Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.

Chapter 13 – Back-to-school Rush

Gabriel looked left, and right. And entered the shop.

He had wanted to go in the city, to fetch the book from the downtown address Mathilda gave him. Grace hadn't objected, but had thrown him a curious look, as if to determine if he was telling her the whole truth. Still, she lent him some money so that he would be able to travel and buy the book, which price wasn't known yet. Envisioning a long trip in the Underground, he had also taken his sketchpad to draw some more.

When he had exited the target station, he had looked around and had quickly gone towards the given address. The place was quite classy, and he hadn't wanted to be arrested for showing his scarred face in the area, even if he consciously knew that couldn't be done. And, going there and passing through back streets, he had stopped in front of a tattoo parlour, attracted by the pictures displayed on the outside.

There, right in front of him, had been a drawn bird, similar to the ones he had been sketching for some time, beside the castles and snakes. Not able to let the opportunity pass, he had decided to inquire about the bird, and entered the shop.

Once inside, he reflected that it wasn't less classy than the whole area. The shop keeper, a young man with both arms covered in tattoos and displayed proudly through a sleeveless vest, took his general appearance in, and frowned. Gabriel wasn't clad in expensive clothes, and didn't seem to belong there. Shrugging his feelings of uneasiness aside, he went to the counter with his sketchpad opened, and, showing the bird, asked about it.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know the name of such birds? I saw one on your outside display..."

The young employee looked towards the pictures, and merely nodded, reluctantly answering. "It's one of the many representations of a phoenix. Being mythical creatures, they don't have a fixed representation. Now, are you going to get a tattoo or not?" The man obviously didn't think so as he turned back without even waiting for an answer. Sensing that he wasn't wanted, and that the displayed prices were higher than everything he could muster, Gabriel turned around and left the shop.

He couldn't refrain from thinking about how he would like to have a tattoo of a phoenix someday, and that thought kept him occupied until his feet found the entrance of a small office building, shared by several companies.

Its front was old-fashioned, true to the upscale environment, and the ornate buttons, obviously added after the building construction, followed its style. Finding the one labelled 'M. Books' as indicated on the address, he wondered how a publisher could afford working in this area while having actually no reference of book to sell. Not undermined by the thought, though, he pressed the button. To the voice that answered curtly, he announced to be searching for a book, and gave his identity, before the door clicked open.

Once inside, he found his way easily and arrived in front of a young woman dressed like women were in the previous century. While finding it strange, he reflected that people could dress the way they wanted, and he gave her the paper with the book references on it. She read it and, frowning, asked where he found the reference. He had rehearsed his part, though, and smoothly answered that it was from his grandmother inheritance. She went to the back, and, hidden from his view, seemed to turn pages from large books. She then made what could be heard as a telephone call, with the speaker enabled. While not hearing everything, Gabriel understood that she was asking that he be allowed to visit some place. After that, the young woman came back to the counter, and returned the paper to him.

"I don't know if they have it anymore, because their library has had a little run-in by some vandals at the beginning of summer." she said, before adding doubtfully "Or so I was told." Sighing, she continued explaining "But you are going to meet Mr Draco Malfoy himself, and I'd suggest you to be... polite, because he's easily upset at the moment."

The name was sounding vaguely familiar, but he couldn't decide if it was 'Draco' or 'Malfoy' that rang the bell. When he nodded his acceptance, she opened the counter so that he could pass through, and let him through passages with more books on more shelves. He idly reflected about the fact that their indicated number of references was zero whereas there were so many books, but he didn't have to go deeper in his thoughts, because they arrived in front of a closed door.

She knocked it in a peculiar way, and waited. The answer came, with the same sequence of sounds, and she opened the door. Behind the door, a tall, blond man with piercing grey eyes was waiting, dressed in a black garment which was as out-of-fashion as the woman's, and holding a cane in his hand. Seizing him up, the man then turned on his heels, and the woman pushed Gabriel to follow him.

They were in a library. But this one wasn't little. It wasn't medium-sized. It wasn't even large. It was more huge than anything else. The place suddenly gave Gabriel the creeps, but he reasoned with himself that he wasn't to be afraid of the mere size of a room. Even if said room seemed to be too large for the building he entered. He would have to check the neighbouring buildings upon getting out of there, he thought.

There had been damage in the room, it seemed, as several broken shelves had been put upright against the wall, and many books still littered the floor. The Malfoy man had taken a little advance, and had turned around the next shelf. He then uttered something, and, when Gabriel and the woman turned around the corner, he had a wooden stick in his right hand, and a book in his left. He stored the stick away, under the watchful gaze of Gabriel, and started to browse the book, raising his eyebrows as he went. The stick was tugging at another unknown memory of Gabriel, and, unaware of speaking aloud, he asked "Is this one of a kind?"

Startled by his own voice, he looked up to the astonished faces of the two persons in front of him. The man answered, displeasure evident in his voice. "What do you mean?"

"Sorry sir, I didn't want to say it aloud, I swear. I just wondered about your stick."

"My... stick?" The man looked stunned this time, until understanding dawned on his features. He drew the stick back from where he was keeping it, under his black vest, and held it upright in front of Gabriel. "This?"

"Yes. It's... beautiful." Gabriel was surprised by his own astonishment in front of a mere piece of wood, and was beginning to feel ashamed.

The man looked towards him for a short while, a mix of discomfort and curiosity in his features, before turning towards the woman. "You brought a muggle here?" The term had been heard by Gabriel at some point already, but he still didn't know what that meant. The way the man was spitting it, though, was a good indication of how bad it was. "He saw me?"

"I didn't know sir! He pressed the button, so I thought... they can't see it, normally... but I'm quite sure he didn't see you, sir..." She was apologetic, wringing her hands together.

"Well, we'll have to see about that button someday. In the meantime..." Looking intently at Gabriel, he stowed the stick away again, gave him the book, and asked, in a silky voice that made Gabriel's spine tingle. "What can you read from this?"

Gabriel first glanced at the book title, and was stunned to find it written in what appeared to be a foreign language, unknown to him.

Osiiyanpoc u oneGnTr s.rtD, aae Sntvbh

Opening the book, he saw that it was written the same way, and appeared to be only utter gibberish. He turned the pages, one after the other, and couldn't make out a single word. Strange. But, closing the book and looking at the back cover, he saw that it was the book he wanted. The cover displayed the publisher acronym and the book number, and they compared with the ones from the ring. Gathering his courage, he spoke in a strangled voice. "I can't read it, sir, but I got its reference through an inheritance. I would like to have it, as a souvenir of my grandmother. I can pay..." he gathered his money, minus what was necessary to come back with the Underground and a few spare coins, and continued "...20 pounds for it."

At the mention of the British money, the man's face displayed a mix of emotions. Disbelief, anger, discouragement, pain, and longing. He then turned away, and without looking at them, spoke to the woman. "Do it."

The woman shuddered, and beckoned to Gabriel, and they went back to her office. There, she took the pound notes, looking at them fascinatingly, before storing them in a drawer. Catching a glance there before she slammed it closed, Gabriel didn't see a banknote at all, apart his own, only coins with golden, silvery, and bronze colours. Something was strange there, but he wasn't to interfere with the woman, and besides, he had found the book. Still wanting to know something, though, and having his only chance for an answer in front of him, he asked. "I'm sorry, but... what's a 'muggle'?"

"Oh, right, I forgot. I can't exactly let you talk about this to the other muggles, can I?" Sighing, as if about to do something she didn't like, she extracted another stick from inside her left sleeve.

Another stick!

Gabriel suddenly understood that there were more than one. He understood that each person could even have his own, except that you had to have a 'talent' to get one. He started to understand everything and his eye was opening, opening...

"Obliviate."

He found himself in the street, with his book in hand, and unclear memories about how he arrived there and how he got it. Frowning and trying to remember, he got the idea that he bought it from the local bookshop, and that was all. Clutching said book against his chest, he started to walk away in the sunny day, and returned to the fair. He didn't notice the woman at the window behind him, looking at him until he turned away.

Once back home, he prepared the dinner, and put four plates on the table, as Grace had invited the Freyrs once again. Before he had left, just after lunch, she had told him to be there at least for dinner, and that they had to talk about something important. Now that the pastas were simmering in the water, he could only ask himself what was the topic, and what was its importance.

Grace arrived back from the show, right on time, and was followed by their friends. They ate in good company, and enjoyed the meal. Once finished, though, around the steaming tea, Grace asked him something.

"Well, Gabriel, we have been two months together by now, and I wanted to know what you were planning to do now."

"Now?"

"Yes, you know, September, and all this sort of things."

"September?"

"Well, for once, the fair will be less used, opening only on holidays, and the people are going to work outside. And there is the question of your schooling."

"Schooling?"

"Yes, schooling. As a young man of 15, you have to continue your schooling for at least one year. Unless your goal in life is to repeat the last word of every question you are asked, like you are doing right now. You are doing it fine, by the way." Even if the final comments were humorous, the subject was not.

"But... I don't remember... I mean..." Gabriel was paling now. He had always thought to be able to continue working for Grace, at the fair.

"What don't you remember?" Joan asked softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. She knew that it was a touchy subject, because he had seldom spoken about his past.

After a while, Gabriel shuddered, and began to cry. She hugged him, and he started to whisper.

"I... don't... remember... anything!" He sobbed a few times, then, in a subdued voice, he started to explain that he didn't have any memory of before that summer, except from a few disconnected, and therefore useless, fragments. In a strangled voice, he even admitted not really knowing his real name.

To say that the others were shocked was an understatement. Here was a young man they spent two months with, and they didn't know he was amnesic. Well, Joan had been suspecting something, but not so deep. Grace suddenly understood about his drawings and his furious quest for strange books, as it had to be a sign of his past calling for him. It was a good sign, though, because the books could indeed help him. But if his past inflicted him his scars, she was wary of him finding out without their emotional support.

They talked until late in the night, the teenagers still cuddling on the couch, and decided that, for the ongoing year and until Gabriel remembered sufficiently to survive on his own, he was going to live with Grace, in her little house in a middleclass suburb. He was also going to go to class with Joan, on the local high school. They tested his knowledge a bit, and they were a bit disappointed to find that he didn't have any of the usual knowledge of teenagers of 15. Reflecting about that, they didn't even know his real age. He was intelligent, and thoughtful, but he lacked some educational facts. They didn't know if these lacks were because of his amnesia or not, but he would have to join Joan's year instead of a higher class. She was two years younger than he thought he was, but the fact that they were going to have class together didn't disturb them at all, to say the least.

When Gabriel went to sleep that night, he reflected about the day and especially the evening. While he had been ashamed at admitting his amnesia, he was relieved that they took that bit of information well. And now, he was ecstatic about the incoming term. He would live with Grace and go to school with Joan! Things couldn't get better, he thought. He just had this hunger he couldn't sate...

Hogwarts' Great Hall, September 1st...

The Hall was full. Only two students were missing. But for every person present, these students represented both sides of a constantly running war. And, without them being present, the relations between students were more subdued.

Something else was quieting the students. There had been rumours around the magical world, about the political manoeuvres around the Minister position, and lesser ones about the teachers of Hogwarts. As it was, the Sorting held less interest for the older students than the faces of the teachers on the staff table.

Except when one of the newly arrived students took place on the three-legged stool. Almost everybody gasped, as the features of Megan Prunner were noticed. The shy girl's hair was jet black and messy, and her frightened eyes were of an intense green. It was as if a younger and female version of Harry Potter was sitting there.

Mere seconds after being put on her head, the Sorting Hat yelled 'Gryffindor!' but no one cheered for a moment, while the girl looked at her new House table with fear etched in her features. She had seen the other students being cheered, and was starting to feel cast out, and she reminisced the circumstances of her presence here.

The whole experience had been unreal for her, from the start. An only child, she had been raised by her wonderful parents, John and Emily Prunner. On the summer of the year of her eleventh birthday, she had received a letter. And what letter! It had been crisp, like an official one, and the seal had been made with real wax, not a printed one. As soon as she had had it in her hand she had delicately opened it, and read the letter to her stunned parents. As it was part of the message sent to the muggleborns this year, they called someone for explanations, and a young witch visited them. She informed them about magic in general, the school, and the kind of life awaiting Megan. She also explained that, their daughter being magical, it could clarify some unusual previous happenstances. Their eyes had lit at the explanation, and they sent the acceptation letter immediately afterwards. The young witch had also proposed to accompany them for their first shopping trip to Diagon Alley, something that they all enjoyed.

While she thought about that, a boy suddenly stood from the middle of the Gryffindor table, and clapped to her, quickly joined by a girl. Soon, the entire table joined the applause, and she warily sat at the table. She hadn't been cheered and was trying to hide her disappointment while smiling at them, trying to avoid the openly curious gazes. Feeling someone rushing to her side, she turned brusquely to see the red-head girl who had applauded first.

"Hi," she smiled. "I'm Ginny Weasley, second year." She then bent towards her, grasping her shoulder, and whispered in her ear. "I'll explain everything after the feast. Just wait for me in the common room." She rose, and uttered ceremoniously "Welcome in Gryffindor" before leaving her, to go back with the boy. Noticing him, she remarked that they must be siblings, as they had almost the same tint of hair, and the same freckles. However, his strange gaze unnerved her and she turned back to the ceremony.

After a few more students, the Sorting was finished, the stool and hat removed, and Albus Dumbledore rose, the hall falling utterly silent.

"Thank you everybody, for your patience. Before we dig in the wonderful feast that will appear in a short while, I would like you to remember the two students that left us. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, both victims of their family ties."

The aged Headmaster stood still for a full minute, and nobody dared breathing a sound. Once done, Dumbledore continued on a lighter tone. "I have many important declarations to make, but I sense your growing appetite, so I'll wait after the feast. Dig in!" And the Feast began.

A short time after everybody finished their dessert, Albus Dumbledore rose once more. "Well. That was plentiful." A few laughters echoed through the room.

"First, as you may very well be aware of, we changed Minister over the summer. Cornelius Fudge has been demoted and imprisoned due to proven charges of Death Eater association. After the political cacophony that ensued, in which I'm sorry to have taken part, Arthur Weasley has been handed the position. I expect that there will be some changes in laws soon, for the better of course."

Some peopled cheered about Arthur Weasley's position, and some congratulated the Weasley siblings present. Percy was pleased of the attention, and was puffing his chest.

Dumbledore continued. "I also have the feeling that my usual start-of-year notices don't impress anyone, but I'll utter them nonetheless. The Forbidden Forest is forbidden, which means you cannot go there unless explicitly told so by a member of the staff. Harmful magic is prohibited anywhere and anytime. Well, except in the duelling class, but that will be on the teachers' discretion.

Mr Filch, our caretaker, has pinned on his door a looong" some laughs, while Dumbledore insisted on the word "list of items that are forbidden and that will be confiscated if found. Now that this is out of the way, something important." he shivered suddenly, aware of the ruckus that his announcement would cause. "This year, I have decided to resign from my position as Headmaster."

After a few seconds of stunned silence, almost all students rose on their feet, asking questions aloud, and shouting comments to each other. After they quieted down, Dumbledore continued. "I exchange my position with your former Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, so she will continue my speech now." He sat down, as the newly-appointed Headmistress stood up.

"Thank you, Headmaster. I mean... Professor." she waited for the laughters to die down again. "I have the last of your announcements to make, concerning classes. First of all, there will be a new subject taught at Hogwarts from now on, and it will be compulsory for all years, even if the schedule for fifth and seventh years will be lighter. Physical Education will be taught by a new Professor, recently freed from unjust imprisonment. Please welcome Sirius Black in his functions."

When the polite applause and the shushed whispers died down, she continued. "Following a rather heated discussion with some of the involved Professors," she looked straight at Severus Snape, who scowled back. She continued, "the subject Defence Against the Dark Arts will be split in two classes: 'Duelling', and 'Wards and Detection'. Duelling will be taught jointly by Professor Snape and Professor Lupin, newly appointed here, too. Please welcome him also."

Some applause later, she continued. "Wards and Detection, which encompasses, among other topics, Detection of Dark Arts, and basic Curse Breaking, will be taught by Professor Moody, over there." The scarred face of Alastor Moody looked straight towards them, without any emotion on his face. At the pause made by the new Headmistress, the students felt forced to applause, though if was more cowed than before.

"We are also thankful that Professor Snape will still teach Potions, albeit only to the upper years preparing their NEWTs, years six and seven. Professor Glassend will take over first through fifth years. Please welcome her also."

After all introductions were made, the students followed the prefects towards the dormitories, and Hogwarts fell back in the routine of the school year.

A few days later, as the third years Gryffindors were having their first Duelling course, a teary Neville threw himself on Professor Snape and hugged him. Neville had started the year with a faraway look on his face, and everybody had noticed that he was owling more than once a day. They supposed that he had a girlfriend, and Ginny and Hermione remarked that he didn't seem interested in Luna. However, when the boy went to a horrified Snape and cried in his robes, the display was too much for all of them. The room erupted in peels of laughter, and the Professor, awkwardly yelling warnings, couldn't bring some order back. Then, Neville looked up to him, and spoke in a broken voice.

"Thank you, sir. Thankyouthankyouthankyouthank..."

"Enough, Longbottom! What..." but the simple fact of uttering the boy's name brought back memories from the rushed week, when he found Hermione, healed the Longbottoms, and prevented a political disaster. He never was acknowledged for it in the press, though. He didn't want the fame and all. But he actually spent a whole day speaking with Neville's parents, explaining everything that had happened during the time they went 'out of their mind.' Then, Neville had appeared, Snape having sent an owl to his grandmother to be back swiftly, and the boy had launched himself to the neck of his astounded parents. After all, it wasn't a common sight to recover your decade-lost close relatives. Sensing that his presence was intruding, Severus Snape had left the room. Neville hadn't had the time to thank him, and was doing it in the classroom, thus thoroughly embarrassing him. Not knowing what to do, he was staring menacingly at the laughing room, until his eyes fell on Hermione.

Hermione had spent the remaining of her summer in the hospital, unsuccessfully trying to turn her new addiction off, and he had visited her a few times. They hadn't met in Hogwarts yet, but, knowing her, she would be knocking on his office door soon, to get information about research procedures. At the moment, though, she was smiling at the display of affection Neville was demonstrating towards his once-abhorred teacher and former Potion Professor.

Well... Professor Snape was still the Potion Master of Hogwarts and had to prepare almost all potions usable by the school, especially the Hospital wing. Thus, he was still having his greasy hair and the pale complexion he got for not liking the sun for so long. But the pleasure of having got the place, even if shared with Remus Lupin, was enough to make him almost civil. He and Remus shared the position, and they were teaching together to the advanced classes, actually demonstrating duelling techniques, whereas, for the younger years, they had split the classes and thus lightening each other's workload. Severus would also teach Remus' charges when the werewolf would be 'out there,' once a month. The set-up, even if wary at first, had pleased them after some time, to the contempt of Sirius Black. Snape had even found large periods of free time in his schedule, and was planning to have an interesting year altogether. The NEWT years were always the most interesting and less stressful for a Potion Professor, because there were less students, and they applied themselves on the matter, generally brewing close-to-perfection potions. And they seldom wasted their potions on the floor, either.

Hermione's face was moving, bringing him back to the reality of the teenager hugging him and watering his robe. Neville hadn't let him go, and, short of pushing him away rudely, he didn't know what to do. Hermione was moving her lips exaggeratingly, though, and he strained to understand what she silently said to him.

'Pat...'

'...his...'

'...head.'

Pat his head? He would look like an idiot, and his surprised expression was telling that much to the Gryffindor resident genius. But she raised her eyebrows, and continued to talk slowly and silently to him.

'Com...'

'...fort...'

'...him.'

He was to comfort a teenage boy? He had never done that. He had never comforted anyone, as he never had been comforted himself. Still, short of injuring the boy, either physically or mentally because of a rebuttal, he couldn't seem to be able to extract himself of this. So, to his utter discomfort, and in front of an equally astonished classroom, if partly still laughing, he patted Neville's back, and quietly spoke to him. "Shh... It's all okay now."

At the sound of his voice, Neville looked up at him, and, finally realizing what he was doing, threw himself away. Tripping on his previously discarded schoolbag, he fell on his rear, still staring wide-eyed at his former fearsome Potion Professor. 'So much for being considerate' thought Snape, rolling his eyes. The class once again laughed good-naturedly at the humour of the situation, and even the Professor couldn't refrain his lips from curling a little, thus smiling towards Neville and, raising his head to meet Hermione's gaze, he nodded once to thank her.

In that class, Snape thought that he had to work from the start, since their previous teachers were so low-level, and he spent the rest of the reduced period teaching his class basic postures and wand care. At the end, the room emptied of chattering students, to his annoyance. He disliked babbling young people so much, that he had sometimes asked himself why he became Professor in the first place. Midday and the meal were approaching, though, and he collected himself and began gathering his stuff. He hadn't registered that one student hadn't left the room.

"Hmmm... Professor?"

Startled, he looked up to see the serious, albeit smiling, face of Hermione Granger. "Yes, Grang... I mean... Hermione?" He had begun addressing her with her given name at St Mungo, where they had spent hours of discussing magical theory and the discoveries of the elapsed century, but he couldn't think of doing it while in class. He was too attached to his credibility to do that. But, now that the class was empty, he went back to calling her Hermione. She giggled good-naturedly, though. Smiling, he couldn't refrain to pick up on that.

"You know, if you giggle that way, I might mistake you from Lavender Brown someday..."

"Oh no you wouldn't!" she tried to sound indignant, but she had sensed the humour behind the pique, and giggled again.

He chuckled. Of course he wouldn't. Before the summer, he had never seen her as anything else than a know-it-all, and had even made his best effort to rub it in her and her friend's faces. But now, having taken care of her at some point, and having discussed things with her, he had found that he liked her. He liked the independent spirit that pushed her to brew the Polyjuice Potion last year. She had told him at some point, even if he knew already because of the tell-tale cat aspect she got for a while from it. He also liked her stubbornness in work, which eventually got her ill, but, with proper guidance, she could be really brilliant. That is, even more that she was already, which was quite a handful. And he promised himself to take care of her. For example, knowing the addiction she caught following her illness, he had already started to research a less-addictive potion to act as a substitute to the Dreamless Sleep draught that she had to drink every night now.

A bit later, to the horrified glances of some students, who hadn't forgotten the pain-in-the-behind Potion Professor, he and Hermione exchanged pleasantries while navigating through the corridors towards the Great Hall.

The next day, having dropped Divination at some point, Hermione had a three-hour gap in her schedule, and she received a message through a school owl.

Miss Granger,

As you seem to have some spare time this afternoon, and as I do too, I'd like you to meet me in my office at one today.

S. Snape

Hermione was still wondering about her former Potion Professor. Since her stay at St Mungo, he had been more and more available and friendly, and had tried to quench her thirst of knowledge as much as possible. Still, that didn't negate the two years of abuse all Gryffindors, but especially Harry, Ron, and her, had endured in Potions. She promised herself that, even if he was more amiable this year, undoubtedly due to his new position, she would try to prevent more unjust treatment towards anyone.

Presenting herself at his office, she was a little startled to see him turning a ladle in a brass cauldron sitting in the remote part of the room. She then remembered that, as the local Potion Master, he had to brew potions. He went back from his work soon, and sat in an armchair in front of a coffee table. While she sat in another chair around the table, he conjured some tea for them both, and they spent the following three hours in deep conversation. It was something to teach a reluctant class about a dangerous matter, but with Hermione, he found that every little thing he said was listened, memorised, and filed for future use. It refreshed him, and she was learning something. She also had things to say.

At some point, he had wondered about her summer research topics, suspecting that she had been following several tracks at the same time, which wasn't very healthful, but was a common attitude when starting to research. He himself got stuck into inventing three potions at the same time. Not only didn't he sleep during that time, but he also wasted the potions. So, the first thing he told her was to focus. Even if the mind could consciously memorise several data sets at the same time, it wasn't able to invent more than one thing at a time.

He was curious about what her research, but he didn't ask before, because he hadn't wanted to bring back bad memories. Now, however, he sensed that she could open up on this, and asked.

"Hermione, tell me, what were you studying this summer? Knowing you, the homework was finished in June, so, what did you do afterwards?"

She blushed. Truth be told, she had finished her homework the first week of the vacation. She then spent half a week wondering what to do. Usually, during the summer, she visited museums and the like, but, with Harry's death unconsciously wearing on her, she had stayed at home. The first book she had opened, though, was about dark creatures, and she had randomly opened it at a page depicting a Dementor.

The fearsome soul-sucking guards of Azkaban had only one weakness: they could be chased away by a spell, called the Patronus spell. The problem was that most wizards couldn't achieve the spell correctly, the caster having to focus on happy memories to do so, and the Dementor's effect effectively sucking these happy memories away. Her first topic of research, this summer, had been on a way to package emotions in containers. She had thought that, perhaps, it was possible to destroy a Dementor by sending it too much happiness? The evening when she went in her parents' kitchen to collapse at their feet, she had successfully packed her grieving feelings for Harry. The little crystal, glowing a dull grey, was still in her trunk. Reflecting about it later, she had thought that she merely re-invented the Pensieve, and it had saddened her somewhat, even if the content wasn't memories but rather emotions. The next step to test her theory would be to pack happiness and put the crystal next to a Dementor to see its effect. Perhaps it didn't even work at all.

Now, one could wonder why she would seem so intent in destroying the creatures that were guarding the wizarding criminals in check. It was because of a small note in the book, about the Dementors' ability to communicate. Obviously, they could communicate with each other, though nobody knew how, and nobody had expressed any interest in finding how. They had been assigned the job of guarding the prison island a very long time ago, and the knowledge of talking to them had been lost in time. The current wizarding population was very well, thank you, and didn't see the need to communicate with the creatures. She determined, though, that the first person to find how to talk to them would be able to give them orders. Having heard of Voldemort through the experience Harry went through their first and second year, she had shuddered on thinking that it could be the Dark Lord that would talk to them first. The only thing that prevented her from studying this was the mere absence of a Dementor close by. Well, reflecting about it, it was also a good thing not having a Dementor living in her house.

She told all that to Snape, who reflected it about for a moment, before acknowledging her efforts and congratulating her for her first success. He also proposed to help her. He hadn't thought about the Dementors that way before, and reflected that this kind of research could be very dangerous for a young girl. On top of that, any research report would be more readily accepted and widely spread if both their names were on it, rather than only Hermione's. The research community was that way: if you hadn't a proven sponsor, they wouldn't want to discuss with you. Many young people, full of ideas and ideals, but failing to insert themselves in the system, finished their career glumly sorting papers in the Ministry, or any other low-level job.

At soon as she left his office to go to her next period, almost three hours after having entered it, he reflected alone. A short time after leaving the Longbottoms to their son, he had gone to the Headmaster's office, only to find that McGonagall was going to stay there definitely. His natural enmity with the Gryffindor Head of House had been quieted over the summer, and he really wasn't surprised about the decision anyway. Dumbledore had been there also, eyes twinkling, when he had asked for the Defence position. The new Headmistress had readily accepted, but warned him about the course changes. That elicited the aforementioned heated discussion, and he finally agreed to still teach NEWT level Potions, and to share the Defence chair with Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody. Even if he had had issues with the werewolf and his gang in his years at Hogwarts, and with the retired Auror while spying on Death Eaters, he could accommodate them if they could.

He also knew of the new Potion Professor, as Victoria Glassend had been a promising student in that field, some years ago, before orienting herself towards a career as a Healer. Well, her being pure Hufflepuff material, it was the most obvious choice. Still, if the girl had had ambition like a Slytherin, she would have achieved the rank of Potion Master. She had interesting ideas for the course, though, like the Ingredients Gathering outing scheduled thrice this year. For a short while, Snape wondered why he had never thought of bringing students to help collect commonly used ingredients. The answer was easy, though: he would never have associated himself with students for any task asked of him.

Sighing at the irony of his life, he sat at his desk to prepare his teaching course in Defence.

That evening, in the Gryffindor common room...

Ron and Ginny were playing chess, both tired. The start of term had been difficult for them also, with Hermione ignoring them, and people generally making fun of Ron's new dreamy attitude. After all, Ginny couldn't very well follow Ron to each of his courses when going to hers at the same time. She had to rely on Dean, Seamus, and Neville, but the boys weren't there all the time, and Ron had already been mocked in the corridors, and his school bag had already mysteriously disappeared twice. When they played chess, though, it was a little as if the old Ron was back a little, even if he kept losing to her. At least, when playing, his comments were centred on the game and not drifting anywhere. Except once, when he unexpectedly affirmed that Hermione would have trouble raising kids whose hair would be greasy and bushy. That didn't make any sense, especially as he hadn't spoken a word about her for a long time, and besides, his rook was in check. She snapped her fingers in his face to bring back his attention to the problem at hand, a gesture that she had been doing for quite a time now, so that neither Ron nor the people around took offence from it.

Ron was continually trying to push his rook out of the way by moving it as a knight, and the piece yelled at him before returning at its place, to his amazed eyes. Ginny sighed, and, disconnecting from the game for a while, reflected about her brothers. Apart the two oldest brothers abroad, from who they rarely got news, they all were in Hogwarts. Percy was being his usual self, bossing people around, but he had taken a lighter tone while doing so. That was perhaps due to his certainness of having a Ministry job after graduating. He still had to work for his NEWTs, though. The twins were always on the side of the room, complotting, but not having used their deadly inventions yet. They had also confided to her that they were bored about that, and the spur-of-the-moment oath they had taken was wearing on them. They couldn't shake it off themselves, of course, and weren't ready to ask the severe Headmistress to remove it. She would be too happy to let it in place, especially as they still had to work for their OWL exams. However, they wanted to joke and to laugh, and she decided that, in a way or another, she would help them. And Ron...

He had been caught, once, out of Gryffindor Tower after curfew, by Professor Snape. He had been speaking with Luna near the Ravenclaw quarters, and what they were saying didn't make any sense to the Potion Master. Looking at them strangely, he had just told them off, and didn't take points. Ron had only told the story to Ginny, in his usual airy manner, and that had been three days afterwards. He and Luna seemed to hit pretty well, and Ginny initially thought that Neville would be jealous. But the boy had developed a better confidence in himself, surely because of his parents' recovery, and he had asked Parvati Patil, one of Hermione's dorm mate, out. She had accepted, perhaps due to his new tanned complexion, inherited from the African sun. They were often seen walking hand-in-hand, to the snickers of some spiteful students, mostly Slytherins.

Thinking of them, she reflected about their lack of aggressive action this year. She didn't have much experience in this, but the sudden absence of Draco Malfoy seemed to allow smoother relationships between the rival houses. And thinking about Malfoy always brought Harry in her mind's eye. Almost everything was, though, and it was difficult to concentrate, sometimes. Quidditch made her think about him, Ron and Hermione as well, and even the new girl, Megan Prunner...

She had explained her about Harry Potter and the eerie resemblance she had with him. She even showed her pictures of him to prove that. That had clarified the students' reaction to her, but the younger girl was still looked upon with open curiosity. Ginny had had to persuade Percy to speak up in the common room, so that, at least in the Tower, she wouldn't be looked as a strange thing. Still, Megan looked so much like Harry, and sometimes even acted like him, that she couldn't avoid thinking that she might have been his sister.

Ginny's thoughts drifted back to Ron, and she reflected about the similarities between his state of mind and Luna's. They even got the same interesting marks in Divination. She knew about Luna's because they were in the same class, and had heard about Ron's through Lavender, once. He had apparently predicted that someone would be hurt soon and Professor Trelawney tangled her feet in the drapes and fell no more than 5 minutes afterwards. Other times, they would talk about things not even their teachers would understand. Absentmindedly moving his bishop across the board, because Ron's rook had decided to move by himself, she decided to write a letter to Luna's relatives, to ask how they were coping with her attitude. She hoped that at least some of them had their feet on the ground. She would ask McGonagall or Dumbledore about that tomorrow. Stifling a yawn before coming back to the present, she responded to Ron's last attempt of protection by putting her queen in place, and announced tiredly "Checkmate."

To be continued in next chapter: Surprise, Surprise...

At least, he got the pages.
Now, I propose a challenge:
If you translate the title,
I'll post next part. No fiddle.