31 Interludes

March became April. April became May. Time seemed to fly by as the third task approached. Classes continued on, homework was done and tests taken. It was almost like a normal year, at least to everyone but the champions.

The champions and their friends trained three or four times a week now. Hermione had researched the history of the Triwizard Tournament and found the last task was always a maze cum obstacle course. This led to several training decisions, the first being an increased physical fitness routine. Three mornings a week, the four champions and Hermione met early in the morning to run. At first it was through the halls of the unused corridors of Hogwarts, then as the weather improved, they started to work out outside more often. The next thing they started doing, was reviewing all the magical creatures they could find. They researched their characteristics, attacks and defenses, and how best to combat them. Given that the last tournament had a bloody Cockatrice, no creature was excluded from their endeavor. Lastly was practical training. They took everything they knew and practiced it in as close to practical conditions as they could.

Once they saw the hedge maze Hagrid appeared to be growing on the Quidditch pitch, they added magical plants to their studies, headed by Neville. It was funny, Harry noted one day, how much more peaceful it was working between all eight of them compared to just the three they'd had when Ron was around. This caused a couple of long conversations between Harry and Hermione.

"Hermione?" Harry, asked one night as he brushed her hair before bed.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Am I a bad person?"

"What?" Hermione turned around quickly, staring in shock. "What brought this on?"

"It's just," Harry sighed, hesitating as he struggled to find the right words. "I look at the people around us, the other champions, Neville, even Cho and Luna."

"Our friends in other words," Hermione put in.

"Yeah," Harry agreed sadly, "but then I look at Ron, and Ginny to an extent. They were our friends, or so we thought. It wasn't the same with them though, was it?"

"No," Hermione agreed cautiously, "not really."

"Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Did I push them away?" Harry asked desperately. "Why did they stop being our friends?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug, "You did nothing wrong. Nothing at all."

"Then why'd they stop being our friends?" Harry choked out, fighting back the tears.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted softly. "Sometimes people are just too different." She pulled back a little, Not letting him out of her embrace but relaxing it so she could face him. She placed a kiss to his forehead before continuing. "As we grow, things change. People too. They change at different times and at different rates for different people."

"What do you mean?" Harry was rather confused at this point.

"Well, take us for example." Hermione answered, "First year, would you have kissed me?"

"Uhhhh, no" Harry said after a moment, "I still thought girls were strange. But if I had to, I think I would have chosen you, you were a friend, not a girl." Harry paled, realizing what he'd just said. "What I mean is…"

"What you mean is exactly what I'm talking about," Hermione cut him off. "As an eleven year old, girls were icky and boys were just cool. Now, as a fourteen, almost fifteen, year old, Girls, and hopefully one in particular, are a lot more fun. That's what I'm talking about. Look at you as an eleven year old and as you are now. You've changed, you've grown, and that has affected how you view things. Now look at Ron, has he changed as much? Other than physically."

Harry pondered for a minute, assimilating what Hermione was saying. He thought back, really thought about some of the things that had happened over the years. Second year, when Hermione had her potions accident, Ron had laughed while Harry got her to the Hospital wing. Ron had laughed, not caring, while their friend was distraught. Third year Ron was more irate at Hermione over the Firebolt than Harry had been, even before Hermione apologized and they talked it over. The damn broom wasn't even his for crying out loud. And at the end of the year, the encounter with Sirius and Lupin, all Ron could do was whimper and deny everything, while He and Hermione tried to piece together the truth.

"So, what you're saying," Harry started carefully, "is Ron needs to grow up more before he can see what's going on?"

"Not exactly." Hermione chewed her bottom lip. "Try this; what do you think Ron's response to us being married right now would be?"

"Other than being jealous of having a private room?" Harry quipped.

"There, that's it exactly," Hermione crowed. "His first response would be a joke or to trivialize it. Or to explode in anger that he didn't know already."

"Ok…."

"Now picture if Luna and Neville came up to us and told us they were getting married this weekend and wanted us to stand with them. How would you react?"

"Neville, Luna, or both together?" Harry asked, "cause if it's just Luna, I'm not sure if I'd run for the hills or start picking out my suit."

"Together." Hermione chuckled, relieved he could joke about this. "And it's Neville telling you."

"I would be surprised, no denying," Harry started, considering a long moment before answering. "But while I'd be happy, I would probably ask what happened. They are a great couple, but I don't see them at that point in their relationship at this time. Now if it was sixth or seventh year, and they'd been together the whole time, then I'd probably beg you to let me take Neville out Friday night for a stag party."

"A stag party? Really? That's where your mind goes?" Hermione smacked his arm.

"You're missing the point dear," Harry chuckled, glad to have gotten a rise out of her, "The point is that I'd try to be, at least I hope I would, supportive. If it was now, I wouldn't bash them or laugh or any of the things Ron would, and that's your point isn't it?"

"How so?" Hermione prompted with false innocence.

"I may be concerned, but I would work with them, to help them. All Ron would do is laugh and poke fun at them. Maybe insult them about it. And that's the difference in maturity between us. The rift that's forming. We're growing up, he's still trying to be a child, isn't he?"

"I think so…" Hermione's tone was serious again. "It's happened for centuries, and will for centuries to come; people grow apart. No matter what though, Mr. Potter, I will never grow apart from you."

"Nor I from you." Harry grinned, then hopped up. "Now come on, I think we have some Claw's to visit tonight."

"The one's that're selling the exam answer keys?" Hermione asked.

"No, though we need to find out if they are real answers or not." Harry slid a pair of very dark pants on. "I'm thinking about the ones that are stockpiling all the good reference books and refusing to return them so nobody else can use them."

"The book bandits?" Hermione perked up, "We're getting the book bandits?"

"No," Harry watched her face fall before brightening it again, "we're liberating the books for all to use."

The kiss he received was well worth the bollocking he'd get later for teasing her.


"Harry?" Hermione asked, as she removed the dark clothes they'd used in their latest escapade. "Are we doing the right thing?"

"What do you mean?" Harry turned, looking and no longer being embarrassed by his Wife's partially dressed state.

"I know they deserve it, but are we really the ones to do it?" she asked, putting both sets of clothes into Harry's trunk. "I mean, teachers are supposed to do this kind of thing. Well, not exactly like this, but you know what I mean."

"I do," Harry admitted, coming up behind her and hugging her from behind, "but answer me this: Do we trust them to actually do the job they're supposed to? Have they in the past?" He continued as he heard her take a deep breath, "I know some would, but are restrained by various things. And what they can do is limited. Would anything have happened if we hadn't acted? Would the acts have continued or ended without our intervention?"

"You do have a point," Hermione conceded, turning in Harry's arms, "but what gives us the right to do this?"

"I'm not sure I'd call it a right," Harry pointed out, kissing the top of her head, "more an obligation. We have the ability to do something to help others, shouldn't we do so?"

"When you put it like that, it's hard to say no. But aren't we undercutting the authority of those who should be doing something?"

"I don't think so, not so long as they continue to work towards it when they can." Harry pulled her gently to the bed. "I remember a quote from somewhere, before Hogwarts I think. 'All that is needed for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.'"

"You're misquoting it but you got the intent," Hermione said, joining him in bed and curling into his side. "But my point stands, are we really the ones that should be doing this?"

"If someone else were to step up, maybe we could step aside, but for now, we are the only ones that can, or will." Harry sighed. "I wish we didn't have to, but if we didn't, others would have so much more to deal with."

"I know, I just hope we're really doing the right thing."

"Do you want to bring the others in on it?" He asked. "Like Professor McGonagall?"

"I don't know. I just wish I knew for sure we were doing the right thing."

"I can't promise you it's the right thing," Harry sighed again, kissing her, "but it's all I can think of for now. I promise though, if we can find another way, we will."


Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was in a rather good mood as he made his way down to breakfast. The teachers were quieter than they had been since Potter's little speech after the second task, the students didn't seem to have paid it much mind, and it was spring. He had just begun considering the needed alterations to the castle to welcome the season as he entered the Great Hall. He strode in with his head so full of ideas, that he failed to notice what was in front of him until it was almost too late to avoid a collision.

There, in the middle of the Great Hall, were half a dozen Ravenclaws. This in and of itself was not unusual, for there were many many Ravenclaws. These were unusual for a Tuesday morning for three reasons. The first was they were laying down. This was not as unusual as it may seem, as many students had caught naps many times in the Great Hall, though he had to admit they usually did so sitting down at their house tables, not the middle of the walkway between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff house tables. No, what was unusual was the mountainous stack of books on each one's chest. The last item of note was also the most curious, they were all blindfolded.

Dumbledore paused as he looked at the predicament. They did not appear to be able to lift the books, and they were stacked neatly, each one had at least 15 or 20 books stacked upon their middle. Each stack, almost as tall as he was, seemed to weigh the student down but not crush them, merely holding them in place. On each stack was a list. It appeared to detail each volume, along with the original checkout date for each by one of the students. Looking in curiosity at the neat crisp script of Madam Pince, he noted that less than a minute after each book was returned, another of the group appeared to have checked it out. This was more difficult to determine for fact as over each one, someone had used Madam Pince's most feared weapon, and stamped OVERDUE is bright red magical ink across each.

"It appears we have some students in need of assistance," he quipped cheerily, looking at the teachers already sitting, "Is there a reason no one has helped them yet?"

"We were unable to," Professor Burbage, the muggle studies professor, told him. "Though we did determine how to do it."

"Oh, and what was that?" "Albus asked

"Another student must check out the book," McGonagall said simply. "A student must approach the stack, say which book he wishes to check out, and take it to Madam Pince within ten minutes. No one may take more than one book, and no one may take a book off without first declaring the intent to check it out. If the call card is not used to check the book out within ten minutes, it returns here."

"I see," Albus was concerned, that seemed like very advanced magic, far more than he'd expect from students. "And do we know who did this?"

"No, Professor," Flitwick said, "though they did leave a note. That's how we know that every book must be checked out before any of them may get up."

"And the blindfolds?"

"Those are to preserve the modesty of the young ladies who must walk near them. We added those." Minerva answered him.

"And I'm guessing the perpetrators were not kind enough to sign their note." Albus grumped, trying to figure out how to break the spells on the students.

"Oh they did, though who Mr. Shadow and Mrs. Midnight may be is anyone's guess," McGonagall supplied, then continued as Ablus began to cast at the students, "You don't want to do that."

Dumbledore, sure he'd found the correct means to disable the spells, ignored her. A nudge here, a siphon there, and now…. WHAM!

Albus reeled back, staggering with the force of the blow to his forehead as bright read BAD HEADMASTER appeared over the books. After a few moments it faded and was replaced by: YOU ARE TOO OLD TO CHECK OUT THIS BOOK.

"Too old?" Albus sputtered indignant. "I am not too old!"

"Yes, you are Albus," Minerva disagreed, "Every member of staff is. Only current students have been able to retrieve the books in question."

"I see...perhaps if I…."

"I wouldn't Headmaster," Flitwick warned, "unless you want the stamp to become permanent."

"What stamp?" Dumbledore demanded, starting to lose his grandfatherly persona.

McGonagall simply transfigured a plate into a small hand mirror, and handed it to him. Taking it, Dumbledore looked into it and realized what the impact on his forehead had been. There, across his forehead in bright red ink, was the feared stamp: OVERDUE.