I know I haven't updated in what feels like a year, and I'm sorry. A lot of crap has happened at home of over the course of the past few days, along with a mixture of frustration (because I hate doing large amounts of dialogue) and writer's block.

Again, this chapter has a lot of dialogue, but it was unavoidable. I feel that I need to do some sort of explanation, and this is the only way I really see fit. The conversation with Professor Sombra is a bit cheesy, but I did my best.

Now, for my dear Caralynne. I don't want anyone to get me wrong: I love constructive critisism. What I hate is people who are plain rude.

Here are some things I'd like to point out and suggestions on how not to critique someone.

The characters are OOC? How so? It's lovely that you think that, really it is, but on what grounds and what parts?

Perhaps I wasn't clear in my first chapter, or maybe you're just plain blind. Or both. But not once did I say anything to the extent of 'HBP suckz cuz h/d dint happin!" No. I didn't like HBP because it seemed completely out of character to the way JKR.

I do not try to be Rowling; I don't want to be. I don't quite understand this comment, really, though. If she says that I am trying to be like Rowling, isn't everyone who writes a fanfiction trying to be like her?

I love constructive critisism. But I love it when it's done with, courtesy decency and accuracy.

Read and review.

Chapter Ten – DI luvz IK 4eva

It was two days later when Harry was coming back from Care of Magical Creatures, Durmstrang style. They had gone to see kelpies. Sure, that sounds easy and everything, but they had to dock little boats and went around in caves. Honestly, Harry had gotten a little startled. Professor Birch assured them that there were no Kappas in the waters, but Harry swore he saw something blue pass beneath his boat as they went into a rather tight turning cave.

They didn't find any kelpies, although they did find large amounts of yellow seaweed. Apparently, this little lake was thriving in ankleweed algae, which was some important plant or ingredient; something like that.

Harry picked up a single strand of the algae and was surprised as to how heavy it was. It felt like leather and seemed to weigh a good pound. And then the problem came. Each Hogwarts student had been paired up with a Durmstrang student in the boats, and Harry got a surprisingly large one who didn't really talk much. They were asked to collect some of the algae, but when the other guy in his boat stood up, things got a little shaky. Harry did the wrong thing by standing up, too.

The descend into frigid waters was actually quite slow. There was a moment in time where Harry knew he was going to fall, but didn't; couldn't. There was nothing he could do as he tipped backward slowly, ever so slowly, and could see the faces of other students look horrified or laughing. And finally, there was the crash.

To say that the water was cold was an understatement. The water covered him in what felt like liquid ice, and he felt sharps going into his bones. How could anyone possibly survive something as bloody chilly as this? And to think, some people swam in this!

The lake was actually a lot deeper than he thought, flailing around; there was no place he could kick up from. Attempting to climb to the top of the lake, his robes began to pull him back. That was when he got scared. The surface still seemed out of reach, and no matter how much he tried to swim up, his uniform tugged him back with equal strength. He unclasped his cloak and let it fall, at the same time he untied his robe. He spotted a large mass across from him; the Durmstrang guy, doing the same.

Letting go of the extra clothes that weighted him down, Harry shot up to the surface, hacking out the water in his mouth. He felt several hands grab his shoulders and arms, pulling him out of the water and landed him heavily into another boat. It rocked violently and Harry almost wondered if they were going to do it all over again.

But they didn't. Professor Birch summoned a few towels and gave one to Harry, throwing another one onto another boat, where Fallo climbed into. Birch twirled his mustache with his finger.

"Well, eh. I guess that won't be happening again."

- - -

"Vhat are 'oo going to do now?" Ingo asked, walking with him on the second floor. Hermione and Ron were told to go to their next class. Hermione insisted that he get changed and warmed up; she'd let him copy her notes, but only once.

"I'm gonna head up to the showers and get cleaned up. I'm not going to go to Potions. I'm bloody sick of that man."

"Profeesor Snape? He ees OK. He ees a beet strict, but no one ees perfect, roight?"

"I don't think he understands that," Harry grumbled. "So where are you heading?"

"To Charms. My class eesant for another five minutes – Hey there," Ingo stopped, turning toward a student they were passing; Dane something. Dane had to have the strangest hair Harry ever saw; with all the colors you could think of imbedded into it. It was cropped, with brown and red, and had hints of blonde and black in it.

"Do you want to run thee hills tonawht?" Ingo asked. Harry, had no idea what that meant. He felt awkward standing there, attempting not to eavesdrop.

"Sure. Around vour? That ees your break, roight?"

"Roight. Just meet me by thee Quiddeetch pitch."

"Kay. I need to go to Arithmancy," Dane finished, and kissed Ingo good bye, waving to Harry before he left. Harry stood there for a moment as Ingo turned back to him. Ingo was gay? Was everybody in this school like that?

"What was that all about?" He asked, hoping not to sound rude.

"Oh. Dane and I often run thee hills about tree keelomeeters. Good for endurance and all, eh?" Ingo winked. At first, Harry didn't get it. And then, he blushed.

"Yeah. Well, uh. Here's the Charms room. See you later," Harry said, about to walk off.

"Oh, wait, before I forgeet. On noon, Saturday, wee are having try outs for the Quiddeetch team. Are you going to try out?"

"Uh, yeah. Noon? Okay. Well, see you." Ingo eyed him.

"Bye."

Harry turned away and let out a deep sigh. Mal-Draco was gay, Ingo was gay. If the girls here were 'butch,' did that mean there were a lot of guys 'girly' here? No one at Hogwarts was gay (other than Draco,) or were they? Just how many people got turned on when he undressed for the evening? Back at Hogwarts, many younger girls did have a thing for him; as if it were a fan club. He knew guys (like Colin and Dennis Creevey) were part of his 'fan club,' but were there guys that liked him a lot more than that? What would Malfoy say?

That humored him for a moment. He could mentally picture someone saying he was good looking, and then suddenly find themselves turned into a chicken with Draco hovering behind them. That felt nice, yet weird, that he had a sort of protection by someone who wasn't really . . . an adult or Ron or Hermione.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Sombra stood at the doorway way of her office. She flicked her wand; drying Harry up. He had a feeling she wanted to talk to him and didn't want to wait around.

"Yes? Professor Sombra?"

"Why don't you come in with me? I have a break right now, we can have some tea."

He followed her into the office and shut the door behind him, standing there awkwardly as she took the kettle off the hearth.

"One cube or two?" Harry blinked.

"What?"

"One cube of sugar or two?"
"Oh, uh. One, thanks." He said, taking the cup. He took a small sip of it, and felt himself relax. Professor Sombra took a seat on the top of her desk (having to pile up some papers) and turned to him.

"I saw what happened back there." He didn't get what she was saying. "I saw your expression. I've seen a change in you over the course of the past several days. Do you like Ingo?"

"What! No. No, that's not it. I'm not like that. I'm not," Harry stared at her. "No, Ingo likes Dane. I'm not gay. I don't have a crush on him." She smiled.

"No, that's not what I meant, Mr. Potter. What I mean is, do you like him as a friend?" He nodded. "I caught your surprise on their interaction. Mr. Kronhk very much so likes Mr. Iswel; they're very close, or so I've seen. You were surprised because he liked guys, I assume?"

"Yeah. I don't have anything against them, I don't. It's just – he didn't – they didn't – Are there-" Harry stumbled. "I didn't think they were gay. They didn't act like it."

"And what does a 'gay' person act like, Mr. Potter?"

"Well . . . They acted like . . . They acted like guys do."

"Yes, but how does a gay person act?" Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it. How do they act?

"They . . . they act like girls."

"According to . . .?"

"I don't know. People said that. On the muggle news, they talk about protests and stuff. But . . . But . . ."

"All homosexual boys act like girls, just like all purebloods are rich and snobby," She nodded.

"No! Ron's not rich and snobby. Neither are the Patils. That's just-"

"Stereotypical?" Harry paused and realized what she was getting at.

"Yeah."

"Hogwarts is a wonderful school; it really is. But its students come from mainly the heart of Britain; and for the past several decades, the battle between muggles and certain controversies have been at a high. For instance, homosexuality. I find that, in comparison to other schools and age ranges, your opinions change with muggles', subconsciously or not," She licked her lips.

"I'm sorry, you got me off on another subject entirely. I'm a bit of rights activist, and the little scene and whatnot got me going. I wanted to talk to you about the Order." Harry stared.

"How do you know about-"

"I don't. At least, not really. I know that it's kind of like a club or something, a syndicate. And I know that Albus Dumbledore is in it and that you have been requested for something. Tonight, around seven, go down to Professor Snape's office."

"Why? Is something wro-"

"I don't know, Mr. Potter. I was only told this by an unsigned note this morning. Also, you need to keep this an absolute secret. Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger cannot come."

"Why?" Harry blinked.

"I don't know," Professor Sombra said, shrugging. "The password is . . . scarhead," She smiled innocently and stood up, opening the door. "And I want you to keep up those grades, Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced around and then looked back at her. He was about to open his mouth when she winked at him and shut the door.

Well, Harry thought, here we go again.

"Harry," Hermione pressed as they met up at dinner, "Are you all right? You're awfully quiet."

"I'm fine. After dinner I have to . . . I have to go . . . to Professor Sombra's office." Harry decided. Hermione narrowed her eyebrows.

"Why? I already got you your notes. If you want, I can fill you in on our new blocking spell, the-"

"Oh, no. I need to . . . talk to her," As he said this, he saw Hermione's eyes dance over to another table, occupied by Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, I see," She smirked and looked back at Harry. He followed her gaze to where it had previously been and what he saw disturbing and pleasant at the same time.

Draco was apparently modeling a new type of robe sold only in sex shops. It was plain cotton, wool, and black, like any other common day robe a pureblood would wear. But it was uncomfortably tight in appearance, to the point where Harry saw precise curves in Draco's torso and where it stuck to his back and buttocks. The neck of the robe was also quite tight at the top, although, as the blonde moved around, Harry noticed there was a thin slit in the middle of the neck, creeping down Malfoy's chest. The only repulsive thing about it was the pig clutching his arm and glaring at the girls surrounding her.

And then he looked at Harry, and Harry knew. This wasn't to impress anyone at Durmstrang; it wasn't to prove any sort of point. It was to show himself off to Harry with a questionable expression that seemed to be "Do you like what you see?"

He felt dirty, disgusted, surprised, and happy all at the same time.

"Look at him," Ron said, bringing Harry back to reality. "It must be mating season for weasels," Suddenly he had a rather odd image of two weasels going at it. He smirked. "Is that even school regulation?"

"Classes are over right now, and it really is a robe. The professors don't seem to mind," Hermione quipped in. "I read over some of the dress code guidelines of Durmstrang. As long as you're wearing something like a robe when in public at school, it's okay. And since when did you care about the dress code?"
"Since Malfoy decided to parade around in a leotard. He must be a bloker."

"A what?" Harry asked.

"It's some word I heard today. He probably digs the dick over the chick." Harry had to laugh; it was funny. But Hermione thought otherwise.

"Ronald! That is an absolutely disgusting thing to say! Do you have any idea how rude that sounds?"

"What? I don't want some guy checking me out in the shower."
"They don't," Harry said flatly. "They don't."