Hello again! Well, it's been a few months, because Summer's a busy time for me... but I haven't forgotten this story! Thank you for your patience, and since we've long since passed a hundred reviews, I also want to thank you all for your time and interest (and in some cases, corrections)! I always like to hear what other people think — not to mention, occasionally a review will raise a question or a point of view I hadn't previously considered.

WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST

Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling

CHAPTER SEVEN
There Is Always A Reason

"You were writing to who?!" Hermione stared at Ronnie, disbelief in her eyes.

"You know who," said Ronnie, averting her eyes a little. There was something accusing in Hermione's look that made her feel more guilty than she already was.

They were gathered in the Gryffindor common room. When Ronnie had returned from Dumbledore's office, she'd found the rest of Potter's Gang waiting for her, together with not only Ginny, Fred, George and Percy, but also with a huge number of other Gryffindors who also wanted to know what this entire "diary" business was about and weren't going to take no for an answer.

Thanks a lot, Luna, Ronnie had thought sourly, and almost wished that the odd little girl had become a Gryffindor as well so that she could yell properly at her — but, she realised, that probably wouldn't have helped any. And it wasn't that Dumbledore had actually forbidden her from telling the story, it was just that, well, the fact that she had been writing to You-Know-Who without realising it wasn't exactly a point of pride.

A year among these Gryffindors, though, had taught her that trying to keep secrets would just make them even more curious or worried about her — and of course Percy and the twins would keep pestering her until she gave in. So she had resigned herself to her fate and told them all how she'd found the diary, how she had been writing in it and how it had been stolen.

"Ronnie," Percy said, looking half-scared and half-angry, "how could you keep this a secret? The moment that diary wrote back to you, you should have told Mum and Dad and me! Remember what Dad always said? Never trust an object that can think for itself —"

"— if you can't see where it's keeping its brain," Ginny, Fred and George all chorused, causing one or two fellow Gryffindors to look oddly at them.

"I did tell you about the diary," said Ronnie, and was painfully aware that her voice sounded a little more sulky than she really wanted it to. "You told me to go away because you were busy."

"That — I was — this isn't about me!" Percy sputtered.

"I don't believe a word of this!" scoffed Cormac McLaggen, one of the third-years. "You-Know-Who's diary! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! She's just making it up to get attention!"

"I am not!" Ronnie snapped.

"You have to admit, Ronnie," said Fay Dunbar, very gently, "it does sound a little... er... crazy?"

"I think it sounds cool!" said Colin Creevey, who was practically bouncing up and down and apparently thinking this was the most exciting thing he'd ever heard. "Evil diaries that write back, that's like something on TV!"

"I realise that you're a Muggle-born," said Percy in an annoyed tone, "but this isn't one of your silly Muggle entertainment stories! You-Know-Who is real, and he's dangerous!"

"But it wasn't really him, was it?" said Neville, uncharacteristically trying to focus on the positive. "It was more like... er..."

"Kinda like wizard portraits, isn't it?" said Dean Thomas. "They can act like the person they're supposed to depict, but it's not really them."

Neville nodded. "Yeah, like that!"

"That's not a bad thought, you know," said George. "I suppose You-Know-Who just gave his diary a bit of sentience or something. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to who agreed with him about everything."

"Bet he just kept it around for the sake of his ego," Fred agreed. "Can't you imagine him writing in it? Dear diary, am I not brilliantly evil? Why yes, I certainly am, how astonishingly observant of me to notice."

A number of the students snorted, but Percy scowled. "How can you joke about this?" he said.

"Comes naturally, Perce!" said Fred lightly.

"It's not funny," said Hermione. "That diary probably has all of Voldemort's secrets in it. Just think about the damage it could do in the wrong hands!" She turned to Ronnie. "I can't believe you didn't tell us! Or at least your parents!"

Ronnie felt herself turn pink, but before she could answer, the smallest first-year girl (Ronnie couldn't remember her name, but her permanent look of awe suggested that she was Muggle-born) spoke up. "If there's an evil diary around with dangerous secrets, I don't think I want to be here anymore."

"There's no evil diary!" McLaggen insisted. "Can't you hear how stupid it sounds?! Evil diary! I tell you, she's making it all up!"

"Will you stop calling our sister a liar?" George glared at McLaggen.

"I'll stop calling her a liar when she stops lying!" McLaggen glared back.

"This is going to mean another year of cancelled Quidditch practices, I just know it," Oliver Wood groaned. "Last year we barely got to see a broomstick before well after Christmas, all thanks to You-Know-Who, and this year..."

Katie Bell, whom Ronnie remembered was the youngest of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, tried to look optimistic. "It's probably not as big a deal this time," she said. "I mean, yes, a diary of You-Know-Who wouldn't be a good thing, but really, how much trouble could a diary be? Ronnie was writing in it, and it didn't do anything to her. It didn't, right?" she added, a little nervously. "It didn't, I don't know, Imperius you or anything?"

Ronnie shuddered. Memories flooded her mind, but she managed to suppress them. "I know what it's like to be... to be under that curse," she said through clenched teeth. "The diary never did anything like that to me."

"What is it like to be Imperiused?" said Colin, before adding, almost as an afterthought: "What's Imperiused, anyway?"

"Don't ask," Ronnie began, just as Jack Sloper, Fay Dunbar and Kellah Kane started talking all at once in order to tell Colin just what the Imperius was, while McLaggen once again declared that he didn't believe any of this, Fred and George told McLaggen to shut up unless he had anything sensible to say, and Oliver Wood started ranting about Quidditch. Hermione gave Ronnie a concerned look, but then got busy trying to comfort that first-year Muggle-born girl, who seemed rather upset at the whole thing.

It was one of those rare occurrences where almost all Gryffindors got involved in a discussion. Everyone had an opinion, even the first-years who had only been at Hogwarts a few hours. In fact, the only one who hadn't said anything at all was Harry.

As the discussion continued, Ronnie looked over at him and felt guilty when he met her eyes. He looked, well, hurt.

"If you're gonna yell," she finally said, "yell at me and not at Ginny, all right? I was the one who kept the diary."

"That's not fair," said Ginny. "I hid it just as much as she did! If you're going to yell at her, you should yell at me too."

Harry looked at the Weasley sisters, and the accusation in his eyes seemed to slowly get replaced by... something else, something Ronnie couldn't quite name. "I'm not going to yell," he said. "I just —" (he seemed to look for the right words) "Why didn't you tell me about that diary? Didn't you think it was important?"

Ronnie squirmed a little. "I don't know," she admitted. "It just seemed like something I should keep a secret. If I'd known it was You-Know-Who I was writing to, I would have — I would have —" She stopped there, because she really didn't have any idea what she would have done then.

"It'll be all right!" Lavender suddenly said, cutting through the din of voices. "What are we all worrying about, anyway? We've got Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Most of the students stopped talking. An annoying number of them nodded at Lavender's words.

"Little girl's got a point!" said one of the seventh-year boys (ignoring Lavender's indignation at being called 'little girl'). "In fact, I bet that's why Dumbledore hired Lockhart to begin with! He got in Mad-Eye Moody last year, remember, after that business with Snape and Quirrell. Makes sense that he'd want to get in a world-famous champion against the Dark Arts this year."

"So Dumbledore knew that Weasley would get and lose an enchanted diary belonging to You-Know-Who?" said a seventh-year girl rather dryly.

"Well, no, obviously not that," the boy hurried to say. "But, well, you know, there's at least one big target for Dark wizards right here..."

Everyone turned to look at Harry.

"Oh, that's nice," Ginny huffed. "Leave him alone!"

"Actually, it is true," said Harry simply. "I know that Voldemort —" (cue winces and gasps from several students at the mention of the name) "— is out there still, and that he'll want revenge. I'm sorry, " he added a little defensively, "but I didn't exactly ask for any of this."

"But you're not afraid of him, are you, Harry?" said Colin. "You already defeated him once, no, twice! He's no match for you!"

"And!" cried Lee Jordan, so loudly that everyone turned to look at him instead of Harry. "We're Gryffindors! We're the best and bravest damn house at Hogwarts! Are we going to let a diary frighten us?"

"No!" cried about half the students present. ("Yes!" cried a couple of the younger ones, though they may have been joking.)

"All right!" said Lee. "The ones who said yes can hide behind the ones who said no! Gryffindors stick together!"

"What about Ravenclaws?" said Parvati. "My twin sister's in Ravenclaw!"

"Oh, we'll stick by any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff who needs us too!" said Lee generously. "Just as long as nobody expects us to stick by Slytherin." There were a couple of snorts at this, but some of the younger students looked shocked, so Lee added: "Don't worry about the Slytherins, they're in no danger from You-Know-Who! He loves Slytherin! Well, statistically, someone has to!"

"So what do we do if we do find this diary?" said McLaggen. "Not that I believe it exists for even a moment, but if we find it? Give it to Lockhart?"

"No!" Ronnie shouted. "He was the one I got the diary from in the first place!"

"Come on, Ronnie, Gilderoy Lockhart would never have anything to do with You-Know-Who," said Lavender. "He's much too... good for that."

"Mind you," said Parvati, pausing in the middle of worrying about her twin, "it wouldn't hurt to keep a close eye on him, just in case."

"What — oh yes!" said Lavender, giggling slightly. "A very close eye."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Mmm-hmmmmmm."

"Quit that," said Ronnie. "Why can't you two think with your brains instead of with your pus— "

"Ronnie, if you finish that sentence, I'm taking twenty points off Gryffindor!" Percy snapped.

"I don't think you're taking this very seriously," Harry muttered, and to Ronnie's relief he looked about as disgusted with the girls' focus on that ponce Lockhart as Ronnie felt.

"I think it's horrid to accuse Professor Lockhart of having anything to do with Voldemort," said Hermione, for once agreeing with Lavender and Parvati (and ignoring that several students were wincing at You-Know-Who's name). "He is famous as a champion against the Dark! All those great things he's done — "

"Says he's done," said Ronnie.

"There were eyewitnesses!" said Hermione. "He wrote all about it in his books, which you would have known if you'd bothered to actually read them!"

Ronnie ignored this, mostly because she didn't have a counterargument. "Who knows, maybe he was the one who put us to sleep on the train and stole it back!"

"Professor Lockhart wasn't even on the train —"

"He could have Apparated!"

"Apparating onto a moving train? He'd be lucky to not end up flattened on the tracks!"

"Weren't you the one who said he'd done great things?"

"Ronnie," said Alicia Spinnet, interrupting the argument between Ronnie and Hermione as it heated up. "Everything aside, why on Earth would someone like Lockhart have anything to do with You-Know-Who? Why would Professor Dumbledore have hired him if there was any chance of that?"

"I wouldn't know," said Ronnie, "but I'm gonna find out!"

"Mmm-hmmmmmm," said Lavender with a knowing smile. "Keep an eye on him, Ronnie."

Ronnie threw a cushion at her.

"Ronnie?"

The voice, along with the gentle nudge against her shoulder, tore through Ronnie's dreams. She grunted and turned around under her covers, opening an eye to find that she was in her bed at her Hogwarts dormitory, the curtains pulled closed around her, Crookshanks curled up by her head - and Hermione standing over her, still in her nightdress (a pretty blue one that she'd got sometime during Summer).

"Mrrrf," said Ronnie, struggling to let her voice sound. "Bloody hell, Hermione... I just went to sleep."

"Actually, it's nearly time to get up," said Hermione.

Ronnie groaned. It had taken a long time for her to get to sleep last night. She'd tossed and turned, the thought of You-Know-Who's diary churning around in her head. Finally, Crookshanks had managed to calm her down by lying down next to her, and she had finally fallen asleep to the soothing sound of his purring... but it seemed to her like she'd just closed her eyes for a minute before Hermione so rudely woke her. "Fine," she said, rolling over on her side and pulling her covers over her head, "wake me when it is time to get up."

"I really need to talk to you about something," said Hermione, lowering her voice. "I thought it was best to do it before the other girls wake up."

Sighing, and giving sleep up for a lost cause for the moment, Ronnie rolled onto her back again and pulled down her covers in order to look up at her bushy-haired friend. "Yes?"

"It's about last night," Hermione began.

Ronnie groaned again, louder this time. "Please, not another one of your lectures! Yes, I know I was being stupid, and I know I should have taken that diary to show a responsible adult the moment I realised that it could talk back to me, and I was an idiot for forgetting what Dad told me about magical objects that can think for themselves. Are you happy now?"

"I wasn't going to lecture you!" Hermione looked hurt. "Although I must say that you were being stupid —"

"Go away, Hermione!"

"Oh, fine." Hermione didn't go away, but to her credit (Ronnie had to grudgingly admit) she did stop the tirade before it had even properly begun. Instead, she sat down on the bed, the weight of her body making the soft mattress shift so that Ronnie had to move over just slightly. "It's actually not about the diary at all."

"No?" Ronnie's spirits lifted slightly.

"No. It's about something else. I noticed it, last night, when Katie mentioned the Imperius —"

Ronnie sat up abruptly, waking Crookshanks who lifted his head and looked at her in sleepy confusion. "All right, let's talk about the diary!" she said, feeling herself turn pink. Don't think about the Imperius!

Hermione was visibly taken aback at the sudden movement, but quickly gathered herself again. "Yes!" she said. "That's the third time I've seen you go pink and immediately try to change the subject when the subject of the Imperius comes up, or looks like it might come up! Once is nothing, of course; twice might be a coincidence, but three times? That's a pattern!" The slight edge of triumph in her voice gave way to a tone of concern. "Are you all right? I know Quirrell and Voldemort put you under the Imperius last year. I can only imagine how awful that must have felt."

Ronnie was extremely aware of how pink she was. "No, you can't," she said. "I really don't want to talk about this, all right?"

"I think you should," said Hermione. "Clearly it's bothering you. And I remember you talking about Dreamless Sleep potions and how you wished they still affected you, back in Diagon Alley."

"Congratulations, your memory is as good as Harry's."Ronnie was aware she was being childish about this, but Hermione was going places she really wasn't comfortable with. Trust her to notice those nagging little details that you really didn't want her to notice.

"I'll just ask you outright: Are you having nightmares?"

"Yes, that's why I've woken you up with my terrified screams every night since Christmas," said Ronnie sourly.

"That's not funny," said Hermione.

"All right, but Hermione, if I'd been having nightmares, don't you think you would have noticed? Your bed is right next to mine!"

"Bad dreams don't always make you scream," said Hermione, and then she looked back, lightly pulling the curtains aside to glance out into the dormitory — probably to make certain the other girls were still asleep before she continued. "I've had some pretty nasty dreams after last Christmas — dreams I'm always glad to wake up from. I see Voldemort attacking us and..." she shuddered, momentarily losing her calm but almost immediately regaining it. "But you haven't heard me scream, have you?"

"No," Ronnie admitted.

"There, you see?" said Hermione, as if this proved her point. "I just think that if you are having nightmares, and they're bothering you this much, then you should talk to someone about them." A slight pause. "You can talk to me, if you like."

"I already said I don't want to talk about it." Ronnie turned away from Hermione and busied herself with petting Crookshanks. The cat seemed to notice her distress, and nuzzled her hand comfortingly with his face. "This conversation is over."

"Ronnie —"

"Over."

For once, Hermione didn't push it. "All right," she said. "But you should be glad you have someone you can talk to about these things. I wish I still did," she added almost under her breath.

Ronnie might not be the quickest on the uptake at all times, but even she could pick up on a hint this blatant. She turned back towards Hermione. "Is this about your parents?"

Hermione sighed. "It was about you, but all right." Once more, she momentarily peeked out through the curtains to check on their dorm-mates (though in Ronnie's opinion, if the girls had slept through an entire conversation about nightmares, an additional conversation about Hermione's parents wasn't likely to wake them). "I really had to fight to make them let me return to Hogwarts this year. If they hear about this diary business, I know they're going to pull me back home. They've started to think Hogwarts sounds too dangerous."

"I'm not gonna tell them, if that helps." Ronnie shifted slightly, running her fingers through Crookshanks's soft fur. "That offer to have my parents talk to them still stands."

"To be honest, I'm not certain how much good that would do," said Hermione. "Your parents are lovely people, Ronnie, but they don't understand Muggles at all. And my parents don't understand wizards, not really. When I first found out I was a witch, they accepted it pretty easily; after all I had been making odd things happen for years, and I think they were just relieved to have an explanation for it at last. So they didn't have a problem with me going off to Hogwarts. My father even joked that I was going off to Cackle's Academy."

Ronnie blinked. "Cackle's what?"

"Oh..." Hermione looked a little sheepish. "It's from these children's books he used to read to me. You wouldn't have heard of them. Point is, my parents are fine with magic. But they don't really understand what it's like. And when we found out that Voldemort was still out there, I knew I couldn't tell them about it. I knew it'd just scare them, and it's not like they could do anything about it. Other than pull me out of Hogwarts because they thought it was too dangerous, and I really didn't want that."

"I wouldn't want them to do that either," said Ronnie.

Hermione smiled, very briefly. "When I was little, I could talk to them about anything. Anything that bothered or upset or frightened me, I could tell them, and they'd listen. But now? If I tell them how scared I was when Voldemort almost killed us, and how worrying it is that a sentient diary is on the loose, I'll be out of Hogwarts faster than you could say 'Transfiguration.' Since neither of us want that, I just don't talk to them about such things." She looked at Ronnie, turning stern again. "But you don't have that excuse. I'm positive you'll feel better if you talk to someone about what's troubling you. It's not healthy to bottle up."

Ronnie rubbed her forehead warily, stroking back a few strands of red hair from her eyes. "If I promise I'll think about it," she said, "will you stop nagging?"

"I don't nag!" said Hermione, demonstrating that even the brightest and most perceptive witch of her generation could on occasion be rather clueless about herself.

"Well, just don't start," said Ronnie, sliding back down to rest her head on her pillow. "And now I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when it's breakfast."

"Just promise me you'll think about what I said."

"Fine." No way in hell I'm ever going to tell anyone about — no. I'm not telling them. There, I thought about it. Ronnie closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

It was a little unfair, really, how life insisted on going on around you even when you had all these problems to worry about. With the knowledge that somewhere out there someone was writing to You-Know-Who's old diary, and that this someone might be Lockhart, and the problems Hermione had with her parents, not to mention that she still seemed to want Ronnie to talk about the Imperius (don't think about the Imperius!) it seemed almost insulting that they still had to focus on schoolwork and everything.

But as Dumbledore had said, the teachers were searching Hogwarts for the diary (even a few of the ghosts were helping, as they could go places others couldn't), and, given that the student gossip machine had started, it seemed increasingly unlikely that a student would find the diary and not immediately know what it was.

In many ways, it was a relief that most of the Gryffindors (excluding certain naysayers like McLaggen) were willing to believe Ronnie about the diary. Last year, You-Know-Who had been lurking around the school and very few students had wanted to believe that. Maybe they were catching onto the fact that if any member of Potter's Gang said something about You-Know-Who, it was worth listening to.

Unfortunately, this trust did not extend to Ronnie's suspicions about Lockhart. Not very many people were prepared to believe that such a renowned champion against the Dark Arts could be involved in anything concerning You-Know-Who. Even Hermione remained sceptical — and, surprisingly enough, even Dumbledore told Ronnie that he didn't think Lockhart was involved with the diary.

"To be sure, there is a lot of things one could say about Professor Lockhart," the Headmaster had said when Ronnie asked him, "but he's not Dark. I do not think he would willingly and knowingly do anything to aid Voldemort."

"What about unwillingly and unknowingly?" said Ronnie suspiciously.

Dumbledore sighed. "My dear Ronnie, if we were to list all the people who had at some point unwillingly or unknowingly aided Voldemort in some way, or at some point, we would have to list half the wizarding populace of Britain, myself included."

"You?!" Ronnie couldn't believe it.

"Indirectly, perhaps," Dumbledore admitted. "But I was once his teacher. I am not, of course, so arrogant as to presume that I alone gave him his start — but many of the things he later used for his own nefarious purposes, he learned from me."

"Including... enchanting diaries?" said Ronnie carefully.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, that was not one of mine. In fact, I am not completely certain what enchantments he might have put on a diary that —" he stopped in mid-sentence, his brilliant blue eyes widening behind his half-moon spectacles. "Unless... no, he couldn't have... but it would explain..."

"Explain what?" said Ronnie.

"Just a thought I had," said Dumbledore. "I think I shall keep it to myself for the moment, as it's very possible that I'm completely wrong. I would advice you to be careful, Ronnie — oh, and I would also implore you and the rest of Potter's Gang to look after Harry, but knowing you, you will do that anyway."

That was all he'd wanted to say to her about the diary, or about Lockhart.

Still, a number of Gryffindor girls were dutifully "keeping an eye" on the newest Defence teacher and being annoyingly giggly about it.

And as the days went by and there was no trace of the diary anywhere, and Lockhart remained oblivious, there wasn't a whole lot anyone could do other than to get back into the old school routine, with lessons and homework — and, to Oliver Wood's great relief, Quidditch practices.

This time around, Quidditch went on, and thanks to Fred and George's enthusiastic descriptions of Harry's flying skills, Wood had more or less shanghaied Harry into trying out for the team, with the first tryout set up directly after the first Potions class of the year.

"Potions," said Flamel in his faint French accent, "might be one of the most frustrating branches of magic."

The Potions classroom hadn't changed much since the days when Severus Snape taught the class; it was just as dark, chilly and filled with shelves containing weird potion ingredients as ever. Though, in a strange way, it didn't seem quite so foreboding and creepy as it had when Snape was the one who stood at the teacher's desk, or as boring as it had when Binns had taught the class.

Flamel let his eyes move across the classroom to look at all the gathered Slytherin and Gryffindor second-years. "Potions certainly does not seem very exciting or very convenient compared to the quicker and, how do you say, flashier subjects of Charms and Transfigurations. After all, once you have learned a Charm perfectly, you have it at your disposal at any time afterwards. All you need is your wand, and a few seconds to perform the Charm, and you are good to go. Yes?"

A number of the students nodded.

"But a potion, now," Flamel continued, "it does not matter how well you learn it, how thoroughly you memorise the list of ingredients; you will still have to make it from scratch every time. And you always need the correct ingredients, every time. Sometimes those ingredients are hard to come by. Sometimes the potion takes months to brew properly. It is enough to try anyone's patience, and I will not lie to you: not many have what it takes to truly become great with Potions."

Ronnie, who was sitting together with the rest of Potter's Gang, couldn't help but remember Snape's first Potion class — he too had started with a speech, but he had been waxing lyrical about potions and called all the students dunderheads. Flamel, by contrast, was pointing out many of the things she herself had thought about Potions class. Even if Snape or Binns weren't teaching the class, it was hard to get any sort of enthusiasm up for the subject. (Especially when you knew you were immune to all potions anyway.)

She waited for the "but" to come. Surely no Potions teacher would talk so dismissively about the subject he himself was teaching without having a "but" or at least a "however" waiting somewhere.

"So, you might ask, why is Potions a mandatory subject in every magical school?" Flamel looked expectantly at the students. "Does anyone have any theories on this?"

There was a short silence. Hermione raised her hand at once, of course — and then, to Ronnie's surprise, about half the Gryffindors and a few Slytherins raised their hands as well.

"Mademoiselle Granger?" said Flamel, nodding at Hermione.

"Because Potions is one of the more useful and flexible branches of magic," said Hermione promptly. "For example, roughly seventy-five percent of all healing magic is in the form of potions or elixirs." (How well didn't Ronnie know that, now that none of them worked on her anymore!)

Flamel nodded. "What you say is true, Mademoiselle Granger," he said. "And yet there are many subjects that are just as useful in other ways, and they remain electives. Take for example Muggle Studies — do not scoff, Monsieur Malfoy!" he scolded at Malfoy's look of disgust. "The combined Muggle population of England, Scotland and Ireland is well over sixty million! How big is the combined wizard population of those same countries? Less than five thousand! Refusing to learn about Muggles not only means limiting ourselves and our world, or that inaccurate rumours and stereotypes flourish — it means dooming ourselves to remain the ignorant and insignificant minority!

Ronnie once again thought about all the Muggle-hatred she'd witnessed after the story of Harry's family had been exposed. Like that wanker at Gringotts; would he have acted like that towards Hermione's parents if he'd known more about Muggles?

If any of these thoughts had struck anyone else, she didn't know. They certainly hadn't struck Malfoy.

"Insignificant?!" he fumed. "I'll have you know that my family —"

"Monsieur Malfoy, I would be happy to discuss your family at length after class," Flamel cut him off. "I welcome you then to tell me how wrong you think I am and why. In fact, this goes for any student who think what I said is wrong — I welcome you to a discussion on that, at any time during our free hours. I will award one hundred points to the one who can convince me that my statement about the insignificance of the wizarding world is wrong."

There was a collective murmur among the students. One hundred points awarded to a single student in one go was almost unheard of; the closest anyone had got in years was when Potter's Gang had earned three hundred collective points (seventy-five points apiece) for fighting against You-Know-Who last Christmas, pretty much ensuring Gryffindor winning the House Cup.

Malfoy, however, was suspicious. "It's a trick," he said. "You wouldn't make that offer if you had any intention of actually keeping it."

"No trick, Monsieur Malfoy," said Flamel. "I admit, I do not think you can do it. But if you prove me wrong, I will be more than happy to award you a hundred points."

A determined look flashed over Malfoy's face, and Ronnie was certain that Flamel had just given the little tosser a new goal.

Hermione tentatively raised her hand again. "Professor Flamel," she said. "If you think the wizarding world is so insignificant, then why — er, then why...?" She struggled with the words and seemed at a loss for how to phrase her question.

"Then why am I even here, educating young wizards?" Flamel smiled; a surprisingly warm smile. "That is a good question, Mademoiselle Granger. I will award fifty points to the one who can tell me the correct answer."

Nobody spoke. Harry looked like he was going to say something, but then apparently thought better of it. Then, surprisingly, Fay raised her hand.

"Because it's fun to torture innocent students?" she said sweetly, and was rewarded with giggles, groans and glares from the various 'innocent' students around her.

Snape would immediately have taken ten or even twenty points from Gryffindor for cheek, but Flamel merely shook his head. "Very droll, Mademoiselle Dunbar. But no, that is not the reason." He looked at Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. "If you ever do figure it out, do tell me, and the fifty points shall be yours. But for now, let us return to the subject of Potions."

The sudden change in topic startled a fair few of the students, who had almost forgotten what this class was actually about.

"If the usefulness of Potions is not the primary reason for making the subject mandatory in school, what is?" This time, Flamel did not wait for anyone to raise their hand (maybe he felt that they had wasted enough time). Instead, he provided the answer himself: "It is very simple: Teaching Potions to young witches and wizards is also a way of teaching them patience."

Flamel paused, looking around as is wanting to make certain everyone had caught this, and continued: "Patience is a vital trait in any wizard or witch — and nowhere in the field of magic is patience more essential than it Potions. There are no shortcuts, and if you think otherwise, I invite you to remember the tragic story of the witch Rhonda Wagtail, who when trying to brew a Shrinking Solution thought she could substitute normal figs for Shrivelfigs." He shook his head in dismay. "I do believe they found most of her in the end, but still — a tragic fate for someone so young. Do you find this amusing, Monsieur Crabbe?"

Crabbe, who had been sniggering at the story of Rhonda Wagtail, hurriedly shook his head and tried to look serious, clearly not used to being called out on anything in Potions class.

"Very good," said Flamel, turning his attention back to the entire class. "This is the reason why it is so very important to follow the instructions perfectly and not fall for the temptation to —" (he seemed to search for the right word for a moment or two) "— experiment. Now, this is not to say that experimentation cannot have positive results, and many wizards have successfully found shortcuts, better way of doing things, over the years. But remember that you can only bend rules successfully after you have learned them perfectly. That, more than anything, is the most important lesson the subject of Potions has to teach you."

Ronnie was stunned, almost more stunned than she had been over the controversial statement about the wizarding world being insignificant. Never had anyone explained Potions to her like that. But then, she had never actually asked — she had just accepted that Potions was mandatory without ever really thinking about the reason why.

Then, another thought struck her: Was that the real reason, or was Flamel just making it up?

It seemed almost like he had read her mind, because he looked at her and smiled. "Yes, Mademoiselle Weasley. You are thinking. That is good. Remember that there is always a reason. No matter how ridiculous something seems, how absurd a rule, how nonsensical a person's action — there is always a reason. And the reason may not even be what you think it is."

"Er..." said Ronnie, who couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.

Flamel nodded to her and once again addressed the collected students. "Now then. I fear my predecessor, Monsieur Binns, has been less than informative about what potions were covered in your first year, so I hope you will bear over with me if I test your patience —" (he paused in case anyone wanted to laugh at this attempt-of-a-joke, but nobody did) "— by starting the term with a very simple potion, namely a Forgetfulness potion. The ingredients are ready!"

"He must be the oddest teacher we've had," said Neville after Potions class, as Potter's Gang made their way to the Quidditch field afterwards. "And I'm counting Mad-Eye Moody."

"Better than Snape, though," said Ronnie. "And much better than Lockhart."

Hermione sent her a dirty look. "Just because someone didn't get a single answer right on the test Lockhart gave us —" she began.

"Test?! What test?" said Ronnie hotly. "That wasn't a test, it was a study in self-obsession! 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour? What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest accomplishment? What would be Gilderoy Lockhart's ideal Christmas present! Which dimple on Gilderoy Lockhart's arse is in your opinion the cutest?'"

"It never said that last one!" Hermione snapped

"It might as well have! And what's any of that got to do with Defence against the Dark Arts? Just because someone fancies him —"

"Ronnie, Hermione, please don't start this again," said Harry in a somewhat weary voice.

The subject of Gilderoy Lockhart had been a somewhat touchy one between them since Ronnie began accusing him of having something to do with You-Know-Who, but it had grown even worse after the disastrous first Defence against the Dark Arts class, when Lockhart has first given them a written test "to see how well they had read his books" that was only about Gilderoy Lockhart himself, and had finished the lesson by setting dozens of Cornish pixies on the class with some hopeless fib about how they were dangerous Dark creatures that they should learn to fight. The pixies had all crowded Ronnie and tried to cuddle her, and then started fighting over who of them got to keep a lock of her hair or a bit of her robe. She'd had several strands of hair pulled out of her scalp and her robe ripped on a couple of embarrassing places (she really hadn't needed the class to know the colour of her knickers!) before the rest of the class managed to rescue her and subdue the pixies. This had not endeared Lockhart to Ronnie at all.

She was just about to hiss something biting, when they were suddenly interrupted by the excited squeal of Colin Creevey: "Harry! Harry!"

The tiny first-year boy was coming running up to them, carrying what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and followed by a somewhat embarrassed-looking Ginny. "Ginny says you're going to play Quidditch, Harry!" he panted as he came closer. "Can we come too, and watch? I've never seen Quidditch before! Is it true that there are four balls, and you play it on broomsticks, and that you're going to be the most important person on the entire team?"

"Er—" said Harry, a little overwhelmed.

"Sorry," Ginny mouthed behind Colin's back.

"Oh, and can I take a picture of you?" Colin obliviously went on, holding up his camera.

"A picture?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, so I can prove I met you! I'd really love a picture of the famous Potter's Gang to show my family back home! A boy in my dormitory said that if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures will move!" Colin looked beside himself with excitement, and then quite suddenly changed the subject. "Have you found out anything about the diary?"

"Er — no."

"If I find it, I'll take it to you! This is an amazing place, isn't it? My dad's a milkman, and I never knew all the weird stuff I could do was magic! Nobody in my family knew! Everyone just thought I was mental!"

"Blimey, I wonder why?" said Ronnie, earning herself a glare from Hermione.

"I don't know either," said Colin, to whom sarcasm was just a seven-letter word. "So can I have a picture, Harry?"

"Er —" said Harry again.

"Sorry, er, Colin," said Neville hurriedly, "but Harry's late for the Quidditch tryouts! Aren't you Harry?"

"Er — yes!" said Harry gratefully. "No time for pictures right now, I'm afraid. Come on, everyone, better not waste any more time." With that, he turned and began walking at a brisk pace towards the Quidditch field.

The rest of Potter's gang followed, and so did Colin and Ginny.

"Can I take pictures of the tryouts then?" said Colin, running to keep up. "My father's never seen Quidditch either, or people flying on broomsticks, and my brother Dennis said —"

"Yes, yes, all right!" said Harry, cutting him off before brother Dennis's words could be shared with the world at large.

"Are you starting a Harry Potter fan club or something?" Ronnie muttered to Ginny.

"This isn't my fault!" Ginny hissed back. "He just sort of invited himself along! What was I supposed to do, forbid him to show himself at the Quidditch field?"

"Well, you could have —" Ronnie paused, trying to think of something Ginny could have said or done that would actually have got through to the overeager little boy. Luckily, she didn't have to figure out anything, because now they were at the Quidditch pitch, and Oliver Wood was calling to them.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was there; apart from Wood, there was Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, there was Fred and George — and there was McLaggen, who didn't look very thrilled with the prospect of being replaced as a Seeker.

"Are all of you trying out?" said Wood, who clearly hadn't expected for such a crowd to turn up. He looked at Ginny and Colin, both of whom were tiny for their age. "I don't think I can accept first-years who haven't even had their first flying lesson yet."

"We're just here for moral support," said Ginny.

"With a camera?!" Wood looked more closely at Colin. "You're not planning on recording our strategies and selling them to Slytherin, are you?"

"What?" For once, Colin looked taken aback.

"It's all right, I said he could come," said Harry, who apparently felt bad for Colin.

"Hah," said McLaggen. "I knew it. Get Potter on the team, and we won't have a single training session in peace. The field'll be swarmed with fans and nosy onlookers."

"For the last time, Cormac, I'm not throwing you off the team," said Wood.

"Though he should," said Fred.

"We still need reserves," Wood went on as if Fred hadn't spoken at all, "and it's better to have someone ready to step in. Remember last year, when Alicia got knocked out in the match against Ravenclaw? We had to continue the game with only two Chasers because we didn't have any reserves. All right, anyone not trying out for the team, step back a little. Now, Harry, you've seen us play, right? Before we start, I'll go through the rules and positions on the team, very simply..."

"Going to play Quidditch, are you?" The dulcet tones of Gilderoy Lockhart reached them.

Ronnie glanced around and saw the Defence teacher come strolling up with a self-important smile.

"No, no, please do go on," he added as Wood looked confusedly at him, "I just thought I'd stop by and see if I could give young Harry a few extra pointers. It's his first tryout, as I understand it, and I was quite the Quidditch player myself back in my school days — why, some days I'd spend more time in the air than on the ground!" He chuckled at his own weak-excuse-for-a-joke.

"What did I say?" McLaggen muttered. "If this keeps up, the field's going to be so crowded there won't be room for the grass."

But now, Wood had had enough. "All right!" he thundered. "Anyone who's not either on the team, or trying out for the team — leave the field at once! Please!"

"Steady on, steady on," said Lockhart soothingly. "I was just getting to that, as a matter of fact — I thought perhaps you needed some privacy for the tryouts, and was about to offer to take these young rascals off your back for a bit."

"But —" Ronnie began, astonished at Lockhart's sudden self-contradiction.

"Now now, young lady, no arguments, you heard what he said," said Lockhart. "Harry, do stop by my office some time and I'll be happy to give you those pointers! Come along, children! The team has tryouts to do!"

There didn't seem to be much point in arguing, so they obeyed, walking off the field with Lockhart following them, and Colin looking crestfallen that he hadn't got any pictures.

Once they had got a few hundred feet away from the field, Lockhart stopped and looked at all of them. "Listen here, children," he said in what he probably intended to be a friendly tone, "being friends with a celebrity does mean that you occasionally have to let him go off with the public without holding him back. Harry's young, he doesn't quite know how to handle his fame yet — I'll have a talk with him about that. Now, it doesn't mean he can't be your friend! Of course it doesn't! But you have to allow him his moments in the spotlight without crowding him."

Potter's Gang looked at one another. Ginny looked flabbergasted, and Colin's face looked like a question mark.

"I don't think —" Neville began.

"Besides, you yourself should understand that being around Harry makes you public figures as well," Lockhart went on. "The famous Potter's Gang, and of course the Weasley family, the family that adopted Harry Potter! Yes, yes, it's a minor thing compared to Harry himself, of course — and it's not as impressive as winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it does mean people are aware of you. And it's vitally important that you give them a good impression!"

"I —" Neville began again.

"Look at me!" Lockhart continued, cutting him off. "My natural good looks and winning nature help, of course, but you don't think I would have won that award five times in a row if I'd gone around being grouchy and unpleasant, do you? No, I give people ample opportunity to see my charming smile!"

He paused, his smile growing even wider, as if he was demonstrating. Hermione actually blushed.

"It's all about giving the public what they want," Lockhart continued. "And they don't want to see Harry crowded by dullards. Smile and be pleasant — ah, hello, there, how are you all this fine day?" He turned to give his 'charming smile' to a group of Hufflepuffs who were passing. "I hope you're all looking forward to our next Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

The Hufflepuffs agreed enthusiastically that yes, they were (and Ronnie noted to her disgust that at least two of the girls in the group were being rather giggly about it).

"See? Always have a smile and a friendly comment," said Lockhart as the Hufflepuffs walked out of earshot. "It costs you so little and earns you so much. More importantly, it gives Harry a better public image; it shows the public that he surrounds himself with the right kind of people."

"...can we go now?" said Neville weakly.

"What? Oh, yes, of course!" Lockhart looked astonished. "Sorry, it wasn't my intention to keep you from wherever you were heading. I just wanted to share some friendly advice. Who knows, maybe you will become famous one day, like Harry — or even like me." He winked at them. "As your teacher, it is my duty to prepare you for your later life."

"...right, then," said Ginny.

"That's the spirit! Remember: Smiles and friendly comments! I'll see you at our next Defence class, if not sooner!" With that, Lockhart turned and walked off.

"I just wanted to take some pictures," said Colin, turning to the others as the teacher moved off. "Harry said I could."

"What a ponce," said Ronnie.

Colin blinked. "Harry?!"

"No, Lockhart! 'Just wanted to share some friendly advice,' my arse!"

Hermione glared at her. "He was just trying to help. Why do you keep saying such things about him?"

"Because they're true," said Ronnie. "What with more than half the girls at school drooling over him, someone should keep a clear head."

"I'm not drooling!" Hermione protested.

"Children, children," said Ginny, in an impressive imitation of Lockhart's tone of voice. "I'm not seeing smiles or hearing friendly comments."

Neville and Colin laughed, but Hermione frowned and Ronnie snapped: "Sod smiles and friendly comments! Remember what Professor Flamel said? There's always a reason for why people act the way they do. And nobody acts like that without a very good reason!"

"Er... I don't think Professor Flamel meant that there was always a sinister reason for people acting the way they do," said Neville carefully. "Besides, I don't know what to make of him either. All that talk about the insignificance of the wizarding world..."

"The important part," said Hermione, "is that Dumbledore trusts Lockhart. You said so yourself!"

"No, I said Dumbledore didn't think Lockhart was Dark," said Ronnie. "That doesn't mean he's not up to something. And I still think he has something to do with the diary. And even if he doesn't, I wouldn't trust him with Harry. 'Do stop by my office, Harry,'" she added, trying to imitate Lockhart's voice as well as Ginny had. "I wonder what he's got planned. I'm not convinced he doesn't have the diary."

"Veronica Weasley," Hermione raged. "You are the most stubborn, pig-headed —!"

"Hold on!" Neville cried. "What's with you two lately? You're always sniping at one another!"

"And it's almost always about Lockhart," said Ginny. "Really, if you can't agree about him, then go find out if he has the diary or not!"

Ronnie and Hermione looked at Neville and Ginny, then at one another. "Brilliant idea, Ginny." said Ronnie. "We could just go up to him and ask 'Hey, Professor, you wouldn't have any spare evil diaries around, would you?'"

"All the teachers and the ghosts are looking for the diary," said Hermione. "If Lockhart had it, they would have found it long ago. We're second-years, we don't have their resources or their skills."

"But you do have something they don't have," said Ginny. "Harry's Invisibility Cloak! I'm certain he'll lend it to you if you ask him!"

"That's brilliant!" Colin cried, before two seconds later adding: "Invisibility Cloak?"

"It could work, couldn't it!" said Ronnie, turning to Hermione.

"It would be a serious breach of a teacher's privacy," said Hermione. "Professor Lockhart's got enough girls 'keeping an eye on him' as it is."

"We wouldn't bother him!" said Ronnie. "Just use the Cloak to have a look around his office and private quarters! If the diary's not there, no harm done, and he'll never even know we were there!"

Hermione sighed. "I can't believe I'm going along with this, but if it's the only way to convince you to drop your ridiculous suspicions... no, wait a minute, we can't do it anyway," she said with a mixture of relief and disappointment. "He's the Defence teacher. His office is bound to have spells and protections on it that stops intruders."

"But it wouldn't stop people he's inviting or bringing along himself!" said Ronnie triumphantly. "And who do we know who just got an invitation to stop by Lockhart's office?!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes: This can't end well!

Flamel's mention of there being "less than five thousand" wizards in Britain, is based on a comment of J. K. Rowling's, where she estimated there were around three thousand (though she did say she usually didn't operate with set numbers). "Less than five thousand" seemed a reasonable number, as it's a small enough number that it's plausible they might stay hidden, but a big enough number that they can sort of work as a separate society.

A few people seem to be expecting the newspaper article about Harry to cause Sirius to break out of Azkaban. There are, however, two reasons for why this isn't likely to happen:

1: Sirius probably hasn't even seen the article. The prisoners of Azkaban don't usually get the newspaper at all; in canon Sirius had the paper with the picture of the Weasleys by pure chance (he got it off Cornelius Fudge because he wanted to do the crosswords).

2: I'm not so sure that wanting to save Harry would give him the right motivation. Remember, Azkaban sucks out all your positive emotions and leaves you with only your worst thoughts and memories, so it's very possible that Sirius at the moment isn't capable of thinking like that. Even in canon he broke out not because he wanted to help Harry but because he wanted revenge on Wormtail — and revenge isn't a positive emotion or goal.

This doesn't mean that the article isn't going to have consequences, or that Sirius isn't going to show up... but don't bet on the two instances being connected.