Harry's potion was finally done, finished just two days before Halloween. He had a week to use it, but had already started on another batch. There was no telling how or when he'd manage to talk the twins out of their secrets. Of course, he could be a Gryffindor and ask. But that'd take away all the fun, and the twins wouldn't tell him just for the asking either. Having done so much free work for them had its detriments.

Of course, Halloween itself promised to be a chore. The day before, he had belatedly realized there was going to be a Halloween feast - except that it wasn't Halloween so much as "That Time You-Know-Who Kicked the Bucket" Day. Oh, sure there was the rest of the holiday, but that was what they were really celebrating.

Which was just creepy when you thought about it.

Harry considered putting up a Roman "Happy Death Day Lord Voldemort" banner somewhere in the great hall (putting it up around the Slytherins would be too much on the nose, but maybe he could put it up behind the high table - so everyone could see it before Snape tore it down). No that's a bad plan. This year, at least.

His parents had died that day, after all. He supposed he should have one time to mourn them. Not this year, though - everyone was headed to the feast, and so he had to go too. He couldn't even visually protest by wearing all black. Hmm... maybe Tyrian Purple? And then go through the rigamarole of explaining that he was in fact related to the Thai Emperor, and as such was choosing to represent his heritage by mourning for his parents in the ancestral mourning color.

While therapeutic, these thoughts weren't really helping Harry Potter deal with anything. He would so much rather have had vengeance to savor on the night his parents had died.

He had a feeling they'd have approved of that, somehow.

Harry Potter was in charms, having mastered the spell ages ago and bored out of his mind. Hermione Granger was once again showing off to the rest of the class - and helping Ron Weasley, who had the misfortune of sitting beside her. She helped him the entire class, and he barely managed to lift the feather. Harry had managed to lift it just slightly, and was playing around with darting it across the table at warp ten. It was good practice for finetuning your magic, something that Hermione Granger seemed to never practice.

As they were walking out the door (Harry with Ron, as always), Ron said, "She's such a know it all, it's no wonder she doesn't have any friends." Harry Potter heard Hermione behind them stifling a sob, and he turned to say something - only to hear her running off down a corridor.

Ron said, "Come on, we'll be late for Transfiguration." Harry wanted to tell Ron off, and sharply, but didn't really dare. He silently resolved that he'd find some way... some way of ...

In transfiguration, when Hermione Granger didn't show up, Harry excused himself to use the bathroom (McGonagall looked at him like she thought bodily control was something you learned before the age of eleven.), and spent half the class wandering up to various girls' bathrooms and knocking. None of them seemed to work, and Harry though that before the feast, he'd try seeing if he could get one of the girls to talk with Hermione, who was probably up in her room.

[a/n: This Harry cares a bit more about people getting their feelings trod on, even if he doesn't know her very well. Besides, it's a good way to get to know her... which has been on his agenda for a while...

Leave a review, next chapter's the troll.]