AN: I do not own Harry Potter, that honor goes to J. K. Rowling.

AN: I am working on a personal writing project currently, so for the next few months I will not be posing. Sorry.


Chapter 14: Fame and Glory

"I can't believe you went and changed your electives," Ron complained as they ate breakfast. Harry and Hermione waited until Professor McGonagall passed out the student's schedules before revealing their copies.

"Sorry, mate, really, but I want to focus on subjects that will help me once I'm out of here."

"You could run into a Hippogriff out in the wilds or something. Then where would you be?"

"You have a point," Harry conceded with a smile. "That's why I need you and Neville to help us."

Neville, whose eyes were out of focus, blinked and looked up. "Us? Why?" he asked with a frown.

"As Ron said, Hermione and I could read every book on the planet, but it has nothing on hands-on experience if we run into something we've never dealt with before. You see, we need you to help us learn what Hagrid and Professor Trelawny have to offer. That means," he continued as he fished around in his school bag. "Ah, there it is," he muttered and drew out two orange-tipped, multi-colored, and spotted quills.

"Quick-Quotes Quills!" Ron gasped. "Where did you get those?"

"Owl-ordering Service."

"You want us to take notes in lessons?" Neville asked.

"Just your thoughts on things. We have the books and can follow whatever the author says, but we don't have the added experience of what the professors teach. Does that make sense?"

"Blimey, can I use this for everything?" Ron asked.

"I would recommend taking notes by hand, but if you want, sure, they are yours," Harry answered with a shrug.

"Every stray thought will get written down," Hermione added with a smirk. "To use the Quick-Quotes Quill, you need to focus hard on what you want to write at all times.

Ron grimaced as he slouched down on his chair. "It's not like I have anything else to do. They canceled Quidditch. How could they do that?" he complained.

"Dumbledore didn't say you couldn't organize Quidditch matches. He just said the Inter-House Cup wouldn't be awarded this year," Harry suggested as Ginny plopped onto the bench across from Hermione.

"Luna asked if we were going to use the same room as last term," she questioned with a pointed look at Harry.

It was a question he'd been expecting. "I don't know if we'll do," he started to explain but was cut off by Ron, of all people.

"Are you mental?" he asked as he turned on the bench. The cup he'd been drinking from tipped over as his robes snagged on the maroon tablecloth. "I might not have Quidditch, but don't take away a place I can relax too!"

"You just want to have people explain your homework to you," Neville laughed.

"That too," Ron allowed with a magnanimous nod to his friend. "You could make the obstacle course harder or even enchant it or something," he pressed as he turned back to Harry.

"Scourgify," Ginny grumbled as she pointed her wand at the mess her brother made. The juice vanished in a swirl of bubbles and foam. After the spell finished, the table cloth was wet, but she dried it with a Hot Air Charm. "I'd like to continue the study group as well. I've learned more with you all than I have in any classroom," she added once she'd finished her spellwork.

Harry knew he and Hermione wouldn't have nearly as much school work to do and didn't want to get roped into teaching everyone after class. If there wasn't a study group, he could hide out in the library or in an abandoned classroom to experiment with his ideas and spells.

"We're going to commandeer a room," Hermione answered for everyone with a pointed look at Harry. He ignored her as he drank from his goblet.

"Good," Neville said with a nod. "I know Zoe and I will join everyone after classes are over. It helps to have people to bounce ideas off of."

That seemed to settle the issue as everyone, except Harry, added their thoughts and recommendations for a meeting room after lessons. "Blimey, we need to get over to Transfiguration," Ron announced as he looked up. Groups of students left the House tables, headed toward the Entrance Hall.

Harry listened with one ear through Professor McGonagall's first lesson of the term. She laid out the school year in blocks, so students who wished to read ahead could work on future material. After her introduction, she set the class on conjuring bouquets.

"Harry you aren't trying," Hermione hissed as she made a dozen roses burst from the tip of her wand.

"No, I am," he challenged as he drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm just working on something," he muttered as he continued to write out his theory. Doing coursework he hadn't touched in a while was a nice refresher, if dull. "Orchideous," he murmured and focused his intent and will. A wide arrangement of blooming flowers extended from his wand and dropped on the table. He grimaced. "Too many variables."

"It looks nice enough," Ron mused as he poked a wilting tiger lily with his wand.

"Thanks," Harry muttered as he went back over his notes.

After Transfiguration, the foursome split up for their elective classes. "We'll meet you back at the Great Hall for lunch," Hermione instructed.

"We know, we know," Ron complained as he messed with the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill. "I'll make sure we take good notes," he promised.

Harry wasn't going to place any bets on his friend's statement. Neville picked up on his expression and shot him a smile. "We know how much this means to you two. We'll do it properly," he reassured Harry.

"Thanks, mate."

Professor Bathsheda Babbling greeted all of her students with a broad smile. "Welcome back! This term, we'll go over complex runic chains and ways you can use Ancient Runes in your daily lives. While this might sound boring, it isn't. By the end of this term, I will challenge you to become not only proficient but also confident in Western Ancient Runes. Once you do, you may attain access to a few of the books in the Restricted Section of the Library to begin research on broader topics such as Ancient Magic and Ancient Runes," she informed the class with a sweeping gesture to the various runes inscribed on the walls around the room.

The professor squinted around the room before pushing her oval spectacles up her nose. "I want everyone to begin using Ancient Runes in their everyday routines. In your lessons, take notes as you would, but under it write out a close approximation in Western Runes. In place of homework for the first few weeks, I will inspect your notes from other classes. Easy, right?" she questioned with a winning smile. Many students groaned in response.

Harry and Hermione shared a small smile. "This is all your fault," a Ravenclaw boy hissed behind them. "You took all those notes last term. Now we have to."

Harry ignored the boy whose name he couldn't remember. It might have been Maximus or something. "It will help, I promise," Hermione said as she turned to look at her accuser.

"Oh, hush, know-it-all," Lauren, a Ravenclaw fourth-year hissed. "We don't want you in this class."

Harry blinked and turned to stare the blonde in the eyes. She wilted under his gaze and turned her head away. "Hey! Leave her alone," the same Ravenclaw boy growled. Harry just completed his turn, facing the pimply boy and locked eyes with him.

"Everyone up here, please," Professor Babbling called to the class. She blinked once when she caught Harry's gaze but continued the lesson without comment.

"Harry, why did you glare at everyone?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice as they left the classroom.

"I just looked at them?"

"No, seriously, you were glaring."

Harry pondered his friend's words as they passed a group of students, a mix of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. A first-year looked up at him and blanched before hiding behind his Transfiguration book. Harry pursed his lips as he moved to step up beside Hermione. "I wasn't glaring," he announced.

"You are now," she countered. "What's going on?"

"A first-year just looked at me as if I were Voldemort himself."

"You aren't that bad," a friendly voice called from up ahead. Harry turned to see Angelina Johnson leaning against the wall, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "I heard someone decided it would be amusing to hide in the compartment, invisible. I wonder which son-of-a-bludger would do that?" she questioned.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry answered with a straight face.

"Uh, huh," the dark-skinned witch laughed and closed on him. At first, Harry thought she was going to punch him. Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Seriously, thank you for your help last term. I couldn't have done nearly as well as I did without," she said and turned to Hermione, "or you," she finished.

Harry knew his cheeks were red. He coughed and disengaged from the muscular girl's embrace with a grimace. Turning his body a little, he looked her in the eyes and said, "you did all the work," he told her again.

"Witch's Snare, I did," she argued. "If it wasn't for you two, I would have failed Potions at least. Your tips, tricks, flashcards, and memorizing rhymes really helped!"

"We're glad to have helped," Hermione piped up with a smirk. She eyed Harry and looked like she might burst out laughing.

Friend or not, Harry thought he might curse her if she did. He shifted his robes as he made to fling his bag over his shoulder. A flash of heat lit his face when he realized he'd puffed out his chest too. "Anyway," he tried before faltering.

"Don't think you can get rid of me this term. I'll need all the help I can get to get through Snape's N.E.W.T. coursework. I don't care if I get top marks in it, but I want to do well all the same. I just wanted to catch you again to make sure you knew I was serious about thanking you. I know I thanked you already on the train, but really, thank you for all your help," she said to both of them.

"We'll meet at the same meeting room after class," Hermione promised.

Harry watched as the two witches chatted for another minute before Angelina flounced off. He had to catch himself from watching the athletic witch's stride as she moved down the corridor. "Ah'em," he heard beside him. "What?"

"You're staring," Hermione half-scolded, half-laughed.

"Am not," he argued.

"Are too, now, I'm hungry. Let's get down to lunch to see how the boys did on their assignments. I can't wait to see what Ron wrote," she giggled.

It was Neville who struggled the most with the Quick-Quotes Quill. At first, Neville refused to hand over the notes that the magical tool wrote out for him, but Harry talked him around. It became obvious why quickly into the two-foot-long parchment. "Mate, you really have it bad," Harry whispered to his friend. Zoe's name came up no less than thirty times in the space of one class period. Neville wanted to spend time with her in the greenhouses, and his thoughts drifted a lot during Hagrid's lessons.

"Wow, this is great," Hermione complimented their red-headed friend as she copied a large length of notes from Ron's shorter parchment.

"It wasn't too hard. I basically resaid whatever Hagrid did in my head, and the magic in the quill wrote it out for me. You should have seen some of the looks from the others. When we explained why, most of the Gryffindors just laughed and shook their heads," Ron explained with a wry smirk.

"Harry, have you had Defense lessons yet?" Lee Jordan asked as one of the twins slid into the seat next to Harry.

"Hey, Lee, and no, we haven't yet."

"Merlin's Pants, he knows, man. Just knows," one twin groaned as he stared into the distance, his eyes out of focus.

"Yeah, I never really considered how dangerous that grizzled old wizard was," the other twin said.

"What?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows.

Harry had no illusions about how dangerous Moody was. He'd seen and experienced some of the things the ex-Auror could do. "I'm guessing his lesson was interesting," he hedged.

"Mate, you have no idea," the twins chorused.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier. Madam Pomfrey said... well... we won't go into what she called me and Fred, but thanks all the same," Lee grinned.

"I'm responsible for some of what those two do," Harry muttered with a mock glare at the closest twin. "What did you two do, anyway?"

"Let's just say, I shouldn't have tried two candies at once."

Harry stared at Lee before turning his eyes on the twins in turn. "Please... tell me you're joking," he hissed.

Fred and George recoiled back with identical expressions of alarm. "Mate," one twin tried to say.

"It was my idea, Lee," cut in. "Don't go jinxing them yet. I thought it would be cool to mix two of the flavors. Oh, it tasted good for a bit, but then my stomach decided to try and crawl out of my abdomen. Then the world went kind of funny."

Harry cocked his head to the side and stared at the older boy. "The Dreamsickles and Puking Pastilles," he muttered. "That might do it and explain the bleeding too."

"Oh, no that, was when I fell. I fell into my trunk and cut my leg on the metal clasp," Lee said with an easy laugh. "Either way, thanks for the save. That might have been rough trying to get to Professor Moody's class and I'd have missed that amazing lesson."

Harry watched as the twins and Lee made their escape farther up the table. Angelina and Alicia sat there, deep in conversation about something. Both had expressions of worry.

"Mate, you have that look," Neville commented as he tried to take his parchment back from Harry's slack grip.

"Yes... but... well, it doesn't matter," he muttered as he tried to remember where Lee was bleeding earlier in the day. It hadn't been on his leg. If the twin's sweets caused internal bleeding or something, he'd want to get it sorted out before people bought it. There was nothing for it, he'd have to ask Madam Pomfrey.

"Mate," Neville tried again.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Can I have it back?" his friend pleaded. "I really don't want... someone to see it," he continued with a meaningful glance toward where Ginny and Hermione sat with Ron and Collin Creevey.

"... could I get your thoughts on it? For the paper, I mean?" the blonde-haired boy questioned with wide eyes. The expression reminded Harry of another blonde in Ravenclaw.

"We'll think about it," Ginny promised with a winning smile. Harry knew that smile. She used it on her brothers when she wasn't going to do whatever they'd asked her to do.

"Right, thanks!" Collin chirped before taking off up the table and squatting next to a small group of first-years. Their wide eyes flicked from one place to another, still taking in the sights of Hogwarts.

"Oh... double Potions after Charms," Ron moaned as he prodded a piece of potato around his plate. "Can we just skip that?" he joked.

Hermione shot Ron a withering look before turning her gaze on the half-eaten plate in front of her. "You know we can't," she scolded with a sigh. "Harry, are you sure we can't cook our own food?"

Ginny gave her friend a searching, if helpless, look before glancing at Harry. He gave her a ghost of a shrug before looking at Hermione who was still focused on her plate. "We talked about this," he tried before trailing off. "I know what this means to you. Maybe, we can try."

"Are you two mental?" Ron laughed. He looked between Harry and Hermione. "You two really are," he grumbled. "Don't invite me to try whatever dishes you come up with, Hermione."

The words made the bushy-haired witch's shoulders sag. "I know I can't cook," she mumbled.

Something was very off with Hermione. Harry wasn't sure, but he knew his friend wasn't acting like she normally did. "Hey, what's going on?" he said in a low voice so the others at the table wouldn't hear him.

"I don't know, this... just feels so wrong," she answered back just as quietly.

"We can try cooking our meals."

Hermione shook her head and took up her fork again. "I'm being silly," she choked. After wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she slowly began to eat.

Ginny placed a hand on Hermione's forearm once before finishing her lunch as well. Ron seemed subdued through the rest of the meal as he stared at his plate and ate mechanically.

Charms was a blast. Professor Flitwitch, standing on his perch of stacked books, set everyone to using the Seize and Pull Charm to pull a red ball from one side of the room to the other. The only catch was, five students at a time could try to deflect or stop the ball's progress. Lavender Brown accidentally pulled Fay Dunbar's legs out from under her when the red ball bounced behind the group of defenders. That started an all-out war between the two sides.

"Mate, I wish we could do this every class," Ron chortled as he flicked his wand back and forth in front of him.

Harry smiled and glanced at Hermione. Her mood seemed to improve some as the lesson went on, but he could still tell something was troubling her deeply. "You did well," he commented into the silence to Ron.

"You should have seen Dean's face when I shot the ball at him."

"We did," Neville interjected with a laugh. "He sent it back by kicking it like a football. It almost took Parvati's head off."

"That was some quick wand-work," Harry said as he placed a hand on Neville's shoulder. It took him a moment to realize, for the first time all year, that Neville was taller than him. "You blocked the ball using an Air Wall Charm. That was impressive, and I know Professor Flitwick thought so too. You should have seen his smile."

"Thanks."

The trip down to the dungeons was done in relative silence. Ron seemed engrossed in something he was reading and Hermione continued her silent contemplation of a list she'd made in Charms. Neville tried to engage everyone in conversation at first but quickly lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"If it isn't Potter," a nasal voice hissed.

Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy standing with his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, at the end of the corridor. The two groups eyed each other as a dark figure stepped into the corridor from the Potion's Classroom. "Enter... now!" Snape bellowed with a glare toward Harry.

The small group of Gryffindors trudged into the dark, musty classroom. Harry took a seat beside Neville. Ron and Hermione, still discussing Ron's notes from Hagrid's class, took the table in front of them. Students filed in and found seats. Daphne Greengrass shot Harry an imperious look as she passed. Harry had no idea what to think of the Slytherin witch. He turned his attention to the professor, hovering like an over-grown bat at the front of the room.

Severus Snape, the Potions Master, Legilimens, Head of Slytherin House, and greasy-haired git, met Harry's gaze with a steely glare. Harry matched the stare with one of his own. Professor Lupin wouldn't talk much about Snape, however, Sirius had plenty to say. His godfather told him to never trust the Potions Master. While he wouldn't go into much detail, claiming Dumbledore forbade him to speak about some subjects, Sirius made it clear Snape had a sinister, dark past. Without coming out and saying it, Sirius made it sound as if Snape was as close to Voldemort as one could get. The one person Sirius hated more than Snape or Voldemort was Pettigrew. Sirius hated his old friend with a smoldering passion that bordered on mania.

"Sit down," Snape hissed, his eyes still locked on Harry.

"This year, we have the dubious task of hosting the Triwizard Tournament," the professor said as he broke eye contact to scan the room. "There are a few new students. You will not have a chance to catch up. Any home-schooling you received will either be sufficient to help you pass your O. next year, or not. I care not. There will be no Remedial Potions this year after Halloween. You have this short time to catch up with your peers. I hear some... overachieving students are trying to make a study club," he sneered. Hemione seemed to wilt under his gaze.

"Ginger root is a flowering plant whose rhizome is used as a spice in cooking, Muggle folk medicine," the Potion Master stated with a scowl before continuing, "and used in several potions."

Harry sat back and listened while taking notes. He hadn't had a chance to talk to the two new Griffyindors. They'd already had a few classes together, but he'd been too preoccupied to pay them much attention. He glanced at a blonde witch at the far back table. She hunched over her parchment, scribbling away as fast as she could. Her partner, a raven-haired witch looked bored with a vacant expression.

"...and you can use them as supplemental ingredients for some potions. The Beautification Potion, for one, once used Anjelica as a primary ingredient. Now, it is commonly only found in rare and expensive potions, as the liquefaction of Erklings is a highly regulated subject," the Potion Master continued with a sneer. "Ginger has a wide variety of uses in other potions, outside of what you will find in many of your textbooks. Both that are available here or wherever you've managed to scrape together your insufficient knowledge, Potioneers have yet to push the boundaries of this art.

Like ginger, there are numerous other, sometimes more effective substitutes, that you will never discover unless you experiment. Take the Polyjuice Potion, for example. None of you are able to successfully brew it yet, but if you add nine evenly shaved fresh ginger root to the concoction after letting the cauldron heat thirty seconds, then the burning sensation you feel while the potion takes effect will be greatly reduced. Instead of feeling like you are being boiled alive, you will instead feel a warm sensation throughout your body."

Harry blinked and scribbled the information down as fast as he could. Snape might be condescending, hateful, and a bully, but he knew his subject. He might consider giving the potion a shot to brew. The Polyjuice Potion took a long time to prepare, and the fluxweed had to be picked during the full moon. On average, the brewing time for the potion was a month long.

Snape went on to give other examples of how ginger could be used in potion recipes and other, more mundane ways. For example, he taught that ginger, added to tea in the morning, could help indigestion and increase the overall health of a wizard's body.

"This is why you lot will never make it to my N.E.W.T class. If you don't know this basic knowledge, then what hope do you have? This concludes my instruction for the day. Get out your cauldrons and prepare a Pepperup Potion, Miss Pots over there looks like she might get sick," the professor sneered with a pointed look at a pale-faced Slytherin girl. She was another addition to the school Harry hadn't seen. It took him a moment to realize, he hadn't seen the new students at the Great Hall either, of if he had, he'd missed them.

"Hey, who are the two new witches?" Harry asked as he followed Hermione out of the classroom.

"Holly Van and Griselda Tofty," his friend answered with pursed lips. "They showed up late last night. Professor McGonagall said there'd been some trouble with the new student's arrival, but didn't say what happened."

"Bugger, what do you think went wrong? Why didn't they just get on the train, like the rest of us?" Ron asked.

"Gran wasn't sure how many people would accept Fudge's last-minute offer. He waved the school fee for any who wished to attend this year. The Ministry is footing the bill, supposedly. Gran says she thinks something deeper is going on."

"How did they get to school?" Harry asked as he looked over his shoulder at Neville.

"I think they took the Floo. Gran was talking about what a nightmare it was to set up so many connections to one place last week. Something about ensuring the two points was stable and didn't interfere with one another."

"I'd never given much thought to how the Floo Network actually worked. I just jumped in and whisked myself away to another place," Ron muttered with a frown. "I'll bet dad knows."

Harry led the way to the Grand Staircase before letting Hermione take the lead. He fell back so he could think. Before long, they found themselves on the second-floor corridor, near the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. Harry felt odd as he entered Room 9A, as if his duel with Pettigrew had been a dream. The changes he and Hermione had made the previous term had reverted to its original state. Upon closer inspection of the three tiers of seating within the auditorium-like room, he spotted inconsistencies where the castle's magic hadn't quite cleansed away their magic's influence.

"I'll get to work," Hermione said with a strange look at Harry.

"Okay," he shrugged as he stood up and dusted off the knees of his robes.

Hermione, Neville, and Ron all worked together to rearrange the room to create a suitable study space. Where the professor would stand, they Transfigured or conjured tables and chairs. Ron worked on the less complicated task of smoothing out the rough flagstones of the floor and lowering the first tier. Once Hermione was satisfied her seating area could hold twenty people, she and Ron worked on creating one large platform with stairs leading up to it on two sides. Using the upper two tiers, they created space for spellwork, brewing potions, two walled-off study rooms, and a small area to work out in for Ron.

"Wow this looks amazing," Harry complimented as he watched.

"You could add something," Hermione challenged.

"Why? You've thought of everything we need. Speaking of which, I really need to get over to the Hospital Wing."

"Are you okay?" Neville asked as he appeared over the banister he'd finished erecting near the spellwork area.

"I'm fine, I just want to ask Madam Pomfrey about what happened to Lee. Something didn't add up. I'd rather find out now than learn someone ate their sweets and died of something preventable later," he answered with a shrug.

"That's nothing to joke about!" Hermione shot back. "What's got you worried?"

"Just something Lee said. I'd rather ask Madam Pomfrey is all," Harry answered as he headed for the door.

"Oh, well, we'll start homework."

"No, we won't! I want to try out the workout area. I'll join you in a bit," Ron said as he bounded up the stairs.

"I should go see Zoe," Neville fretted. "She didn't look like she was having a good time in Potions."

"Who does?" Ron yelled back as he reached the top of the platform.

Harry closed the door to the classroom behind him and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how he felt about being in that room again. The walk to the Hospital Wing helped clear his mind. Once on the wing, Harry found that the heavy wooden door to the hospital itself was closed. He knocked and waited.

When no one answered, he tried pushing on the door. It didn't move. He took out his wand to unlock the door but thought better of it. If Madam Pomfrey had the door locked then there was a good reason for it. He shrugged and went over to the wall near the supply closet. Conjuring a chair for himself, he sat down to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, the heavy doors opened without a sound. Madam Pomfrey led a teary-eyed Ravenclaw who might have been in her sixth or seventh year toward the main corridor. The matronly woman nodded to him but didn't speak.

"Mr. Potter, how lovely it is to see you," Madam Pomfrey greeted a few minutes later. She'd spoken in hushed voices to the Ravenclaw witch before sending her off.

Harry wanted to ask what happened but held his tongue. "I hope you're well," he greeted as he stood. With a wave of his wand, the chair vanished into nonbeing once more.

"Very well done. What brings you to see me?"

"Lee," Harry said as he glanced toward the corridor.

"Ah, yes. Fred and George said you'd looked him over. Come in, dear," she said as she smartly stepped into the hospital room. Once inside, she closed the door and waved her wand.

Harry felt a light pulse that he'd first thought was a breeze of air. It took him another half-second to realize he'd felt Madam Pomfrey's magic. "Do... we need to discuss this behind locked doors?" he asked.

"I believe it best," she stated before moving over to one of the empty beds by the door. "Have a seat. I haven't looked over your... injuries in some time."

Harry hesitated before complying. He sat on the bed and waited. Madam Pomfrey seemed to struggle with something before she finally said, "you may have noticed something while diagnosing Lee Jordan. I trust you kept what you found to yourself?" she questioned with a harder tone than he thought was necessary.

"Yeah, I didn't want people to think Fred and George's sweets caused Lee to have internal bleeding."

The matronly witch stared down at her wand for some time. "As a young... witch or wizard grows older. Well, they decide to try things, with magic. I will not explain what Lee did to cause his injuries. The sweets the... twins... have come up with are simply astounding. When Lee mixed the sweets he was in no danger. I have spoken to Fred and George. They will show me their entire range of sweets. I, like you, was worried something may happen. As it happens, so far, none of the combinations will cause lasting damage if taken."

"Wow, that's really good news," Harry said with a sigh. That had been on his mind. "Why are you helping them?"

"Because the safety of my charges, every student here, is paramount. I have never cared for the youthful activities of many students, as more often than not, it lands them here. However, I've probably cured or helped cure more illnesses, experimental potions and spells, and simply odd accidents than any ten Mediwizards at St. Mungos."

"I can imagine you've seen quite a bit."

"You have no idea," the healer laughed with a strained smile. "Now, your burns," she prodded with an eye to his robes.

Harry sighed and began to undress. "Lee is okay now?" he asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

"He will be," was all Madam Pomfrey would say. She worked over his body with her wand, muttering to herself. She stopped near one area on his right side and frowned. With a deepening scowl, she went back over his body carefully, as if she'd missed something. Harry didn't want to say anything.

After what felt like an eternity, the healer leaned back and stared at him. "Yes?" he asked.

"You... are experimenting," she accused.

"No idea what you mean."

"Do not lie to me," Madam Pomfrey challenged. "You're experimenting with your burns. Harry, this is dangerous! I need to know what you're thinking. What you've done... so far... is," she cut off as if choosing her words carefully. "You've made some progress in regrowing fresh, smooth skin. Which shouldn't be possible," she allowed. "However, by doing so, you're damaging the muscles and tissue around that area. If you were to do this with your entire body. You'd have nearly clear skin, but you might do irreparable harm to your body."

Harry sighed and debated how much to tell her. "I've just done a little research is all," he admitted.

Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes and shook her head. "An old student of mine, Rosie Light, mentioned you in a letter," she stated as she sat back in her chair. She smiled. "Good, you remember her. She'll be glad. She wasn't sure how you'd feel about her talking to me. You left an impression on her, which I'm not sure is a good thing or bad," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Young Ms. Rosie has a habit of trying to pick up pet projects. She saw potential in you and wrote me no less than ten times over the summer."

Harry grimaced. "Can I ask what she said?" he questioned as he adjusted his robes.

"I will not go into detail, but she did strongly suggest I teach you what I taught her, the basics of healing. She said she felt a kindred spirit in you. What is it you want, Mr. Potter? What do you want out of life?" she questioned in a serious tone.

"To study magic, be left alone, and... well, cure these," he muttered with a wave at his exposed arm.

"Boys your age want fame, fortune, and glory."

Harry felt a bubble of laugher rise up. He couldn't contain it anymore. "I have too much fame, I don't hurt for Galleons, and glory? What good is that, really?" he said with a shrug.

Madam Pomfrey stared at him for a long time. Long enough for Harry to begin feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny. It was as if she was weighing him, judging him, and deciding what to do. Eventually, she crossed her hands over her lap. "You're already to limited experimentation on whatever research you've come up with. I know you are smart enough to know that testing things on your body can have disastrous results, which is why I have to ask. How much research have you done into your cursed scars?" she questioned with a mild expression.

Harry had a feeling she was coming around to this. "A fair amount," he allowed. He didn't want to come right out and say it was one thing he'd worked on during his spare time between Sirius, classes with Lupin, his friends, and the assignments from Professor McGonagall.

"I'd like to see your research, all of it," she warned. "Harry, when trying to cure curses, you need to first understand them. That falls firmly within the purview of dark magic."

"I haven't been studying Dark Magic," he shot back.

"Then you are doing your research wrong."

Harry blinked, not having expected that answer at all. "What?" he goggled.

"To become a Curse Breaker, you first need to understand what curses you may come up with. Defense Against the Dark Arts is a Dark Arts class, it just focuses on how to protect yourself. How easily could a professor turn the information from how to protect yourself into how to use the lessons to your advantage?"

Harry grunted and nodded. "Not all that hard," he muttered. Master Ogata's lessons came to mind. There were some things Professor McGonagall warned him not to share with others.

"So, you've done some research. Show me," Madam Pomfrey prompted again.

Harry debated his options. He could deny everything and leave. It might even be the smart option. Accept whatever chastisement the healer would give him for practicing his theories on his body and move on. However, here was the same healer who helped clear up and hide his scaring in the first place. "Fine," he found himself saying. He'd learned to go to experts about problems he couldn't figure out on his own.

"Wonderful, if you'll go off and get them, I'll set up a small table here."

Harry snorted and coughed as he tried not to laugh aloud. "Madam Pomfrey, you're going to want a larger table than that side one," he chuckled. The healer gave him a strained smile and got up. "No need, I have them close at hand so I can work on my notes as I need," he continued and drew his wand.

It took five minutes for Harry to pull everything he had on cursed scars out of nonbeing and place them on the table. Madam Pomfrey's eyes were the size of small saucepans. "You have done... a lot of research," she accused. "This isn't a few weeks' work."

"More like years," he muttered.

"Yes, I can see that. I'll need to go over your information from start to finish. This... will take some time, you understand," she hedged.

"Works for me. I'm at a dead-end at the moment," he answered with a relieved sigh. It felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. "As long as Lee is okay, that's really all I came to ask about."

Madam Pomfrey stood over the table, one parchment in her hand. She muttered something, her head nodding a little to whatever she read. Harry shrugged and got up. He was pretty sure the healer didn't hear him leave.

Harry got back to Room 9A, he found a few new faces waiting for him. Colin and Dennis Creevy, stood talking to Padma Patil, Parvati Patil's twin sister. Padma was in Ravenclaw, disproving that twins will always end up in the same House. Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones sat at a table with second-year Griffyndor, Romilda Vane.

"Hey, you made it back," Ginny greeted with a smile. "A few more faces this year," she joked.

"Somehow I think you or Neville are behind this," Harry whispered as they threaded their way through the tables toward the back corner, where normally he and Hermione sat.

"I did no such thing. You're something of a mystery to many," Ginny laughed. "That and it's gotten around that your secret is in the flashcards you make."

Harry wanted to groan. "Who talked?" he demanded.

"Your... friend. Pig-faced Slytherin, blonde, thinks she's better than everyone else," Ginny spat.

"Ah, Daphne... but why?"

"I'll bet it's because she dropped by to talk with you about an offer," Hermione said from their table. She had a pile of books in front of her. They all were about house-elf rights.

"Let me guess, to sell my flashcard idea," he sighed and sat down.

"Quite," Ginny growled. "Interfering..." she said before muttering a string of things under her breath that Mrs. Weasley would probably jinx her beloved daughter for.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked as she carefully set aside a parchment she'd been working on.

"Well, what I was worried about was cleared up by Madam Pomfrey. No troubles, other than that she's now looking over my notes on cursed scars."

Hermione and Ginny blinked and looked at each other. "You won't even let us look over that project," his bushy-haired friend accused.

"Well... yeah. It has some personal notes. She basically healed me," he awkwardly explained. The two witches glared at him as if he'd offended them. "What?"

"I don't have time or enough owl treats to explain it to you," Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. She glanced down at the parchment she'd been working on.

"So, what are you going to tell her?" Ginny asked.

"I've been debating making them for Fred and George's joke shop stuff. I mean, if they are selling stuff for students, why not make a range of products that actually helps them in class. That way the entire school buys from them."

Hermione looked up with bright eyes. "That might be the best idea you've ever had. You're finally admitting that you've been helping the twins?" she challenged with a smile.

"It's probably the worst kept secret," Harry answered with a shrug. He had a feeling the twins would start selling their products in the next few days anyway, and it would all come out.

"Mum couldn't decide if you really were helping them hide things," Ginny confided with a laugh.

Harry just smiled while Hermione shook her head. He looked around the room at the other students. If their study group continued to grow, he wasn't sure if he could stand the general din of noise. Already, three groups formed, each talking a little louder than the other. Harry craned his neck so he could see up to the upper platform. Collin and Dennis stood with Luna Lovegood. She slowly coached Dennis through the Wand-Lighting Charm.

"Is it as bad as you thought?" Hermione questioned with a twinkle in her eye. "Still worried everyone will come to ask you for help?"

Harry grunted. "No one gave us any coursework for the weekend. What are you working on?" he asked to divert her attention.

"House-elf rights over the last four centuries. I have a lot of notes already, but I want to look at everything the Library has to offer. There are some things here I couldn't find in Mr. Tonks' books."

"What are you looking for?"

Hermione seemed to hesitate. "I want to timeline the general welfare of house-elves in particular. From what I've seen and read, they don't have a voice in any governing body. They never have. Even Centaurs and Goblins, both are seen as sub-human and have gone to war with wizards, have some voting rights in what they can and cannot do within the Ministry of Magic's influence. Mr. Tonks said there are untouched settlements of both species that refuse wizard interference," she stated as she looked over the parchment in front of her.

"House-elves just have to go with whatever we tell them?" Ginny asked with a frown. "Don't they... you know... want that?"

"No! Could you imagine being created to be a slave? Your entire existence revolves around serving people who care nothing about you," Hermione hotly argued.

"But witches and wizards do care?"

"Have you actually looked at wizarding history? Entire settlements of house-elves were put to death because someone thought they might have ideas of finding freedom."

"I hadn't read that," Harry mused. His friend's fervor worried him a little.

"No, you have to read between the lines. Here, let me read what I got from the books here at Hogwarts," she enthused.

The weekend went by quickly as Harry just coasted through the days. He didn't have a project he could work on in front of everyone in the study room. Fred and George told him Sunday morning that they were ready to start initial sales of their sweets on Monday. Everyone talked in hushed voices about Professor Moody's lesson from Friday. Ron looked up their schedule and eagerly awaited their Defense Class as the last class of Monday.

When Monday finally rolled around, Harry found himself excited in spite of his reluctance to have Moody teach him anything. The day passed slowly for him. He wanted to go see Madam Pomfrey, but something always kept coming up. At three-thirty, Harry found himself in Professor Lupin's old classroom. Moody, his spinning magical eye flicking all around, looked over the class with methodical precision.

"Welcome," the scarred ex-Auror grumbled as he stomped across the small platform in front of the class. Hundreds of moving posters lined the walls of witches and wizards who'd been captured and put into Azkaban. Harry wasn't sure what the professor was trying to convey.

"... hello," the class answered in a quiet, smattering of voices.

"Eh, It'll do," Moody growled with something that might have been a smile. His mouth stretched the scarring on his cheek, making him look grotesque. "You've already heard about my first lesson," he continued as his good eye looked at each student.

A few jerky nods were all he got as a response. "Good, I won't have to explain much then. On these walls are witches and wizards who failed to control themselves. Some used the Unforgivable Curses, some killed, some simply took their experimentation too far. Every single one lived and died in Azkaban," the professor stated with a snarl.

"I did not catch all of them. This collection of posters goes back hundreds of years. However, they will serve as a reminder to those who stray from the path. Those like me will always be at the end of the road, waiting for you. Now, what is one of the Unforgivable Curses?" he growled. The classroom was silent.

Seamus Finnegan raised his hand slowly. "The... uh... Cruciatus Curse," he murmured.

Harry saw Neville flinch beside him. He patted his friend's shoulder. Moody growled something under his breath before stomping over to his desk. With a flick of his hand, the blackboard moved to the center of the platform and a piece of chalk started to write on the board. "Arguably the worst of the curses. One will outright kill you with no chance of survival if you're hit by it. Another will dominate your will, but this one," the professor continued as the chalk continued to write. "This one will destroy your mind."

Neville shook harder, and Harry knew he was fighting back tears. "Want to leave?" he whispered. Neville squared his shoulders and took on a look of pure concentration. He stared up at Moody as if the professor was a Death Eater.

"The Torture Curse," Moody continued. "Pain beyond measure is what you can expect if you're hit by this. Your insides feel like they are on fire. You feel as if your bones are liquifying in a heat so intense you will cry. Your skin burns as though you've never felt before. That is just the start and only one second into the curse. On average, the curse can last for minutes, depending on how skilled the wizard is in the Dark Arts," he finished with a glower.

The room was dead silent, no one moved. Harry thought no one even breathed. He found it hard to even lick his lips. In his first year, he'd experienced a pain far beyond anything he'd ever felt before. If that is what the curse could do.

"I have been hit by this curse no less than five times. Every time, I felt like death would be better," Moody confided in a low tone. His voice carried across the room. Lavender Brown hugged herself, and Dean Thomas had a horrified expression on his face.

"You show no marks from this curse. It leaves no visible trace on your skin. Phantom pains are almost expected for days after you're hit by the curse. This is why I think it is the worst out of all of the Unforgivable Curses. Death is just that, death. Freedom is an illusion, but pain... pain is eternal."

Moody let the class sit on the information he gave, the chalk still writing on the board. It was the only sound in the classroom. Harry glanced over at the chalkboard and blinked. It was writing out exact areas of the body the curse attacked to maximize the victim's pain. "How much study..." he wondered. It took a second for him to realize the entire class was looking at him, and not all with friendly eyes. Moody's both eyes were focused on him too.

"Too much," the professor answered with a gruff grunt. "The Ministry will never want you to know this, but for a while, they used captured Goblins as test subjects."

Harry's fellow Gryffindors swung their gazes back to the professor with wide eyes. "You're joking?" Ron muttered. That broke the silence. Everyone started asking questions at once.

"Enough," Moody said five minutes later after he'd answered a few questions like who'd cursed him and what happened to the wizard who did. "Who knows the next Unforgivable Curse?"

"Imperio," Ron grumbled.

"Yes, the one that gave your father some trouble," Moody chuckled. "It takes away the actions of another. It gives complete and total control to the caster. It is the only Unforgivable... almost only," the professor grumbled with a glance at Harry. "You can protect yourself from the Imperius Curse," he continued. "Willpower. You have to know yourself down to the last detail. Know your strengths and weaknesses. A powerful wizard may be able to completely throw off the Imperius Curse. Focus, determination, and a certain amount of stubborn will are required."

Moody took a few more questions, mainly what he meant by his comment to Ron. The atmosphere seemed to lighten a little as Moody described being under the Imperius Curse. He explained the light-headed, almost giddy feeling of just going along with whatever the voice in his head told him to.

"I almost killed my father under the Imperious Curse," the professor admitted. The room fell silent again. "Yes, and when Falkus realized I'd almost thrown off the curse, he tried to have me kill myself. Complete control is what I'm trying to tell you. If my father hadn't knocked me out, I would have successfully killed us both."

Again the room fell silent. The casual way Moody spoke about his experiences made the hairs on Harry's neck stand up. It was as if he were back at Providence, listening to a veteran talk about his time on the African continent.

"The last curse, if you will," the professor said into the silence. His eyes fell on Harry.

"The Killing Curse," Harry provided reluctantly when it was clear what Moody wanted.

"The only known living being that has ever survived the Killing Curse sits before us," Moody growled. "I say only known. There is nothing to say others haven't been spared its power. The Killing Curse started as a medical answer to the Plague. Many have no idea, but the Black Plague was magical in nature. Created by a team of witches and wizards experimenting in things best left untouched, the Plague devastated the known world. If you ever want a profession that is sure to kill you, choose Curse Breaking. The old tombs in Egypt hold many treasures, but they are guarded by ancient curses and spells that are civilization destroyers."

Harry found the knowledge about the Killing Curse interesting, in a detached sort of way. He felt like his mind was floating along with the lesson, as if Moody somehow cast the Imperius Curse on him.

"The Killing Curse, first created to destroy Plague victims who'd risen back to life, became a stape in wizarding duels. In 1717, the British Ministry of Magic outlawed its use. The Killing Curse is seen as the pinnacle of Dark Magic by many. They would be wrong. There are too many things that hide in the shadows of this world that are ancient and dangerous," the professor continued as he strode over to the blackboard. He waved his hand, causing the chalk to stop its incessant writing and float back to the tray it normally rested on.

Moody turned to look at the class. "I have used each of these Unforgivable Curses. I have tortured prisoners, I have controlled the will of other witches and wizards, and I have killed multiple people with the Killing Curse. In my time as an Auror, I have done all of this and more. The dementors of Azkaban fear me. The Ministry is afraid of me. I am the last of the Moody line. When I die, the new order of Aurors will be there, waiting for someone to screw up. We are always watching," he thundered.

Many in the class recoiled from his voice. Harry blinked and reexamined the ex-Auror. He'd never heard a veteran admit to killing another human being. They always skirted around the answer if another cadet asked. Moody, it seemed, had no issues with telling them what he'd done.

"I will be teaching you this year how to properly protect yourself from not only what is out there to kill you, but also from yourselves. In this class, you will learn that safety is my primary concern. Counter-curses, Hex-deflection, water creation, and many more defensive spells will be what I teach. You won't learn how to curse someone or how to get back at your bullies. You'll learn how to be smart and think ahead of them. Erklings, Dugbogs, and Red Caps are just a few of the creatures I'll discuss. They are out there, waiting to get unwary witches and wizards. At least one in a hundred students who graduate from Hogwarts die to something they should have known about. My aim is to teach you how to think, act, and do so without destroying yourselves or anyone else around you.

Now, copy down what I have on the board. We have fifteen minutes before the end of class. I want you to work on a list of things you feel you are good at in DADA and a list of things you wouldn't pass if I gave you a test on them now. Look through your blasted books for ideas, don't raise your hand, Finnigan. Good, no more questions. Work."

Harry watched Moody stomp off the stage and close the door to the professor's office behind him. The grizzled ex-Auror looked tired and worn, as if he hadn't been eating properly. Dutifully, he copied down what was on the board, surprised at the level of detail Moody provided for illegal curses.

"Fred was right, he just knows things," Ron whispered as they all filed out of the classroom.

"He's dangerous," Neville grumbled. He had his head down most of the class, keeping to himself. Harry's attempts to talk to him were largely ignored.

"He is," Harry agreed. "He's seen some things that would probably give all of us nightmares."

Hermione, silent for most of the class, patted Neville's arm. "Sorry that was hard," she whispered.

"Longbottom, do you have a moment?" Moody called from the door to his office. Neville froze and gulped. He started to say something, but the words died on his lips. "I would like you to hear what I have to say, about your parents," the professor continued.

Harry watched Neville's back go rigid straight. He moved to protect his friend, but Moody waved him off. "It will be hard, but I think you should hear the unvarnished truth about how they lived. Not how they are now," the professor bluntly stated.

"What about his parents?" Ron asked once they'd seen Neville nod and go into the office with Moody.

"His parents were tortured into insanity," Harry answered, his eyes still locked on the door as if he could see through it. He wanted to make sure Neville was okay.

"Blimey, are you serious?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's supporters attacked them in their home. Neville was very young. He was off with his grandmother when it happened. The article said it was the first time the parents were alone since they'd had Neville and were enjoying a candle-lit dinner. The home was almost burned down," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Did they catch the nutters who did it?"

"Yes, Barty Crouch's son, Barty Crouch Jr. and Bellatrix Lestrange were two notable names who got caught and sentenced to Azkaban," Harry muttered. "I think Bellatrix's husband was accused with her and one or two others. I forget what the article said. Hermione and I found it last year when researching Sirius' story."

"Wow," Ron muttered. "So, Neville's parents?"

"Are in St. Mungos' and have been since that night," Harry answered.

"I need to stop by the Library to start on our Herbology homework," Hermione said into the silence.

Harry was about to agree and come with her when he remembered Madam Pomfrey. "I should stop by the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey hasn't been there the last couple of times I dropped by," he mused.

"Angelina wants to keep up with our training schedule. You're right, Harry. Dumbledore might be mental for canceling Quidditch, but that doesn't mean we can't keep our edge."

Harry parted ways with his friends. He debated waiting for Neville, but Hermione said she would. Nodding his thanks, Harry made his way to see Madam Pomfrey. Once he got to the Hospital Wing, it was obvious the healer was in. She and Professor McGonagall stood in the corridor, talking in low voices. They didn't hear him until he was almost close enough to hear what they were saying.

"Potter," the aged professor greeted as she turned to look him over. "Poppy here was just talking about you."

Harry blinked and looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Uh, okay?" he questioned.

"Yes, it's about your... research," the healer admitted.

Harry felt his eyebrows knit. He wasn't aware that Madam Pomfrey would share his notes. "I see," he stated.

"Oh, don't give her that look, Potter. She needed a second opinion on some of your work. Your Arithmancy is well ahead of your peers. How much do you use it in your coursework?" the professor asked in a sharp tone.

"For everything. Hermione and I have a... compendium of sorts with words, phrases, and stuff like that. It makes it easy to look up information without redoing an entire chart."

The two witches exchanged looks before turning back to him. "That... is most astute," Professor McGonagall praised with a rare thin-lipped smile. "I should have thought of that myself. I'd wager the notes you two have are just as comprehensive as what you shared with Poppy."

"Probably."

"Can we speak inside?" Madam Pomfrey asked with a glance to Professor McGonagall.

Harry followed behind the two witches, wondering what was so important. After the professor closed the door behind them, Madam Pomfrey locked it with a spell. He started to become a little nervous. "Uh... what's this about?" he asked.

"Your research touches on things I've never read," the healer stated in a flat tone. "That being said... everything you've written has been correct. I had to contact a colleague of mine. We've verified some of your research," she announced.

"Ah... okay? I could have told you that."

"Forgive me, Harry, but I had to check," Madam Pomfrey stated as she took a seat on a stool by one of the beds. She looked tired. Her eyes had dark circles around them. "I've dealt with bright students. Some geniuses even, but when someone, even as smart as you, drops new information in my lap, well... I had to make sure. There are things you seemed to take for granted in your research, things about dark magic and curses. If I may ask, where did you read your initial findings?"

Harry paused, wondering how much he should say. "I made a trade with... someone. They got me some knowledge from a private source. I won't say who," he finally hedged.

"Greengrass," Professor McGonagall stated in a flat voice. "They are known to collect information about certain things. You've been awful close with the heir to that family. Something about not writing her a letter over the summer."

Harry kept his expression as neutral as possible. "No idea what you mean, professor," he lied.

Both witches snorted and smiled. "Do you have the original works? I'm not asking to steal anything from the Greengrasses. I need to ask because there were some things that were... shall we say, questionable," Madam Pomfrey asked.

"I do, as long as you are the only one to read it. I don't know how I feel about what I've been working on being passed around. The Ministry might just outlaw it out of principle."

Madam Pomfrey laughed, a rich, high laugh. "Oh dear, if the Ministry tried to block the progress of magical healing, they would suddenly find themselves in a lot of trouble. True healers care about only one thing, healing the sick. We'll go to war against any government that prevents us from learning how to better save even one person; witch, wizard, or Muggle."

Harry mulled over what Madam Pomfrey said. It took him a bit to summon the copied papers she wanted. "How would you like to become an apprentice healer?" the matronly witch asked as he passed the roll of parchments over to her.

"Uh, what?" he asked and blinked.

"An apprentice, to me. You show an incredible aptitude for healing," Madam Pomfrey continued with a smile. She took the parchments and made them vanish with a wave of her wand.

"Why?"

Professor McGonagall snorted. "Harry, you are well ahead of your peers in every area offered by Hogwarts. I know you could get an Outstanding or Exceeds Expectation ins Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts if you so wished. The requirements to become a healer are well within your capabilities. If you're already researching your burns, why not make it your focus? You made it clear last term you wouldn't work for the Ministry. This is an option, and, in my opinion, a greater calling than anything the Ministry could ever achieve, except maybe being a professor. Which, I hear, you could do as well. Don't think I haven't noticed your little study group," she finished with an arched eyebrow.

"I don't know," Harry mused. Would he even be a good healer? Was it something he wanted to do?

"Think it over," Madam Pomfrey said as she touched his arm with a gloved hand. "If nothing else, I'd love to show you what I know. I don't offer this lightly. Healing magic is dangerous in the wrong hands. I trust you to make smart, educated decisions on how to use the knowledge I would impart to you."

Harry frowned. "What would I need to learn?" he asked.

Madam Pomfrey's face lit up. "My dear, I would teach you how to save lives. For me, and most in my profession, that is what we live for. You need to learn everything. Years of dedication and a willingness to learn from your mistakes are what I ask of you. I'm not asking you to swear on your magic that you will heal others. I am asking you to take what I know and improve upon it. Harry, your notes are remarkable. Eventually, with the right knowledge, they could be revolutionary. To heal cursed maladies. It is a piece of lost knowledge, and I think, with some time, effort, and testing, we could bring it back," she enthused.

"I don't know," he repeated.

"Think it over, Harry. You don't need to make a decision today. Poppy is excited is all. She's been pouring over your work for days without sleep. Speaking of which, my old friend, go to bed. You said so yourself that you've been up for over a day."

Madam Pomfrey smiled a tired smile. "Quite right, sorry, Mr. Potter. I'm just excited. If you'd like, you can take your research back. I haven't made any copies, you have my word, but it has given me much to think on," she said with a small yawn.

"Could you show me what you found? What, maybe, you might do differently?" Harry asked into the silence. The answer to his burns might be just in front of him. He wanted to know, needed to know, how to be normal again.

Madam Pomfrey's smile reappeared. A light seemed to glow behind her eyes. "My dear, I will show you everything if you let me," she answered.

"Oh dear," Professor McGonagall sighed. "What have we unleashed upon this poor world."