Sorry for the long wait! School and college applications and a wonderfully disastrous NaNoWriMo has held me back from writing for a while now, but while I'm on break I should be able to get quite a bit of writing done! Thanks, as always for the reviews (I will not bore you with my replies this time, as I'm not altogether sure which I have and have not replied to already!) and as always, enjoy!

Harry wandered glumly to the great hall. His arm itched—Madame Pomfrey had used some spell on it that made it go numb, and now it prickled as it 'woke up.' It was nearly five thirty, and the other first years were already at the dinner table. Harry slid in to the empty spot between Blaise and Daniel, and across from Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Look, it's Potter," Draco said with a slight smile. "Back from the hospital?"

"Yes," said Harry with a polite smile in return. He turned to Blaise, who he doubted would respond as the boy was already eating in his customary silence, but was a good deal more pleasant than Draco and company. "Professor Snape banned me from flying."

Blaise choked on his potatoes, spitting a piece out so forcefully it landed on Goyle's plate. As he coughed, Daniel Harper exclaimed, "C—can he even do that?"

Harry turned to her, surprised. In the week of class he hadn't spoken to her at all, but he supposed that could be taken that to be a result of her shyness. "I, uh, dunno," he stammered out. Regaining his composure, he quickly revised this—"Well, he is house head…"

"You don't have to go to the lessons anymore?" Blaise demanded. His blue eyes were wide as Harry to turned back to his furious friend.

"I know; it's terrible!" Harry moaned. Blaise grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook his friend back and forth vigorously.

"Terrible!" he practically shouted. "They push the practices up to begin our first week and you've already found a way out!"

"You make it sound like I wanted―"

The two boys suddenly flinched into the table as with two sharp thunks a book was batted against the back of their heads. Rubbing their tender scalps sourly, the pair looked up to find Rose glowering down at them admits the laughter of the nearby students who had played witness.

"You're making a scene!" she snapped angrily. "Sit properly and eat your meals in peace!"

She stormed down the table, Harry and Blaise watching as she flung herself into her customary seat across from Adrian at the table's end. "What's got Rose's banshee screaming?" grumbled Blaise, turning back around. Harry furrowed his brow at the strange line, but said nothing.

"So you can't fly anymore, Potter," cut in Draco. "What are you going to do on Fridays, then?"
Harry shrugged; he hadn't thought about it. "Homework, I suppose."

Blaise was still fuming beside him. "Homework?" he demanded. "You get to do homework while I have to be thrown through the air on those stupid splinters..."

"You're just afraid you're going to fall off again," Pansy, sitting on Blaise's other side, taunted.

"Oh please, Parkinson," said Blaise crossly. "Who was it who had a nervous breakdown when they posted that we'd be flying this week instead of next?"

"At least I stayed on my broom!" Pansy huffed. She crossed he arms across her chest and glared down at her food as though it were the one mocking her.

"Really, though, Harry," said Tracey Davis from Daniel's other side, ignoring Pansy's fuming. "It's a shame you aren't allowed; you were the best on a broom out there. Any chance Professor Snape will allow you back in later? I mean, it wasn't your fault Blaise's broom started chasing you like that―and it was the Professor who blew it up."

"I dunno," Harry said glumly. Maybe I'll ask him after the weekend."

"So did you hear about the break-out from Gringotts?" Draco cut in conversationally.

In the meantime, Harry served himself some creamed corn and fresh baked bread, but he could only manage a few bites through his lost appetite. After a minute of picking at the corn and listening to Draco theorize over who could have broken into a top-security vault—"Father always says that Mudungus Fletcher is no good—you know, that squeamish man always hanging around Knockturn Alley?"—Harry gave up. Blaise had also stopped eating, as apparently another rule of his eating was that if he stopped once he wouldn't start again. Harry nudged him and said quietly, "Hey, let's go back to the common room."

The other boy nodded and together they slipped away from Draco, who was now arguing with Pansy about what could have been in the vault. When they rounded the corner, Blaise let out a long breath. "Glad to be free of them," he grumbled. Harry blinked.

"Who? Draco?"

"And his little lackeys. Mudungus Fletcher? Really?"

"Oh—I was wondering who that was."

"A nobody," Blaise stressed. "There's no way someone like him could've broken into somewhere like Gringotts. Mum calls him a no good slimy flobberworm—he tried to sell my us some china last year—he'd stolen it from the Hales' summer home; my brother recognized it right away."

"So he is a thief? Why's Draco wrong, then?"

"Well, sure, he's a thief, but he's small time. Only takes from people who've already invited him in, right? Nowhere near Gringotts material, if you know what I mean."

Harry didn't, but he set that aside. "So who do you think it was?"

Blaise shrugged. "Could be anyone," he said vaguely. "I mean, it's probably one of those 'criminals at large' The Prophet's always on about—or maybe one of them who kept out of Azkaban…"

"Az… what?"

Blaise sighed, annoyed. "Azkaban. Wizard's prison." He glared angrily at the wall before them, as though it were challenging him. "Salazar!"

"But what do you mean, 'one of them'?" Harry urged as they stepped through into the hallway that led to the Slytherin common room. Blaise sighed again.

"You ask a lot of questions, you know," he snapped. This made Harry laugh a bit; Blaise did a lot of talking whether he asked his questions or not, but Harry wasn't about to say that. They crossed to the open leather couches in front of one of the fireplaces that lined the walls of the low-ceilinged, elegant room and flung themselves down on them. "After the Dark Lord was… defeated—" Blaise did not so much as try to hide his glance up at Harry's scar "—loads of his bunch claimed they were cursed so they didn't get time in Azkaban. Of course, there was no way to prove it, so some of the more, well, wealthy got off easy. But even more got sent to Azkaban who hadn't done anything…" He trailed off.

"Wasn't this all ten years ago?" Harry asked warily. "How come you know so much about it?"

Blaise groaned. "If you'd grown up in the wizarding world like you should've, you'd know all about the war, too," he grumbled. "I mean, it's not like we spend ten years doing nothing. We're supposed to be homeschooled. My brother did most of that for me, when he came back home at the holidays. We're told the same old story about the war—Voldemort bad, Ministry good—as soon as it can be a bedtime story for us."

Harry shifted nervously in his seat. He wasn't sure how he felt about being part of a bedtime story for wizards all across Britain, but with Blaise as testy as he was, the boy wasn't about to say anything. "Besides," the boy was continuing, "It'd take someone of Azkaban material to try and break in somewhere like Gringotts. Once you get in, there's no getting out."

Harry nodded. "Those goblins did look pretty frightening."

For the first time since the flying lesson, Blaise laughed. "The goblins? They're the least of your worries. My brother says they've got a dragon on the lower levels…"

Harry listened, transfixed, as Blaise rambled on about the different defenses at Gringotts. There was so much about the wizarding world he could not even imagine, and yet here he was, living in it! Harry shook his head, urging the tiredness from his eyes—it had been a long week.

"So," said Blaise suddenly, catching Harry's attention again. "We were going to practice for charms, right?"

"Oh, yeah!" Harry replied, mustering some enthusiasm. "Should we go get our books? We could practice in the dormitory."

"Nah, I don't want Draco running in on us," Blaise said certainly. "Wouldn't it be priceless to show up in class and be able to do the charms perfectly while he sits there looking like an idiot?"

Harry laughed nervously. "Well, what about the books, then?"

"Oh, well, that—hey, Harper!"

Harry turned around to see Daniel and Tracey Davis crossing the common room towards them. "Yeah, Zabini?" Daniel asked with an unimpressed raise of one eyebrow.

"You've got your bag still—can we borrow your charms book?"

"What for?" asked Tracey. "You've got your own, right?"

"Yeah, but they're up in the dormitory, and we want to slip out before Draco and co get back."

"What for?" demanded Tracey again.

"We're just going to do a bit of practicing," Harry insisted quietly.

Blaise glared at him, but quickly carried on. "So, can we?"

The girls glanced at each other. "Well, we're coming with you, of course."

"Now look here, Harper—"

"Didn't you see Draco just about finishing up when we were leaving, Tracey?" Daniel asked he friend sweetly.

"Oh, yes," the blond girl replied. "And Pansy was lecturing Crabbe and Goyle so fiercely about the dangers of being fat they almost stopped eating, too!"

Blaise made a sound that was something like a growl, but Harry quickly cut in. "Oh, come on, Blaise," he mediated. "It's just this once. Where can we practice?"

"I think there are a few empty classrooms just upstairs," suggested Tracey. Still grumbling, Blaise agreed and led them out of the common room.

Though they had to dodge around a corner to avoid being spotted by Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle as the trio descended the stairs to the dungeons, they quickly found a likely hallway. As they checked the doors, Harry noticed that it was the same hallway Adrian had chased him into earlier that week, but said nothing.

"This one's open!" Tracey called. The four quickly made their way into the empty room, which was also, unfortunately, quite dark.

"Hang on," said Harry. "I think the spell is… lumos!"

The tip of his wand glowed with a wavering light that they used to find a lantern. "Oh, I think it's the seventh year potions lab," said Blaise lowly as the light caught on a row of black cauldrons. "Hopefully LaConner doesn't get the urge to brew any poison tonight—my brother says he likes to find people to test his experiments on… oh, there's the lantern!" Blaise took it down and carried it out into the hallway to light it with one of the torches.

"Where'd you learn that spell?" Daniel whispered.

"Some of the older students were practicing it in the common room the other evening," he whispered back. But he frowned. "Theirs were much brighter, though. It was kind of annoying."

Blaise came back in carrying the lantern, which he hung back up. It was obviously enchanted, as the single candle flame fully lit the room. He quickly shut the door. "So, my brother says that Flitwick teaches us Slytherins and the Ravenclaws a few spells first because we can handle them earlier. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs have to learn the basics first—they don't even understand how to wave their wands correctly!"

Harry decided it would be best if he didn't mention that until their charms class he hadn't had a clue how to wave his wand—somehow he'd missed it when looking through his books back at the Dursleys'. "Are we going to be learning what they are?" he asked rather anxiously. He certainly didn't want to miss anything this early on.

"Yeah," said Blaise. "My brother says that we spend the first few weeks learning simple charms, and then we go back and do what the others are doing. But we do it in half the time."

Tracey frowned. "So, what are we going to practice?" she asked impatiently. "I mean, only you got the levitating spell right in class, Blaise. Can't you show us how?"

"I got it too!" Harry insisted. "Blaise showed me how before flying today."

Blaise flinched at the mention of flying again, but said nothing of it. "Well, show me what you can do," he gave in. The two girls pulled out their wands, pointing at some dusty old potions books that had been left on the table. Daniel went first.

"Win…wingardium leviosa!" she said falteringly. The book didn't move.

"You can't stammer a spell!" Blaise groaned. "You'll hurt someone! Say it properly!"

She tried again, but this time her incantation came out as a question—"Wingardium leviosa?"

"Wait, I think I've got it!' said Harry suddenly. The other three looked at him curiously. "Daniel, you—you like to fly, right?"

She blinked. "Well, yeah," she said, her voice suddenly free of the nerves that seemed to inhibit her spell casting.

"I noticed today—the brooms seemed to know if you really wanted to be flying!" Harry exclaimed. The others continued to stare at him. "I mean, what if spells are the same?" he finished lamely, realizing how un-backed his so-called 'revelation' was.

Yet Daniel seemed to take it to heart. She stared at the book for a minute, then, with a bit more force—though her voice still wavered—she tried again. "Wingardium Leviosa!" the book rose slowly into the air, to her wide-eyed amazement.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she exclaimed quite confidently. The book gave a violent shudder, rose about a foot in the air-ignoring completely the direction by Tracey's wand—and with a snap! the cover fell off and the pages landed in a heap on top of it. For a moment the room was completely silent. Then Harry and Blaise caught each other's' eyes and burst into laughter, quickly joined by Daniel. "It's not funny you guys!" Tracey said, face flushed.

"Oh, no, that was most definitely priceless!" Blaise managed between laughs. "Give it another go, though... how about that stool?"

This time the leg snapped off the stool. "Um... aren't we going to get in trouble for this?" Daniel asked between giggles.

"Oh, wait," said Harry. "We saw Rose use a spell earlier... what was it, Blaise?"

"Reparo, I think."

"Can I see your book, Daniel?" The girl withdrew their charms text from her bag and together they poured through it, searching for the spell. "Look, there it is!" Harry exclaimed. "Reparo—the mending charm."

Blaise peered over his shoulder. "Well that doesn't look too hard. What's the wand movement?" He followed the diagrams to move his wand in a sort of four-pointed spiral. "It really doesn't look so bad. And it's right near the front of the book... it can't be that much harder than levitation..."

"Well, go on, then!" said Harry. "You're the best of us at spells, right? Try it on the stool."

Blaise looked pleased at the compliment, and turned around. "Reparo," he tried valiantly—but to no avail: the stool was pushed back a few feet, but the leg was nowhere near re-attached.

"No, look, you've got the wand-motion backwards," Harry said. "Go the other way."

Blaise tried again, with much more force in his incantation: "Reparo!"

This time the leg went shooting into the stool with such force that the end splintered a bit and it jutted out at an awkward angle, but it stuck. Blaise grinned. "See, it's not so hard!" he exclaimed. "I mean, sure it's a little beat up, but no one will notice!" But Daniel didn't look so impressed.

"Oh, please," she said a bit saucily, surprising Harry once again. "Anyone who doesn't notice that would have to be blind!"

Blaise rounded on her. "Is that right, Harper? And I suppose you think you can do it better?"
The timid girl straightened up a bit. "As a matter of fact I do!" Her conviction for once set plainly on her face, she brandished her wand at the stool. "Reparo!"

Her spell had a much smoother nature about it as the splinters slid back into place and the crooked leg straightened out. She crossed her arms across her chest triumphantly. "So, Zabini? Still proud?"

"Ha!" the boy spat. The venom in his voice surprised Harry; he could not understand why the shy girl and amiable boy were glaring at each other so fiercely. "All you did was bump it a bit; any half-rate squib could've done that!" He pointed at the book in a heap on the table. "Repar—"

"Wait!" broken Harry abruptly. "I've just remembered—on the train that Granger girl used reparo on my glasses!"

"So?" asked Tracey. "What does that stupid Gryffindor have to do with this?"

Harry glanced at her; he didn't know the girl well enough to say what sort of resentment she held against Hermione—probably no more than the usual Slytherin view of Gryffindors that he'd come to expect. "So she didn't just say 'reparo' when she did it—it was something like… oculs reparo?"

"Could it have been 'oculos,' Harry?" Blaise asked. Harry shrugged. "It's Latin, I think… my brother says that most spells are." He turned thoughtfully back to the book, and raised his wand. "Biblos reparo!" The pages slid back into a neat stack and the cover snapped back on. He grinned and tossed it to Harry. "Good as new!"

But Daniel snatched it out of the boy's hands. "As new?" she challenged. She stomped towards Blaise and fanned it open in front of him. "Yeah, because new books are always printed with their covers upside-down!"

Blaise opened his mouth into a gape, looking at the book before him. When he realized he'd let it hang open stupidly, he promptly clamped it shut, only to open it again to retort when Harry, grinning, cut him off. "Guys, cut it out," he laughed. "Come on, aren't we supposed to be smoothening our levitation?"

Blaise turned back to him, suddenly all smiles. "Yeah, we're going to get it down for sure!" he exclaimed. Daniel rolled her eyes, but the boy seemed keen on ignoring her. "And now we can even fix whatever we break—good thinking, Harry! Now come on, Tracey, let's see you try it again! Try that quill, it's nice and small."

And so the quartet returned to their practice, Harry and Daniel taking turns fixing whatever Tracey broke while Blaise read off tips from the charms book. Within half an hour, she managed to control the direction of the spell while only bending the quill in two, rather than making the hairs of the feather fall off, and Harry was confident he could repair feathers in a heartbeat, if nothing else. When Tracey got tired of dancing the feather about as Blaise gave her advice, he and Harry filled two spare beakers with water and flew them about the classroom, competing over who could make his move the fastest without spilling, making the two girls laugh as they narrowly avoided slamming the beakers into each other. They were doing well until Blaise lost control and his went flying into the door—only the door wasn't shut.

Snape's wand was out so fast Harry wondered if he hadn't been holding it already when he came in. The beaker came to a halt in front him and with a wave of his wand Snape summoned the water that had frozen midair in the beaker's flight trail back into the glass container. Harry realized as the Potions Master regarded the frozen first years with arched eyebrows that his beaker was still floating, and quickly jerked his wand down, making the beaker hit the table with unnecessary force.

"Dare I ask," Snape said quietly in the silence that followed. "What it is you were doing?" The group stared at him with sudden guilt, as though they hadn't been practicing but breaking some rule. In their silence, Snape's gaze fell on Daniel, who stood with the book, which had, during the course of Tracey's practice, lost its cover again, in her hands. "Miss Harper? Perhaps you would like to explain?"

"We… we were…" she stammered. "P-practicing our charms, sir."

The Professor's brows reached new heights on his pale brow. "Practicing?" he regarded the chipped beakers suspiciously. "To my interrupting eyes it looked less like practicing and more like doing damage to school property."

"Oh, but sir, we did look up the repairing charm so we could fix everything!" Blaise exclaimed, suddenly finding his voice again. "Really, you can't even tell half the things we've broken. That quill looks as good as new, right?"

Snape was unimpressed. "Show me—fix that book, Mr. Potter."

This was clearly one of those times Snape would be more than willing to hand out a detention—Harry swallowed. He took the book from Daniel and set it on the stool, pointing his wand. "Biblos reparo!" Much to his relief, the cover quickly sewed itself back to the pages, and it sat on the stool looking just the same as the first years had found it, if a bit less dusty. The four let out a collective sigh of relief, as though they had all been holding their breath in anticipation, but they quickly remembered that Snape still stood in the doorway and turned back to him.

"Very well," the man said with a sudden coldness. "You may return to the common room—curfew is in five minutes. But for future reference—" he continued, blocking their exit as the group tried to scurry past him "—magic is to be practiced with one's own belongings, and not in classrooms where potions are brewing. If you wish to practice again, there is an unused room two doors down that I will leave unlocked for you. If I catch you in this room again," his eyes darted down to Harry, "I assure you, you will be punished accordingly." With that he stepped aside and let them pass, closing the door behind them.