Later that day, at lunch, everyone in the Great Hall was talking about Uncle Gadzy's arrival and behaviour. Surprisingly, even the ignorant Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of his Slytherin gang were chuckling about the way Peeves treated his own uncle; Crabbe and Goyle's faces were very red by the time Malfoy mentioned how Uncle Gadzy ran after him like an old turtle. The way he described Uncle Gadzy made him seem like a piece of dung himself. He specifically discussed how Peeves threw the hot pepper at him that burned his eyes, and the balls of wheat. Practically, the whole Slytherin table was shaking from the students' laughter.

Over by the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were enjoying a pleasant meal full of chicken, pork chops, spaghetti and meatballs, and roast beef. Of course, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Colin Creevey, and Neville joined them for this huge meal. Their appetites were completely satisfied.
"Did you see Gadzy's face when Peeves threw the hot pepper sugars at him?" chuckled Seamus, who eye witnessed that happen.
"And did you notice the piece of carrot between his third and fourth upper teeth? Must've been stuck there for decades!" mouthed Dean.
"This is nothing compared to when poor Peeves was summoned into that jar; his uncle was flying of joy!" added Neville.
Ron grinned at Harry and Hermione, who were both finishing up their plates.
"Honestly," whispered Ron, "they should start their own joke shop."
Harry choked on a pork chop, helped himself to some pumpkin juice, and then stared vaguely at Ron.
"What?" asked Harry, mystified by Ron's suggestion.
"I mean," began Ron, lowering his head, "if they can notice all these joking traits and characteristics, I see no harm in making up their own joking-business plans."
Hermione grinned at him, denying his thought.
"Ron, now you're sounding like a grownup," emphasized Hermione earnestly, "they have their own future. Why would they take the path Fred and George took? Isn't there any job other than joking? I mean, it's nothing to do for living."
"Nothing to do for living?" yelped Ron in disbelief. "Hermione, have you any eyes? When Harry, you, and I went to Hogsmeade that day, and when we discovered the Golden Wheezer Jokeshop, what did we observe happening?"
"What?"
"We've counted the money Fred and George made ourselves! Perhaps you don't remember so well…they've got a fortune! Why? Because they earned their money from their magnificent joking career!"

Harry laughed calmly at the state of Ron, considering Neville, Dean, and Seamus planning to have their own joke shop.
"Then it must be you Ron, who should consider being a clown," pointed out Harry, smiling.
Ron smirked at him, unintentionally.
"What do you mean by that?" queried Ron.
"What I mean is," explained Harry, "if you like this whole joking stuff too much, that might be your goal. Rather than joining us as future Aurors, you could simply hang around with kids and teach them some magical joking tricks."
Ron's grin faded away, and then came a serious expression of disapproval.
"Hang on," complained Ron, "you think that I'm not qualified enough to catch dark wizards and witches? You think that I'm worth being a lousy clown?"
"Ron," began Hermione, "Harry didn't mean that you're rubbish. However, if this is your interest, you might want to consider joining your brothers."
"Do you think that I haven't got the skills to be an Auror?" muttered Ron furiously. "As if you two have even completed sixth and seventh year, and already finished Auror training…."
"Why are you so angry? It was just a suggestion," said Harry, sort of feeling guilty.
"Angry? It wasn't a suggestion, Harry. This is what I call making-fun-of!" roared Ron angrily, stumping his feet on the ground.
"Ron, calm down," pleaded Hermione, glancing at the students beside them.
"Ron, I didn't mean at all that you weren't qualified to be an Auror, it was just an idea…look, forget about it, I'm sorry, ok?" declared Harry, asking for Ron's forgiveness.
For some moments, Ron's eyes were wild, and his whole body was shaking nervously.
"Allright," agreed Ron, still feeling exasperated.
"Thanks," said Harry, and took the last couple of sips from his pumpkin juice.

"Hey," began Ron, "remind me, when is our next Quidditch match?"
Harry sat there, trying to remember when the next match was. He told Madam Hooch to schedule it some time in mid January, but he still didn't remember.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot," hollered Harry, "I think it's on the twelfth or fifteenth…something like that."
"Good, because I want to smash Cho Chang to bits if we get to play against Ravenclaw," barked Ron, grinning at the pair of them.
"Why is that?" asked Harry, mystified.
"Cause today after your Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with the seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, she came out sobbing and crying madly," stated Ron clearly.
"Crying? Why?" asked Hermione, wondering when was the last time she glimpsed at tear on Cho's cheek.
"Well, I met her on the way to class, and she was complaining about the way you introduced Forbets to them. I never saw them myself until today, but they didn't turn out to be so scary, compared to the giant spiders that I fear of course. And then she said something about sacking you for teaching them something foul and scary like that in their final year. The twisted blabbing gossiping hag!"
"She said that?" wondered Harry in disbelief. He knew that in the past he had some rows with Cho, when they used to date each other, but this? It was too cruel of a pretty kind girl to say. Any student he taught so far has never criticized him negatively.
"Yeah," Ron went on, "and then she staggered away with her chatting friends."
"Why, though?" interrupted Hermione. "She's never that wicked with Harry. She was even in love with him last year!"
"Well, things in life change, don't they?" asked Harry, smiling.
"I guess so," replied Hermione, uncertainly.
There went the bell, loud as always, and echoing all over the school.
"See you in prefect duty, and don't be late, because I don't want to inspect those kids alone, you know. I might get into trouble with McGonagall," giggled Ron, and marched off to Potions class. There were some thirty students that were second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws awaiting him and Hermione.
"Why do you even inspect the students?" asked Harry, as he and Hermione got out of their seats.
"Well, this is something new that Professor Dumbledore suggested this summer, as I was told by Professor McGonagall. She said that it was our duty as prefects to act as counselors of the school, and associate with younger students. In addition, she explained that we were the people after teachers that would offer students help at all time if they needed it. So, in this inspection duty, we ask students about how their studying is going, and if they're finding any difficulty understanding teachers' explanations."
"Whoa!" whispered Harry, astonished by how much content lies deep inside this duty. "You must understand every bit of responsibility in this prefect duty."
"Of course I understand Harry," reminded Harry, smiling at him, "or else, why should I have been made a prefect?"

Harry nodded.
"See you in class!" Hermione waved goodbye, and disappeared from his sight, heading to Potions class to join Ron for prefect duty.

Meanwhile, Harry fancied a walk through the kitchens, because he had no lesson to teach or attend now. It's been quite a while since he last met Dobby, the over excited and friendly house-elf.
Therefore, he ran downstairs; seeking the famous painting that contained the hidden secret doorknob that would lead to the kitchens.
Harry approached the painting carefully, making sure that no student or teacher was behind him, and stretched his hand to tickle the pear in the fruit basket. Momentarily, it giggled, and a familiar doorknob appeared. He grabbed it, and then went into the kitchens of Hogwarts.
House-elves, here and there, so busy working and preparing for dinner tonight, even though they just served lunch.
"Harry Potter sir!" squeaked a familiar voice from over ten ovens and cleaning sinks.
"Dobby!" shouted Harry back gladly at the adorable house-elf.
Dobby came running, his hands busy trying to hold up seven bottles of Butterbeer.
"Would Harry Potter like some Butterbeer?" asked Dobby, his big green tennis-like eyes widening, presenting Harry with some foamy Butterbeer.
"Uh…no thanks Dobby, I'm full; I just had lunch," responded Harry, feeling anxious about the way Dobby would react. However, he knew that Dobby existed to help Harry in anyway; he owed him his life after he freed him from Lucius Malfoy's wicked grip.
"As Harry Potter wishes," squeaked Dobby happily.
"Listen, Dobby, where's Winky?"
Dobby unmistakably flinched at the sound of her name.
"What's the matter? Has something bad happened to her?" asked Harry curiously.
"Bad indeed sir," belched Dobby, "Winky is going to St Mungo's Hospital."
Harry raised his eyebrows at the sad house-elf.
"Why?"
"Winky is having trouble forgetting about Master Crouch. Winky is having nightmares and bad dreams, Harry Potter. Winky is out of control, sir. So, Professor Dumbledore said that Winky must be transferred to St Mungo's Hospital to rest for a month…"
"A whole month at a hospital?" interrupted Harry.
"Yes sir, one full month. Until Winky is recovering, she must be staying there. There is good healers at St Mungo's Hospital; they is taking good care of her."
Sadly, Harry had a flashback about the time he first laid eyes on Winky. He perfectly discerned the looks of fright and anxiety on Winky's eyes when she was on the top box, pretending to save her master, Crouch, a seat, while Junior Barty Crouch was actually present, but concealed under his invisibility cloak. In addition to that, he knew how much Winky was afraid of heights, but she had no other choice than to obey her master's orders.
"But she'll be back, won't she? She can't stay there permanently!" mouthed Harry.
"Dobby hopes Winky is coming back to Hogwarts, Harry Potter. Dobby is doing nothing but hopes for Winy to be good again, and finally forgets about Master Crouch," mumbled Dobby.
"Do you think that the reason is that she can't handle the truth and accept it?" asked Harry, knowing Dobby's response already.
"Dobby knows how much Winky is suffering from nightmares. Dobby knows how sad Winky is when Master Crouch is sacking her. Dobby knows that Winky is sad about Mr. Crouch," said Dobby, his round green tennis-like eyes shining with tears.
"It's allright Dobby, she'll be back once again…I hope so," Harry comforted Dobby, and went deeper into the kitchens to meet the other house-elves.
Suddenly, while a burly looking house-elf explained to Harry how to cook a pumpkin-cream cake, Harry sensed something passing over his neck …something cold. Not someone, but sort of a spirit. But it's impossible…thought Harry. What such spirit would likely be following him this instant? He looked around him carefully as the house-elf kept on blabbing. Still curious, Harry got up from the state of kneeling down to be able to face the house-elf. The burly looking house-elf kept on gossiping even though Harry wasn't intrigued by his awfully annoying speech. Slowly, Harry took a few steps forward, exploring the place. He still felt the cold sensation of something mysterious pass by his neck, and then go away. Around the cupboards he went, and there came the cold sensation again. He felt something icy cold being dropped on his neck, which made him sort of freeze in his spot.
Then, suddenly, he saw something unbelievable. A black shadow was climbing the wall quickly, and soon it was gone. Harry's jaw was wide open, and his eyeballs looked wild. He took of his glasses and checked to see if anything was wrong with them, but no…it was a black shadow that he saw. What was it…. thought Harry. It couldn't have been a Forbet, because he would've known; he would've seen the wisp of smoke disappear, and then a yellow shadow under his feet. Harry kept meandering around the kitchens, his eyes set on the ceiling, seeking any movement at all.
"Is something wrong Harry Potter sir?" asked Dobby anxiously, his tennis-like eyes moving from side to side to bottom to top.
"I...I'm not exactly sure of it, but…"murmured Harry uncertainly. Again, the black shadow appeared in front of his eyes. It was hovering between a large cake by the corner, and a huge roast beef. It was flickering, like an old light bulb would.
"There!" shouted Harry, pointing at the hovering shadow.
"Where?" asked Dobby.
"There…between the pink-white cake and the greasy roast beef!" pointed out Harry.
"What is Harry Potter talking about? What is there?" repeated Dobby, looking confused.
"Can't you see it?"
"See what sir?"
"That black shadow? Sort of puffy like smoke?"
"What is sir talking about? There is no black shadow," muttered Dobby, looking more closely at the gap between the cake and the roast beef.
"You…you mean you can't see it?"
"No, Harry Potter, sir. You is hallucinating; there is no shadow,"
"I'm not imagining this! I saw it climb the wall, and up to the ceiling!"
"Harry Potter must rest," mouthed Dobby, "Harry Potter is sick."
"Dobby, first I sensed it pass my neck, then I saw it climb the wall! And now it's hovering right there," said Harry, pointing at the cake and roast beef again.
"You is very sick and tired, sir. You is getting no sleep," suggested Dobby, and then called on some house-elves to escort Harry to the exit doors of the kitchens.
"But I'm telling the truth…I saw it," yelled Harry, over the dozen hands that were pushing him away.
"Come back later, Harry Potter, you is needing rest," squeaked Dobby from afar, waving goodbye.

Politely, the house-elves tried to push Harry out of the doors. However, due to his arrogance, they ended up shoving him out. He was slightly injured in the waist, but managed to get going.
He was confused now. He was able to see a mysterious black shadow crawl up the wall, and onto the ceiling, and the house-elves did not. Dobby, that is to say, did not. Harry was sure that his finger was pointing straight at the space between the large cake and the roast beef, in other words, he clearly pointed out the black shadow. Still, Dobby claimed that he didn't see anything. Could it be, though? Could house-elves not have the ability to see things like shadows and spirits? Harry wasn't entirely sure about that; the only person he knew that would know the answer was Hermione, who was absolutely obsessed with house-elf rights.

So, half an hour later, when the bell finally rang, Harry was waiting outside the Potions class, leaning on the wall. Out came the second year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, followed by Hermione and Ron. Ron seemed to be exhausted from this heavy duty; however, Hermione was, as always, glad to help students and help them out with difficulties.

"Believe me Harry, you're lucky you weren't made a prefect. That duty was a nightmare!" declared Ron.
"No it's not a nightmare, it's more like a dream, that was eventually a nightmare," disagreed Hermione, and gave the two a grin.
"What was it like?" asked Harry, pretending to be curious.
"It was…"began Ron.
"A disaster!" Hermione finished up the sentence for him.
He glared at her.
"Really?" asked Harry again, while he glimpsed Peeves flying over some statues.
"Yes," continued Hermione happily, "we were walking around the class as Professor Snape explained all about their new potion, and we saw students take notes. They are much better than third, fourth, and fifth years. At least they've got some manners."
"Probably, they're afraid that Snape might drown them in a slimy potion filled with frog legs and spiders!" spattered Ron, laughing.
Hermione sighed and scratched her left hand.
"So, anyway, when they started their work, we went around and tried to help them," Hermione went on, "but Professor Snape rejected, and said that they should be doing work by their own."
"What else would he say?" asked Harry sarcastically.
"The great big ball of grease ordered to correct his late papers for him, the nutter," grumbled Ron.
"What?"
"Yeah," continued Hermione, agreeing with Ron, "after the fifth time we tried to help a second year, he lost his temper and nearly kicked us out of his class."
Harry raised both eyebrows.
"Luckily though, he didn't." scoffed Ron. "But even worse, he handed us some fifty rolls of parchment to correct, using the answer key on top."
"Look at our hands," exclaimed Hermione, rubbing her right palm.
"Whoa!"
"They're practically numb from writing," argued Ron, "someday, I'll have the guts to report him. He's worse than Umbridge!"
"I'm really sorry for what happened inside there," apologized Harry.
"There's no need to be sorry," acknowledged Hermione, "you didn't make us correct all those rolls of parchment."
Harry giggled.
"If this prefect duty has worn you out, then it's nothing compared to being a teacher," added Harry.
"You mean this wasn't enough damage?" asked Ron, disgusted.
"No, I mean that being a teacher takes even more responsibility," explained Harry, "I have to sit down at noon and correct hundreds of rolls of parchment. Also, I'll have to plan my lessons for five classes a week before the actual lessons. It's really wearisome."
Hermione nodded her head. She knew that great responsibility comes with age.
"I don't know about you Harry," stated Ron, "but I assure you this was enough."

Later on, after the school day ended at last, the trio joined Neville, Dean, Seamus, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ginny, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil in the common room for a new studying group that Dennis Creevey came up with. He called it the SS, referring to the "Study Society". Clearly, the hard work was getting tougher and tougher each day. Even Dennis, who was only a third year, found his studies becoming more difficult as each day goes by. The intensity of homework was pulling the fifth years apart. The careful, long, and intensive studying required by all sixth years was snapping their heads. Therefore, Dennis, the youngest of all Gryffindors in this group, came up with a bright idea that would lead to organization of studying. All first years would meet on Saturday afternoons. Second years on Sundays, third years on Mondays, fourth years on Tuesdays, fifth years on Wednesdays, sixth years on Thursdays, and finally seventh years on Fridays. That way, students of the same year would gather and discuss the topics they're taking in daily subjects. Yet, Colin, who happened to be Dennis's brother, came up with another idea. He suggested that there should be three people left in charge of the group. He pointed out three positions. The most prominent one was being the leader. Second, was what Colin called the "organizing worker", whose job was to help organize all the papers and put them in stacks and piles. Third, he suggested that each team should have a "messenger". The messenger's job was to remind students about when meeting were to be held, when activities were carried out, and most importantly, delivering a message from the leader if he or she was absent from the meeting and couldn't come for some reason.

"This is brilliant, how did you ever come up with this perfect idea?" Hermione was congratulating Dennis Creevey on his thinking, which had gone red and shy.
"I..I...thought things were all messed up, and students were going back in academic achievement…so...um…I merely suggested having the SS, when my brother Colin spread the news all over the Gryffindor Common Room," replied a bashful Dennis Creevey.
"Well, it's a good thing he did. What we always needed here was some organization," smiled Ron, giving Dennis a wink.
"Anyway, we'll have to write a form that is prefect approved to get this society going on," stated Hermione, knowing that Ron had no clue what she was talking about.
"What?" asked Ron, perplexed.
"Remember, any meetings, organizations, societies, or any other secret teams should have a specific form with all the members' names written on it, to allow it to be going on without any rejections. Don't you remember Professor McGonagall reminding us about it in Christmas?"
"Oh, right," agreed Ron, and turned to Harry.
"Good luck," complimented Harry, "I bet it's going to be better than the DA, now that Umbridge and Fudge are gone."
"You bet it'll be loads better without those two cockroaches," implied Ron.
"Aren't you going to be part of this?" asked Hermione.
"Me? No, I have enough responsibility to go on with, as Dumbledore said last year," informed Harry confidently.
"Why are you such a spoil sport? It'll be fun!" giggled Ron.
"Look who's talking," muttered Hermione ironically.
"No, really, I can't. I'm very busy preparing and teaching lessons these days," repeated Harry.
"As the boy who lived wishes," said Hermione, smiling cutely at him.

Ten minutes later, Hermione and Ron managed to come up with an official form that would allow this society to begin its work. It looked fancy with all the designs that Dean drew, and neat with the brilliant writing of Hermione. It included seven long columns that were filled with students' names or signatures. Practically, every Gryffindor participated, excluding some stuck up seventh years. Then, at the bottom, were two short lines below a heading: Prefect Approved. On those two lines, Hermione and Ron wrote their names. After that, Hermione rolled the piece of parchment and got up from the chair beside the fire.
"I'm going to see McGonagall about this," she informed everybody who was listening.
"Better hurry up," added Neville, "I want to know when we'll start."
"We'd better select you as the messenger, Neville," reported a cute little first year Gryffindor girl.
Neville giggled, and grinned at her.
Soon, Hermione had left the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Hey, Ron," started Harry, "I want to tell you something."
Ron, who was discussing chaser moves with Neville, turned his head to Harry.
"What?"
"Today, after you and Hermione left for your prefect duty, I fancied visiting the kitchens," continued Harry.
Ron, who didn't even seem to notice Harry talking, said, "So?"
"I met Dobby," prattled Harry, "and he told me that Winky was gone."
"Gone where? It had better be…"
"He said that she was to rest at St Mungo's for a whole month," explained Harry.
"What's bad with that? It would give the rest of the house-elves a break from her!"
Harry glared at him, laughing about such important matter.
"What I'm trying to say is that she's gone too far with her problem not being able to accept the truth, and live with it," spoke Harry earnestly while Ron was still giggling.
"I know Harry," said Ron, "but it's even better for her to take a vacation."
"Ron, don't you see it? Isn't it obvious?"
"What?"
"If she stops working, she'll simply collapse!" barked Harry. "She loves to work, and especially for her old master, Mr. Crouch. Now that he's gone, she's got no other choice but live through the nightmare. She loved him, you know."
Ron stared at Harry for a moment, as though he was meeting a stranger for the first time.
"Since when did you care about house-elves this much?" asked Ron.
"Since Kreacher betrayed us last year!" croaked Harry.
"Whatever you do, don't mention his name," said Ron, disgusted. He knew how much of a burden the members of the Order had to carry while Kreacher was present at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place; and especially poor old Sirius.
"Allright," twittered Harry nervously, "I think we should visit her in the hospital sometime in February."
"How about the fourteenth of it?" giggled Ron, sarcastically.
"Why should we go on Valentine's Day? We're only meeting a house-elf," discussed Harry.
"Yeah," murmured Ron, "and we're going there to show Winky how much we lover her, right?"
"No we're not!" cried Harry, embarrassed. "We're going there to comfort her, and ask how her health is."
"Oh, she'll be fine," wailed Ron, looking tired from this conversation.
Harry shook his head.
"Ron, we have to go there sometime," whimpered Harry, "for God sake, we had to get out of school to visit your dad last year!"
"Yes, but that was different," said Ron, "he was an inch from death! This time, we're just visiting another lousy magical creature!"
"Fine, you stay here. Hermione and I will go," proclaimed Harry.
Ron raised his eyebrows, as if he heard something new come out of his best friend's mouth.
"It's always Hermione. Why are you mentioning her a lot these days?" asked Ron.
Harry's face turned red momentarily.
"I'm not," denied Harry.
"Yes you are," refused Ron
"No I'm not!" barked Harry.
"Yes you are," argued Ron.
"Fine! I am, what's the problem with that?" screeched Harry, trying to be innocent.
"Is something going between…"
"No there's nothing going between us, we're just friends like we've always been," cried Harry hastily, and then got up, heading to his bed.
Ron chuckled as he watched Harry climb up the stairs. He must've had some hint that Harry's feelings changed towards Hermione. It's true; Harry's risked the exposure of it when he started mentioning Hermione's name in conversations.

Twelve minutes later, the common room's door sprang open, as Hermione walked in.
"Any success?" asked Seamus.
"We've done it!" spoke Hermione, beaming at everyone. "We're officially running the Study Society!"
Ginny dashed between the dozen heads, and hugged Hermione.
"Thank you for this, we owe you," complimented Ginny.
"You don't owe me anything," reminded Hermione gladly, as she remembered Harry's quote, "friends don't owe each other anything; they're just there for their help."
Ginny grinned at her, and then took the form. On the bottom, beside Hermione and Ron's signatures, was another scribbled type of signature, which must've belonged to head of Gryffindor house, Professor McGonagall.
"Look everyone, we did it!" yelled Ginny over all the heads.
Neville, Dean, and Seamus, who desperately needed order and organization for their studying, applauded, and so did everybody.

The loud noise of applause and cheering reached the boys' dormitory, moving Harry's legs to the ground.

"Harry! Harry! We did it! We're running the Study Society!" cried a happy Neville.
Harry had a grin on his face.
"Congratulations!"

A few seconds later, Harry came down the stairs to look at the official form that Professor McGonagall. There he saw the evidence, her signature.
"So," began Harry, looking at Hermione, "when are you going to start?"
"We'll begin these meetings next Saturday," claimed Hermione, "that's what Professor McGonagall told me to begin on next Saturday. Our meetings will be held in her classroom, as she appointed, every day of the week, at six o'clock. And as young Dennis Creevey suggested, beginning on Saturdays, we'll start with first years."
"Ok," whinnied Harry, "have you chosen the three main leaders?"
"Oh," Hermione went on, "yes, Professor McGonagall had a shrewd idea about who should hold those positions. She personally appointed me as a leader…"
"But of course," interrupted Harry, "who else would be leader if not the cleverest witch of her year?"
"Don't be ridiculous! If you don't believe me…"
"I do… I mean I'm just proud of you," said Harry, his face becoming scarlet.
Hermione smiled at him.
"So, anyway, like I said, she selected me as the leader. Then, she said that the organizing worker should be none other than Dennis himself. And finally, the messenger is Neville."
"That's what a first year girl guessed when you left!" commented Harry. "So, did she like the idea of it?"
"Absolutely!" cried Hermione gladly. "She awarded Gryffindor house fifty points!"
"Wow!" cried Harry enthusiastically.
"I know," agreed Hermione.
"Listen, I had a little chat with Ron while you were gone…" and he told her all about Winky's issue.
"Oh, I agree with you," said Hermione, "I mean, no doubt, Winky needs someone to suppress those intense feelings of guilt and sadness. I see no harm at all in visiting her. That is to say…when?"
"Well," started Harry, "what about February?"
"Oh, that'll be nice!" muttered Hermione. "If we go on the fourteenth, it would be great."
"Valentine's day?" asked Harry ironically. "Honestly, is Ron's mind directly connected to yours?"
"What are you talking about?"
"He suggested the exact same date!"
"So? Everybody knows the value of Valentine's Day!"
"Why can't you find any day other than that? Can't we go on the eleventh or something?"
"Fine with me Harry," giggled Hermione, "as long as we get to see Winky."
"Thanks for your cooperation!"
"You're welcome," said Hermione, and she intended to go to her dormitory.
"Wait," whispered Harry, and he accidentally grabbed her from the wrist.
"Oh, sorry," apologized Harry, soon letting go of her hand.
"No problem, got something else to say?"
"Yeah, listen," started Harry, "today, while I was exploring the kitchens, something odd happened."
"Like what?"
"Patience,"
"Allright,"
"So, as a little annoying house-elf was trying to explain a few recipes," started Harry, "I felt something cold pass over my neck."
Hermione got the oh-no look.
"What happened?"
"At first, I felt it right over my neck; it was as cold as ice," Harry went on, "then, it vanished. Moments later, when I walked around for a bit, I discerned it clearly climbing up the wall."
"What was?"
"A shadow," explained Harry, "a black one. And then, it changed position and hovered between a cake and a roast beef. I told Dobby about it, but he thought I'd gone hysterical. He didn't see it."
"Maybe you're just halluc…"
"I'm not hallucinating! I really saw it!"
"What was it doing? Did it harm you in any way?"
"No but…but it seemed very odd to have a shadow wonder among the house-elves in the kitchens. I mean…it definitely wasn't a Forbet, because I would've known."
Hermione now was confused and mystified.
"Do you see what I'm trying to say here? It was trying to get my attention, and it did!"
"I see," began Hermione, staring at the floor, "I can just say be careful Harry."
"That's all? A shadow comes following me and all you say to me is be careful?"
"What else do you want me to say, Harry?" asked Hermione, giggling. Harry, too, laughed. "Ok, see here, where's that sword Professor Lupin gave you in summer?"
"What?" asked Harry; as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Oh, that sword, it's in my trunk."
"And that's the exact opposite of what Professor Lupin told you to do!" shrieked Hermione. "He said that you were supposed to carry it with you everywhere you go. That way, you could've sensed danger easily, and we would've had a greater chance to prepare for it."
"How do you know all this?"
"Hello? You told back in September, don't you remember?"
Harry scratched his head, going back in the past to the point where he told Hermione about the sword.
"Yes, now I remember," said Harry, grinning. "Good thinking, I should carry it with me more often."
"As if you ever did carry it," spoke Hermione, smiling at him.

"Hey, Hermione!" shouted Dean from beside the fire. "You didn't tell us, who's the leader, messenger, and…what's that you call, Dennis?"
"The organizing worker," squeaked Dennis.
"That's right," continued Dean. "So?"
"Oh well," began Hermione earnestly, "when I spoke to Professor McGonagall, she selected me as the leader, Dennis as the organizing worker, and Neville as the messenger."
"I knew it!" shouted Parvati Patil.
"Good for you Hermione," complimented Neville.
"Thanks, good luck to you too," replied Hermione, beaming at every face.
"Nice going there," spoke Ron, who had been ignored by Harry for a couple of minutes.
"How does it feel Ron, not having a higher position?" asked Harry, chuckling.
"Now he's sounding like Malfoy," whispered Ron quietly to Ginny, who giggled.
"Long lives the Study Society!" shouted Dennis, the own creator of this whole society.
"Long lives the Study Society!" hailed everybody else.

Fifteen minutes later, after a little celebration the Study Society members had, Ron approached Harry.
"I'm going to the Owlery," spewed Ron, giggling softly, "I'm going to write to Fred and George about this Study Society, and most importantly, about Uncle Gadzy!"
This time, it was Harry who had fallen on the floor, dying of laughter.
"Get up, baby," said Ron, making fun of Harry.
"Don't be late!" hurled Harry.
"What, need me to kiss you goodnight or something?" asked Ron, was inches from the door.
Harry grabbed the nearest pillow form him, and threw it on Ron. Still giggling about Harry, Ron walked out of the common room.
"What's the matter with you two?" asked Hermione.
"A shift of personalities if you ask me," informed Harry quickly, and then started yawning.
Hermione didn't know what he was talking about.
"Ok, I'm going to bed," confirmed Hermione.
"Aren't you going to stay up to give a speech about how to combine the SS with S.P.E.W?" asked Harry, laughing at her.
She let out a sigh, and climbed up the stairs.
"Goodnight," said Harry, waving goodbye.
"It's not even night," speculated Hermione, "I'm just going to take a quick nap, and mind you keep your voice down!"
She was talking to the rest of the Gryffindors.
"What else should I say? Good morning?"
"Oh… never mind," said Hermione hastily, and then went into her dormitory.
"Very amusing," whispered Harry to himself.