Author's Note: Sorry this is late I had a migraine most of the day.
Ron and Percy went around and around with an increasingly distraught Ginny but she refused to admit that she had stolen the journal, instead saying that she had found it in her things, even though it had someone else's name on it.
Eventually, Percy took the journal and stomped off with it, intent on seeing justice done. He was nearly halfway to Professor McGonagall's office when he was stopped by another professor.
Percy didn't particularly like Professor Lockhart, he'd had him first thing and the man had set some Cornish Pixies on them, then cowered under his desk, then claimed he was just giving them experience once they'd rounded them up. Which Percy could respect, he supposed, except for the cowering. Apparently, the over-the-top, foppish man had done this with every one of his classes.
Still, the man was a decorated hero, Order of Merlin Third Class, and an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League. He deserved some respect. He was certainly the most qualified Professor they'd ever had on the subject. Surely he'd teach more than cowering. Surely.
"What are you doing out so late, young man?"
He stiffened at the much-beloved Professor blatantly ignoring the honored P on his robes. "I'm a prefect sir, I'm off to see Professor McGonagall."
"Oh, whatever for? Perhaps I can help!"
Percy considered him for a moment, then decided that it couldn't hurt. "It's my sister, sir. Ginny Weasley. She stole someone's journal and I was bringing it to Professor McGonagall so she could find whom it belongs to."
"Ah, of course. She's quite busy though, you know. Why don't you hand it over and I'll handle it, eh?"
Percy felt respect growing in him, this was the kind of Professor they needed, someone that was willing to get their hands dirty, not like Professor Quirrel who had been afraid to even take points.
"Of course Professor, and when should I tell her that her detention is?"
The professor was pouring over the journal with interest and seemed surprised by his question, "Hmm? Detention?"
"Well, she stole that sir. Surely she deserves detention?"
"Of course!" the professor exclaimed, "Of course! Let's say every night at 8 for the next week!"
Percy nodded placidly, once more unsure about the professor. "Of course sir, good night."
"Good night!"
He went back to Gryffindor tower to write to their mother.
Harry found himself rather excited. Today the first of the medical discoveries the Research team had come up with was hitting the shelf. The cure for the common cold.
Ever since it had been announced it had been making massive waves around the globe. For various reasons no one had thought that a cure for the common cold was viable, and yet here it was with a nearly ninety percent success rate.
And the Company who was making it, British Biomedical, wasn't leaving him out to dry either. Since it was based on his immune system he would be making money each time someone bought something off of the shelf. Just off of this, he was expected to be rich very soon, to say nothing of the medication that was coming out shortly.
It was all very exciting so he could perhaps be forgiven for bouncing in his seat as he got himself breakfast.
"You're really into Potions now, aren't you?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged and took a bite out of a muffin. It was the third week of classes and he found that yes, he was excited about Potions class. Professor Snape still hated him, to the point where he took off points for breathing sometimes, but the man was, if nothing else, an extremely fair grader. Strict too, but fair. This was why, after all the potions practice he'd had over the summer, he was now getting an O in the class.
He wondered what the Professor would say if he knew that Harry was regularly making a fifth-year level potion, and doing it well enough that it worked exactly as intended.
The animagus transformation was a slow process, but right now he was almost finished with the meditation portion of the process. He was a flying bird, a black one with pale green eyes, a silvery sheen on the back of his head, and a dark gray lightning bolt next to his eyes, so small and dark it almost couldn't be seen. He was fairly sure he was a crow, but now he had to figure out exactly what kind of crow, then research everything there was to know about that specific kind of crow.
He would spend that evening, after finishing his homework, going through the information the researchers had collected for him on identifying various kinds of crows. Today would be a good day.
"All right Harry?" Harry winced, it would be a mostly good day. He'd been trying to avoid Colin Creevey for weeks now but the boy was always stubbornly working to find him, if only to hear him say, "Hello Colin." He seemed pleased every time, no matter how irritated Harry was for being bothered by him for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time. It would be a mostly good day.
Halloween came around and the giant pumpkins Hagrid had been growing were now big enough for Hermione, Harry, and Ron to stand in together and still have elbow room. When Hagrid began carving them for the Halloween feast they all began to have pumpkin with every meal, in some form or another.
Harry was out late one night returning the third set of books for the day (he thought the fact that they were still limited to ten books at a time was ridiculous, he was a whole year older and had proven he could be trusted with books!) when he was caught sight of Nearly Headless Nick who looked even more depressed than the ghost normally looked.
"…don't fulfill their requirements… half an inch, if that…"
"Hello, Nick," said Harry.
"Hello, hello," Nick said, looking startled. "You look troubled, young Potter."
"So do you," he replied.
"Ah," said Nick, waving a hand, "a matter of no importance… it's not as though I really wanted to join… thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill the requirements-" Despite his airy tone he looked quite bitter.
"But you would think," he erupted suddenly, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt ax would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"
"Oh- uh, yes," Harry agreed, feeling rather awkward.
And with that Nick began to really rant, complaining about the poorly done job of cutting off his head, about how unfair the Headless Hunt was, and even going so far as to quote the letter he had received. Harry mostly wondered how the letter had been written.
Finally, Nick seemed to run out of steam and sighed heavily, "But what's got you upset? Anything I can do to help?"
Harry shrugged, "Not unless you can convince Madam Pince to lend me more books." Harry showed him the stack of ten books. They had moved on from the briefly covered subject of Aether and were now on Alchemy which would likely take him all year and much of the next year to get through, given how many books there were.
Nick frowned, "No, I'm afraid Madam Pince doesn't even let ghosts into the library, something about our ectoplasm damaging the books." He sighed, "I'm sorry Harry."
Harry shrugged, "I didn't really expect much, she can be quite the tyrant when it suits her. I've already spoken to her about it but she's quite firm that I won't be able to check out fifteen books until next year. I do wish there was something I could do for you though."
"But there is something you could do!" Nick exclaimed, suddenly looking excited. "Would I be asking too much- but no, you wouldn't want-"
"What is it?"
"Well this Halloween will be my five hundredth death day," said Nearly Headless Nick.
"Oh, uh, right," Harry agreed, not sure if he should look upset or happy about this.
"I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honor if you would attend. Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger would be most welcome too, of course – but I daresay you'd rather go to the feast?"
"Oh uh, no. I'd be happy to come."
Nick made an excited noise, "My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my death day party! And would you mind mentioning how frightening and impressive you find me to Sir Patrick?"
"Of course," Harry agreed.
"A death day party? How fascinating, I bet there aren't many living people who can say they went to one."
Hermione wasn't the only excited one. After he'd relayed the conversation in his daily report he'd been instructed to speak to as many of the guests as he could and find out what had caused them to stick around on this mortal plane, what might convince them to move on, and what they knew about the afterlife.
Raised around researchers with his curiosity encouraged at every turn Harry too found himself excited to go and learn as much as possible.
Ron however was not pleased. "Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died? Sounds depressing to me."