Reviewers! Angel, I'm so glad you liked that scene. It took a lot of work. Nice to know it's appreciated. Sailor: You got the warm fuzzies? Hooray! Yeah, Ron's just … Ron. I love him, too. Noompjuh: Thanks! Shiba, defeater of laziness: So glad you're having fun with this. After all, that's the point of fanfiction. Yay! I have a point! And somebody who quotes dialogue that I wrote! Rock on:D Thanks, as always. You're very nice. Freja: I fixed that "funny spell mistake" in the last chapter. Thank you for giving my story a "thumps up." I appreciate it. And Kiwi, thanks a lot for pointing out that needed revision in the first place. Glad it worked. For someone who is canon-based to take time away from on-line classes to spend on my little story, and actually like it, ispretty big. As for your last comment, it's not a "character change," it's Hermione's recommendation. And don't worry, no matter how hard Harry tries, he won't be that good at it. LOL
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Fall-Out
Morning came, bright and cold. The misty Scottish sun darted in through the windows and danced on the sleeping faces of everyone in the boys' dormitory. Ron was sprawled out on his mussed sheets, lying dangerously close to the edge of his mattress and snoring loudly. Harry, hidden under a mound of covers, was chuffing quietly. Seamus and Dean, who'd slipped into their beds a little after midnight, were asleep with their clothes on. And Neville, while he'd managed to get into pajamas, had some tell-tale smears of lipstick on his face.
Harry was the first to wake up; he'd never been much for sleeping in. However, last night had really taken its toll. His eyelids were gummy, his whole body ached, and the air in the dormitory was chilly. He peeked out of the blankets and squinted myopically out the window. Eight am's attempt at sunlight was rather pathetic. Feeling rather pathetic himself, Harry moaned and rolled over. He snuggled himself more securely under the covers and shut his eyes. The world could wait. Perhaps he would sleep until noon today. In that blissful ignorance that generally accompanies early-morning grogginess, he had completely forgotten about the meeting with Dumbledore.
Hermione woke up a little before nine, pleased to see that Lavender and Parvati were asleep. She'd managed to sneak off Harry's bed as soon as he'd conked out last night, and raced across the common room and up the girls' stairs. Soon enough, there were voices down below – the Gryffindors were returning. She jumped into bed and shut her eyes just as her roommates came back in. It had been a close call.
But now she was awake, and they weren't, which meant she could slip out without answering questions. She tiptoed out in her dressing gown and slippers to see if she needed to wake the boys. The last thing they needed to be, especially when meeting the headmaster, was late.
Ron had not gotten to the edge of his mattress on purpose; he tended to be a bit of a roller. He'd been rolling around all night, and finally he rolled right over the edge of the bed, snoring on the way down and hitting the floor with such a loud thump that it woke him up. He'd dragged most of the covers with him.
Seamus, Neville, and Dean were too far under to hear it, but Harry started awake at the noise and sat up to look. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and put them on. The world snapped into focus. Ron was sitting on the floor, his sheets all over the place, rubbing his head. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"All right there, mate?" he asked quietly.
"Timmizzit?" Ron slurred.
Harry checked the clock opposite. To his surprise, it was a little after nine. And then it hit him: they had to meet Dumbledore. Well, first they needed to put on clothes and get breakfast, but Dumbledore figured prominently in the morning's plans.
"Hey, Ron, get up!" he hissed, slipping out of bed and helping his friend.
Ron allowed himself to be helped, and the next ten minutes were a panicked blur of locating clothes and washing up. Everything had to be done quietly, so as not to wake their dorm mates. Harry already had his robes on as he brushed his teeth. Ron carefully shaved his one chin hair. Harry snickered and spat toothpaste into the sink. Ron threw him a dirty look and opened his mouth to say something when Hermione appeared behind them in the bathroom mirror, still in her sleep things. She rubbed her eyes as they turned to her.
"It's after nine. I thought I had to get you up," she explained. And then she seemed to realize something. "Oh, no, we only have forty-five minutes! Meet you at Dumbledore's office?"
"Forty-five… How long does it take you to get ready?" Ron asked incredulously.
Harry elbowed him. ("Oi, I'm holding a razor here!" said Ron.) "Sure, Hermione. We'll meet you there," he said.
Hermione nodded and left. The boys completed their ablutions and went down to breakfast. Ron took less than usual out of nerves, but Harry, who felt half-starved for some reason he couldn't fathom, filled his plate up and dug in. For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks on china. Ron chewed and swallowed, working quickly. Harry simply inhaled.
"Hungry, are you?" Ron asked finally, looking rather amused.
"Tastes good," Harry said around a mouthful of banger. "In fact, it tastes better than it has in a long time."
He sucked up a sunny-side-up egg and belched loudly. Ron laughed and passed him some pumpkin juice. Harry eyed it warily and was only convinced to take some after Ron took a drink, but he did in the end. By the time they finished breakfast, it was nearing ten.
The inevitable was looming. Glumly, the boys got up and walked down to the gargoyle near Dumbledore's office. Hermione was waiting for them, looking polished and presentable. She brushed some lint off Ron's robes and straightened Harry's collar.
"Let's go, shall we?" she said.
Ron looked miserable. Harry swallowed back some of his breakfast. He nodded and turned to the gargoyle.
"Erm, hello," he said. "We have an appointment to see the headmaster."
"I know you do," said the gargoyle, cracking an unpleasant smile at the trio. It hopped to the side, revealing the revolving staircase.
They all climbed on and let it carry them up.
Dumbledore heaved a sigh. He had invited Severus into his office at a quarter to ten, hoping to be finished with him quickly and perhaps have him miss the students who were coming up, but the man had dropped gracelessly into his chair, looking thoroughly bedraggled, and demanded some strong coffee before they got down to business.
This was not a surprise, given what happened last night after they'd confronted the students. Severus had remembered, with some annoyance, that he needed to get his bats out of the office, so they had trekked back to retrieve the animals. The sight that greeted them had been a quite a shock.
And now, a strange emotion was playing across the Potion Master's face as he slurped (slurped!) from his coffee cup – genuine concern.
Dumbledore was tempted, but he knew better than to ask. Best keep things simple for now. He kept his mouth shut, waited until Snape had finished his coffee and sat up straighter, and began.
"As you know, I am obligated to mete out fitting punishment for transgressions, Severus."
"Yes, you are," Snape said levelly.
"To that end, I feel you would benefit from a lesson. You will, first and foremost, be receiving no Christmas bonus this year."
Snape nodded regally.
"Secondly, since you obviously are so good with children and enjoy crowded social situations ever so much," Dumbledore said with a bit of bite, "You will chaperone the upcoming Hallowe'en Dance."
Snape blanched, but didn't say anything.
"And finally, you will resume Occlumency lessons with Harry Potter."
"WHAT?" Snape exploded. "No! Absolutely not! I refuse!"
"I expect one meeting a week," Dumbledore continued, as though Snape hadn't said anything. "And every month I will bring Harry up to my office for a little exam to chart his progress. Things will be different this time, Severus. I will be keeping an eye on this boy. It is up to you and him to make sure that these lessons are more effective than those of last year."
Snape made no protest. He was just blinking at Dumbledore, his face chalk white.
"That is all," Dumbledore said. "Please send in the Gryffindors on your way out."
He bent over a piece of parchment, took a quill, and began to scribble out some notes. He was halfway through a line when he realized that nothing was moving, and looked up. Snape was still sitting there.
"Severus?"
"All three of them should be punished severely," Snape said.
He was white with anger, but it was clear to Dumbledore that while he was angry at the students, there was something else in play here. Dumbledore nodded.
"They shall be dealt with, Severus."
"They had better," Snape snapped. "Granger stole, lied, and Obliviated for Potter. Considering her inexperience with that charm, I was lucky she didn't cause my brain to liquefy and burst out my ears. Weasley aided and abetted. Everything that happened to me that night was their fault. Potter, apparently Hogwarts' resident imbecile, brewed a highly illegal draught that nearly killed him and shot our chances for winning this war. The Fizz, which started this whole mess, was his fault."
"Severus, what are you …?"
"I am not finished." Snape leaned in close to Dumbledore, glaring hard into the old man's suddenly startled eyes. "That stupid child felt that the only solution for the pain of losing his detestable godfather was to drink himself into oblivion, because no one from the Order spoke to him all summer. And that, Headmaster, is your fault."
Dumbledore leaned back, giving Snape a hard glare. "I am putting this tirade down to lack of sleep, Severus," he said, just as Snape burst out …
"Of all the senile notions! The boy had just lost the closest thing he had to a parent, and you decided he 'needed his space.' Now, I have told you often that I disapproved of your 'special' treatment of this boy, but this is disgraceful."
Snape stood up in a sweep of black robes, and prepared to leave. "Tell Potter that I expect him Tuesday night in my office at nine pm … and woe betide him if he is late."
He stalked out of the office, smoothing back his tangled hair, and Dumbledore stared after him in shock.
Three very surprised Gryffindors met Snape on the other side of the door. "Get in there," he said to Hermione and Ron, before turning a glare in Harry's direction. Harry was not thrilled at the attention, and Snape managed to back him into a wall of Dumbledore's antechamber.
"If," Snape scathed, "the headmaster weasels you out of expulsion, as I know he will, you will most certainly be in detention for a very, very long time. And if the old twit decides you will serve it with me … Merlin's mercy on you."
Harry refused to be cowed. He looked Snape straight in the eye, and readied himself to volley a choice insult, but then he remembered Hermione's tip about not exploding in front of his teacher. With visible effort, he got himself under control and said, polite as you please, "Thank you for the information, sir. Is there anything else?"
Snape looked slightly surprised, then recovered his composure. He gave Harry a most malicious smile. "Why yes, Potter, there is. Now I know why you stayed so calm in my class for so long. Tisk tisk. Surely you cannot expect your transgression and those of your friends to remain a secret."
Harry could feel his blood pressure rising. He knew he had to remain calm in front of Snape, but that didn't mean he had to take this.
"Actually sir, I do," he said quietly, "That's the way it works, isn't it? I keep your secrets, and you keep mine?"
Snape was not smiling anymore. Harry's heart started to race. He didn't know much about blackmail, but he knew that dangling upside-down with his underpants on display was definitely something Snape would like kept quiet. There was a bit of a thrill in this, actually.
"What?" Snape said. His voice was dangerously soft.
"I think we understand each other," Harry replied, his jaw tight. "I saw things, sir, and I haven't told anyone. But if you do what you're threatening, then I'll have to say something, too. Fair is fair, after all."
"Gryffindors?" came Dumbledore's call through the door.
Everyone ignored it. Snape was eyeing Harry as though he had never seen him before. "You're bluffing," the Potions Master said suddenly. "You won't."
Harry gave Snape a smile that was far from friendly and looked straight into the man's cold dark eyes.
"Try me," he said.
"Gryffindors!" Dumbledore shouted.
"Let's go, everyone," said Ron, ushering Hermione towards the door. "Come on, Harry."
Harry and Snape were still staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills. Finally, Snape growled, shoved Harry away from him, and descended the staircase. Harry heard him mutter as he went down, "Merlin's balls! Every week! How am I supposed to survive?"
Harry had no idea what this meant. Flush with (a very tiny) victory, he turned on his heel and walked into Dumbledore's office after Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk now, looking slightly agitated. He gestured for them all to sit in the three chairs facing him, which they did.
Dumbledore sat writing for what seemed like a very long time. Ron looked scared. Hermione looked defiant. Harry did his best to look passive. Finally, the headmaster brought his head up. He seemed to have regained his composure.
"I cannot impress upon the three of you the seriousness of what you have done," he began. "That said, I am not about to make an example of any of you. As happy as it would make Professor Snape, there will be no expulsions."
Ron let out a breath.
"However, things must be accounted for and dealt with. Miss Granger."
"Sir?"
"I understand your reasons for Obliviating Professor Snape, but as I told you last night, cannot condone an attack, magical or physical, upon one of my staff. Therefore, I hereby revoke your Prefect privileges, as you have obviously abused them." He flicked his wand at her robes and her Prefect badge disappeared.
Hermione looked miserably at the floor. "Yes, sir."
"SPEW, another thing I understand your reasons for, is a misguided effort. Starting tomorrow, you will help the house-elves down in the kitchens for an hour a day, five days a week for a month. You will watch how they live, and see if that drums some sense into you."
"Sir," Hermione said tightly.
"Mr. Weasley."
"S-Sir?"
"Again, I understand your reasons for doing what you did. But hitting Professor Snape with a shovel? Good heavens, whatever were you thinking? I revoke your Prefect privileges."
Again, Dumbledore flicked his wand and made Ron's badge disappear. Ron, Harry noticed, didn't look nearly as sad as Hermione did at that.
"You will be assigned to one month of detention with Argus Filch, beginning tomorrow, and during that time, you are banned from Quidditch. Should I see you on the field, your punishment will double. Am I clear?"
Well, that took the wind out of Ron's sails. "Yes, sir," he said glumly.
"Good. Mr. Potter."
Harry looked at Dumbledore and tried to remain stoic. "Sir?"
"You will not be expelled, you will not get detention, and since you are not a Prefect, there is no position I can strip from you."
Harry would have smiled at this, but considering he'd caused this whole mess, he was silent and solemn, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dumbledore didn't disappoint.
"Instead, I am re-instating your ban on Quidditch for a month, effective immediately. As with Mr. Weasley, should I see you on the field, your punishment will double."
"Sir."
"You will also continue Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. He is expecting you at 9 pm in his classroom on Tuesday night and insists that you be on time."
Harry felt his insides shaking. More lessons with Snape? Hadn't last year taught Dumbledore anything? He was about to protest, but Dumbledore was already moving on.
"And finally, I put a challenge before you. I'm afraid that it will be harder for you to face than anything I have asked of you before."
"I don't follow," said Harry. "Face what?"
"Yourself."
Harry blinked. He still didn't understand. Dumbledore seemed to sense this, because he launched into an explanation.
"St. Mungo's has a small satellite practice in London called The Open House. It employs healers of … a different nature … than those of the regular hospital. Starting on Wednesday, because she is on vacation until then, you will see Miss Midgefield for an hour, three times a week. That means Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."
Harry scratched his head, wondering if Dumbledore was feeling all right. "Sir, I don't know any Miss Midgefield. Who is she? Why am I to see her?"
Dumbledore paused for a moment. It looked like he was gearing up to say something that Harry would definitely not like.
"Miss Midgefeld is a ministry-licensed therapist. I believe you need to talk to someone impartial about what happened in June, and perhaps about other things, too."
Harry sat there with his mouth hanging open. He didn't know whether to be more shocked or angry, so he settled for a combination of both. "You're sending me to a psychiatrist?" he protested. "Look, I may have had a terrible time for a while, but I have all my marbles, thank you!"
"I know you have all your marbles, my boy," Dumbledore said. "That's not what this is about."
When Harry looked at him stone-faced, he sighed. "You will report to my office after classes on Wednesday and floo to London. When Miss Midgefeld is satisfied that you have worked through this, you will not have to go anymore."
Harry stared at the floor for a moment, gathering his resolve and forcing his anger back. It took quite a bit of effort. Of all the humiliating punishments … therapy was for mad people! He just hoped no one would find out about this. And then he realized he had Occlumency with Snape, and kissed that secret goodbye. He fought down a groan.
"Yes, sir," he ground out finally. "Are we dismissed?"
"You are," said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. "I will see you Wednesday."
Harry nodded curtly. He, Hermione and Ron stood as one and left in silence. Ron closed the door behind them and they all stood at the top of the moving staircase; it had switched directions to take them back to ground level. They all regarded each other dejectedly and stepped on.
A little ways down, Hermione asked, "What do you think, Harry?"
"I think I liked it better when everyone was ignoring me."
"We didn't ignore you," Ron said quietly.
"I know you didn't," Harry said heavily. "I just wish you two hadn't gotten punished for my stupidity."
Harry was staring at his shoes while he said this, so it took him a moment to pick up on the silence around him. He looked up again and found he was eye to eye with Hermione.
"You listen to me very carefully," she growled. "You made a mistake. I was not about to stand back and watch you die for it, and neither was Ron. I don't give a damn what I did to Snape, and I … I don't give a damn about the consequences," she said.
She was obviously rallying hard for control. Harry knew the loss of her position had really stung.
"I need to get to the library. See you at lunch?"
"Sure," Harry said.
She nodded and marched off down the stairs, propelled along by their escalator motion. Soon she was far away from Harry and Ron and out the door. Ron stepped down so he was level with his friend and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"For the record, I don't care either, mate. And, well, I'm a self-respecting bloke, I hate saying stuff like this, but …" Ron rolled his eyes. "If you need to talk, I'm here, all right?"
Harry gave him a wan smile. "Thanks, Ron."
Ron straightened his robes. "Well, I have to go find the team and tell them about our ban. What should I say?"
"Tell them whatever you like," Harry said dully. "Just make sure you tell me so we can get our stories straight." He sighed. "I guess it could have been a lot worse, but … damn! No Quidditch for a month!"
"Plus detention for me," Ron said. "As soon as Mum finds out, my life is over," he added, sounding a bit blasé about it. "Well, I'm off. See you later, Harry."
"Yeah, see ya," Harry said absently as Ron shuffled quickly down the rest of the steps.
Harry rode the stairway all the way to the bottom.
At noon, Minerva McGonagall was sitting across from Dumbledore in his office. She wasn't quite sure why she had been summoned. Hopefully it wasn't about that Snape poem. Really, leaving it on her desk in the Transfiguration classroom had been … an accident. Really.
"Minerva, I have something to ask of you," Dumbledore said.
"What, sir?"
"I need you to officially relieve Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley of their Prefect duties."
Well that was unexpected. "I beg your pardon?"
"I believe you heard me."
"I did hear you. But Albus, Weasley and Granger were Prefects last year, their OWL year I might add, with no problems. What's changed?"
Dumbledore at once looked very old. "I cannot speak of it. It is a private matter and must be kept as such." When McGonagall began to splutter, he added, "Minerva, I trust your judgment, and you must trust mine."
McGonagall still looked rather ruffled, but she nodded. "Yes, sir. Who shall I appoint in their place?"
"Miss Patil and Mr. Finnegan."
"WHAT?"
Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't heard. "You must tell Gryffindor that Miss Granger has been coming apart at the seams, and the headmaster has just realized this is due to the stress of her duties. She has been relieved of them. And Mr. Weasley … has expressed his fear that he is unable to be fair and impartial with his power. He has also been relieved of duty."
McGonagall stared at Dumbledore in shock. "Albus, I'll tell any story you want, but … Those are terrible choices! I hate to badmouth my students, but Parvati is not very bright and Seamus has abominable judgment. It will be a disaster for Gryffindor House!"
"Minerva, I don't have time to argue. Gather your students and make the announcement, post haste." Dumbledore stood and straightened some papers. "We are done here."
And McGonagall, who made a point of trusting Dumbledore, felt she could do no less than that now. She pushed her anger beneath the surface, stood, and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye.
"Yes, sir."
And so it began. McGonagall gathered all the Gryffindors on Sunday afternoon, and made the announcement. Seamus looked quite happy and Parvati squealed with joy when McGonagall handed her the shiny badge. Hermione put her face in her hands to stifle her moan.
On Monday morning, Parvati broke in her new Prefect badge by watching as Colin Creevey got his ears boxed by Draco Malfoy … and doing nothing. Seamus, who was with her, convinced her to let a now crying Colin fend for himself. He had to learn how to deal with bullies on his own. Hermione, out of habit, had arrived on the scene just in time to see it. Unable to interfere or help Colin, she ground her teeth and stalked off to class.
And on Monday afternoon, Hermione did her first hour down in the kitchens. The house-elves were actually fairly pleasant and allowed her to help by washing dishes. That was, of course, until Hermione mentioned the possibility of paid labor. Winky got most upset and chased her around with a frying pan for a good ten minutes. By the end of her hour, her hands were pruny from the dishwater and her ears were splitting from talking to Dobby. She had no idea what exactly she was supposed to learn from this.
On Monday evening, Ron reported to Filch at seven o'clock and was immediately put to work. One of the toilets on the second floor was blocked up. Ron's scrunched his face in disgust when Filch handed him a plunger and a pair of wellies to wade through whatever came up from his plunging. Then he left, cackling.
Ron tugged on the boots, hung up his robes far from the toilet so as not to soil them, rolled up his sleeves and miserably got to work. At least, he thought, he'd come up with a good cover story for why he and Harry were banned from Quidditch for a month.
The team had been told that he and Harry played a trick on a Slytherin, and in vengeance, the Slytherin hit them both with a powerful Dizzying Hex, unliftable except by the caster. If either of them got on a broom, they'd get so dizzy that they would fall off and kill themselves. And if anyone from Gryffindor accused anyone from Slytherin of casting the hex, the caster might realize that Ron told the team, and they'd just decide to do something worse.
The team bought it, and sadly decided to just do without Ron and Harry for a month. They promised not to ask the Slytherins about it. And if any Slytherins inquired about their absence, they promised to stonewall them. After all, their next match wasn't until December. But the team was young, and they needed solid leadership, which unfortunately was mostly provided by Ron and Harry. Ginny was pretty good at keeping people in line, of course, but leading practices? This month would be tough.
Ron plunged harder in frustration and brought up a wad of … he didn't even want to know what that was. He made a face and plunged again.
Potions on Tuesday was a disaster. Harry had spent most of the period clenching his fists in the face of insults and trying, with mixed results, to stay calm. By the end of class he was a wreck, but his potion, ironically, had turned out perfectly.
It was with trepidation that he walked into Snape's office on Tuesday evening. He thought his least favorite teacher would be sitting at his desk marking essays, but Snape was at one of his two lab tables, bent over a potion. As soon as Harry shut the door behind him, Snape snapped his head up.
Harry had expected an angry stare, but Snape looked merely confused. Beyond that, he looked exhausted. His face was sallower than ever, his clothes were rumpled, and his hair was so tangled it looked like he hadn't bothered with a comb in days.
"Potter? What are you doing here?" he asked, without any of his usual nastiness.
Harry didn't know how to reply. It was obvious that Snape was in the middle of something that had all of his attention. But then again, Snape had insisted Harry be here.
"Erm, it's nine, sir. Occlumency, remember?" Harry said, and inwardly kicked himself. He couldn't believe he'd just reminded Snape of his license to torture him on a weekly basis.
Snape looked at his clock. It was nine on the dot. "So it is," he said quietly, and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down in that chair, Potter. If you move, you will regret it."
Harry obediently dropped into the chair. Snape, instead of following Harry, walked over to a small doorway that led to a darkened chamber. From what Harry could make out, it was a small library.
"The headmaster was most dissatisfied with the results of our lessons last year," Snape said from the dark room. "Therefore, things will be different this time around."
"Yes sir," Harry said dully.
He sat there for a moment, listening to Snape rustling around beyond the doorway. That was when he heard it. There was the pop of a vial being opened, and then an eerie sound, a weak little "eee! eee! eee!" noise; it sounded like the cry of some small wounded animal. Whatever it was, it sounded like Snape was torturing it.
The idea of Snape torturing small things did not invest Harry with a lot of confidence or calm. By the time Snape came out of the dark room, he was making a marked effort to sit still and not bolt. Then he noticed Snape had a book in his hand. Snape sat down heavily across from Harry and handed it the tome to him without a word.
Harry stopped thinking about crying noises the instant he saw the book. Snape was giving him something? Hmm. Cause for alarm.
"Take it, Potter," Snape said finally, with a bit of his usual silky disgust.
Carefully, Harry took it. Deciding Snape hadn't done anything that heinous to it (the man had handled it after all), he cracked it open and read the title: Mind Clearing for the Totally Inept. He raised an eyebrow. Granted, he wasn't that good at clearing his mind and thinking of nothing, but "totally inept?"
"Sir?" he asked, with some irritation. "Do you want me to read this?"
Snape scowled. He seemed to be back to his normal self.
"No, Potter, I want you to attach it to your face and let the information leak in by osmosis. YES, I want you to read it! You will have finished Chapter One and practiced the first two exercises, which can be found on pages 12 and 30, by next week. It has become clear to me that in order for you to learn anything at all about Occlumency, we must move in baby steps. Therefore, we will begin at the beginning. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said tightly.
"Good. Dismissed."
Harry left the room in a hurry. In spite of hearing those horrible sounds and receiving yet another book to read, that actually hadn't been nearly as bad as he thought it would be.
Of course, there was the final, possibly deadly component of his punishment. On Wednesday after classes, Harry walked sullenly into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore gazed at him calmly. They exchanged the requisite greetings and Harry walked over to the hearth, where a fire was crackling.
"Remember, Harry, this is not to be made public. Should anyone ask, you're there as Miss Midgefield's administrative assistant. It's volunteer work for school."
Harry didn't think anybody would buy that story, but he nodded. He took the pot of floo powder, grabbed a fistful, threw it into the roaring flames in the fireplace and shouted for The Open House. After a few dizzy moments of spinning, he found himself sprawled on an unfamiliar hearth. Beyond the hearth lay a tile floor, and beyond that was the ground floor of what looked like some stately mansion.
Brushing some ash off his robes, he went to the nearby reception desk and asked for Miss Midgefield. He rattled off Dumbledore's story of why he was there. The witch at the desk was very friendly. She told him where to go and all too soon he found himself on the second floor, outside a simple office door that read "Elendir Midgefield, MLT."
Harry did not move. He didn't even knock. There was no noise in the office that he could hear. He was just wondering what would happen if he stood out here for an hour and then left when Miss Midgefield opened the door. She was a tall witch, dressed in purple, with long brown hair and ordinary blue eyes.
"Ah, Harry," she said kindly, "Come in."
This was mandated by Dumbledore, Harry reminded himself. He had to do as she asked. But that didn't mean he had to like it. He stared at her gloomily, thrust his hands in his pockets, and slouched his way into her office.
Well folks, this was the last "official" chapter of Fizz. Yes, there's a little mystery with Snape going on. It will be resolved in the EPILOGUE, which should be here in about a week.
Important Reviewing Information for Lurkers: If you have been waiting to post a review and you want some recognition, please don't wait anymore. Go ahead and post for this chapter. I can only respond one more time, when I post the epilogue. Thanks for reading. :D