Posted 1/13/2014, edited 11/7/2014

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Sixteen - Return to Hogwarts

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"He's late," her mother said, frowning. Daphne, having overheard her, kept from rolling her eyes.

"He still has five minutes," Mr. Greengrass reminded his wife, looking over to the two teens standing close by. He really could have done without the upcoming confrontation. Actually, he would have very much liked to skip the whole meeting at all. The last night hadn't been nearly restful enough to prepare him for the day as he hadn't stopped thinking about the contract, that much had been obvious for Daphne. He had his reasoning, he knew how he wanted to approach the subject at hand, but it still carried the danger of catastrophe. Thankfully, Astoria had decided to visit a friend for the day. But then, Cyrus Greengrass would have liked his wife to stay away as well.

Yes, many people saw him as a dreamer, always researching some dangerous potion for the simple fun of explosions, and his wife as the reasonable pureblood. But most forgot an important aspect of both adults –he was also pragmatic. Sure, he would have preferred to see his daughter marry for love, give him a few grandchildren and become a well-known member of society. But he was able to adapt.

So Daphne had to marry a hazard to her due to an old contract, leading very likely to an early death by the supporters of the Dark Lord. It was far from ideal, but he would adjust. Daphne's mother, however, was at times proud and stubborn. She had nothing against the contract, far from it, but the idea of seeing her first-born daughter marry a half-blood upshot instead of the renowned son of a pureblood line did bother her a lot.

A pair of young men approached, causing Daphne to step up to her parents.

"Sorry for the delay," the taller of the two new arrivals greeted with a short bow. "We have a room ready for our meeting." Seeing their company, he extended his hand to Mrs. Greengrass. "William Weasley. I assist Mr. Potter in the negotiations."

"Mr. Greengrass," the black-haired boy in question said with a small nod of his own. Then he mirrored the Weasley at his side and addressed Daphne's mother. "Mrs. Greengrass, I'm happy to finally meet you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but allowed the handshake.

Just then, their company stepped up. Draco Malfoy spared the Weasley a short nod out of custom, before turning to Harry Potter with the hint of a smirk. "How nice to meet you outside of school for once. When we met the Greengrasses by chance on our trip to the alley, I had to wait for the moment. I would like to congratulate you on your upcoming marriage to a much esteemed house. I am certain you will get a very delightful time with your beautiful wife-to-be."

It was easy to notice Mrs. Greengrass blanch at the implication, but before she could say something, Mrs. Malfoy spoke up. "I too would like to congratulate. Just imagine my surprise when I learned about your approaching engagement to the lovely Miss Greengrass. Until a few days ago, I didn't know about my cousin's attempts to bring your branch back into the family. I feel we have lost so much time. What do you say about a family reunion to get reacquainted?"

Harry Potter smiled insincerely at her. "I doubt it will be possible anytime soon. But I'm sure I will pay you a visit one day. Until then, please greet your family from me. I'm looking forward to settling the differences between us. Please tell me, Mrs. Malfoy, how is your husband doing? Is he treated properly? Our last meeting was cut short before we could finish our business."

Mrs. Malfoy returned the smile, equally as fake. "I am sure they feel the same. I am moved by your concern for Lucius, he has told me a lot about your various encounters. He feels as if he owes you, and as a pureblood, he intends to deal with it as soon as possible."

Mrs. Greengrass nodded gravely. "Yes, a terrible injustice. Such a fine man, imprisoned; I was shocked when I heard about it."

"Well," Potter said, "I could speak to the Ministry, tell them about Mr. Malfoy's character and his deeds. I am sure it would be welcome." Daphne had an idea about Potter's true message and kept from smiling. So Potter did know how to make a decent threat.

Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What a generous offer, to help justice run its course. However, we cannot ask you to concern yourself with our problems. But rest assured I will remember your offer in time."

"It would have been my pleasure," Harry Potter replied with a small nod. "Especially since I know about his actions, and those are more telling than words alone, right?"

"Well, I don't think we should keep you any longer than necessary," Draco Malfoy told him. "You have the arrangements to complete, don't you?" Receiving a nod, he smiled. "In that case, I hope your negotiation will be productive. I'm guessing you will want to finish soon, seeing as you don't have that much time left?"

Mrs. Greengrass nodded curtly, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer.

Daphne was sure no one else had noticed it in Draco's reply. She wouldn't have, if she hadn't been watching Malfoy so closely. There was something about that smile. It wasn't the arrogant smirk or the sneer or even the sadistic smile Malfoy usually wore. It was the smile of happiness. A happy Malfoy was simply too strange for Daphne not to notice, and she had a feeling she knew what Draco actually meant. It didn't endear him to her, wishing death to another student. Only a moment later did she realize she secretly expected Potter's death would free her and wasn't too sure she shouldn't wish for it as well.

"That was our intention, yes," Potter replied. "And what," he tried, "are your plans for the day?"

"Oh, nothing unusual. I decided to get myself some books. Maybe I will look into some robes as well. The clothes tell a lot about their owner, don't you think?" Draco raised an eyebrow in question as he glanced to Harry's robes. All of the children knew he wasn't talking about them, but Harry's Muggle clothes; hadn't Draco made his opinion about them abundantly clear at school?

"Well," Potter said with a glint of anger in his eye, "be sure to get something black. Mrs. Malfoy, I hope the accusations against your husband will get cleared up and the truth known."

She nodded. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Take care." Both Malfoys said good-bye to the Greengrasses. Now that he wasn't the focus of attention, Weasley bent over to Potter. "That wasn't very smart, Harry," Daphne heard Weasley say, "Don't challenge people unless you have to."

"I'll keep it in mind," Potter answered, but he looked at the Malfoys.

Daphne followed his gaze. Mrs. Malfoy seemed just as polite as one would expect her to be, given the circumstances. Draco however seemed oddly detached. He spoke very shortly with Daphne's parents, shook their hands. Daphne still expected him to be disgruntled about the loss of gold, and to his rival, or happy at his new-found freedom, but instead, Draco looked disinterested.

The Malfoys left, and Daphne's mother turned to Potter. "Well, I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but I do have business of my own to attend to. I merely wanted to meet you since I have heard a lot about you already." She tried to sound sincere, but Daphne could hear the lie. Well, she knew about her mother's ideas. Did they really matter? The marriage was an act or business deal, hardly more. Once it was dissolved, they wouldn't have to see each other ever again. So what if Daphne's mother liked to see her family climb in status by marrying into powerful houses, it didn't matter.

"I assure you, it was a pleasure to meet you after all I heard about you," Potter replied with a fake smile. So he had picked up on it, Daphne realized. She would have to be careful around him if she didn't want to draw attention to her little lies and deceptions. Her fingers closed around the ring she had made Potter think was dear to her and not just some trinket she had kept out of indifference.

Daphne's mother left, and their little group walked through the corridors to their room. Just after they had passed a group of angry goblins, Daphne found himself a few steps behind Potter. She sped up slightly to catch up to him.

"How was your weekend?" he began in a low voice, too quiet to be heard by the others.

"Alright. My parents think they found a way to improve the contract so it will suit us better. You will see," she told him with a slight nod and the hint of a smile.

"You look a bit pale," he observed.

"Just meeting the Malfoys. Nothing to worry about."

"Yes, I was surprised too," Potter whispered. "You know how odd it was to see him smile?"

Her smile grew a bit. "He doesn't seem to care. That's good. He was like that on Wednesday too."

Potter blinked. "You saw him on Christmas Day?"

"They came over Wednesday evening," she confirmed, but her smile turned into a frown. "I can't wait until this is finished," she whispered. "Maybe then Malfoy will be normal again."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "I prefer the new Malfoy. Less insults and temper. He's almost civil."

"He's distant this year," Daphne told him. "Speaks with lots of people, Prefect duties, his study group. He changed since last year. Having him back to his old self will make Pansy happy."

"Didn't need to hear that," he told her with a grimace.

"She's my friend."

Potter shrugged vaguely. "If all it takes to keep him likeable are some responsibilities so he's busy, fine. Curious, though, last year, with O.W.L.s imminent and the Inquisition Squad taking up a lot of time, Malfoy still found the energy to be mean."

"Maybe it was more the imprisonment of his father that caused the change," Daphne offered, not really interested in that train of thought. "I've got the ring, Potter." She nudged his arm as a warning and quickly slipped her hand in the pocket of his robes, too fast for any to take note of. "Remember, not a speck of dust, Potter."

"Yeah, I know," he told her, his eyes on the back of Daphne's father.


As she walked through the corridors, Hermione thought about the last weeks. The holidays had gone by far too quickly for her liking. Sure, she loved being at school. She still had a lot to learn, and she rather liked being at the top. She also liked teaching her friends, which proved to her just how good she was at school. And how couldn't she be? With the amount of work she put in, the numbers of books she read, of course she had to be the best. It was only logical; everything else would have been an insult, and no matter how often her parents asked about her life at school, her friends and pastimes, Hermione knew they really wanted to know about her successes, wanted their daughter to be the best. That had been her goal in life.

Everyone had them, didn't they? Ron's would probably be to eat until he finally exploded. Or perhaps he just wanted to be popular. The boy was so infuriating sometimes, always thinking only of himself and his needs instead of those around him –hers, for example. Seeing him eat properly was one of them. Seeing him apply himself. Seeing him be presentable, not a monkey with some bald patches.

Harry just couldn't resist getting himself into trouble; maybe that was his ultimate goal. Sometimes she wondered what had happened to him to cause such a hero complex. Honestly, did he have to search for danger? Even going to school had become potentially lethal with him around. And if you couldn't be safe at school, where could you be?

Ginny's goal was becoming a well-known professional Quidditch sensation. Fans screaming her name, shirts with her number selling very well, invitations to all the fancy parties. Yes, being the talented player she always dreamed of and collecting her rewards would be the ultimate goal for Ginny, and Hermione respected that ambition. And after a few years on the field, Ginny had confided in Hermione, she would settle down with Harry at her side, as if fate itself had decided it, which it probably had, seeing as how they did have a lot in common.

Luna dreamed of... well, of a lot of things, really, but she probably wanted nothing more than to find proof for one of her father's crazy theories. Well, some dreams were destined to stay unfulfilled, but as long as she was happy, Hermione wouldn't try too hard to wake her up.

Neville was probably the easiest to figure out. He wanted to help his parents. Maybe that was why Hermione liked him despite his abysmal school work. His goal was something she could relate to, the most reasonable of them, the most human of wishes.

No matter how much Hermione liked school, she had also loved spending time with her parents over the holidays. With the war going on and her extended stays at the Weasleys, they saw very little of each other and consequently had little time to talk with each other. That had to be why Harry always tried to learn as much about his parents. Since he couldn't ask them, he needed to do the next best thing –ask others.

Her return to school had brought something else to her attention, though, namely, the romantic issues in their little group. Being a girl, she had naturally a far superior grasp of emotions than her boys. Ron wouldn't recognize love even if it hit him in the face, likely calling it some mushy stuff or something similar boyishly ignorant. And Harry was far too selfless to even think about what he was supposed to feel or want.

Ironically, not thinking about what to feel had caused him a lot of problems in his non-existent love life. His date with Cho was a good example. Even if one ignored that the pretty Asian was just that –pretty, Asian, female –and that they had very little in common except Quidditch, the DA and troubles with Cedric's death, it had been painfully obvious things wouldn't work out between them. What use could Harry have for her, apart from the obvious? And their date had gone accordingly. He had mentioned his other plans for that day to Chang, probably just like he usually talked –without any elegance. Cho had become jealous –perfectly understandable, Hermione decided –and had tried to return the favour. Didn't Harry know how the game was supposed to be played? That in cases like that, he, the boy, was supposed to give in? Of course Harry wouldn't have known how to treat a girl; he had the mind of a boy, after all, not the finely tuned instincts of a girl. The delightfully nuanced game of love simply went over his head, unsurprisingly.

But then, if he would think about these things, then he wouldn't be Harry. It was just one of the reasons why Hermione didn't mind looking out for him and helping him subtly, should need be. If she had to steer him away from obvious catastrophes like Chang, then she would do it, all so he wouldn't be hurt. She should just count herself lucky Harry and Parvati hadn't hit it off at the Yule Ball, though, Hermione thought wryly. Listening to the Indian girl ramble on about the upsides of one of her best friends would have become very tough before long for Hermione, and it would have been a nightmare once they'd have broken up. And the French trollop that had taken to hanging around at the Burrow wouldn't have been any better. What could Fleur Delacour offer any boy, really? It was probably luck Harry hadn't fallen for her tricks. Yet, Hermione reminded herself.

But it didn't matter either way. All Hermione had to do was teaching him about the ways of love... wait, no, that sounded wrong. She needed to teach him about the intricacies of relationships, guiding him subtly to where he was supposed to be, and sooner or later, he would see reason. Harry wasn't that stupid after all, and she had her hopes up he would realize what she had been trying to make him understand –that he was meant to be with Ginny. Who else would be such a perfect match for him?

Yes, it should, no, it would work. Just a gentle nudge here or there and he would be on his right way and everyone happier. She owed it to them; she was a good friend, she was only doing what was necessary to make everyone happy in the end. She only did what was necessary to spread love.

Sometimes, Hermione felt like a mother to her boys. Getting them through puberty was no easy feat, especially if she didn't want them to go astray. Why did boys have to be so immature all the time, anyway? They were like... dogs, she decided after a moment of hesitation. Hunting after everything that caught their attention, looking at everything shiny. When was the last time she had run off because something caught her eye that wasn't a book? Exactly, and everyone knew books didn't count.

But then, dogs could be trained, couldn't they? So why shouldn't boys be trainable as well? And they even came house-trained, so all she really needed to do was break their habit to chase after every... cat they saw. And Harry was quite trainable, he'd get it soon, Hermione was sure. Just a nudge here and there to keep him on track towards his fulfilling love life.

How had their holiday gone? During her time with her parents, Hermione hadn't really worried too much about it. Harry and Ron had probably been too busy to send any letter. And Ginny... well, to be honest, Hermione had kind of hoped to receive a letter from her, yes. But she had O.W.L.s coming up. She had probably been too busy to think about that. Yes, that had to be it.

Neville had written, yes. A nice letter, which only proved just what was possible for a boy if he had a strong female influence. Not that Hermione would tell anyone about her views on the matter; that only detracted from the weight the inevitable I-told-you-so would have. Luna had written too. It had been all right, in her way, and her enthusiasm had shone through, so it had been welcome as well. Still, Hermione would have liked to hear from her dearest friends.

But luckily, the holidays were finally drawing to an end, the students returned by Floo, and she would be reunited with them. And once Harry and Ron got all the boys' stuff out of their system, they could once again concentrate on the important things in life. School work for example. Where would they be, if it wasn't for school work? Really, both of them needed to get their priorities straight. Quidditch? Really? With their talent they might have a few years at most. And then?

No, it wasn't really good for either of them to waste their time. Last year had shown just what Harry could achieve if he didn't bother with that silly sport. His results hadn't been something to write home about, but he had improved. He wouldn't see it like that, Hermione was sure.

But then, she allowed her boys their silliness as long as they did their job. Ron needed more work, sadly, but Harry had been a curious case lately. His grasp of theory had gotten even worse with him forgetting all those important details, yet as soon as practical spellwork was involved, he easily kept up with Hermione. It didn't really make much sense, not unless he was even more talented at spellwork than her. So perhaps she should be happy his theory had gotten worse; if he ever were to outshine her in something else than Defence –which stung quite a bit anyway –he might stop listening to her at all.

There was of course still Harry's ongoing problem, his ignorance to what –or rather, who, namely Ginny –was right in front of him. Perhaps a blindness for the obvious? It kept him unbalanced and distracted, so it was on her mind a lot of the time. Maybe this semester Harry would finally see reason and the light, and with a bit of luck, it would also take his mind off of Quidditch for a while. Hermione was growing restless too, and she really wished her friend would get a move on. After things with Cho had predictably fallen through, Hermione had hoped for a while he would get the hint, but no. It was frustrating to see him still floundering about.

He was sixteen; most boys should, at that age, have learned what they were supposed to look for in a relationship. And since Harry seemed reluctant to experiment a bit outside his comfort zone and try something daring, then he could at least overcome his insecurities and ask Ginny. It couldn't be that much longer, and then Hermione would finally be rid of that problem. As much as she liked both of them, being friends with Harry and Ginny meant sitting between chairs and not taking either side. It meant listening to Ginny talking about Harry even though Hermione had heard it often enough that she could recite it herself. It meant waiting for Harry to finally realize where to look for love. She'd love to focus on her own life for a while, maybe even a love life, not having to steer Harry towards Ginny and keeping her spirits up.

A sudden thought occurred to her. Maybe he had already found his courage? It was strange how long it would have taken him, but perhaps he had. Some quiet corner, Ron busy somewhere, the adults conveniently absent as well... It would fit, yes. Ron would be too angry to write, Harry and Ginny too busy... was that it? She certainly hoped it was.

She had reached the portrait hole, said the password, and walked in. Since she had left for a quick peek into the library that morning, a lot of people had returned and were in the Common Room, talking to their friends. In a corner, the Creeveys sat with one of their little friends. Katie Bell hung around close to one of the windows. She looked very troubled. Well, it was her N.E.W.T.-year, so that was to be expected. Romilda Vane was hunched over a table with some other people. They had a wireless with them. Well, great, wasn't it? Here they were, in the Common Room, blocking a table with their idiotic music or show instead of applying themselves. Reading some book? Not a chance, it seemed.

Then, finally, she saw Harry with his team mate Demelza Robins. No Ron or Ginny were in sight. Then again, they had had the holidays for themselves. Maybe they were enjoying their time with their other friends. Hermione walked over, and the other girl saw her coming.

"Alright, I'll think about it," she said with a nod, but she smiled at Hermione. "Thanks, Harry. I'd have to talk with Ginny and Katie, though. Well, I have to unpack, so I'll see to that before dinner." She left.

"Hello, stranger," Hermione began. "How long have you been back?"

Harry shrugged half-heartedly. "Hi. We came sometime after lunch, so... two hours or something. I was kind of busy getting back, you see, what with all these security checks."

"You found the time to sit here and speak to Demelza about Quidditch, though."

"Well, it came up, but it wasn't as if I sought her out to speak about that. People are still running about and trying to... you know..." he gestured hopelessly around the room. "It's especially hard on those who knew them, naturally."

Hermione blinked. "Who's dead?" It was horrifying to understand the situation immediately. Of course there had been an attack.

"Well, Jacobs from Ravenclaw. They were visited by Bellatrix, the Ministry thinks. Katie had been friends with him and his sister; it hit her quite hard, but she didn't want me around."

"Jacobs?"

"Err, tall guy, blond, pointy face, awfully thin nose..." Harry said.

"With a widow's peak, yes, I remember. That's terrible. I didn't know he had a sister."

"Yeah, she didn't go to Hogwarts. Not," he sighed, "not for another year. And, well, you know Bellatrix... Well, he hasn't turned up yet, but his father's head did. Oh, and his wife's heart was in the box as well. No clue about their son, but... Then there's Adams." He ignored Hermione's horrified gasp. "The Muggle police from around her place found her a few days ago, but it took a while to get her down and even longer to identify her and her mother. Obliviators were sent."

"Bellatrix again?"

"It seems that way, but no one is sure. She's cleaning up for him, and from the looks of it, she is doing a good job. She also got Auror Hendries. From what I heard, it wasn't pretty. Or quick. Or... Well, Bellatrix, you know?"

They fell into silence, and now Hermione could read people better. Romilda Vane was anxiously listening to news, not some stupid show. The Creeveys were stony-faced and pale, staring into the space. The groups of friends sitting around the room weren't celebrating their reunions with hugs but checking each other for injuries. The quiet talks around the room weren't idle chatter, but security questions.

"Where are Ron and Ginny?" Hermione tried.

"Well, Ginny's up in her dorm, I think. Ron is too. In his, I mean. Mrs. Weasley had packed us something nice. Ron's probably gobbling it up as we speak. She sends her love, by the way, and would have loved to see you over the holidays."

"Really?" Hermione nodded at hearing that. "Well, maybe some other time, then. Did you have a fun holiday?"

He cast a shifty look around the common room and bit his lip. "Busy, more like it. I had to get Ginny's Defence essay on the way..."

"Oh, how did she do?"Academics were always a welcome topic with Hermione, and she was curious to know whether something had happened between the two of them.

"Err, alright, I think. I looked over her first draft, corrected a few things here and there. She didn't ask for my help later on."

"Harry! Of course she didn't! You don't wait for them to ask for help, you help them!" Sometimes she wondered whether she had taught her boys anything at all. Also, for all her tough girl persona, Ginny still wanted to see her childhood fantasy become reality –Harry Potter trying to court her and win her heart.

"Well, she wasn't all that great, but also not that bad either. She should have no reason to worry, she should pass her O.W.L.s."

"That was Defence, Harry," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. Of course he couldn't see why that mattered, but then, if he could, he wouldn't be Harry. And if he could see it, then Hermione wouldn't have to get involved in the first place –of course Ginny had been doing very well in Defence with Harry checking the essay.

"Whatever. Mrs. Weasley had Ron and her help a lot around the house. You know, with Ron turning seventeen in a few months, he has to learn how to do some stuff. Cooking, for example. Ginny too, since she's only a year younger than Ron and has to learn to stand on her own feet."

"She could always hire some helper," Hermione pointed out. "Once she's old enough, I mean."

"Well, if she can earn enough, yeah, she could, but that would take some time, wouldn't it? Even Gwenog Jones must have taken some time to work herself to the top and until she could pay others to do her housework. And can you see Mrs. Weasley letting her daughter have someone else do that?" Harry frowned as he thought about it. "Well, Ginny could of course try to get work with the twins to get her to coast over, but I doubt they'd pay her that much. And with her family... you know, I can't see her parents pay for some help around the house. That'd be way too out of the norm for them.

"Anyway, Mr. Weasley had to help at the Ministry. With all these attacks, some of the staff chose to distance themselves from the place. The Death Eaters seem to target the families of Ministry personnel. Quite ingenious, if you think about it. That way, those that stay on will be tired from work and won't put up as much of a fight. Easy pickings. But back to topic, Mr. Weasley has to pick up the slack. There's also the Minister himself to consider, of course. He takes out his anger with me on Mr. Weasley."

"Why would the Minister be angry with you?" Hermione asked, startled.

"Well, for some reason, he thinks I should be working with... working for him. Only, his main interest is to keep up the image. Seeing the government crumble would be very problematic, he's right. But a lot of those are actually working for the other side. And, loathe as I am to admit it, the Ministry's incompetence is really staggering. Su Li got a summons for underage magic. Only, she used defensive magic when her home had been attacked by drunkards in Death Eater robes."

"Death Eaters?" Hermione screeched, drawing numerous glares to her.

"No. Thieves dressed as Death Eaters. See, they wanted to scare the people away, grab whatever they could get their hands on and leave."

"With Aurors on their heels," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "Brilliant idea."

"Drunkards, Hermione –they weren't thinking. It still doesn't change the summons or the hearing. By pure luck nothing happened."

"So why is the Minister angry with you?"

"I might have told him quite politely just what I thought of his ideas. I might have pointed out some of the more questionable decrees. You must have noticed the checks we had to run through to get back?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione agreed with a roll of her eyes. There was no way she couldn't have noticed those checks.

"Well, do you think those are safe? Our baggage was searched quite haphazardly; I could have smuggled any number of dangerous items in. Also, think about these checks from September. They ran probes over our stuff. Secrecy sensors do not detect my cloak, for example. And neither the map. Poisons are not dark objects, they wouldn't be noticed either. And that's not counting the Hogsmeade weekends or owl post or something similar. Do you call that safe? I don't, yet he acts as if the Ministry's doing everything in its power to protect us. Also, you can imagine my opinion on being the Ministry's poster boy."

"How did you meet him anyway?"

"He visited on Christmas evening," Harry explained. "Had Percy bring him over. They delayed dinner. Better not mention either of them to Ginny or Ron."

"They are mad?"

"Well, Percy was... Percy, you know? Uptight, self-righteous, haughty..."

"An idiot," Ron added, stepping up to them. "Hi, Hermione. Had a nice holiday?"

"Oh, it was really nice. We stayed at a fancy hotel. They had made a mistake with the rooms, so we got even better ones. Very nice. My parents loved every minute of it, the weather was great, and I had a lot of time for my reading during the evenings. We even had time to do a bit of sight-seeing. We visited a cave that had been sealed by ice for thousands of years, and there was..."

But in that moment, the portrait hole opened, and Dean Thomas walked in. He looked around the room, nodding to a few people here and there, but headed straight for Harry and his friends. "Hey," he began. "Good to see you, Harry. I was worried, you know, with people being targeted left and right..."

"Don't worry, I'm alright," Harry assured his room-mate. "They don't dare go against me. Good to see you too. Did you have a nice holiday?"

"Hardly. Well, it was alright, I guess, but we moved."

"You did?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yeah. I thought, you know what with the war going on and everything... so I had my mother find something under a different name. Drop off the face of the earth. Also, I noticed some people lurking around our neighbourhood." He made it sound unimportant, but they could see his worry shine through. "Where's everybody?"

"Neville is off to help Professor Sprout," Harry said. "Seamus is in the Hospital Wing..."

"What?!" both Muggleborns yelled, disturbing those around them.

Ron shrugged. "Nothing serious. Some Slytherin made a comment about Muggles and their friends dying. Seamus got a bit... angry, I guess."

Nodding, Harry added, "Maybe you should go visit him? So he'd see you are alright?"

"I should, perhaps. Where's Ginny? I wanted her to know I'm alright after I'm done shouting at her. She didn't reply to my letters, what's up with that?"

"Oh, that," Ron sighed with a sidelong glance to Harry. "Well, she had a bit on her mind over the holidays, wasn't really feeling all that well."

Hermione frowned at that comment. It didn't match Harry's account of their holidays. He would have mentioned, no, should have mentioned anything happening. And with that glance... Had Harry indeed confessed to Ginny? Well, she had a boyfriend, and breaking up via mail wasn't all that nice. Had the redhead shown restraint and not acted upon the confession? It was possible, and Hermione could see it somewhat, yet it would be surprising all the same.

Dean looked to the stairs. "Well, I think... I mean... maybe I should..." Then he made up his mind. "I'll go see Seamus real quick, then I'll be back." And he left just as he had come.

"Seeing his friend before his girlfriend," Hermione added with a shake of her head.

"Not like he has much of a chance to speak to her right now, locked in the girls' dormitory," Ron pointed out. "Oh yeah, I put your book on your bed. Nice one," he told Harry.

"A book?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Well, yeah," Harry replied. "I got it earlier this year, it's about privacy spells. There was a bit in there I wanted Ron to read. We got to talking about that and it kind of went from there."

"That's brilliant, Harry! Ron, you too!" Hermione told them, happy to see them apply at something worthwhile.

"'Ron, you too!' she says," the redhead grumbled with a blush.

"Kind of came up when I talked to Bill," Harry added. "He mentioned them, and we do tend to talk about sensitive stuff occasionally, so I thought I could get me one of those books."

"So that's what had you so busy then, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Your studies with Bill on privacy charms?"

Harry looked around warily. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about in a crowded common room, it seemed. "That's not..." he began, but Hermione interrupted.

"Oh, yes, it is, Harry, it is brilliant! You have no idea how much I like seeing you apply yourself to something worthwhile in your free time."

"Quidditch is worthwhile," Ron pointed out indignantly.

"It isn't, Ron," she told him with pity in her voice.

"But since Ron mentioned a book, there was something I wanted to tell you about Hermione," Harry told her, beckoning her closer. Ron blanched and averted his eyes. The other people were too busy to pay them much attention. Under the table, Harry quickly cast some spells. Hermione assumed they were some sort of secrecy measure and had to fight down the urge to ask about them.

"I have a book about another useful subject," Harry began. "I basically finished it, but there's a catch. It's about the Mind Arts. You know, Occlumency, Legilimency."

"You talked Professor Snape into giving you something like that?" Hermione asked happily. "Oh, Harry, that is marvellous! When did you get it? Have you learned anything useful yet? What did you mean, you basically finished with it? Either you have or you haven't. Where do I get one of my own? I looked everywhere last year, but found nothing, and when I asked, Madam Pince shooed me away. How...?"

Harry raised his hand. "First of all, keep your voice low, I'm not sure how good these charms are. I'll tell you the important parts, but we cannot talk for long lest we act too suspicious. Second of all, no, I didn't get the book from Snape. I found it in my house in summer. When I visited it, you know? Sirius left it there for me, I am sure. It was in his room so he must have meant for me to get it. But I mentioned a catch, and there is a reason I put up some privacy charms. See, Occlumency and Legilimency aren't commonplace for a reason. They're frowned upon, yes, but that is not it. You see, they are legal to use, but forbidden to be taught or learned."

Ron whirled around. He hadn't heard about that either. Hermione's mouth fell open in silent shock. "What?" she began. "But you were taught last year! And how can it be forbidden to learn it? From what I know, it is far too important a skill not to... Why would they...?"

Harry quickly raised his hand. "I had Remedial Potions last year, remember? This year, I had a Charms project that I'll turn in to the Headmaster personally. And you are correct; Occlumency at least should be a valuable skill. But then, you forget where we are living. The Ministry liked their workers to be able to keep its secrets. Think Aurors or Unspeakables. But at the same time, Occlumency allowed the citizens to have secrets of their own from the Ministry. Well, that is why they forbade the teaching of the skill, but not its use. As long as people learn it in other countries, everything is fine. Ministry workers can use it, but the common people cannot."

"But... but that undermines the system of... They didn't want... are they idiots?" she yelled, but since no one whirled around, his charms seemed to work.

"Quiet, Hermione, I don't want to have to test the privacy charms' capacities I put up around us, remember? Yes, it does seem idiotic, but we are talking about the Ministry of Magic here. Can you honestly say you are surprised by that? I'm willing to bet a lot of the old families have books about it or teach it to their children in secret. Again, as long as it isn't taught in Britain, the Ministry of Magic does not bother with it."

"And they punish it?" she asked, incredulous.

"Heavily. Some years in Azkaban, I think, even the possession of books about it is illegal."

"But then, why did you bring it here? Are you mental?" Ron threw in. He looked even more shocked. Not once had his supposedly best friend said anything about that book, it seemed, not even in their dorm or at the Burrow.

"Well, the book might be illegal, but it is neither concealed nor dark. The detectors simply didn't pick up on it. But don't worry, I fully intend to put it somewhere safe after this year," Harry assured them. "I'm almost finished with the important part of the book, but I don't want to hide or destroy it. If the Ministry doesn't want the knowledge available, then I think it's my duty to keep it at hand just to spite them. I have to make sure my secrets stay secret, but it's also my goal to spread the knowledge as far and wide as I can."

"So you had that since July and you didn't even mention it?" Hermione fumed. "All this time you had it just sitting in your trunk? Did it not occur to you to lend it to me for a few days some time?"

His face showed he was second-guessing his decision to tell them in the first place. "I needed it for my own studies, and passing it around carries the risk of it being noticed."

"What, do you think I might leave it lying around?" she challenged him. There was a strange sense of déjà-vu, but Hermione refused to concentrate on.

"I wanted to minimize the risk and, yes, learn it before I handed off my best chance at mastering it. Also, I know you. If I leave it with you for a week, you will have it memorized anyway and start applying the stuff. And I wanted to present you with finished facts, in this case, me having finished with Occlumency and passing on Legilimency for the moment."

Hermione was even more outraged by that. "You wanted finished facts? And why wouldn't you confide in me... us," she quickly amended. "We could have learned together and might be finished with it already!" Ron nodded emphatically.

"Well, I doubt Ron will really master it," Harry began.

"Oh, so I'm too stupid or what?" The redhead yelled. "You aren't really any better!"

"It is like flying," Harry tried, "some are talented, some aren't. It involves a lot of work either way. You would have a very hard time learning it, especially while you have to focus on classes as well..."

"Again, you aren't that much better, are you?" Hermione cut in snidely.

"But I don't have to learn for N.E.W.T.s," Harry pointed out. "I learn for the war. I don't really have the luxury of choosing what to learn, because ultimately, I will have to face an exceptionally skilled Legilimens. Furthermore, you know how I am with challenges. Dementors anyone? And just to clear it up –it took me months to reach the current point.

"I don't need the book anymore, but I need to train the skill as such. And it is a lot about meditation, focusing the mind, stuff like that, not really something to show others like a spell. I considered not telling you about the book, because both skills are dangerous to learn..."

"How can they be dangerous, Harry? You said it was all about meditation, not actual spellwork," Hermione asked.

"For Legilimency, there is something called losing yourself in someone else's thoughts. Or destroying the mind you are poking around in. Bad, Hermione, and exceptionally difficult if not impossible to reverse. Or, for Occlumency, the shattering of a mind, basically splitting it so thoroughly the pieces aren't connected anymore. A skilled Legilimens has to help put them back together. And again, very difficult. There is danger."

"And yet you decided to play with it on your own, unsupervised?" she asked, focusing on a new concern. "You are very lucky nothing bad happened. You should have asked Professor Snape for help."

"He did crap, Hermione," Harry told her. "I read up on it, he tried to push a method that doesn't really fit me. It would have taken me years to get somewhat skilled at it with his method. There are other paths leading to the same result, paths more suited for me."

"He must have had a reason to choose the one he tried to teach you," Hermione argued.

"Probably because he doesn't know any different," Harry countered.

"He is a teacher, Harry, he..."

"... is crap at it," Harry interrupted. "In Potions, all he did was assign essays and write the instructions on the board. Defence, all he does is yell the topic of the class and some basic commands and then walk around expecting us to figure it out ourselves."

"He's got you there, Hermione," Ron added with a frown.

"So let us assume he's not the best educator. I don't say I agree with you, but let us assume he isn't," she told them. "He is still competent at both Occlumency and Legilimency."

"And I will not let him near my memories. Now, do you want that book or not?" Harry knew he had her. Dropping a relatively minor issue to get access to valuable knowledge was a trade she would always take.

"Well, yes. Alright. So, when can you pass it to me? And is it hard?"

"I thought about doing it one evening. Perhaps this one. Passing you a package might make it look like a present I was asked to pass along. And I don't think you will have any problems with it. Or, rather, you will have no problem with one of the approaches that lends itself to more logical thinking. A structured mind and all that. It does take discipline, patience. I started in summer. I worked about twenty hours each week. I think I got it about now," he added to Ron, who waved off, predictably losing interest.

Hermione fought back her smile. Harry and Ron exchanged smirks.

"And it is legal?" she asked with a slightly dreamy expression.

"Using it, yes, learning or teaching it, no. And please remember we are always watched around school," Harry told them.

His friends stared at him. "What are you talking about?" Hermione asked. "No one is watching us, are they?" She glanced around the room, and maybe by simple chance some people were looking in their direction.

Harry covertly refreshed the privacy charms. "I meant the portraits, for example. Yes, they report to the Headmaster, not the Ministry, but he is still required to uphold the laws. Charms project, Hermione, Charms project. Didn't I tell you about the portraits?"

"No, you didn't." Hermione grumbled and cast the portrait of a balding witch in a nightgown a wary look. "Where did you hear about that?"

"Dumbledore mentioned it. He uses it mainly as a security measure, but... well... better safe than sorry."

"So is that what you had been doing?" Ron interrupted. "When you burned down my bed? Your...?"

"Charms project," Hermione helped.

Harry scratched his cheek. "Ah, no, that was something else. I had been experimenting..."

"Experimenting?" Hermione said with a raised eyebrow. "To do what? Burn the tower down?"

"Can it," Harry grumbled. "I had been... trying something, I..." he hesitated as if considering how to explain it, "... err, experimented and," he gave both of his friends a meaningful glance, "I learned something about myself."

They looked at him for a moment. Then, Ron blinked. "So, the Tutshill Tornadoes have quite a year, don't they?"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione began, throwing him a nasty look. "Don't change the subject; that is rude. So, Harry, you were in your dorm, alone if I remember correctly. And you were experimenting? Waving your wand hither and thither and giving it the occasional jab I assume, and you learned something about yourself. Please do tell us more about that. Oh wait, maybe I should get Ginny, she might want to hear that too. Or perhaps you want to show Ron what yo did?"

"I don't think she needs to know, at least not yet. Maybe when she's older. And I wasn't waving my wand around, I knew pretty much what I was doing, but that is not important. I discovered something remarkable that I want to show you."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she made to rise. She said with something of a smile in her voice, "Just a moment, that Ginny really has to hear."

Harry glared at her. "Hermione, that was... "

"Awesome? Yes, yes it was, Harry," she replied.

"I meant," he ground out, "far from what I had in mind."

"Then, next time, please be more careful with your phrasing, you got my hopes up for a minute," she told him with a straight face. "So, what did you find out?"

"Well, I talked with Dumbledore about it later. He wanted to make sure the accident wasn't the result of my Charms project. And not a word about my Charms or how much I need to work on them," he told Hermione, pointing his finger at her as she opened her mouth. "Well, apparently there is something called magical affinity. See, the way Dumbledore explained it, some people are closer to their magic as others –and not a joke about that either, Ron –which might explain some of the weird things happening around me. See, a high affinity allows people to learn wandless magic easier..."

"... and you think you might have a high affinity?" Hermione finished with a raised eyebrow. "Harry, wandless magic takes years, decades even, to learn. It is not something you can just shake from your sleeve."

Harry smiled at her.

"Oh, Harry, don't be ridiculous, you can't..." Hermione began, but stopped abruptly. Harry had raised a hand, warding off her stream of words. What truly shocked her speechless was the mysterious smile playing on his lips. She had seen him smile before. Whenever he was the focus of attention, it carried a certain insecurity with it, and it made sense. Harry didn't like being at the centre of attention. But the current smile was lacking that bit of him. He looked very much sure of himself and happy in his skin.

"Before third year, I burst open the cupboard with my school things without my wand. And the night when the Dementors came before fifth year, Dudley pushed the wand out of my hand. I couldn't see it, but saying Lumos lit it up."

"Accidental magic, Harry?" she tried.

"That's what I thought too; Dumbledore thought otherwise. And when they fetched me? I unlocked a door without tools or my wand. It simply clicked open."

Hermione looked wary. "That might have been accidental magic as well, Harry."

"Yes, and no, Hermione, which is the awesome part of it. Apparently, accidental magic is the magic of someone doing what it thinks the witch or wizard wants. Summoning a toy, changing the colour of a shirt or something, causing heat when it is cold, making something grow..."

She looked too stunned to interrupt, but Ron shrugged with his shoulders. "Well, yeah, that's what parents always say, isn't it?"

"Apparently, the difference between accidental magic and wandless magic is more or less only the control a witch or wizard has over the results. Accidental magic is the magic doing what it thinks the child wants; sometimes, it is spot-on, sometimes not. Learning to cast a spell without a wand means teaching your magic to do what you want it to without the wand acting as a focus to channel the spell through. So wandless magic is using a spell the caster's magic is familiar enough with to work without a focus like a wand. It is willing the magic to do what you want it to." Harry smiled at Hermione.

"So, every witch or wizard can learn wandless magic?" she asked, understanding the train of thought. "But then, why bother with wands?"

"One, because they are easier to use," Harry explained. "It is hard work from what Dumbledore said to learn wandless magic because the wand acts as an outlet for the spell –gives the magic direction, if that makes any sense. Not to mention, some people have it easier than others with wandless magic. Some may never properly learn it, as it is a lot of work, or so Dumbledore claims."

"Something like riding a bicycle or unicycle, only there it is the balance," Hermione answered, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, that is so interesting! I can't believe you didn't tell me before! I could have researched it already before the holidays! I could have written a brilliant essay about it for Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick! That is a breakthrough!"

"They already know, Hermione," Harry pointed out. "It's just not something people in school would ever be confronted with. They know; they are just also aware of the limitations. There is a reason children are sent to school to learn how to control their magic -it is dangerous to experiment with it and far safer to have them use wands. But high magical affinity -which Dumbledore is convinced I do have -also allows something besides easier wandless magic. Some spells based around intent are easier -the Patronus, for example. And there's a neat trick I have found myself capable of. Hermione, do me a favour. Grab some random crap from around here. Clean stuff, mind you, without spells already on it. And then spell some things, but not all, with something I cannot see, hear, feel or taste. You know, something that is not noticed without diagnostic spells. I'll turn around. Or, better yet, Ron, you turn around as well, or you might betray it. Enchant something of it and place the stuff on the table."

He turned around, closed his eyes behind his hands and hummed the most annoying noise Hermione imagined he could think of. Meanwhile, she set to work, too curious to find out what he had in mind. Once she had set up the experiment according to Harry's instructions, she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Alright," he said, turning to face the table again. "Don't tell me what you did or which object at all, if any, you enchanted. And, Hermione, of course you should also not look at it or something. Better yet, I'll hum again; you stand behind me and look over my shoulder."

Rolling her eyes, she did as he had told her. Harry started humming as he had said and threatened, and rather loudly as well. Then, he started going through the stack of quills, books, numbered rips of parchment, candies, and wooden splinters from the fire. Each object he handled very carefully before placing them back on the table. But bit by bit, he sorted them, seemingly random, into two stacks. Hermione however grew tenser with each sorting Harry did. Finally, he had handled each of the items. Without looking around, he began his explanation.

"Well, these," he pointed to the smaller stack, "you enchanted with some spells. If I had to guess, I would say you placed some dampening on the parchment –it was too soft, too bouncy, maybe for sound or something like that, but I'm not sure. This splinter felt far too hard, too unrelenting, too... unmoving. I don't know. And this feather is not only conjured," he ignored Hermione's gasp, "but also spelled to be something I can't identify. It feels too... I don't know how to describe it. But anyway, that other stuff is not spelled in any way, I think."

They were silent for a moment. Then, Hermione's rapid breathing slowed down, and she whispered, "How did you do that? Did you... cast some spell on yourself? Some detection spell?"

Harry turned to face her with a slight smile. "That is what I was trying to tell you about. Magical affinity. It can allow to feel stuff like that –not for everyone, but for some. It's a neat trick, right? But that's why I had you prepare this. I can't know what is enchanted if I want to demonstrate my ability, right? It would destroy the effect if I prepared it myself, since I'd already know what had magic upon it and what hadn't."

"So..." She blinked hurriedly, her mind already trying to figure it out. It shouldn't be possible, but the evidence was too convincing to be a coincidence. "So you really could feel it? You could feel something? How did you know the feather was conjured? There are others as well. In fact, it is a replica of another one there."

"Yes, I could feel something," Harry confirmed, "but I'm having trouble recognizing the spells on them. I tried it at the Burrow, but with all of that magic going on... Magic places have something of a background noise, if you know what I mean. It'd be like searching for a pocket warmer in a hot room. It's the same around here, of course. And as for the feather, it might look perfect, might feel perfect, might even taste perfect, I don't know. But it is a fake nonetheless, and it feels... bland. It is hard to describe. Imagine seeing a picture with slightly less colour. Something is... off, even if you can't put your finger on it. But I thought I'd show you. Dumbledore already told me it will very likely never be as good as a detection spell, but..."

"It's awesome, Harry!" Ron threw in. "You looked really amazing there, so sure of everything and stuff."

"If it works, it will bother the twins to no end. I would always recognize their treats, for example," Harry told him with a smile, causing a chortle from the redhead.

"Excuse me?" Hermione hissed. "Discovering the twins' tricks? Are you out of your mind? With that, you are a wandering detector for magic! And you want to waste it on... does it have a range or something?"

"Don't know, actually, but I doubt I would find out around here. We're at Hogwarts, everything is enchanted one way or another. I guess it has a range, yes. I have to concentrate at the moment to feel it in the first place, and as you saw, I took each piece in my hand. I've tried it from a bit farther away, but it wasn't as reliable. There might be something about the kind of enchantment –stronger spells being easier to detect or something like that."

Hermione bit her lip. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. So, this... affinity, what did Professor Dumbledore say about it?" Just how rare is it, she wanted to add, but kept to herself out of fear of sounding jealous.

"Well," Harry told her, scratching his neck, "he said it's not really rare, but that some people never learn they have it. I only learned about it because I had one too many strange events take place around me. Some people are born with affinity, some aren't. It's also apparently not linked to power and more about the influence someone has over their magic. Dumbledore compared it to talking to a dog –some people have a talent for animals and can get them to do whatever they want."

"So we could have that affinity as well?" Hermione asked. Then she couldn't keep her enthusiasm in check. "Oh, Harry, this is so exciting! We have to try it ourselves and experiment with it!"

"Fun," Ron grumbled.

"Depends on where you stand, honestly," Harry threw in to defuse the situation. The year was too young to let them fight already. "But it might be useful some time, right?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione replied with a smile, "this seems very interesting. I had no idea there was something like that in existence, but it makes sense. It could explain why people like Dumbledore are a league of their own."

"I think it's something like an additional gear in a car -it doesn't change anything about the engine, but allows better use of the power it has," Harry pointed out. "So it might have something to do with that, yes. It might also explain Dumbledore's uncanny skill to see through the cloak or similar tricks. Those who have magical affinity on their side can get spells to work by determination, in a sense, or simply willing the effects to be, but it is equally as possible to follow the instructions perfectly to get the intended results."

"Well, yes, of course," Hermione laughed. "Of course you have to follow the instructions, how else would you do it?"

"Willing it? Talent versus hard work?" Harry proposed, but she waved him off.


Finally got the contract signed. Since Harry and Daphne already agreed on the important terms beforehand, I cut the actual negotiations.

Finally got the lot back to school. Also, finally got Hermione and Ron informed about Harry's Charms project as well as magical affinity. Should've perhaps called it The Return of the Info Dumps, now that I think about it.

And isn't Hermione nice, always looking out for Harry?

.

Following a discussion with a reader, I rephrased Hermione's thoughts slightly, making her wanting to focus on her own life, maybe even a love life, to make the latter a secondary concern.