Unfortunately Harry and Hermione had barely been able to start searching the book again when curfew was called. While this didn't necessary mean they had to stop—they lived in the same house, after all—Hermione had apparently been invited to Lavender's birth-weekend celebration in preparation for her November 4th birthday, a celebration which began with an all-night roommate party.
"It's just," she explained reluctantly, "this is the first of this sort of thing I've ever been invited to, and..."
"It's not a problem," Harry laughed, "really. We'll just start again some time this weekend, or next week, or something. See you then?"
"Yes," Hermione smiled, "see you then."
Harry had a sudden, horrifying thought that she may be developing a crush on him, then dismissed it. Hermione hadn't shown any interest in anyone until second year, after all, and there was no point in creating an issue where there was none.
Instead he spent Friday night playing chess with Ron. It went rather well, Harry thought—one game even stretched well over an hour until he was finally crushed.
Of course, chess, while mentally stimulating, wasn't exactly the most exhausting of activities.
Harry found himself awake before six.
It was relatively easy to sneak out of the House, when given enough practice, so he quickly found himself several hallways away, searching in vain for the staircase he could have sworn led to the kitchens just the Saturday prior.
And then, because he was Harry Potter, he heard a noise.
"I bet," he muttered under his breath, "that nothing like this ever happens to Dean. Or Justin. Or Tom." Tom was his desk buddy in third grade. "Or Janet." That was his second grade desk buddy—she had the markers that were supposed to smell like grape and stuff. "Just me."
He walked towards the sound.
It was... almost whimpering, if you squinted right, but it didn't sound human or even animal enough to be that. Still, Harry's mind had immediately sorted the noise in with those made when one was in pain, so he hoped that whatever creature had made that sound wasn't angry or anything.
Or at the very least wasn't a dragon baby.
The thing was positioned immediately in front of a window overlooking several of the other towers. It didn't make for great lighting, but it was certainly better than what Harry had been working with, so it didn't take much effort to get a good look at the thing.
It was red. Almost blood red, really, but even darker than that. It was splotchy in some places, too, and nearly black in others (though that could have just been the lighting.) It wasn't quite humanoid, but it wasn't quite not either—caught in the same sort of in-between as movie aliens and children's self-portraits.
At least it wasn't a dragon.
Carefully, so as to keep the thing's attention off him, Harry pulled out the map and ducked down the hallway he had been in until he was far enough away that he was sure that he wouldn't be overheard.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He whispered, before stealthing back to the light once more.
There—just in front of his feet on the map—was a name.
Nymphadora Tonks.
"Hey, are you, are you okay?" Harry said, cautiously approaching the pile of cousin.
Her… shoulders shook, bony protrusions sticking straight up, and then she whipped around to face him.
"Would you fuck me?!"
"What?"
"Would you?!"
"Um, no." Harry said. In front of his eyes Tonks began to shift. Her human proportions returned, more or less, her hair went blond, and her body slowly began to take on the (thankfully clothed) appearance of a pin-up model.
"How about now?" She sneered.
"Still no." Harry said. "I don't think I'm ready for that, but even if I was I have no idea who or what you are." Well, that and the whole relatives thing, but he wasn't supposed to know about that part.
Again, Tonks shifted. When she'd finished her appearance was much closer to the Tonks he remembered, only with dark blue hair and significantly younger features. "I'm Tonks, and I'm very human."
"…so can I learn to do that?" Harry asked. He thought it was a reasonable question— he was a metamorphmagus, for one, and for another he couldn't see what good stewing on whatever was making her so upset would be until she calmed down.
"Have you ever, like, changed your appearance?"
"I grew my hair out overnight once." Harry said.
Tonks snorted. "That's just regular accidental magic. It's unlikely that you are anyway— I read your letter in the paper and muggleborn— or muggle-raised, in your case—metamorphmagi rarely survive childhood."
"Why?" Harry asked.
Tonks shuffled a bit, moving to sit up a bit more and wiping her eyes. "Well, it's, uh, it's pretty deadly, as far as genetic quirks go. It kind of matters how much natural talent you have, though— you want as little as possible, because then you can train it up easily enough, but if you're too good ay birth than baby you, or toddler you, or child you will accidentally cut off your airflow or change your eyes without knowing how to change them back or deal with hunger by getting rid of your stomach, meaning it doesn't growl but also you starve to death."
"Cheery." Harry muttered under his breath.
Tonks laughed. "Oh, no, yeah, it's a blast. And you know the best part? If you're like me, somewhere in the middle of those two extremes, then you'll spend your entire childhood learning and relearning anatomy and physiology and balance and coordination over and over and over again only to get to school and be treated as either a novelty gimmick or a human sex toy or a boyfriend thief, and there's nothing you can do about it! Nothing you can say, or ask, or show, or change that'll make them treat you any different."
"Well," Harry said, "I'm certainly not going to treat you like either of those last two, and now that you've confirmed that you are in fact human, or at least sentient, I'm definitely not going to treat you as the first."
Tonks smiled, but it wasn't a real one. "Thanks, Potter. Means a lot."
Above them a huge bell began to clang, announcing the new hour, and Tonks leapt up.
"Shit— I've got to go. Nice meeting you!"
Harry frowned. A new goal, one which he likely should have thought of before, appeared on his list:
Lest Auld Acquaintance be Forgot... (500 XP)
Is it time to start gathering adult allies yet? Sure, why not! You've met many people over your first life who could help or hinder you, and now's the time to make inroads with the lesser known Ministry employees that were oh-so-helpful the first time around.
...something told him Management disagreed pretty strongly over the usefulness of that venture.
He also really needed to start doing something about the bullying, but that was already one of his goals, just not one he'd spent much time on.
"Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more." Harry said as the Gryffindor first years trooped down a set of wooden stairs the next Tuesday.
"It's History, not war." Hermione sniped.
"It's Binn's history." Ron corrected.
"Professor Binns," Hermione said, and before Harry could interrupt Joshua groaned.
"Does it even matter?" He whined. "I can barely remember if we had homework due, much less what it was about!"
Hermione looked... well, she looked exactly how Harry expected her to look. She huffed, apparently deciding that she'd had enough playing nursemaid.
Joshua didn't seem to have gotten the message and was in the midst of repeating what he'd already said, only louder, when Neville interrupted (the entire group, back together again. Wasn't it great? Let's just ignore that Neville openly admitted to having basically no recollection of what happened since Halloween. No, that wasn't worrying at all.)
"We're—we're learning about the Statute of Secrecy this week. No essays because it's a new unit."
"At least someone pays attention." Hermione muttered rebelliously. Harry cut her a look, but didn't say anything—he certainly hadn't bothered to listen the first time around, and the only reason he'd passed at all was because of Hermione's tutelage.
"It's a stupid statute." Seamus said. Then—"My parents are thinking about getting divorced."
That was a shock. Harry couldn't remember it happening the first time, but he didn't know if that was because something in the greater world had changed or if it was just that he and Seamus had talked that little.
"Your dad took you being magical that badly?" Lavender asked.
"Less that and more that she hadn't told him in the first place." Seamus said. "Said he didn't care about the statute at all; they were married, and he had a right to know."
"He's right." Parvati sniffed.
"Telling him would be committing a crime!" Hermione said.
"If she really loved him the risk would be worth it!" Parvati snapped back.
"My mum loves my dad!" Seamus snarled.
"Not enough, apparently." Lavender said, dismissing the claim with a jerk of her head.
Thankfully, they had just arrived at the door to the classroom, and Harry thanked every deity that might exist—he'd forgotten how cruel eleven year-olds could be, when they put their mind to it.
"Let's just go to class." He said. "Maybe Binns'll explain why it was so important for Seamus's mum to keep quiet no matter how much she loved his dad."
"You'll see." Seamus muttered, glaring at Parvati. Then, quieter (so quiet that Harry could barely hear him from a foot away) "And dad'll see too."
It was during lunch that several of his more productive plans began to bear fruit.
First, Draco had successfully convinced his father of the utility of Harry's petition plan, and the carefully worded document was currently racing from one student to the next as each quickly penned agreement. For once, the sheer worry of the unknown was dominating their interhouse rivalries, and from the expressions on the professors' faces the event went far from unnoticed.
Second, Harry finally received a letter back about the trial transcripts he'd asked for well over a week ago—which meant, legally speaking, they had broken the law.
Not only that, the letter didn't even include the transcripts, only a response from the ministry that amounted to 'these trials have been sealed, and are therefore not able to be released for any reason.' While this was largely bad news, it did make it likely that there had been at least some poking and prodding in the ministry, and when Draco stopped by to have him and his housemates sign the petition he had made no effort to hide his disappointment over the letter's contents.
"What's that?" Draco asked.
"Oh. It's just, um, so apparently during the war my godfather betrayed my parents to You-Know-Who, and that's why they died. The problem is none of the books mention why, so I was really hoping the trial transcripts would have a better idea, except apparently they're sealed. Do you have any idea why they would be?"
Draco pursed his lips. "I'd have to ask my father." He said at last. "Consider it a favor for coming up with the concept of the petition."
"Great, Draco." Harry said. "Thanks."
Draco smirked.
Harry's housemates watched the green-tied boy warily.
"Did you have to ask him?" Ron griped.
"You knew the answer?" Harry said, pretending to be surprised.
"Well, no, but—"
"I mean, if you could ask your dad, that'd be great too. Maybe Draco's dad doesn't know, and I'd like an answer soon. This is really weighing on me."
"Well, sure, I can write him I guess." Ron said.
Great. The more people poking the hornet's nest the better.
Neville, who was sitting beside Harry, suddenly sneezed and everyone's eyes snapped to him.
"I'm fine!" He said, pushing Hermione's hand away from his forehead as he did. "Really."
"You'll forgive us for being slow to believe." Harry said drily. "What with none of us being told what made you sick in the first place."
"That's what the petition is for, isn't it?" Neville said. "And anyway, I feel fine now."
Harry frowned. "I just don't like it."
Hermione sniffed. "No one does!"
"It's just... something doesn't feel right, you know?" Harry said, having no idea how else to explain the issue of these unanticipated events occurring.
"I know what you mean." Lavender interjected from her spot across from Hermione. "It feels... it feels like something really bad is about to happen."
"You're worrying too much!" Hermione said. "Dumbledore took care of the dragon quickly enough, and a couple day's of illness is nothing to worry about, not really."
"Why'd you sign the petition, then?" Seamus asked.
Hermione didn't have an answer.
Harry frowned, turning to the professor's table to see Dumbledore staring straight at him.
Well, it looked like he had the man's attention now.