A/N: I know I haven't updated in aaaaaages, but I've been settling into university life. The workload is a nightmare! But rest assured that I haven't consigned this to the graveyard. As always, this is dedicated to The Magic Number - no matter how long it may take, I will never give up.

P.S. I hate people who beg for reviews. Asking for them once in a while is ok, but not all the time, and don't hold back chapters until you get enough. If you're someone who does this sort of thing, may I kindly ask you to stop? Thank you. Rant over - let's get on with the story...

There was a low buzz across the Great Hall over breakfast. Though it was over half a week ago, Gryffindor's stunning Quidditch victory was still being widely discussed. Professor Bell smiled to herself, clearly happy that her house had made such an impact. As it wasn't a set meal, the staff had shuffled round at the High Table and Harry had ended up between Professor Bell and Professor Trelawney, who had made a surprise appearance, usually taking breakfast in her tower. The wild-haired, bespectacled professor was mumbling into her cereal about dark, foreboding shadows and impending doom.

As Harry started on the sausage and toast sandwich he had so carefully prepared, the usual owls flew into the room, settling on the tables in front of their designated recipients. Professor Bell, like so many others in the room, paid the owl in front of her a number of Galleons and signed a slip that was attached to the newspaper. The owl took off with the slip and money, and she began to read.

Feeling that his sandwich needed something extra, Harry used his wand to give the inside of it an even coating of ketchup, duplicated from Ron's personal bottle. He bit into the sandwich, and savoured the impeccable taste, though this came at the cost of dribbling ketchup down his chin. Worried, he looked down to see if anybody had noticed, and to his dismay he found several people looking up at him.

The expressions on the faces of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were staring at him, weren't expressions of amusement or embarrassment. They were looks of shock and worry. Harry shot a questioning look back, only for Hermione to hold up her copy of the Daily Prophet.

"June," Harry asked, looking to his left, "could I borrow the paper for a minute?"

"Of course you can," she replied, handing the paper over without a hint of his friends' shock. Harry flicked past a couple of mundane articles, stopping when it was clear what he needed to read.

POWERFUL WAND THIEF NOW AT LARGE

Last night, an extremely powerful wand was stolen from Ollivander's wand shop, Diagon Alley. The thief has publicly admitted to this newspaper that he has stolen the wand through an extremely worrying and threatening letter. No demands have been made as of yet, but the culprit warns that he is prepared to take any necessary action to defend himself and to establish what he refers to as his rights.

It is the belief of this reporter, however, that the thief has more than self-defence on his mind. He has stolen an experimental wand far more powerful than ordinary wands. He has made it clear that he knows how powerful the wand is and that he intends to use it to its full extent. We must ask ourselves whether our Ministry is ready to deal with such a person.

Mr. Ollivander himself has refused to confirm or deny both the presence and the theft of such a wand, but this reporter has learned that the wand is made entirely from silver, and as such is very unstable. It is this newspaper's duty to warn the public about such dangers, and as such it is advised that you stay indoors as much as possible. Continued overleaf...

Harry buried his head in his hands as he handed the Daily Prophet back to Professor Bell. This was not good. Harry knew the power of the wand, and how he only saw a fraction of that when it was tested. In the wrong hands, the relative peace that they had found since Voldemort's downfall could easily be shattered. Life for many people could go back to the way it was before, with most of the wizarding population too scared to venture out of their houses unless it was really necessary. These thoughts were racing through Harry's mind, and as he looked up, he had the same look of shock and worry on his face.

"You really ought not to worry yourself so much about stuff in the Prophet," informed Professor Bell. "It's probably just another made up story to fill pages and scare us. And anyway, it's preposterous to think that, even if this were true, a wizard could successfully use a solid silver wand. Silver just won't do it for us."

"You're right," agreed Harry. "They've probably just stolen it because it's made out of silver and they just want some quick money from it. There's quite a trade in silver among Muggles."

"Right you are!" exclaimed Professor Bell, impressed at Harry's knowledge of the Muggle world. Harry relaxed as Professor Bell turned back to her breakfast, knowing that she was right. Looking back to his friends sitting at the Gryffindor table, though Ron may have had a face full of toast, they all had the same looks of panic on their faces. Harry smiled at them, and signalled for them not to worry.

It wasn't safe for the four to talk about the article in Charms after the bell rang, as they were still working on supersensory charms. Hermione had perfected the spell a few lessons ago, and so she was at the other end of the room, whispering. Every other time he cast the spell, Ron could vaguely make out some of what she was whispering. Harry was doing quite a bit better, and spun round when he noticed, with the charm's help, that professor Flitwick was standing right behind him.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," he exclaimed. "Five points." Harry grinned and turned back to Hermione, who gave him a thumbs-up. Ron, determined to match Harry's success, especially in front of Hermione, waved his wand and muttered the incantation. Harry noticed his ears growing redder as Hermione whispered from far away with a glint in her eyes. There was an outbreak of giggling from a few people. Hermione abruptly stopped whispering and blushed heavily, knowing that others had heard what she had said.

Hermione didn't stop blushing until after lunch, when she could get away from the rest of the class, helping Harry teach the first years. Harry sat back while she lectured them on the ways a few dark wizards in the past conducted their reigns of terror, telling them not to always believe what they read or heard. She didn't mention Rita Skeeter, but Harry was sure that the Bug was at least part of the reason why she was so passionate about this particular subject. Nevertheless, it was a lecture, and as such a few people weren't paying attention

Hermione looked a bit put out when the bell went, but she had almost finished, so she let the first years out with a rueful smile. A single child stayed in his seat, his head in his arms and his body shaking. Hermione looked at Harry, who waved her off to a half-hour break. She smiled, knowing he would take care of it, and left. Harry walked up to the boy, whom he saw to be wearing a robe lined with the green of Slytherin, and he thought it very strange to see a Slytherin crying.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, sitting beside the boy and putting his arm around to comfort him. The boy looked into Harry's eyes, his lip quivering. "Slytherins don't cry." At this, the boys burst once more into tears, shining droplets of salty water running off his chin and splashing onto his lap.

"You said Slytherin was a good house to be in," the boy sniffled in between sobs.

"It is a good house," Harry confirmed. "There's nothing better about any of the other houses. They all have their unique personalities and characteristics, but no house is better than any of the others."

"Then why does everybody hate us? Every time I try to be friendly with someone they make a face at me and walk away. Sometimes they call me names..." Harry scowled at this news. "See," the boy continued, "even you're making a face at me." A fresh wave of tears followed this outburst.

"No, no, no," Harry said, trying to comfort the boy who was trying to wriggle away from him. "I'm not making a face at you. I'm making a face at the other houses. You say you tried to make friends with them?"

"Y-yes Professor," the boy replied, recovering from his tears.

"Well, it's going to be tough for you new Slytherins. There have been a lot of bad people coming from Slytherin, and so a lot of people think that Slytherins are evil. I know they're not," he added hurriedly. "Especially not the first years. Especially not you. If you keep trying to make friends with people, smiling at them, helping them when they need it, you might just turn the reputation of Slytherin around. Do you think you're up to that?"

"I'll try," replied the boy, not looking too hopeful for his future.

"Ok, and I'll help you," said Harry, brightening up. "If there's ever anything you need, whether it's someone to talk to, or help with homework – whatever – I'll always be here for you. You'll make a good Slytherin, and you'll make Slytherin good. Now go have fun. You've still got ten minutes before your next lesson." The boy smiled at him and got up from his seat. He passed Harry and left for whatever his next lesson was. Harry watched him go with a smile on his face. "There's hope for Slytherin yet," he murmured.

By the time dinner began that evening, Harry was rather tired, and very hungry. He sat up at the staff table, which was marginally quieter than the rest of the Great Hall, and greatly appreciated even the slight alleviation of the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. Clearly somebody had told the house elves about Muggle foods, because pizza was served on the golden plates before them. The Muggleborns tucked in immediately, grabbing handfuls of slices of their favourite toppings, and those from more magical families followed suit after a brief hesitation.

Harry's plate was loaded with the cheesiest pizza he had ever seen. It was a marvel to behold, and as his stomach growled, he was grateful for the constantly refilling plate. A desert of profiteroles came and went, enjoyed by everybody who had them, and as dinner finished, Harry was remarkably happier than when he came in. Inexplicably, however, he was still hungry, and resolved to get some food brought up to his office.

Harry was followed into his office by Ron, Hermione and Ginny, all of whom were patting their stomachs appreciatively. As Harry settled into the comfy, high-backed chair behind the desk, and the others settled into the oddly comfortable couches in the room, they spotted a sticky treacle tart, steaming on the desk. Harry began to lick his lips in anticipation, as anybody still peckish would.

"You can't still be hungry, Harry?" asked Ron. The girls looked surprised at this outburst from the monster eater himself.

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "Even Ron's full, and you know how much of a pig he is."

"Hey!" exclaimed Ron in mock outrage, amusement playing on his lips. "You're my sister. How does it feel to be part pig?" Ginny's smile slid off her face while another appeared on Hermione. She stuck her tongue out at her brother. Meanwhile, Harry smiled to himself, and reached for a slice of the tart. It was so thoughtful of someone to bring this up here. Suddenly, a voice cut harshly through the background hubbub.

"STOP!" Hermione was now standing in front of Harry and reaching for her wand. Everybody looked at her with quizzical expressions. She sighed. "Don't you think it's convenient that Harry, even after eating all that food, is still hungry, and that what he most wants is now right in front of him? I would have thought that even you, Harry, as Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, would have checked the tart for curses or jinxes or other effects. It could be poisoned for all you know!"

"Hermione, it was probably just sent up by the house elves," scoffed Harry. He caught the change in her expression, and hastily added, "You know how helpful they love to be. I really ought to thank them." Hermione relaxed, and sat back down. Harry continued to stretch for the tart.

"Well?" she asked abruptly.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to thank them?"

"Oh fine. You want me to call one up here right now?"

"Yes." Hermione crossed her arms and her legs, and leaned back on the couch. Harry sighed and relented.

"Dobby!"