banned from the hallways," Professor Dumbledore went on when order was finally, somewhat, restored. Fred and George made identical faces of annoyance. "And please do recall that the Forbidden Forest is – all together now – "
"Forbidden," the school chanted with their Headmaster.
"Quite good for the first day," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Notices about tryouts for House Quidditch teams will be posted within the week – questions, see Madam Hooch or your House team captain…"
Harry had begun to tune out when Ron poked him.
"What?"
Ron jerked his thumb at Dumbledore, who was just saying, "... or DA, dedicated to the learning and exercise of practical defense skills. Anyone with questions, contact the club's president, Harry Potter."
Harry put his forehead down on the table, not sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or just go to bed.
I think go to bed is winning.
"…and to all, a good night," Dumbledore concluded, and sat down.
Finally.
Ron scraped his pudding bowl clean and stood up amid the cacophony of the entire school doing the same thing. "Gryffindor first years, follow me!" he called. "This way to the Gryffindor dormitory!"
"Can I be a first year again?" Harry asked, waving at Remus and Hagrid as he left the Great Hall. "I think life was easier then."
"Well, if you really want to go through that whole bit with Quirrell and the Stone all over…" Hermione said with a laugh as she went past them. "Neville, wait a second – "
Neville stopped, looking alarmed.
"Don't worry, you didn't forget anything," Hermione said, pressing something into his hand. "I wrote down the password for you so you won't forget it."
"Thanks, Hermione! I'll see you later, I'm going to try and catch Professor Sprout before she goes to bed…"
"He'll see you later?" Ron demanded as Hermione rejoined them. "What does that mean?"
"It means we live in the same dormitory, Ronald, so there's not much chance that we won't see each other," Hermione said, with a real snap in her voice this time.
"Not in front of the first years, you two," Harry said, trying to lighten things up. Both of them glared at him, and he realized it might not have been a good idea. They climbed five staircases in stony silence. By the sixth, Hermione had started to unbend a trifle, and by the seventh, Ron was smiling again, when he wasn't yawning.
"Oh, hello, everyone!" said the Fat Lady as they reached her portrait. "Harry Potter, my goodness, have you grown?"
"Maybe," Harry yawned. "Titillandus."
The portrait swung open, and Harry heard a few gasps as the round hole in the wall was revealed. He and Ron stood one on either side of it and gave two or three of the first years boosts. Brandon Kilewski climbed through on his own, but not before giving Harry a glance of pure hero-worship (something he recognized after being around Dobby and the Creevey brothers for four years). Finally, Hermione clambered in, Ron behind her, and Harry last of all.
It's good to be back.
That was Harry's last truly coherent thought, as he climbed the stairs, changed into his pajamas, and almost literally fell into bed in a fog of tiredness. He half-heard Ron start snoring beside him, but his eyes were already mostly closed at that point…
-----
"It's good to be back," Erica said, taking off her backpack as Harry put her laundry hamper on the floor of her room. "Not that I don't love my family, but I guess the best way to put it is that they're like a disease. When I live at home, I build up immunity to them, so I can handle all the screaming and the fighting and the table manners, or lack thereof. But when I live here most of the time, and just go home on weekends…"
"It really gets to you, doesn't it?" Ginny said, handing Erica her overnight bag.
"Oh, you have no idea." Erica sat down at her computer. "So, how were auditions?"
"Nerve-wracking," Ginny said. "The list is supposed to go up today, this afternoon, but I don't know when…"
"And you're not at the Cashbox waiting? What kind of theatre geek are you, anyway?" Erica demanded, only half-jokingly. "Come on, I tried out Friday before I left. We'll go check the list together. And if it's not up, we'll sit around and wait until it is. Trust me, we won't be alone."
------
Fortunately for Ginny's nerves (and Harry's), the list was up. The crowd around the call board in the theatre arts building, called the Cashbox for its resemblance to a bank, proved that.
"'Scuse us," Erica said, and the throng parted somewhat, enough to let Harry in.
Why is it always me?
He ran his finger up the list, and was rewarded halfway there with a familiar name.
Me? I made it?
"Fabian". I remember him – kind of a bit part, he just hangs out with the drunk and the idiot – but I made it! I'm in the show!
He kept looking up, and was rewarded with two other names he knew.
Ginny's Maria! Oh, that'll be good – she loves comedy, and that's a really funny part – and I don't believe it – Erica got Viola! She finally beat out Mercy Lowdale!
That lady had been cast as Olivia, the countess who falls in love with Viola's manly disguise, and Harry couldn't keep from smiling at the thought of the two girls, who cordially hated one another, going through the scenes where Olivia tries to seduce "Cesario".
This should be fun.
"Congratulations, ladies," he said when he made it out of the crowd again.
"We're in?" Ginny squealed. "We made it?"
"We made it," Harry confirmed as Erica, grinning, infiltrated the crowd to see what part she had gotten. "I'm Fabian, you're Maria."
"Maria?" said Robertson, who was leaning against the wall. "Come and kiss me, wench, I'm Sir Toby Belch, your future husband."
"Not until I have to," Ginny said, making a face. "And no onions at least an hour before the show, Robertson, your breath's bad enough without them."
"I'm hurt," Robertson began, but was interrupted by Erica's shriek of delight. "Viola, eh? Good for her."
Ginny twirled around once, laughing, then threw her arms around Harry. "Thank you so much for trying out with me! I love you!"
"Ah, ah, ah, PDA," Robertson said, wagging his finger.
Harry thumbed his nose at his guitar teacher and kissed Ginny.
"You taste like treacle tart," she whispered in his ear when they pulled away.
-----
(A/N: I know that in canon, the Slytherin boy who can see thestrals is Theodore Nott. (NOW I know that! Grr JKR for updating her website three freaking days after I posted the last chapter!) So this story is now a little bit AU. Sigh.
OK, this update was sooner than the last one, but not by much. I know, I know, I used to update twice weekly, and now look at me… a poor, broken, once in two weeks kind of writer…
I'll really try, all right? Remember, more reviews mean sooner updates!
MAndrews: Hope this finds you better… and were you cut off, or did you mean to end there?
MackenzieW: Oh Lord, don't get me started on no-good partners for group projects!
Lady Cinnibar: Thank you, and yes, he is.
emikae: I hope she does, it will really add to the "we all need to work together" message. My mother is also a fan of possible good Slytherins in HBP.
blueJosh: Thanks for clarifying!
Tigoamy: I love Carrington too… and I miss it now that I'm home… sniffle… If you want more info about it, just e-mail me, I've got TONS! About the Map, I just figured, how else could it insult Snape so very, VERY well?
marathonerobsessed: Thanks, sweet thing!
harryp123: I'll get to that, I promise!
CherryPit8: Thanks, great to have you!
Thanks to everyone! Will try to see you again soon!)