On the eve of the first day back at Hogwarts, Harry climbed the many stairs up to the owlery, letters in hand. Hermione and Ron were walking a step behind him. As soon as Hedwig spotted them, perched high up close to the ceiling, she gave a particularly loud screech and took off.

"Guess she's still mad at me," grumbled Harry.

The other owls, many of which had been slumbering, were not impressed by the sudden intrusion either and began causing quite a racket in response.

"Hedwig, come on, I need you to carry these letters," said Harry, while he tried to get closer to her without stepping into anything … unpalatable.

"Not that you don't have every right to be mad at him-" Hermione began to say to Hedwig. Harry shot her an annoyed look, but she ignored him. "You do. I mean, crashing you into a tree, cage and all—"

"Hermione, are you trying to help at all?" asked Ron.

"I am," she said, holding her nose high into the air. The boys rolled their eyes at her behind her back. "I'm trying to be understanding. You can't just expect her to forgive you as soon as you need her—"

"Hermione—" Harry threw his arms up in the air. "What do you want me to do? Use another owl?"

"Don't be silly! Hedwig would never forgive you for that!"

Harry had to admit that she was probably right. He also doubted any other owl would be able to find the recipient of the letter which was only addressed to 'Snuffles'. He pulled out the owl treats he had brought with him and went back to begging.

"Come, on, Hedwig. Don't you want to see Dudders again? You haven't carried letters to him for months now. You haven't carried letters, period!"

That last one finally seemed to catch her interest. She hesitantly flew a loop around his head, but then went back to sit in one of the highest owl nests.

"Ugh, this might take a while." Ron looked around for a place to sit. He settled on a wide windowsill – window being a relative term for what was essentially a hole in the wall, easily a hundred feet above the ground – and cleaned it with a haphazard cleaning charm. "I'm knackered," he said, while he sat down and leaned his head back against the wall. "First that howler from Mum, and then..."

Hermione threw a disgusted look at the windowsill, before sitting down next to Ron – but only after cleaning it properly. "It wasn't so bad." At Ron's incredulous look, she conceded: "Well, herbology was a bit tiring, I guess. My mandrakes just didn't want to be re-potted."

"Herbology?" Ron said with a disgusted look. "What about defence? Those bloody pixies—"

"Oh, they weren't so bad. A freezing charm or two was all we needed—"

"If you knew it, that is," grumbled Ron. "Lockhart sure didn't seem like he did."

"That's ridiculous! With all the things he's done—"

"Says he's done—"

"—you don't think he'd know a second year charm?"

"Is it a second year charm?" Ron switched the topic, feeling too tired to argue. "I haven't seen it before."

"It is. It's in our charms book."

"Let me guess. At the very end, am I right?"

"Well..." Hermione made a small preening motion. "It's possible."

"All right, I think we're getting somewhere," said Harry. He came over with Hedwig sat on his arm. She accepted a treat from his hand, but flapped her wings at his hand when he tried to pet her. "Still mad at me though, huh?"

"Have you tied the letters to her?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. Just the disillusionment charm left to do, and she's ready to go..." Harry grabbed for his wand.

"Let me," said Hermione. "I managed to learn the proper one over the summer. Just in case Dobby is still watching your mail."

"Thanks, Hermione. If that mad house elf is still reading my letters... It's so annoying that I can't write what I actually want to. I only wrote Dudders that Snuffles ran away and I don't use any names at all in Sirius' letter – except for Snuffles, of course."

"Dobby'll think you barmy if he reads those letters – writing to your pet dog," grinned Ron.

Hermione cast the charm and Hedwig flew away through the window.

"I hope she doesn't get hurt again, like last time," said Harry, while watching her get smaller and smaller towards the horizon. "I tried looking something up in Viridian's book, but there doesn't seem to be anything useful for protection, just a bunch of nasty curses..."

"I'll try to learn some more powerful charms. And there's these things, called wards, but they seem very advanced—"

"Blimey, Hermione, school's barely begun, and you're already planning to do extra work?" groaned Ron.

"It's not even school work!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I was planning to look up wands – wandlore? – anyway, so when I go to the library tomorrow—"

"Oh, no. We've lost her," Ron mock-whispered to Harry, who giggled, but then shook his head ruefully.

"I don't think I'll get out of learning some extra charms myself," he said. "I can't let Hedwig get hurt again."

Ron's shoulders fell and he scratched at his nose embarrassedly. "Actually, I was thinking..." he trailed off.

"Yeah?" asked Harry.

"Uh, Hermione," Ron turned towards the girl instead. "Could you teach me that charm as well?"

"Sure, Ron," she replied, surprised but pleased. "Not that I'm not happy that you want to learn more, but what brought it on?"

"I was just thinking – my wand..." Ron trailed off again, but his friends caught on quickly what he was talking about. "Actually, could I do that?" he asked after a beat. "Could I cast the charm on my own wand?"

"I don't see why not," said Hermione. "I'm sure I can figure it out, and until then, I can cast it for you." And she promptly did just that.

Hedwig returned early the next morning, during breakfast, carrying several letters. Ron, as instructed, began distracting Hermione as soon as they saw her fly into the Great Hall.

"So, Hermione. You know those beetles we had to turn into buttons yesterday?" he began to say, and Harry had to admire his self-sacrifice, choosing to discuss transfiguration voluntarily with Hermione.

"Oh, yes. That was a nice class, wasn't it?"

Harry could imagine Ron trying not to grimace at that, while he worked to untie the letters from Hedwig's talons. McGonagall's lessons were never fun and easy, but the first lesson back the day before had been especially difficult. Even though Harry had been able to do his homework over the summer with Dudley's help, he had realised that he had forgotten more than he had thought. It had taken him the whole hour to successfully transfigure a beetle into a button.

"Not what I'd call it," grumbled Ron. "My beetle just didn't want to be transfigured, I think. You'll have to explain to me how it works."

"But didn't you show me the transfigured button yesterday?"

Harry hastily took all three letters – one in Dudley's familiar scrawl, one in a still unfamiliar sophisticated cursive hand, and the final in official block writing. It was that third one that he hastily shoved between the covers of his charms book, before turning towards his friends.

"McGonagall helped him with that one," Harry said to Hermione.

Ron shot him an annoyed look. "She crept up on me, and she was like, 'What are you doing with that beetle, Mr. Weasley?' in that voice of hers—"

"So basically, she scared him into doing it," finished Harry. It did feel a bit wrong to tease Ron just after he had helped him, but seeing Ron's face turn beet red made it worth it.

"I was not scared."

"You nearly jumped out of your skin. That's what made your wand go off and next thing you know, you have a button on your desk—"

"All right, Harry?" Colin Creevey, a first-year boy in their house and Harry's fan, waved to him as he passed the table and sat down far too close to them for his liking.

"Hello, Colin," Harry greeted back, smile slipping from his face. It still made the younger boy's face glow. He had a feeling this was going to get old very quickly.

They finished breakfast quickly after that, mostly so Harry could get away before Colin could demand any more signed photographs, like he had done the day before. Harry opened his letters as soon as they were out of earshot of the Great Hall. Dudley's letter contained no surprises. His cousin was expectedly saddened at the news of Snuffles' disappearance and a bit jealous of the flying car fiasco. Other than that, the letter just told Harry about Dudley's journey back to Smeltings – which was a lot less exciting than Harry's had been.

Harry passed that letter on to his friends – who were, as usual, interested to hear about Dudley's life – and then moved on to Sirius' letter.

Dear Harry, it read,

Thank you for sending parchment and quill along with your letter. Very thoughtful of you. Proved very useful, as I'm not currently at a location to easily get hold of those. Also great foresight to have cast a disillusionment charm. Still, it's probably just as well you didn't use any names. I won't tell you any more details about my location/plans for the same reason.

I'm a bit concerned that the barrier closed early. That never happens. I don't want to worry you, but it would have taken quite powerful magic to have done that. I agreed with Ron before this that the whole story with the house elf might have been a prank, but now I'm no longer sure. Keep your eyes open.

That story about the flying Ford Anglia, though – I have to admit, it made my day. It's a shame the dementors made me want to be more responsible, because a large part of me just wants to tell you how much your dad would have loved that – the whole reckless, showy, beautiful thing. Me, though – (several words were scratched out) it Confound it, I'm still proud of you – I'll try responsible next time.

I have to admit it's odd that you're worried about Snape's opinion. I don't think it will come as much of a surprise that your dad was not the only one who was at odds with Snape. We all were. Our whole group used to have the same friends and enemies – until a traitorous rat decided to change all that.

After listening all summer to the two of you and hearing about the sorts of things you have forgiven your cousin, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, I guess, that you'd actually want to better Snape's opinion of you – as much as you can – rather than just get him to lay off you.

I'll try not to bring up my opinion of Snape – as much as I can. I'm truly impressed with your ability to forgive and even befriend people who meant you ill before. I can't say I'd have picked Snape, of all people, to try to get along with, but if that's what you want, I'll try my best to be supportive – or at least not to be discouraging. I'm just sorry he's probably making you pay for things your dad and I did.

Speaking of Dudley, I don't know what he used to be like before, but he seemed a good kid when I met him. I'm sorry you'll have to worry him on my behalf, telling him I 'ran away'.

So, I may have written a bit too much – and some of it not meant for hostile ears – I really need to work on that whole responsibility business. In the mean time, I tried warding the letter as well as I could without a wand.

All the best,

Snuffles

(Woof!)

"...Harry? Harry!"

Harry finally raised his head, realising that his friends had been talking to him. He lowered the parchment clutched in his hands that he had read and then re-read and had still been staring at after.

"So? What did—" Hermione looked around to make sure they were not being overheard. "—Sirius write?"

Harry hesitated a moment to hand over the letter, despite his friends' curious faces. The words 'thoughtful', 'proud', and 'impressed' were still swimming in front of his eyes. But that bit about the barrier needed to be shared. He handed the parchment over to Hermione, and Ron looked over her shoulder while they both read it.

Hermione hummed when she reached the end. "That's a nice letter – even though he's encouraging you to break rules and hate teachers..."

"He's very sure the barrier shouldn't have closed early," said Ron. "But he believed you that it happened, at least." He shot Hermione a look.

She returned it with a look of her own. "I never said I didn't believe you. And anyway, you didn't think it was anything to worry about, either. But Sirius thinks it might be... Do you think Dobby might have done that as well? Or maybe it's part of whatever danger there's supposed to be at Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head. "Probably Dobby. Whatever it is, is supposed to be at Hogwarts, not King's Cross."

Harry was hoping he would have a moment undisturbed to open the third letter, but the day dragged on, and no opportunity presented itself. Classes left little time for anything else, anyway, but with one thing and another, and with having to keep it secret from Hermione, it was not until he went up a little early to his dorm room that he finally pulled out the envelope from his charms book.

Ron came in soon after. "So, did it arrive, then? Do you have it?" he asked eagerly.

Harry waved the parchment in front of Ron's nose. "Already filled it in. I'll just have to remember to take it up to the owlery before Hermione wakes up."

The boys grinned at each other.

"Here, you can take mine along as well," said Ron, while handing over a letter of his own.

"All right. And for the other thing, I was thinking we could ask Hagrid-"

"Yeah, we'll see him on Saturday-"

"But Hermione will be with us the whole time. But you can distract—" Harry began to say.

"Oh, no. You do it this time," Ron interrupted before he could finish, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Do what?" asked Dean Thomas, who had walked in with Seamus Finnegan.

"Nothing," both boys said simultaneously – and a tad suspiciously.

Friday morning, Harry got up at the crack of dawn to go down to the owlery, both his and Ron's letters in hand. He was a little worried about Hedwig, still not sure if she had forgiven him, but when he got there, he discovered an altogether different problem waiting for him.

Gilderoy Lockhart was there, directing a half dozen owls who were together carrying a sizeable package through one of the larger windows of the owlery. He winked at Harry as soon as he noticed Harry had entered.

"Fan mail," he said with a roguish grin once the post had successfully landed.

Harry, who had tried his best to dodge Lockhart all week, silently groaned. Was it not enough that he was about to have a class with the annoying git? he asked himself. He tried his best to ignore Lockhart as he first found Hedwig and sent her off with his letter. At least she knew when not to make a fuss, he thought gratefully. Quickly, he began to look for a school owl for Ron's letter.

"Very smart of you, Harry, not to use your owl to carry replies to fans," Lockhart commented, observing him. "You never know what sorts of tracking spells people might put on owls to find out more about you."

For a second, Harry almost asked him about those, but the moment of insanity passed. "I'm not sending letters to fans. That was one of my friends' letters I was asked to send," he said instead.

Lockhart smiled knowingly. "Whatever you say, Harry. But know that there is no need to feel ashamed even if you only have one fan mail to reply to. I know you probably think, it's easy for him to say, he gets several dozen every day, but it's a start, Harry. It's a start," he said, reminding Harry of the little speech he had given him on the first day back, when he had taken Harry aside during his herbology class – without Professor Sprout's permission – to give him some unwished-for advise.

Harry fled the owlery as soon as the owl had taken off.

Unfortunately, it did not end there. On his way back into the Gryffindor common room, Colin ran into him, his camera swinging madly around his neck. "Morning, Harry. Oh, wow, you're up early. Did you just come back from the owlery? I saw you leave with letters in hand earlier—" he went on to explain his unexpectedly correct guess, oblivious to Harry's stutters. "And I thought, what a good idea. I thought of going with you – because I've never sent a letter with an owl before and I thought you could show me how – but then I had to go grab the letter first—" He waved a thick envelope in Harry's face. "I wrote it yesterday and I wrote my parents and my brother everything about Hogwarts and lots about you, too, Harry—"

Harry noticed that his friends had entered the common room and were walking over to him. For one moment, he felt relief, hoping they would help him to extricate himself from Colin, but then he noticed Hermione's curious stare and silently groaned.

"You went to the owlery this morning?" she asked him.

Harry exchanged dismayed looks with Ron, as they both stuttered through some very bad excuses. Hermione let it go, but did not look happy about it, as they walked down to breakfast.

Things could still have blown over, had they not had a defence class that day. The first thing Harry did, was to see if there were any covered cages anywhere in the room and felt relieved when he did not spot any. Lockhart had had enough of pixies, it seemed. Instead of presenting them with any more live creatures, he decided to read them a passage from Voyages with Vampires.

Harry again decided to disappear behind the mountain of Lockhart's books that he had piled up on his desk and, as covertly as he could manage, began working on his transfiguration essay. He had almost managed to tune Lockhart out and was beginning to think that the lesson might be bearable that way, when he noticed something new was happening. Several of his classmates were raising their hands and shouts of, "Me, please," and "Please pick me," could be hard.

"I think I'll pick..." Lockhart began to say, building the anticipation. "Harry, please!" said Lockhart, even though Hermione's hand next to Harry – among several others – was straight up in the air. "Now, enough letter writing, young man," he went on, sounding fondly exasperated, rather than angry. "Come up here, please. You'll make the perfect assistant, if you don't feel engaged enough in class yet."

"Good luck," Ron whispered as he passed him, earning himself a glare from Hermione.

It turned out, Lockhart wanted Harry to help him act out scenes from the book. Harry was told he was going to be a Transylvanian villager suffering from a Babbling Curse, and he had to talk gibberish and pretend he was unable to stop himself, until Lockhart was satisfied that it looked convincing, much to Harry's humiliation. Only then did Lockhart finally deign to act his own part and pretend to 'cure' him.

Face burning with embarrassment, Harry sat back down in his seat. But it was not over yet.

"What was so important that it couldn't wait until after class?" Hermione started berating him for writing during Lockhart's lesson, before they had left the classroom.

"Miss... Granger," Lockhart said from behind them, making them jump. "Don't worry on Harry's behalf. I understand perfectly how important such letters can seem. I assure you, he's not in trouble," he said genially, gripping Harry's shoulders and giving him a little shake.

"Er, yeah, great," said Harry, wanting to leave at once. He did not need Lockhart mentioning letters around Hermione as well.

His friend would not stand by without defending him, though, for all that she had been the one berating him a moment ago. "But... Harry wasn't writing a letter, he was doing homework," she said. "Not that that's better, of course. I was just telling him that he should've been paying attention—"

Lockhart chuckled. "Yes, of course he was doing homework," he said, giving Harry a wink.

Ron, catching on that Lockhart knew something, shot Harry an alarmed look, who just grimaced back.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. I know what it's like when one first develops a taste for being a celebrity. Now, your friend may seem at times a tad bigheaded to you, as he begins to learn the ropes of publicity and devotes more time to his fans, but of course as he's more important than you, it's your duty as his friend to be supportive." He chortled and then finally strode off.

Harry did not dare look at Hermione. Instead, he sought Ron's eyes, which only confirmed that he had not imagined what had happened.

"Hermione..." he began.

"What letter was he talking about?" she asked.

Her voice sounded normal, so Harry dared a glance at her. She looked bewildered more than anything.

"Er, n-nothing, I don't know—" Harry stopped talking as he saw the scowl settle on Hermione's face.

"Look, Harry, first Colin this morning, and now Professor Lockhart – well, if you don't want to tell me something, that's of course your business – though why you'd be fine with everyone else knowing – but at least don't pretend there's nothing there. Ron, you agree, he's keeping a secret, don't you?"

Ron, put on the spot, began to stutter, making Hermione even more suspicious, and then finally hurt. "So you know it, too? Am I the only one—"

"Hermione—" Harry shot Ron a desperate look. The boys grimaced and nodded to each other.

Hermione looked between them suspiciously.

"We – that is, Ron and I, wanted to do a little something for your birthday..." Harry finally said resignedly.

"And yeah, you're the one who wasn't supposed to know, obviously," said Ron. "It was supposed to be a surprise. But that git just had to ruin it." He scowled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You... Really?" Hermione smiled disbelievingly, happiness slowly creeping into her expression.

"Yeah, well..." Harry shuffled his feet. "You did tell us your birthday. So... Well, this morning, I sent the filled in form for another catalogue, and Ron wrote home, and we were going to ask Hagrid if we could, maybe, have a picnic or something. I mean, if you were Ron, we could go flying, or something, but... Well, that's it. We don't have any more plans yet."

"That's – oh, I—" Hermione stopped talking as she suddenly teared up. She threw her arms around Harry, and then Ron. "How did you keep it secret for so long?" she asked a bit later, with a teary giggle.

"We didn't, did we?" grumbled Ron. "We only managed to get a couple letters past you, before that git ruined everything."

"He's not a git—" she said, and received two angry glares in return. "And he didn't ruin anything! I'm so happy you did this for me—"

"Well, we haven't done much of anything yet, and the surprise is definitely ruined," said Harry, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "First Colin and then him! I wish they'd both leave me alone!"

"What was it anyway that he found out? What he said was..." Hermione trailed off.

"Horrible? Stupid? No one who's met Harry could've thought that?" supplied Ron.

Hermione frowned at him, but there was no heat behind it. Her trust in Lockhart had received at least a little dent.

Harry told them briefly of his encounter with Lockhart earlier that morning.

"And he thought you were replying to fan post?" asked Hermione disbelievingly. "Didn't you at least tell him—"

"Of course I did," Harry said exasperatedly. "I've been trying to tell him ever since he first met me at Flourish and Blott's. It's like he wants to think the worst of me – but then he acts like it's normal that I'd be like that – try to become more famous, and so on – and he gives me advice—"

"Well, maybe he's really trying to help you. He obviously likes being a celebrity, so—"

"Or, maybe, he's just jealous," Ron said confidently. "He really hates it that Harry's more famous than him and is nasty to him on purpose."

Even Harry found that a bit hard to believe, but the way Ron rolled his eyes, like that was the most obvious thing in the world, suddenly made him feel a little naïve.

"No, he's not," said Hermione stubbornly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "We'll see," was all he said.

Their next opportunity to do just that came much earlier than they would have liked. The next day was Saturday, which they had all been looking forward to. They had planned to visit Hagrid in the morning, and even though Hermione now knew about the planned birthday surprise, the boys still intended to ask Hagrid for help with the planning.

When Ron woke up in the morning, however, he discovered that Harry had already left. Hermione, who met Ron in the common room, had not seen him either. They went down to breakfast, hoping to at least find him there. Harry was not in the Great Hall either, but neither were any of the other members of the Gryffindor quidditch team. Puzzle solved, Ron and Hermione grabbed some toast and marmalade and walked to the quidditch pitch.

There were several brooms and a large box, holding the balls, piled up in the middle of the field. Colin Creevey sat high up in the stands, his camera in hand. But other than him, the pitch was deserted.

"They must be done already," said Ron.

"Let's wait for Harry to change, then," suggested Hermione.

They sat down close to the pile of brooms and began to wait. It took much longer than expected until the players finally returned. But they had not changed out of the quidditch robes yet.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Ron called from the stands incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade his friends had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

Hermione opened the book she had brought along, while Ron began watching the training. It started out peacefully enough, only marred by the clicking of Colin's camera, strangely magnified in the deserted stadium, and his shrill cries of "Look this way, Harry!".

But the training had barely begun when several people in green robes walked onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"Are those Slytherins?" asked Hermione, looking up from her book. "What's going on?"

"No idea, but I bet it's nothing good," said Ron.

The Gryffindor quidditch players had noticed the intrusion as well. They landed in front of the newcomers. The two teams faced off against each other, and it looked like there was a heated discussion between them.

"Is that Malfoy?" Ron asked disgustedly, spotting the pale blond head among the Slytherins.

Hermione frowned. "Come on, let's see what's happening," she said and stood up. Ron followed suit.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry once they reached him. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" he asked, pointing at Malfoy.

"I'm the new Slytherin seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," he spat.

There was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!"; and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of Ron's wand, hitting Malfoy in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! What are you doing?" squealed Hermione.

Everyone else's eyes were on Malfoy, who slowly sat up, glaring at Ron furiously. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

Some of the Gryffindors sniggered, but the laughter died as the Slytherins drew together, stormy-faced, reaching for their wands.

"Now, none of that!" said Wood, stepping in front of Marcus Flint once again. "Malfoy got what he deserved, and you know it. The use of that word is forbidden at Hogwarts—"

"So is cursing fellow students," said Flint. He tsked. "I'm afraid we'll have to report that," he added with a pretend regretful head shake. With a short gesture, he sent one of his teammates towards the castle.

Harry's heart sank, knowing perfectly well which teacher the Slytherin would get. Ron knew as well, judging from the way he was grimacing.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Did you curse him?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing around them, trying to get a better look at Malfoy, who continued to belch slugs. The Slytherins gathered around him to keep Colin from taking pictures. But none too close, as no one seemed to want to touch him.

"Harry, let's go get Hagrid, he's closest," Hermione said quietly, while the others were distracted.

Harry nodded. It would not do to leave Ron at Snape's mercy – or lack thereof.

"Harry, wait, where are you going?" squealed Colin, drawing attention to them.

"Hey, come back!" shouted Flint. "You were involved! You may not leave until the teacher gets here!"

Harry and Hermione, who were almost at the edge of the pitch, did not slow down. "We'll be right back!" Hermione shouted back as they hurried to reach Hagrid.

They were within twenty feet of the gamekeeper's cabin when the front door opened, but it was not Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Oh, no," groaned Harry and tried to get Hermione to hide behind a nearby bush.

She would have none of it and marched straight up towards Lockhart. "Oh, not that again. It's better if we can bring an actual teacher along, you have to see that," she told Harry, who followed behind reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one – I'll sign one tonight and send it over – Well, hello there!" he said as he spotted his students.

Hagrid looked very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was. "Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me – come in, come in – Did you leave Ron behind?"

Harry and Hermione gave a jumbled explanation of what had happened. It was enough, though, to get both adults to follow them back to the quidditch pitch. When they got there, they saw Snape walking briskly towards the group of students. He spotted them and even from the distance, Harry could tell it only made him angrier.

Everyone began talking at once when the teachers got there, the Slytherins pointing at Ron, while the Gryffindors tried to defend his actions. Snape crouched next to Malfoy to examine him first. But it did not take him long to turn his attention to Ron.

Hagrid tried to intervene, but Snape talked over him, reminding him that he was not a teacher. Harry and Hermione both got angry on Hagrid's behalf, but held their tongues.

"Now, Severus, no need to be so strict!" Lockhart said with a hearty chuckle. "The boys just had a little disagreement, that's all. Mr. Weasley probably just didn't want to lose face in front of his friends—" Here he looked straight at Hermione. "And it can't be easy, being Harry's friend – there's so much to live up to. I'm sure you can understand how—"

This was followed by outcries of favouritism from the Slytherins, while Harry tried to defend Ron – and himself. Snape looked like his worst opinion of Harry had been confirmed.

"If you think you can always find supportive teachers to get you and your friends out of trouble, Potter—" he began to say with a nasty smile.

"Malfoy called Hermione a 'filthy little mudblood'," shouted Ron over everyone's voices. "And I cursed him for it, because that's what he deserved. Leave Harry out of this," he finished much more quietly.

Noticing Snape draw back at those words, even the Slytherins grew quiet.

"As I said, Severus, a little disagreement between boys—" Lockhart began to say, completely failing to read the tense mood around him. But even he noticed the disgusted looks all the Gryffindors – and even Snape – were shooting him, and finally fell silent.

"Did you really use that word?" Snape asked Malfoy in a conversational tone.

The boy remained silent, but the accusatory looks all the Gryffindors were shooting him left no doubt in even Snape's mind that it was the truth.

His face distorted in a grimace. "I'm afraid that word is forbidden on school grounds," he said, and it was not clear whether his disgust was directed at the rule, or the word itself. He looked around, spotting the note he had signed, allowing the Slytherins to train that morning, lying on the ground, forgotten. "Oh, and Mr. Flint. Next time, please don't involve me in quidditch practice schedules. I can't keep track of when the pitch is available, and I don't want to see such a scene again. If you need more training, talk to Madam Hooch." With that, he turned to leave. "Ten points from Gryffindor, for using a wand on the quidditch pitch," he added in parting, almost as an afterthought.

The group dispersed, the disappointed Slytherins helping Malfoy to the hospital wing, and the Gryffindors finally heading for the changing rooms. Lockhart and Colin Creevey hung around until Harry disappeared inside the changing rooms, and then suddenly remembered that they had somewhere to be.

Once Harry had rejoined them, the three friends finally went to visit Hagrid, all the while discussing their unbelievable luck.