NOTE

My goodness! I didn't realize I'd kept you all waiting that long!

Of course there are NO reviews on the latest chapter, so maybe you don't love me after all. This is to be expected, as we roll up to St. Valentine's Day and I reflect upon the shambles of my ruined ego. You could help you know…

Really!

All you have to do is review! Even just a "thanks for writing" would be swell! I'm serious here…I'm getting discouraged!

Anyway, this is a shorter chapter – 11 pages standard size, so maybe 8 for you people with gargantuan monitors. The next chapter is 10 pages, but it has a lot of dialogue, which I feel excuses a shorter chapter, since its more fatiguing, mentally. The chapter after that is running a solid 20 pages, so you can salivate over that, if long chapters are your kind of thing.

As a special gift, I've posted a teaser for chapter 15 at the end of this.

I do so hope you enjoy!

Pat

/NOTE

Chapter 14 – When Harry Met Parvati

Try as he might to reason out what was going on inside, nothing made any more sense to Harry by the time he drifted off to sleep on the couch in front of the crackling Common Room fire. He wasn't sure of the time when next he awoke, but he knew instantly that someone was sitting next to him; close but not too close, silent but not stealthy. He tried to remain as still as possible. Should he talk to her? He knew it was Parvati; he could smell her perfume. He hadn't worked out what he wanted to say; in fact, he didn't even know what he felt about her. Cho made him feel giddy, but that was before he even knew her. Parvati actually knew him, and she wanted to be around him anyway, which was confusing enough in and of itself. Several times, Harry was very close to saying something, but he couldn't figure out how to start, and silently closed his mouth.

"Hello, Harry." Parvati spoke in a soft, husky whisper, and it sent shivers up and down his spine. She'd known he was awake?

"Your breathing changed," she said, answering his unspoken question. "Would you rather be left alone?"

"No!" Harry whispered back, far too quickly. He hadn't come up with much, but his eventual plan was to play it cool. "I mean, no, we can talk."

"Well, I'm glad we can, then." She said brightly. Harry was both amused and nervous to discover that he could hear her smile. What should he do next? If she was smiling, that meant she was enjoying his company, which meant that he could still somehow foul things up. He almost preferred making a mess of it from the start, since then at least things could only get better. A gnawing feeling was developing in his stomach, and he briefly regretted eating so much at dinner. His cheeks hurt, and with a conscious effort he managed to stop gritting his teeth, which he hadn't even realized he was doing. So far, playing it cool seemed to be unraveling slightly.

"So, ah, how was the sky tonight?" There; not a bad start – non-committal, casual, and relevant. Harry felt he was to be congratulated.

"Not bad. Frighteningly bitter. At least it's warmer inside now."

"Well, there's still a bit of a fire…" Harry trailed off.

"That's not really what I meant." Parvati had taken a tone very similar to Hermione's, when she was explaining something that should have been obvious. It took Harry a few moments to guess at what she was going on about.

"You mean with Hermione?"

"Yes. She's finally decided I'm worth talking to."

"Well, of course you're worth it." He could hear her smile again.

"For a while I wondered. Did you say something to her?" Harry didn't know whether he wanted to admit to having a talk with Hermione. That would be admitting that he liked Parvati, wouldn't it?

"I brought it up; I mean, there's no reason for her to be upset with you, really."

"Was she jealous?" Parvati asked, in a voice that sounded to Harry as if she was almost hopeful.

"Of course not! Why should she be jealous?"

"Oh," Parvati sounded crestfallen. "Well, then." Harry could feel control of the situation slipping away.

"Why should she be jealous?" Harry went on, trying to salvage some of the evening, "it's like you said…she and Ron are happy enough. She was just um, worried about if you were right for me."

"If I was right for you? We aren't even a couple! Somebody's being a bit presumptuous!"

"Bloody…" Harry turned to Parvati, who was looking as if she was ready to leave. "Hold on a moment, let's start this over, shall we?"

"Start what over?"

"This night."

"I don't see why." She rose gracefully. "I think I've heard quite enough!" It was at this point that Harry realized his plan of playing it cool was now blazing merrily and floating out into the ocean to die a fiery, and then watery death.

"Look, sometimes I'm a bit thick! Just give me a moment to explain!" Parvati paused, but didn't look back at him.

"It had better be good." Before Harry could speak another word, Hermione's tired voice drifted faintly from the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitory.

"Harry? Is that you?" Without thinking, Harry slipped his wand from his pocket, and the next thing he knew, he and Parvati were standing in a pocket in space. Harry was pleased to note that it was far more opaque than the ones he'd been managing, and it was about the size of the first one that he and Nott had created the day they learned the spell, so he was getting better. Parvati wheeled on him. She did not look pleased.

"I don't want Hermione interrupting," he explained. Parvati just stared at him with her large, gleaming eyes. "Look, here's the story. Hermione saw us talking and figured we were…you know…and that upset her, so she took it out on you."

"Why? I don't go off on Weasley every time she starts fawning after him!"

"Well you don't have a thing for Ron, do you?"

"Of course not!" she shot back.

Harry tried to decide whether that meant she liked him. He knew if he could sit down and think about it, he might be able to figure something out, but they hadn't learned anything about stopping time, yet.

"It's like you said; Hermione is my best friend. What would you do if Lavender quit coming to you for advice?"

This time, Parvati was silent, as she considered what life would be like without her best friend.

"Alright, you may have a point there, but why did she have to take it out on me?"

Harry was left thinking about the first time this year he and Parvati had actually talked. Things had been casual then, and he'd remembered thinking that he rather liked talking to girls. Now he wasn't so sure – his head ached, his heart couldn't decide whether to leap, ache, or curl-up in his stomach, and his hands were clammy. "I suppose you'd have to ask her. Maybe she is jealous, now that I think of it." That seemed to make Parvati a bit happier. 'She's happy when Hermione is jealous,' Harry thought. 'Just when I though I'd figured a little out.' He decided to go with what was working.

"You know, now that I think about it, I think she must be jealous. I must have been wrong earlier. Of course she'd be a little mad when I'm not all hers anymore." His strategy looked to be was paying off. Parvati's face had softened considerably.

"Well, you can't blame her; really," Parvati said. "I mean she's had you to herself for five years. This must be new to her!"

"I know," said Harry, feeling more relieved by the moment. "And I guess she took it out on you because she saw us talking so much." In a stroke of brilliance, he added, "she must view you as a threat, I guess." Harry didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he strongly suspected that last bit had been as close to the perfect thing to say as he could have gotten. Parvati's eyes were almost ridiculously large now: shiny and glowing in the dim light of the bubble.

"That's…that's crazy! She's got no reason to think that…does she?" Harry shrugged.

"We do talk quite a bit. She always gives me advice, and lately you have been, so perhaps she feels as if I'm replacing her with you." Harry was amused. Who'd have thought telling the truth would be so successful? Not that he'd intended to do otherwise, but playing it cool implied certain things…lies of omission, at the very least.

"Oh, but she mustn't think that!" Parvati clutched Harry's arm, and his heart firmly resolved itself to leap. He placed a comforting hand on Parvati's.

"I'll talk to her…I'll make sure she knows you're not trying to replace her."

"Oh, are you sure you don't want me to?"

In actuality, Harry would have liked nothing better than to let Hermione and Parvati straighten things out between themselves without even getting him involved, so he could cut straight to the part where he got to feel warm and fuzzy, and perhaps kiss someone, but a small voice in his head was giving him advice now and he was going with it, since for the moment it seemed to know more about girls than he did.

"No," he said, "I'll make sure I say something to her…I'll explain that we're just good friends, and that we're not trying to replace her." He was acutely aware of using the word we're instead of I, and it made him feel a little funny. It was as if he and Parvati actually were a couple. She stepped back, leaving her hand on Harry's arm, and looked around at the bubble.

"What is this, anyway?"

"The Spatium Sinus charm. It makes a bubble in space."

"So, where are we, actually?"

"We're exactly where we were, only space has been moved around us. It's complicated, really. I don't know that I really get it myself."

"You learned this in that new class?"

"Temporalism, yeah."

"I don't know how I didn't get invited and my sister did," she huffed.

"It's odd, really. I mean, there are people in there you'd never think twice about. I think professor Walken is a little loopy, myself - a genius, for sure, but loopy. He's always hanging around with McGonagall."

"Really?" This was Parvati's realm, and she was instantly engrossed.

"Oh, yes. And I didn't tell you this when I was in the infirmary, but I discovered who the black-haired witch is!"

"You didn't!" Parvati breathed huskily. It was all Harry could do to keep his mind on the right black-haired witch.

"She's some kind of relative of McGonagall's! They were on the lakeshore when I crashed my broom; her and Professor Walken. The professor doesn't have any daughters, does she?"

"Not that I know of…I don't believe she's ever been married. A niece perhaps?"

"Could be," Harry agreed. "Her name is Minnie."

"But that's the professor's name! Minerva! Minnie!"

"It is, isn't it?" Harry hadn't thought of that, and he mentally kicked himself. "Maybe she is a daughter then. I'll have to keep an eye on-" He'd almost said the map but caught himself at the last moment, "I'll have to keep an eye on things. It's not like she hasn't been around."

"Did you tell this to anyone else?"

"Er…well I told Ron and Hermione her name, but I don't recall mentioning that I suspected they were related, so no."

"Well, maybe we should keep it to ourselves until we get it sorted out." Harry saw absolutely no reason to keep it to himself; or for that matter, no reason to spread it around, but the idea was making Parvati positively glow. Somewhere in his head, a realization was forming with the exacting pace off the sun rising over the mountains.

One thing Parvati Patil liked more than talking was not talking. She was a sucker for secrets. Harry understood this, without knowing or caring why.

He stood silently, looking down at her. She'd stepped very close, and was now looking directly into his eyes. Where his were a vibrant green, hers were a sea-foam, flecked with gold and ringed in a very dark grey. Her dark lips were parted slightly as she breathed slowly and deeply, and her black hair, also flecked with gold, was loose tonight. It flowed over her shoulders and down her back in cascading waves that twinkled dimly. In his mind, Harry was struggling to say something – anything at all – but externally, he remained mute.

'You're blowing it,' screamed the tiny voice in his head, 'she's going to wonder if you've come loose of your moorings if you don't say something, and fast.'

Even then, he couldn't bring himself to speak. Parvati was still gazing at him with her large eyes, and finally he managed to squeeze out a single breath.

"That's a good idea. We probably should."

Parvati smiled, revealing straight white teeth that would have made Hermione's parents proud. He could feel himself leaning forward a bit, and he could feel Parvati leaning into him. His own heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and had she said something at that moment he very likely would have missed it. As they drew closer Harry reached out without thinking, resting his hands on Parvati's hips at her waist. A million thoughts were running through his head. Questions, fragments of television programs that suggested what exactly he was supposed to do next, and bits of memories of the few kisses he'd had so far swirled among the acute awareness of how her breath felt on his chin and how she smelled and felt beneath his fingertips. Every hair on his body was standing on edge. Parvati's breath was hot on his lips, and he could almost taste her lips when the bubble around them suddenly flickered and disappeared.

Parvati was so surprised that she nearly fell over, and Harry had to move his hands quickly to her shoulders to keep her from tumbling backwards. She continued to hold onto his arms, first for support and then simply because it seemed as if she hadn't thought of anything better to do with them. The spell between them was broken, however, and they looked around guiltily for witnesses. Fortunately the room was empty; Hermione must have given up, if she'd come down at all. When Harry got around to focusing Parvati, she was looking at him, still wearing a smile; but obviously she'd come to her senses. The way Harry's cheeks were burning, he suspected his face was glowing in the dark.

"We'd better be getting along now," she said, "it's…quite late. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow then." He then did something that shocked them both, clasping Parvati's hand and shaking it firmly.

'You are a total idiot,' the voice in his head announced sourly. Harry agreed, and Parvati must have as well, because she gave him a very odd look. Harry could only shrug, and he was saved from further embarrassment as Parvati stepped up quickly and gave him a very quick kiss on the cheek. She then turned and with a tiny wave vanished into the darkness of the archway that led to the stairs up to her dormitory.

Several minutes later, Harry was in his bed practicing his Occlumency. He didn't want to, because he felt so good that he wanted to hang onto the feeling as long as he could. In spite of that, the small voice, who'd had a very busy night, reminded him that Snape and Voldemort would both pick victims from his head like cherries from a bowl. After tonight, he figured Parvati to be a very inviting target. Last year, he'd skived off practicing for weeks at a time, but then again, he'd been angry nearly the whole time. There was very little that hadn't set him off, and it was tough to concentrate on clearing your mind, when all you wanted to do was find reasons to allow you to continue feeling cross.

He didn't want to feel cross this year. He didn't want to give Snape a reason to hate him even more, as there were quite a few reasons already, thank you very much. Most of all, the last few weeks had convinced him that he couldn't continue pushing people away. Since they insisted on being there whether he wanted them or not, and by and large he wanted them there, all he could do was learn to protect them.

That didn't mean he was any good at Occlumency, however. Snape still had a nearly unchallenged ability to pull thoughts from the surface of Harry's mind. Poking a Stick in the Mind's Eye had offered up several new suggestions, none of which were working as well as the deluge technique that he'd almost mastered by now.

He was supposed to be able to go from a head full of worthless thoughts to nearly no thoughts whatsoever, but he was having a hard time not thinking about his friends and what was going on around him. Once or twice he'd nearly managed to go into a trance-like state that Hermione swore would probably do the trick, but had always been distracted at the last moment. Tonight, as he lay in his bed and stared at the canopy above, he could feel the weight of the last few weeks slipping away. Perhaps he'd discovered the secret to Occlumency – Parvati simply had to kiss him just before he went into Snape's office.

Though most of Harry acknowledged it had been an idle thought from the beginning, for a moment he seriously considered how to arrange it.

The next day, Harry and Hermione met to continue work on his signet. She was correct – it had changed when it dried, cracking and shrinking – and now instead of looking like a veiny-eared hare, it looked like a very sinister veiny-eared hare.

"This is ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed, slamming the small bit of clay on the table-top. To his surprise, it didn't shatter, though a corner did chip off.

"What are you doing?" Hermione snatched the signet up before he could try again.

"I'm going to smash the bloody thing to bits!"

"You're going to do no such thing! Look, Harry, it doesn't have to be complicated…lets just make a simple one, and then once we've got everything down, you can go back and spend all the time you want getting it right!"

"Give it over, Hermione."

"I will not!" She pocketed the signet, effectively ending his plans for the total annihilation of the stubborn lump. He took some consolation in the small piece of corner that had flaked off, crushing it to dust, though he did have to use a considerable bit of magic to do it. He'd forgotten that more than one of the spells they'd cast on the signet were toughening charms. In fact, the advanced Runes text that Hermione had dug up went into great detail about the breaking of signets. Harry had just read that section about a half-hour before, and he flipped back a few pages.

"The breaking of a signet is no small feat, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the creation process is laced with spells designed to prevent physical and magical damage. From a practical standpoint, this avoids the inconvenience caused by having to create a new signet, a process that could take 30 days and is often accompanied by additional legal or financial costs.

Additionally, many of the magical qualities of a sigil are irrevocably lost during the rupture of the actual signet. Though the uniqueness of any rune is a magical quality of the rune itself, and therefore immutable, once the signet, the physical representation of the sigil, has been destroyed, the sigil rune may no longer be placed by any means, magical or mundane.

"By far, the most common use of a sigil is to mark the work or business of a particular witch or wizard. Thus, the breaking of a signet, traditionally placed in a ring or stamp, also signifies an end to the works accomplished by a wizard or witch. This has led to the fabrication of a variety of seal or ring-breaking ceremonies commonly associated with the death of a witch or wizard, and the breaking of a signet to become almost as symbolic as the snapping of the wand.

"It is only through the most delicate and complicated of magical procedures that the sigils of notable wizards and witches are reproduced for academia."

He flipped forward to the page he'd been on before. Perhaps Hermione was right: Something simpler was in order until they'd gotten the spell working and his possessions marked. This time, Harry drew a circle, surrounded by two rings. When he'd gotten done scraping out the edges outside the larger ring and the spot in between the inside ring and the circle, he was left with something that looked like a bull's-eye.

"Cute," Hermione said, obviously un-impressed. Harry shrugged.

"I've been a target forever. I think it's kind of fitting."

"Well, at least it's simple. You'll redo it anyway." Harry understood that she wasn't asking a question.

"So now we just let it sit until after the full moon, which is in…eight days, right?" He knew the answer, since he'd just read it, but Hermione replied anyway.

"Yes, assuming you don't try to crush that one as well. We'll have quite a few spells to cast on it, enough to keep us both busy for an entire day, and then we have to wait for the full moon, and then it's downhill from there. If you hate that one, we'll have to wait for the new moon before we start to make the next," she warned, looking intently at Harry, and then at the smudge on the table, which was actually the remains of the corner that had broken off his first attempt.

"I'm sure it will do fine, for a starter."

"Hm. After we have a signet, there's only the one charm to create the sigil. Then you can mark everything you own."

"Hooray," Harry remarked cheerlessly.

"I know," Hermione scowled, "but you don't have to like it! It's for your own good! Have you looked into some wards?"

"I started already. I remembered the ones that we used at, uh, headquarters. Why, do you have any bright ideas on how to make them better?"

"No, they're probably good enough as they are. They alarm you when someone meddles with your things, then?"

"Yeah. I'd like for them to tell me who set them off, but I suppose that would be a bit difficult, wouldn't it?"

"Very tough," Hermione agreed, "but not impossible. We'd probably be able to figure it out, given enough time." Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I was just ah, curious, ah, were you in the Common Room last night?" Harry considered the possible ways he could answer this question truthfully without giving anything away. Then it dawned on him: What did he have to hide? Not a thing! And besides, nothing had really happened anyway.

"Late, you mean?"

"Yes. I heard voices early this morning. It sounded like you and Parvati."

"Did you, uh, look down here?"

"Well, of course, I mean, it's my job, isn't it? I am a prefect! I couldn't find anyone."

"We talked for a little bit," Harry said. "We, er, got things straightened out." Hermione let out a deep breath.

"Then I didn't muddle things hopelessly?"

"Hermione, stop worrying. You didn't mess anything up…she understands why you were upset!" Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly. She tried to sound casual when she asked her next question, but Harry, who'd been put on his guard, knew better.

"What did you tell her, Harry?"

"I told her that you were my best friend and that you felt sad that I'd go to someone else for help." This was, of course, reasonably accurate, to a point.

"Oh. What did she say to that?"

"She understood. I told her that it was just as if Lavender had come to you rather than her. She's not that bad, Hermione."

"I know," Hermione snapped. "I'm sorry," she immediately apologized. After a moment of looking as if she had more to say, she shrugged and sat back in her chair.

The following Tuesday, Harry again had Occlumency. He was rather frustrated by his own lack of progress, and in a miniature fit of rage had gone back over Poking a Stick in the Mind's Eye and reread everything he'd already seen. It didn't help him in the slightest. He then had spent at least an hour the night before trying to transition from inundation with mundane thoughts to having no thoughts at all. Connor had shown him a trick with a candle flame which produced mild success in that it helped him relax, but Harry honestly couldn't see himself able to do that in a real situation, when other things were happening.

"Again, Potter." Snape said blandly for at least the fifth time that night. He'd gotten a bit better at stopping the flow of things, once the Legilimens spell had been initiated, but that, in his estimation, was about as far as his progress had come. Instead of hissing, snapping, and insulting, Snape seemed to have slipped into more of an apathetic mood lately. Harry realized with disgust that he preferred the old Snape more. For reasons he couldn't explain, Snape's constant barrage of verbal abuse had always hinted that he had some expectations. He made it very clear that Harry should be capable of Occlumency, and that the only reason he, Harry, was failing, was that he, Harry, hadn't been trying hard enough. This new bout of apathy made Harry slightly nervous, because he wondered if Snape had possibly given up on him.

Though he'd never in a million years admit it, he needed Professor Snape to believe it was possible to teach him Occlumency…after all, Snape was the local expert. If he decided that Harry was indeed talent-less, perhaps Harry really was.

Harry shuddered involuntarily at the thought of there being no way to keep Voldemort out of his head. A question forced its way into his mind.

"What, Potter?" Harry jumped in spite of himself. Snape's voice was still soft and laconic.

"Uh, it's just that I was talking to someone who suggested I try self hypnosis to start with. He…er…said it helped him clear his mind when he got upset."

"For the moment we shall ignore that indiscretion. You should be talking to no-one about your training, Potter. I didn't agree to announce to half the school that I'm performing a special service for you, when there are hundreds of others who would be both better at it and more appreciative.

"Hypnosis is chapters twelve and thirteen of your text, so you need not ask me for the particulars. It is a very effective way to combat Legilimency. If you'd bothered reading that far, you'd have learned that the Imperius curse is a form of magical hypnotism. I have been told you can resist the Imperius curse, to some extent, so I don't know if hypnosis will be viable to you. Perhaps you should ask your mysterious friend to assist you." Snape glanced at his fingers, which were splayed out before him on the desk. "We are done here, Potter. For next week, I expect you to have attempted hypnosis, and to demonstrate it to me. If you insist on wasting my time with questions you could have answered with the text, you shall demonstrate that you value my opinion by following it." Harry stood to go, a nasty, sinking feeling deep in his chest.

"Professor?" Harry asked, hesitantly. Snape spun on him, his black eyes flashing murderously. Harry flinched.

"What?"

"Is something, er, wrong?"

"Get out of my office, Potter."

"Hermione, what if I can't do it?" Harry asked, in serious danger of whining.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Of course you can! If you couldn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have made you go see Professor Snape every week! He's not stupid!"

"But you didn't hear him today! He'd practically given up on me!"

"I still can't believe you'd care what that slimy git thinks of you anyway," Ron remarked, trying an alternative attack to cheer up his friend.

"I don't know…all I know is that I can't keep on going with him just able to get into my thoughts any time he wants. I mean, it's been better lately, but I've been getting more sleep and…I don't know, what if he's just waiting for the right time? Just like he is out in the…the real world?"

"Harry," Hermione said, taking his hand, "we'll help you, no matter what. I've been through your book at least twice, and I don't think I could do much with it either…it's like Professor Snape asking me to keep up with you on a broom! You can't be blamed be simply because he has a talent you don't!" Harry still grumbled, and that night, he pulled Connor aside.

"Remember when you were telling me about that trick, where you stare into a light?"

"Yeah, did it work?"

"It might," Harry replied, "I'm having problems doing it. I was just wondering...how did you learn it?" Connor stared at Harry a moment before he answered. It was an uncomfortable moment…Harry felt as if he was being read, not by Legilimency, but in the old fashioned way, as if Connor was sizing him up for a fight, or deciding whether he wanted to divulge something particularly sensitive.

"When I was a kid," the American started, leaning on Harry's bureau, "I had some medical problems. We didn't have the kind of money you need to get medicine – it's different in America – and my sister's friend was into a kind of medicine without doctors or drugs. A lot of people thought it was hokey…and maybe it is. I don't know; all I know is that sometimes it worked for me. She showed me how I could put myself into a sort of trance, to calm myself down and straighten things out."

"Could you show me again?" Harry asked, nervously. Though he'd never admit it, even to Hermione and Ron, Snape's attitude was still bothering him. Instead of speaking, Connor summoned a candle from Ron's bureau, and lit it with his wand.

"Sit on your bed, Harry, and get comfortable. Good. Now look into the fire. No, not at it…you can't look at anything and make it work, just look into it. Right, that's better. Now you have to control your breathing…breathe in, one, two…good, now breathe out, one, two, three, four…good. The further you get, the longer it will take you to breath out, you know? When you get to eight or sixteen, then you're pretty calm…then you should start feeling things slipping away."

"And you're sure this will help me clear my mind?" Harry asked again. He felt a bit dubious after so many different failed attempts at the same goal. The familiar relaxing feeling spread through him, but he was still swamped with thoughts.

"It always worked for me," Connor finally said with a shrug.

Harry spent the next half hour trying to clear his mind, but never really got the hang of it. He did make it up to sixteen as he exhaled, and felt extraordinarily calm, but he never stopped thinking of Hermione, Ron, Parvati, his classes, the Order, or any of the other dozen things that constantly occupied his mind.

For a moment, he might have had it, but then Ron spoke off to his left.

"Don't fall asleep with that candle burning, mate."

"Uh, thanks," Harry replied with a start. He was surprised to discover that he couldn't remember the last five minutes, and wondered if he'd actually made some progress, or if he'd just fallen asleep.

"What're you doing, anyway?"

"I'm practicing uh…remedial potions."

"Ah," Ron said, knowingly. "Working for you?"

"I don't know. Better than anything else I've tried. I need to get a candle that won't burn down the castle if fall asleep with it going." Ron chuckled, and Connor spoke from his bed without looking up from his History of Magic text.

"I'll be up for a while, if you want to keep practicing. I'll blow it out if you fall asleep."

Ron glanced at Harry, who shrugged and whispered "he knows I'm trying to clear my mind. This was his idea." Ron nodded, but didn't say anything, and Harry was silently grateful. Ron and the Connor had been getting along well lately, but Harry was always somewhat worried that something would set his friend off. To his credit, Ron had been very understanding the last few weeks. Whether that was because of his Prefect experience, due to Hermione's influence on him, or caused by some outside reason or personal revelation, Harry didn't know, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He looked back to the burning candle, which was quite low by now. He was glad that he'd talked to Connor. The worst case scenario now was that the self-hypnosis idea wouldn't work at all for clearing his mind, but he already knew it relaxed him, and based on his previous experience, that was a plus. Plus, he had the two chapters in his book to read on the subject, and they might help him even more.

There was a faint glimmer of hope shining in Harry's eyes, as his eyelids slid slowly lower and lower, and it looked quite a bit like a candle-flame.

Wednesday night was reserved for the Beginner's D.A. group. There was no real reason to show them wordless magic yet; most of the students in that group couldn't have used it anyway, and most likely they wouldn't have been able to tell the spells simply by their movement, so instead, he worked on one of his favorites: The Patronus Charm. Many of the students were years away from successfully conjuring a patronus, but they all enjoyed attempting it, and seeing Harry's ghostly stag, which was accompanied tonight by Hermione's playful otter, had them in very high spirits. Even Hagrid was guffawing mightily and pointing, and several of the students produced streams of mist, one or two of which looked to be on the verge of taking a form.

The Slytherins, Harry was pleased to note, worked as hard as anyone, perhaps owing to their desire to succeed, or perhaps to the fact that they felt pressured by being their house's only representatives, or their fear of being mistrusted. For whatever reason, their drive equaled anyone else's. Harry had never felt the need to scold them, and hadn't had to keep anyone from picking on them since the third practice, and if he'd missed the silver and green ties and patches, he wouldn't have known anyone from Slytherin was even there.

They progressed well that night, and after D.A. Hermione presented Harry with the clay seal that was the start of his signet. It had dried nicely, and maintained a very circular shape. Harry pronounced it good enough, and Hermione promised to work with him on getting the final charms cast on the signet before the full moon on the twenty-fifth of the month.

Later, as he lay in bed, he managed to drift off while staring into the candle, which was this time on Ron's bureau, since Ron had quite a bit of reading that he'd been putting off. Harry found himself awaking from a near trance, his mind totally blank.

This pleased him, and he slept very well for the second time in a week.

TEASER ALERT

The next half page is a teaser from Chapter 15 – When Draco Met Connor. Don't read it, if you're not the type who can handle that sort of thing.

Also, keep in mind I revise continuously. This will, more than likely, end up changed in some way, so don't fall in love with every meticulously crafted detail.

I mean it.

/TEASER ALERT

Chapter 15 – When Draco Met Connor

The following night, Harry had the more advanced D.A. students, but first he was on a mission. He crept along the fourth-floor corridor under his invisibility cloak as close to Connor as he dared get. Ron was back on the warpath, and to keep peace, Harry had agreed to keep an eye on the big American for an entire day. Earlier, Connor slipped from the Common Room without saying a thing, which he'd been doing all year, for one reason or another. He refused to discus it, and proved to be a very difficult man to follow. Ron wasn't alone in his suspicions; no matter how you looked at the entire situation, something was off, though Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the ease with which Connor mishandled Malfoy.

Ron was volatile, but he was visibly so; it was easy to tell when Ron was close to blowing his top and becoming dangerous. Connor's contrasting silence was unnatural and at times frightening. He was violent without warning, so simply being around him felt vaguely precarious. Perhaps Connor was the type Parvati had been referring to when she and Harry discussed the appeal of dangerous men.

Or, perhaps it was something else entirely. Connor didn't exactly add up; the things that he did and the way that he did them produced a very odd picture when one tried to put them all together: A not-very-talented American wizard coming to Brittan, with only shadowy excuses or downright refusals to explain why was only the start of it. His transfiguration ability was meager, he actually enjoyed History, Potions and Herbology, and he was frighteningly good at perpetrating savage acts of Muggle violence. Perhaps this was normal for American wizards; Harry wasn't an expert, and therefore couldn't say.

For the moment, it looked as if Connor was headed to the owlry, which was also unusual, as he'd never received so much as a single letter. Even that was strange, Harry thought. Didn't Connor have any friends at home? Wouldn't they be worried about him? Before they could get to the owlry, Connor turned off down a lesser used hallway; one the Marauders' Map indicated led to a tall and mostly empty tower. Harry had never been in it, and he had no idea what it was used for or why Connor would be going there. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he noticed a small dot on the map that was moving towards them: Draco Malfoy.