Chapter Nine

Seclusion and Languages

It was Friday evening and Harry was hiding. He'd pulled the currents around his bed, burrowed under his covers, cast a soft lumos charm and read the book of fairytales at a rapid pace. He had a bunch of textbooks by his pillow, but he had no interest in studying, not right now. For the first time, he was truly grateful for the fanciful stories because they provided an escape. Reading the stories, he could convince himself to forget, if just for a little while, that Luna Lovegood had never left Hogwarts. He could convince himself to forget that she hadn't yet returned.

"Harry." It was Hermione's voice, talking from outside the curtains. "Look, I know that Able and Neville have already tried, but you've got to come out. C'mon, no one blames you!"

I blame me, Harry grumbled to himself. He wished he could cast the silencing charm he'd seen Kenneth practicing the other day. But no, he was still at the very beginning of his third year and only just starting to really try and learn. It sucked dumbing down all he learned his first two years. He'd thought he learned it, but he still had gaping holes were some elementary magic should have been. Hermione and Able were refusing to help him. They insisted that he recover anything he didn't learn the first two years by himself. Which, yeah, had been helpful overall, but he was barely staying afloat under the course load he had. And Hermione was even worse courseload wise. How on earth was she managing to take all five possible electives?

"Harry," Hermione sounded as exhausted as Harry felt. "Please don't go back to moping and brooding all the time." She hiccupped. "I've really liked the past two weeks, you know, you and Neville and Able and Kenneth and even Sarah. I don't even really miss Ron." She paused. "Well, yeah, I do. Losing a friend like that is bloody awful." Hermione was swearing? She had to be really exhausted. "And, I know you're upset, but Harry, if you're blaming yourself, stop! If you think we're blaming you, stop! Don't give up on how great you've been these past two days." Hermione broke and sobbed a little. What was wrong?

"Sorry," Hermione said. Harry was tempted to pull aside the curtain, just to see how she was doing. "I'm just so tired and exhausted right now. It's the course load, I think." She paused. Harry thought for a second. Hermione was in his Arithmancy class. It was the same time as his old Divination class and she was still in that. So that meant she was in two places at once. Which meant either some sort of cloning spell, or some sort of time travel. Were either even possible? With magic, almost certainly. "Harry, please come out."

He didn't. He'd prefer to continue reading the tale about three brothers and Death. It was a fascinatingly twisted tale. "You know," Hermione's voice sounded like she was at the door now. "We're probably going to send Paradise up next. And everyone knows that you can't say no to her." Privately, Harry thought that was cheating. The dorm room door opened and closed, but in that one moment, he could hear Cormac complaining about not being allowed in his dorm room and Kenneth saying he'd better deal with it. Huh. Maybe they actually did care.

It took a while before the door opened again. Harry lowered his wand, unfocused his eyes and waited for the fourth wheedle attempt of the night. "Harry." Yup, Paradise Aster. His friends were either determined or really mean. Or both. Yeah, probably both. "I just came up here so I could say that I tried. I don't actually want to convince you to come out… Hiding works, sometimes." She sounded broken.

That was the mostly mean part.

"I think they're going to give up after me, though a lot of people have volunteered to hex you out of bed." Again, little Paradise sounded broken and worried. "Hermione's being the voice of reason against that. So, yeah, this is me, just trying: Harry stop hiding!" A giggle. "'Night Harry." The door opened and closed shut. That girl was definitely a Gryffindor.

After Paradise, no one came in. It let Harry get wrapped back into the stories. He really did love these things. Even if the girls weren't making him read this stuff for homework, he'd have to keep reading, especially if there were more wizarding novels and if, oh, he liked these stories. The dorm room door opened, but from the instant chatter, he knew it was only Cormac McLaggen. Merlin, that boy was getting increasingly annoying, and he'd been in the room for less than a week.

Harry stayed buried in his book as Cormac talked through his nightly routine. Some twenty minutes afterward, Neville joined them and his own preparations. It was almost ten. People didn't seem to be all that eager to stay up late, even on a Friday night. The school mood was just… grim. Able arrived in the room a few minutes later. Harry noxed his wand and pulled open his curtains. Neville and Able didn't notice immediately. Well, he didn't really have any conversation to bring up, so the boy drew his curtains closed, relit his wand and buried himself back into his book.

o.o.o.o.o.o

"So this is our actual first Saturday meaning," McGonagall said, "as last week was an exception. So, Harry, tell me how you're doing."

Harry shrugged. "Fine, I suppose."

"Your grades are showing improvement, although Professor Snape still gripes about that fact." She sounded amused. "If I tell you your class rankings, will you promise to not tell Hermione Granger that we rank at Hogwarts?" At Harry's amused nod, McGonagall continued. "You've improved to the tenth spot in Transfiguration, the sixth position in Charms, and you've maintained top in Astronomy for several weeks now. You've risen three spots in History – which either means you're paying attention or starting individual study, you're maintaining the fifth spot in Herbology, and you're first in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You're still twentieth in Potions, but that's still Professor Snape. As for the electives, you're eighth in Creatures, sixth in Arithmancy, and fifth in Ancient Runes. These ranks change on a bi-weekly basis, and I would like to see some improvement in two weeks, Harry.

It was a little hard to digest all that information. Harry picked at the wood of his chair.

"Harry? Are you doing all right?"

The boy squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not responsible, am I?"

It spoke to the state of the school that he didn't have to clarify as to what. No one had stopped talking about Luna yet, and the gossip mills probably wouldn't stop trying to figure out for ages. "Not in any manner, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, "in any way, shape or form. Do not continue to blame yourself for Luna Lovegood's state of mind." She sounded slightly worried. Was she just saying that? "If anyone is to be blamed, it is the staff members; Flitwick, Dumbledore, and Miss Lovegood's classmates. But no, Mr. Potter, you are not responsible."

"Th-thanks Professor," Harry said, tentatively. "can you… can you explain this atom swapping theory again?" He hadn't gotten it in class. They were dealing with the molecular side of transfiguration now. It was really hard stuff; Hermione kept talking about how this felt like an advanced level chemistry class. And that was Hermione. He'd once thought that wizards had a pretty poor understanding of science. And they did… but they understood the world on a molecular level to a greater degree. Or something like that.

"Of course," McGonagall smiled and started going over the topic they'd studied the last week in class. He grasped the theory and everything, but he was having trouble making it actually work. It was really helpful, having his teacher's personal attention telling him what he was doing wrong. By the end of his scheduled time with McGonagall, Harry could successfully manage a simple transfiguration with the atom swapping method. He felt more successful than he'd had in a while. Being good at something really actually felt pretty good. Letting himself be good at something, well, that felt even better. When Harry managed to get the transfiguration correct, he and McGonagall discussed a few other topics they'd be learning and how everything connected together. The third year stayed until his teacher said she had grading to do; Harry left to go find another viable hiding spot.

The library worked only so well. Kevin Entwhistle was browsing the shelves of the DADA section, and that was Harry's favorite section. The other boy didn't notice Harry, nor did any of the other Ravenclaws. Harry ducked away and hid in one of only parts of the library that Ravenclaws didn't frequent: the fiction ally. He had "homework" for Mary, Eliza and Neville, but he could do it later. Harry found a print copy of a play that big Sarah and Professor Sinistra were plotting. It was interesting enough, but Harry decided he really didn't like reading plays. He put the book back and picked out a gaudy, flashy looking heroic quest type story. The hero's name was Harry Potter and he was traveling the world, having adventures, and protecting innocent wizards and witches from the cruel machinations of dark wizards and creatures. A disgusted Harry dropped the book, not even bothering to put it back where he belonged.

He didn't even care if Madame Prince killed him. That book deserved no respect. At all. It should burn. And then Kenneth should burn for being right about Harry Potter inspired fiction. Merlin and Morgana! People wrote books about him! The whole thing was surreally demented! Dementedly surreal! Whichever. Harry slipped away from the library. He was good at moving silently; that helped him avoid all the various Ravenclaws scattered about.

Harry wandered about the castle for a few hours, getting purposefully lost before trying to find his way back to somewhere that he knew. It was a more challenging task that most people normally put upon themselves. Still, it was fun just larking about without really knowing where he was going. He'd told Professor Lupin that he hadn't managed to cast one of his patroni while near a dementor. The professor had yet to locate another boggart for him to practice on and there was no way he'd go outside and try and get a dementor feeding on him. No, that was definitely something he didn't want to do. After getting lost about three different times, Harry worked his way back to the Gryffindor tower. He didn't instantly see any of his friends, which was probably a good thing.

The boy sat down with little Sarah and three second year, one boy and two girls, who were all playing some sort of wizard game that he didn't recognize. "Hi Harry," Sarah said, "want to join?"

"What are you playing?" Harry asked.

"Arthur's Folly," the guy answered, "it's pretty easy to learn if you want to just watch for a few turns."

Watching the game was good. It kept Harry distracted and he didn't have to think about anything. He picked up their names – Ritchie, Clara, and Clementine – pretty quickly. Ritchie, Clara and Clementine seemed pretty close, like Ron, Hermione and he had been, and from what Harry saw, Sarah wasn't really a part of their group. She seemed a bit more like Neville had in the past couple of years. Still… after the past few weeks, Harry wanted to make Sarah feel like she had really, really close friends. Although, it felt like he was making too many assumptions. He'd have to work on those assumptions. "What's playing Quidditch like?" Ritchie asked, bringing Harry into the conversation after a few rounds. "I'd like to play beater, but no one is going to beat out the twins while they're still in school."

"It's fun," Harry shrugged. "I'm a pathetic chaser, but I'm not that bad a beater."

"Really?" Ritchie said. He laid down a hand and won the round, to the overall groans of the girls. "You ready to join?" Ritchie asked.

"Sure."

The younger boy dealt five hands and they started playing the simple trick based game. Harry got killed, but it was fun as a good distraction. The girls were talking about Clara's dancing. She was apparently the wizard version of a ballerina. At least, from what Harry gathered, she danced during the summer and on weekend and spent some of her time working during the day. According to Ritchie, she was really good too. After a while, Clara and Clementine excused themselves, saying they were going to do some homework. Ritchie followed them. Sarah instantly tensed, blushed, and started stuttering.

Harry looked at her.

She looked down. "What?" Sarah hissed. "You offer to take my sister and me in as wards and don't expect some awkward moments about it?"

Harry had no clue how to respond. In a few seconds, Sarah looked up, blushed a brighter red, and the two of them started laughing. The common room was started to fill up. Harry wished they could have another dance party; that had been just plain fun. "Did you ever ask Emma about that talent show of yours?" Harry asked his friend, to break a slight pause.

"Yeah," Sarah shrugged. "She said go for it. I asked Alicia for help; she got Angelina to start telling people to prepare for about four weeks from now. That puts it far enough away that people have some time to prepare and it's not quite into Quidditch season. We'd do it as a Halloween thing. The word's been going around the house."

"No doubt my handlers are going to make me do something for it," Harry grumbled. He looked around the room to see if any of the fourth year girls were about. All six of them were curled into one of the many corners, not far away. "Any ideas?" Sarah blinked. "I think it would be cool to do a one-act play or something, convert a fairytale or something."

"Do you have a specific fairytale in mind?" Sarah asked, pensive. "I still think you should do the basilisk story."

Harry frowned. "I'm not really on speaking terms with Ginny Weasley." He knew Sarah knew who that was. They were roommates; were they not friends? "And I won't relate that story to a public audience without her permission."

"Oh," Sarah looked down at the table. She wove her fingers together. "I was going to show off some of my drawings. Do you think… we could somehow combine my drawing with… something…"

Harry smiled. Was she really so shy? "Do you want to work together, Sarah?"

She looked excited. And eager. And happy. She nodded.

Harry would have said something, but Neville and Able came through the portrait hole and instantly headed for Harry and Sarah's table. Able looked just as demur as always, but Neville had dirt and grime all over him, like he'd just come from the greenhouses. "It's October," Neville said, flopping himself down into one of the chairs. "I hate October." Sarah and Harry blinked. "Plants always behave the worst in October. It's just… ridiculous, this mouth."

"It's only October 2nd," Sarah pointed out, knitting her eyebrows together. "It can't be that bad."

"Do you pay attention in Herbology?"

"Not really…"

"Precisely."

"Does that mean I don't pay attention in Herbology?" Harry asked, because he honestly had no clue what was up with October.

Neville smirked. "Harry, Hermione doesn't even pay proper attention in Herbology. There's a—science to it that she doesn't get. Apart from me, Hannah, Sally-Anne and Gregory, you're probably the best grower in our year. But from what I've seen, everything you know about plants comes from practice and trial and error, like you've done it a lot, but have no love for it. Hannah, Sal, Greg and I are the only naturals for our year."

Harry was struggling to keep up. "Gregory Goyle?"

Neville and Able snickered. "Yup," Neville said. "Let's just say he doesn't encourage his talent."

The conversation lulled. Harry figured it would be as good a time as any to ask a few questions. "Hey, Able, why is that the upper years are so small, but third year gets a lot larger? I mean, I get that there's nearly-over forty students in each the second and first year, but there's ten more students in the third year than there is in the fourth and the war wasn't really over…"

Able shrugged. "Any year there's going to be some level of fluctuation, but the best I can say is third year was the young families who'd been at Hogwarts during the war and didn't really want to wait before start a family. It's true that there's definitely a boom after the war, and both you and Neville and who knows how many other people fit that family structure."

"Makes sense," Harry said, "as a sort of twisted generalization."

"Generalize anything and it twists itself," Able said. Surprisingly enough, no one had pulled out a book! When Kenneth and Hermione were with them, Harry was rapidly terming his group of closest friends the most bookish group of the Gryffindors. Especially since with Hermione and little Sarah, they had all but one of the Gryffindor bookworms. It was a little depressing how little the majority of Gryffindors felt about their grades. Sure, the nomahs and the noahs and the nos and the rest of the students did their best and maybe didn't study as hard as they good, but really only the Weasley twins purposefully hide their intelligence. Well, now that Harry had stopped hiding.

"Is that really true?" Kenneth said, popping up from behind Harry and grabbing both the younger boy's shoulders. To his credit, Harry didn't even jump. "If I say that all lima beans are bad, can you really refute it?"

Able rolled his eyes. "Some people like lima beans, Kenneth."

"I do," Hermione said, slipping into a seat at the table. She had two textbooks in her arms, which she let drop to the tabletop with a thump. Sarah jumped a bit. "Besides, they're healthy."

"Hermione," Kenneth said, leaning over Harry's shoulders to stare at the girl, "we love you, but you're an utter loon." Hermione rolled her eyes and started to say something, but Neville beat her to actual words.

"Personally, I think all the fifth year boys are crazy," Neville said. He gestured towards the twins, who were barking like dogs and dancing a demented version of the chicken dance. "It's like a rite of passage for you guys."

Sarah, Able, Hermione and Harry all nodded. Kenneth mocked betrayal before hopping into the seat between Hermione and Neville and resting his elbows against the table. "So whatcha we doing?" Hermione opened one of her textbooks. Kenneth closed her textbook. Hermione opened her textbook. Kenneth closed her textbook. Hermione opened her textbook and grabbed Kenneth's hands with both of hers. Sarah closed Hermione's textbook. Hermione huffed, exasperated. Sarah and Kenneth shared a high-five, over Hermione's textbook. Hermione fruffed. Neville, Able and Harry laughed. The textbook remained closed.

"I'm just astonished you all have made it this all without asking if I'm feeling all right," Harry snorted, mostly at himself then at them.

"It's not like you've been hiding all day," Neville said, half-smirking. "If you'd like though—"

"I'm fine," Harry said. The disbelieving look in Hermione's face prompted him to say, "I talked with McGonagall about it." Hermione looked more content at that. Seriously, that girl placed far too much trust in authority.

"Sarah, Harry, you mentioned working together for that Halloween thing? What did you have planned?" That was Able.

The two young students looked at each other and shrugged. Harry figured he could just think things out as he talked. "Well, maybe we could somehow figure out how to arrange her pictures into like a motion picture and I could narrate. It would be pretty cool if we can warp her pictures together, enlarge them, add all sorts of special effects through her own talent and magic."

"That be pretty difficult," Able muttered, "from a magical standpoint. Do you have any pictures already done that you could use?"

Sarah looked like she'd been caught in headlights. She was getting better at talking to Able and Kenneth, but was still mostly comfortable with the third years. "D…depends on what story we do."

Harry spotted Patricia Stimpson, the only older year he'd yet to interact with, move towards one of the more secluded cluster of arm chairs. "If you'll excuse me," he said to his friends, before jumping up and walking with some speed across the common room. Patricia didn't really acknowledge him at all, she just curled into an arm chair and took out what looked like a really, really hefty book all on languages. "Hi," Harry said, sitting down in one of the chairs next to her. "I'm Harry Potter."

"I know," Patricia murmured, "I also know that you know my name. So why bother introducing yourself?"

Harry shrugged. "Because I can. Because you're a Gryffindor and a bookworm and I'm a Gryffindor and I like books. Because I was looking for recommendations of what sort of fiction to read. Because I was curious about the book on languages that you're reading."

Patricia looked more than a little annoyed. "Muggle or magic?" At Harry's affirmation that it didn't matter, she continued. "True fiction, fantasy, or science fiction?"

"No idea."

"What have you read already?"

"Um—nothing?"

"George MacDonald, HG Wells, George Orwell, Isaac Asminov, Mark Twain, JRR Tolkien, and the romantic poets. Those recommendations should keep you for a while. As for this book, it's a study guide Professor Babbling gave me so I can self-study for the additional OWL in magical and muggle languages."

"There's additional OWLs?" Harry asked, resolving not to let Hermione know that.

Patricia took a deep breath. "Yes. If you have an aptitude for languages, I suggest you ask to borrow this book from Professor Babbling. For the OWL, you'll need a very strong understanding of Latin, near fluency in one languages such as French, a basic understanding of three other languages – I'm doing Gaelic, Spanish and German, and at least a minimal understanding of Gobbledygook and Mermish even if there's no physical way for humans to speak most magical languages. Now will you please go away?"

She balanced the book up over her nose.

Huh…

Interesting…

He had enough on his plate as it was, but he loved and was good at Ancient Runes, and the introductory study in Latin he'd been doing was utterly fascinating. It would probably kill him after just a few days but…

That left him with a choice. Go and see Professor Babbling now, or go and find the first year boys and finally finish meeting all the Gryffindors. Eh… Babbling. He nearly raced from the common room, and as such, he didn't catch his friends looking at him and worrying that something was wrong. Harry didn't let the niggling caution in his mind warn him that he was taking too much on at once. He really wanted to do this, for, oh he didn't know why! But he loved Runes and that was nearly another language, and Latin had been oh so helpful in his spell-work classes like Charms, Defense and Transfiguration. He'd even found it helpful in some aspects of Arithmancy and Astronomy, but not as much. Harry found himself in Professor Babbling's office in short order.

The aging professor was grading a recent test they'd taken on some actual runic vocabulary. "Ah, Harry. If you want to see your grade, I believe it's in the finished pile…"

"It's not that," Harry said, panting slightly. He had run so his mind hadn't been able to stop him from doing this. "I was talking to Patricia Stimpson, and she said she's studying for a language OWL?"

Professor Babbling's eyes lit up. "And from your expression, does that mean you would like to do the same?"

"Yes!"

Babbling put aside the papers he was grading. "Having as many OWLs as you can get is very beneficial, Harry. Are you at all worried you'd overwork yourself?"

"Of course," Harry admitted, "but Professor, I've been reading this book on Latin and it's been ever so helpful in some of my regular classes. Wouldn't taking other languages be incredibly helpful?"

"Yes, indeed," Babbling said, "and your grades in Runes is exceptionally high. Do you have any idea as to the languages you'd like to learn? The language examination is the only self-built exam of extra-material—"

He ignored Harry's muttered, "there's more?"

"—and as such, you should be aware of the format. What did Patricia tell you?"

"That you've got to understand Latin," Harry said, "have near fluency in one language, understanding in three other languages, and then be able to understand spoken or written magical languages, like, the ones that we can't talk."

Babbling nodded. "That is the basics of the examination. Latin is a necessity. Different languages, however, are graded on different scales. Learning, say Arabic or Mandarin Chinese, is much more difficult for most people than Spanish. As such, if you choose to be tested on one of the harder languages, you're come out with a better grade, provided that you actually know the material. And as for what Patricia said, that is the bare minimal. You can text near fluency in up to three languages, and basic up to four times. However, Harry, I doubt you'll have the time to learn that many languages. As for the magical languages, there's only four options and you can do all four, or only one. Like I said," he grinned, "it's a very fluid exam. Now, did you have any idea of what you'd like to learn?"

Harry gaped. Information overload. "No."

Babbling stood, turned to stare at his bookshelf, before pulling down a book that must have been three times larger than the light reading that Hermione found Nicolas Flamel in first year. It was scary. "This book holds every possible language on the test, Harry. It would not be possible for you to learn them all." He placed the book on the desk and opened it to the first page. There was a list of the possible language options.

There were only six magical languages: Gobbledygook, Dwarfish, Mermish, Fae, Giant, and Elvish. But the list of Ancient and Modern Languages was almost unfathomable. There was a number beside each language, one to ten (Arabic had a ten.) "I'd like to do Gobbledygook and Mermish, like Patricia. Professor," Harry asked, "is there a difference between Ancient and Modern?"

"Of course, but not so much when it comes to the test. Learning the Modern Languages will give you more ability to go into diplomacy or human relations, while the Ancient Languages are more beneficial when it comes to spell research and development."

That sounded interesting. Harry instantly honed in on the Ancient Languages. "I'd like to do the more Ancient Languages. Do you have suggestions?"

"Hm. Start with Greek and Sanskrit; remember that you must continue with Latin." Greek had a four and Sanskrit had a seven. "Babylonian or Egyptian would be beneficial." They both had high numbers. Harry pointed to Egyptian. "That would be a very difficult exam," Babbling murmured, "but it would look incredibly strong on a resume. I recommend you focus on becoming mostly fluent in either Greek or Egyptian first. Next question, would you like my guidance, or do you wish to continue an entirely self-guided study program?"

"Could you help?" Harry asked, not trusting his ability to stay self-motivated.

"Certainly." Professor Babbling pulled a sticky-note from somewhere. He used sticky-notes? "For clarification, you'd like guidance on Latin, Greek, Sanskrit, Egyptian, Gobbledygook and Mermish to begin with?" At Harry's nod, his Professor scribbled something down. "Take the book, read the introductory section for those languages and the follow-up sections for any language you have time for. You'll want to check in with Professor McGonagall and tell her you're doing this. Come back, say, after class on Friday, and we'll discuss what you've learned."

Harry grabbed the book and raced towards his Head of House's office. He felt elated and motivated and encouraged and he was so excited to learn these languages. What else did this school teach that wasn't publically announced? Professor McGonagall was in her office, and no one was there. Score. She tended to be pretty busy on Saturdays. "What is it, Mr. Potter?"

"Professor Babbling said I should tell you that I'm starting a self-study program for the Language OWL."

McGonagall half-frowned, half-smiled. "If you wish, Mr. Potter. You talked with Miss Stimpson, then?" At Harry's nod, she continued. "I see. You are aware that you can drop out of a self-study program at any time up until the second semester of your fifth year."

"Yes, professor," Harry said. "Professor—"

Oh no. The kid was glowing, and energetic and… he was almost more of a Ravenclaw than Hermione was in some circumstances!

"—would it be possible for me to take the Muggle Studies examination. I grew up with them, so it wouldn't be too hard, right?"

"Many muggleborn students to do that," Professor McGonagall said. "You'll have some prep to do, but it's mostly done in your fifth year, when you're much closer to your exams."

"I'd like to do that," Harry said. He was still glowing. "Professor… what else is out there?"

"Not much, Mr. Potter. The school offers two year electives following your OWL exams in Warding, Economics and Government, Business, Healing, and other material that you don't currently have the necessary knowledge to begin studying. As for additional OWLs, there is the language exam, exams for every basic and third year elective. I believe there is an OWL in muggle sciences, one in math, and one in muggle and magical literature. These are offered at the Ministry, and in special cases at Hogwarts. We do not offer these classes at Hogwarts because some students become over ambitious and these classes were deemed invaluable.

"More opportunities for non-tested opportunities to learn come in later years. If your grades in Transfiguration are good enough, you may begin introductory animagus training. Professor Flitwick offers lectures on enchanting, beginning in the fourth year. There are weekend workshops on obscure magic from around the world offered to sixth and seventh years. That will come later. Learn your languages, Mr. Potter, and don't kill yourself in the process. I'll put you down for self-study in both languages and muggle studies. If, in your fifth year, you believe yourself confident to handle any additional tests beyond language and muggle studies, I will recommend you for consideration of the muggle-based OWLs."

"Thanks Professor," Harry called. He grabbed the hefty language book and darted from her office, probably towards the Great Hall.

o.o.o.o.o.o

At dinner that night, McGonagall placed herself next to Sinistra, who was next to Babbling, who was next to Lupin. Those three teachers were gloating about predicting that – as soon as Harry actually talked to Patricia Stimpson – he would seek out preparing for the language exam. Their gloating was annoying, but McGonagall really couldn't begrudge them the five galleons she'd lost. She'd underestimated Harry. And she hoped as he continued to learn, he'd continue to surprise her.