Sly: My intention in trying to mirror similar moods between the two main perspectives has revolved around trying to connect the two opposing views and by extension help develop the emotional states of the characters, and so far I think it's been working well. And I'm glad at least SOME of the attempted humor is managing to land!

OMAC: I agree, you'd think a concept like the 'training collars' would be more prevalent in the universe. And getting to watch big-mouth Jake struggle as a mute? No way I'm passing that up.

Managed to churn this one out, but classes have resumed so expect slightly longer update periods. Enjoy the new material, and, like always, I encourage everyone to leave their opinions and feedback in reviews and PM's so that I can gauge your perceptions of the plot so far!

The wavering lights in the cabin had begun to dominate as the sun slipped past the uneven horizon outside. After hours of travel, the clacking of the tracks below and gentle swaying of the carriage had melted into the background, as had the unwelcome sensations brought on by Jake's new pendant. Yet the trip had not been so lengthy as to dull his anxiety, and still he sat stiffly with tensed muscles and sweating hands.

In his defense, it was a uniquely stressful situation. Exams freaked him out, sure. Combating all manner of absurdly dangerous and unpredictable magical creatures occasionally terrified him, absolutely. But sitting here powerless, feeling as though he were trapped in a hornet's nest where the smallest mistake, a single toe out of line, would bring his doom swarming from all directions? No, Jake would take a rampaging manticore or stampeding centaurs over this torturous train ride any day.

The carriage jostled harshly and Jake looked through the door's small window to see several students rushing to and fro along the corridor. He thought maybe there was some emergency until he registered their joyful expressions and the smoothing of the train's constant shaking. We're almost there? Already?

What did he do? He'd flown last time, Stout never explained what happened after this! He wracked his brain, trying to devise some glimpse of a plan, when one of his mentor's very first lessons came back to him. Every dragon knows the key to infiltration is to blend in with the crowd…

Blend in, I've gotta blend in. He couldn't even think of where to start until the most obvious thought occurred to him: everyone was changed into their uniforms. Clothes! Muggle digs are bad, right, so where did I…ahah! He pulled the dark set of fabrics from his bag and drew the blinds before rushing to throw on what he could, a task complicated by the intermittent jerks of the train as it came to a squealing stop. Pants, belt, shirt, bath robe, got it…tuck this stupid itchy collar in, and don't forget the wand…

Jake eventually left the cabin to see the majority of the train was already abandoned. Snagging his bag, he hurried out and down the train steps to find himself on a gloomy, lamp-lit platform in the middle of a forest. He looked around frantically until he saw the procession of students all flowing through the freezing air to mingle at a clearing near the tree line. As he approached, he noticed the area was filled with horse-drawn carriages that were each preparing to leave one-by-one up a long muddy road. Jake scoffed. They really do act like they're Amish.

The students were chatting the night away as they waited for an open seat, though what Jake managed to hear was pointless drabble about Christmas gifts, uncompleted essays, and Quidditch teams. His focus, however, wasn't entirely devoted to the task as he scanned the crowd, looking for the few familiar faces he knew he had to find before one in particular became the unwitting puppet of a magical lunatic.

The crowd casually moved forward and Jake soon had to postpone his search to climb aboard one of the carts, easing himself onto the seat. Groaning internally, he placated himself with silently staring ahead at the road's path and wondering in surprise what kind of creature was actually pulling them along as he considered the 'horse's' skeletal body, tight dark skin, and chilling bat-like wings tucked in at its sides. Okay, so that's new…

"I like your hair," an airy voice commented beside him. He turned to answer, realizing he had unknowingly sat beside the girl Haley had befriended. What was her name? Linda? Laura? Forgetting the charm tucked beneath his shirt, he opened his mouth to speak and instead gawked at her awkwardly. The silver-blonde seemed unbothered by his vacant response and continued in a casual voice, "It's an interesting color. I've thought about changing my hair, but father says it attracts unusually pesky nargles."

Jake narrowed his eyes at her and quickly reached a hand up to his hair. Attracts what-now? I do not have lice, yo. The cart wheels splashed through the mud while the only other person in their cart, a round, timid looking boy sitting across from Jake, who he vaguely remembered from the classes he'd observed, spoke up uncertainly. "Don't mind her, she was just joking. Right, Luna?" Luna! That was it! Eh, Linda, Luna, same difference.

"Of course not, but you don't have to worry. Most nargles hide away in attics and shoeboxes this time of year," she answered plainly. Jake just stared at her, bewildered. Is she being serious or what? Luna looked up at the sky in the silence that followed, so Jake returned to staring ahead at the path, glad to see they were nearly at the top of the slope that led to the castle's main entrance. Haley has weird taste in friends.

He could see where the carriages were all stopping near the doors to deposit the students when the girl again spoke dreamily, "You don't talk very much, do you?" Jake looked back to her, slightly annoyed. Now I get why Hales liked you, you're just as big-mouthed as she is. Her expression saddened gently, but she said unabashed, "It's alright, other people avoid speaking with me too. I've gotten used to it."

"That's not true, Luna," the other boy said quickly, and Jake abruptly felt guilty for his distanced attitude. He quickly waved both of his raised hands in denial and pointed to his throat, shaking his head. The boy watched quizzically before guessing, "You can't talk?" Jake nodded eagerly, and the boy smiled in understanding. "See, Luna? It wasn't…" He stopped short, seeing that she was staring off into space, removed from the conversation.

The horse-thing came to a stop and the three of them stood to climb down and join the throng of students walking toward the open castle doors, where bright light and warmth brimmed from within. As soon as they'd hit the ground, Luna immediately skipped off without any farewells, disappearing in the procession of black robes and cloaks. The other boy walked beside Jake, sighing lightly as they went. I swear I know his name, too. Wasn't it something funny? Man I'm bad at this…

"Don't mind her, she's just a bit…different," he explained, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion as he looked down at Jake. Worried, Jake inspected himself, trying to find what concerned the boy, when he clarified, "Sorry, I just didn't see a patch. You know…" He tapped his finger on his chest, over a red and yellow crest that Jake remembered specified him as a Gryffindor student. He then understood, however, that his own clothing lacked any such identifying marks. I don't have a house? But I thought…and Stout never…

"Mr. Long?" Jake jerked his head around towards the familiar voice and found the tall, hawk-like witch that taught Transfiguration standing just on the brink of the castle doors. Her stern gaze unnerved him, but he nodded numbly and approached her with the other boy still following. She lifted her head up in indignation at his approach but chose to address the other boy first.

"You may go, Mr. Longbottom." Jake was too intimidated to appreciate the ridiculous name and simply watched the boy nod quickly before scurrying away. The woman returned her attention to him, her eyes lingering over Jake's hair with a look of disapproving aversion, and he felt himself shrivel under her scrutiny. There's no way she used to be this scary.

"I am Professor McGonagall, one of the many instructors here at Hogwarts. Follow me, this way." Jake unquestioningly did as he was told and the imposing woman led him wordlessly up stairs and through passages, though Jake paid no mind to their heading. He was preoccupied again with searching the halls and students they passed for any sign of the few people he'd been dying to see. He longed for one's friendship, was sworn to guard over the other, and the last…well…

"Licorice Snaps." Professor McGonagall's voice echoed down the corridor while the gargoyle statue in front of her came to life and hobbled aside, revealing a spiraling staircase behind it. They had climbed the first few steps when the stones rumbled violently and began slowly sliding upwards. After the initial surprise subsided, Jake smirked and rolled his eyes. Escalators? Now that's just lazy.

He paused as they reached the top of the staircase and the witch knocked on a large wooden door before pushing it open and gesturing for him to follow. Jake walked uncertainly into a large room filled to the brim with books, paintings, and countless little devices and trinkets. His eyes were drawn to a shining, radiant sword displayed on one of the walls, the rubies inlaid in its hilt mesmerizing him until he was distracted by the appearance of a resplendently dressed wizard. Jake wasn't sure if he was more relieved or aggravated by the sight of his gracious benefactor.

"I'm glad to see you made it, Jonathan," Dumbledore greeted him warmly. Jake nodded to him, but the two were given no time for attempted pleasantries as the Transfiguration Professor waved her wand through the air and a boring little stool appeared with a soft pop.

"Please sit, Mr. Long," she instructed him. Eyeing the seat carefully, he obliged and sat on the stiff thing, facing the headmaster.

"It's a pleasure to include you among our students, even if it is only for a short while. As eager as I'm sure you are to meet your classmates, there is one thing we must do first," Dumbledore said ominously as he stood and slowly approached him. "Normally we perform this ritual in front of the other students, but in circumstances such as yours we find a private setting more prudent."

Jake stared at him in panic, his heart racing. Ritual? I thought this was a school, not a cult! Dumbledore smiled still and nodded to his colleague, "Professor McGonagall?"

She waved her wand once more and a dusty old pointed hat rose off of a high shelf, zipping across the room to land in her outstretched hand. Without explanation, she promptly placed the headwear over Jake's hair, the brim sliding down and nearly covering his eyes. He sat cringing with his fingers digging into the wooden stool in tight grips, terrified of what was to follow but grateful that it so far involved no goat sacrifices.

The silence persisted and Jake hesitantly began to relax when booming laughter deafened him, nearly rocking him off of the stool. He looked around at the two professors accusingly, though both seemed to be watching him with silent interest, unmoving and tightlipped.

"Is this a joke? Some scheme or ruse?" the belligerent voice reverberated from inside Jake's skull. "You are no wizard! Hmm, but no muggle either. I've never felt a mind like this before. Who are you? Or should I ask what…oh I see. Yes, now that is intriguing."

Even for dragons, hearing voices was never a good sign and Jake's teeth were gritted with trepidation. What's going on, yo? Who's talking? What's 'intriguing'?

The voice scoffed, "Not very bright, then, and not a wizard, not even human! But…there is magic, no doubt. The potential is there…" The disembodied voice was arguing with itself, and Jake thought perhaps the supernatural world had finally driven him insane. "You've certainly a strong heart. Very passionate, and very misguided, but such ambition! You're driven by fear, yes, but driven still…

Shut up! Get out of my head! Whatever this 'ritual' was, Jake had experienced his fill. He reached a hand up to tear whatever this hat was off of his head when the voice snapped, "Hands off, I'm not finished!" The hat's influence teased across the surface of his mind, like probing, ghostly fingers that tugged and pulled at his thoughts. He could feel it dredging up secrets that no wizard could learn, and others that even he wished he could forget. Step off, yo! That stuff's none of your biz! You can't know, no one can know!

"Clinging to deception like a weapon, now that's not very brave," the hat derided. "Yet you are here. Right…this is unusual, but if the headmaster wishes it…I suppose I've let stranger through before. As for where you belong, well now that's quite clear, no question." He felt the oversized ornament shift above his head, its discerning powers pulling away, and heard the same voice skeptically ask aloud, "You are certain, headmaster?"

Dumbledore, who had been watching the interaction avidly, gave a slow, deliberate nod. The hat grumbled incoherently and announced, "Very well then, GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor McGonagall lifted the hat once more and replaced it upon its shelf while Jake stood quickly and looked imploringly at Dumbledore. The man remained as pleased as always, and only now did Jake's memories travel back to the end of last Summer, when they'd first arrived and he'd observed the Welcoming Feast from his solitary window. Was that…did I just?...

"And that's that. Jonathan, you will join Gryffindor House during your stay here, and Professor McGonagall here will be your Head of House. I encourage you to bring any concerns or worries you may have to her, or myself," Dumbledore said soothingly, intoning the ending with esoteric significance. "You'll find your belongings already placed in your dormitory. Dinner will begin shortly, I suggest you eat well and get plenty of rest before classes tomorrow. Professor McGonagall, if you would?"

"I'll see that he gets settled, headmaster," Professor McGonagall offered, ushering Jake back out of the office. Before the door closed completely, he turned back to see the bearded man smile and give him a last, fleeting wink.

Having the luxury of flight, Jake had never truly appreciated just how far the climb was to Gryffindor Tower. Professor McGonagall lead the way, explaining the rules and boundaries of the school, as well as the four houses and the point system they used to compete, most of which Jake already knew perfectly well. By the time they were standing outside the painting of the haughty, plump woman that guarded the round portcullis, Jake was red in the face and worn out. It's gotta be this stupid necklace, he reasoned.

"This is the hidden entrance to the Gryffindor common room. A password is required to gain entry and will be changed frequently." She turned toward the hefty, gowned woman in the portrait and clearly said, "Ab Incunabulis."

The woman eyed Jake warily and responded, "You may pass," as her painting creaked forward, the large circular hole behind coming into view. Jake followed McGonagall's lead as they climbed through the entrance, acknowledging that if there was any upside to not having his dragon form it was being able to easily fit through the passage without feeling as if he were being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste.

"This is your common room," McGonagall said with a wave as he came through into the familiar, cozy room filled with comfortable furniture and a roaring fireplace. Several students inside had turned to watch their entrance with interest. "Here you may relax with your classmates and work on your assignments. Ah…Mr. Longbottom, come here for a moment!" she called out to the far corner. Even with the silencing charm, it took a herculean effort for Jake to contain his amusement as the round boy answered Professor McGonagall's summons.

"Yes, professor?" he asked, grinning at seeing Jake and no doubt mistaking the quiet boy's trembling smile for a sign of friendly greeting.

"Mr. Long, this is Neville Longbottom. Mr. Longbottom, this is Jonathan Long, a new fifth-year student. I believe you two are already acquainted?"

"Well…we rode the same carriage from the train…"

"Good. Kindly show him where your dormitory is located and help him with navigating the school over the next few days," she ordered.

"O-Okay, Professor, I can d-do that," he stammered, apparently nervous of the new responsibility.

"Then I'll leave you to it. Any questions?" Both boys shook their heads and she gave a curt nod before turning back and leaving through the entrance tunnel. They stood there quietly for a moment, Jake looking once again around the room for familiar faces, until Neville worked up the courage to speak.

"So, er…Jonathan, right?" Jake turned back and nodded, but then considered it and shook his head. Neville tilted his head at the conflicting answers, so Jake held his hands at chest height and shoulder width apart before slowly bringing them closer together. Just like earlier, Neville looked perplexed before he said uncertainly, "Smaller?" Jake nodded, but the boy still seemed confused. "Er…what's smaller, again?" Jake jabbed a finger at his own chest. "You're smaller? Well, I suppose you're pretty short, but…" Jake shook his hands impatiently and imitated writing something in the air before repeating the other two motions. Unfortunately, Neville's face only contorted further with thought.

"I think he's trying to say his name is short, Neville," a voice answered off to the side. Jake threw his hands up in victory and turned to thank the individual. The sight of her bushy, curled brown hair and sharp eyes, however, stopped him mid-step, frozen in time as though the world had simply stopped spinning.

"Oh, I get it! Thanks, Hermione," Neville said with relief. "This is Jonathan, by the way. He's a new fifth-year."

"New?" she asked curiously. "And short for Jonathan…so John, then?" Jake's mind was a pit of tar, his eyes wide and his mouth sagging open, yet somehow he managed to give a shallow nod. She looked concerned but offered a hand and cautiously said, "Alright…well my name's Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure." Again, some part of him managed to weakly clasp his hand with hers, followed by a painful silence. Her gaze uncomfortably drifted upwards. "Your hair is…interesting?"

Neville, blessedly, chose that moment to intervene. "Let me show you the dorm, John," he offered, and Jake quickly nodded before following after him, refusing to chance a look back at the single greatest threat to his secrecy in the entirety of Hogwarts. They travelled upwards through a tightly winding tower staircase, which unfortunately was quite motionless, until Neville lead him through a small side passage with a plaque on the wall outside reading Fifth Years. As they neared the door to the room, Jake could distinctly make out two familiar voices chatting just on the other side.

"Maybe we've always had six beds and just never noticed?" one proposed.

"So where do you suppose all of this stuff came from, then?" the other asked rhetorically.

"Hey guys," Neville greeted the two as he entered the room with Jake in tow.

"Oh, hello Neville," the tall boy with flaming red hair answered tiredly.

"Hey, Neville," the other boy with jet black hair muttered, looking away from the mysterious pile of belongings next to the unaccounted four-poster to face them, his face screwing up in fresh befuddlement. "Who's that?"

"Oh, right!" Neville jumped aside to give room for Jake to move into the room. "Harry, Ron, this Jonathan Long. Well, just John, actually, he's new."

Ron casually walked over first and shook his hand. "Name's Ron Weasley, pleasure."

"Ron's a prefect, so he can help with any problems you have, too," Neville clarified. Ron stood a bit straighter, the recognition inflating him. Jake nodded and smiled at him, thinking of the entertaining evenings they'd spent down at the Quidditch pitch before turning to the much more reserved observer.

Harry crossed the small room, extending a hand as he went but never wavering from his guarded demeanor. "Harry, Harry Potter." Jake shook it stiffly and nodded, watching the boy who was only barely taller than him for any sign of danger, any hint that he'd arrived too late. All he found, however, was a scrawny wizard with messy hair and the lamest glasses he'd ever seen.

"Right, well I'm going to dinner before they put out the pudding," Ron announced, shoving his way out of the room with Harry and Neville following suit. His voice carried back up into the room, "Well he's a quiet one, isn't he?"

Jake paused, looking sadly at the room filled with beds, clothes, and a small furnace heater. As homely as it appeared, he'd never felt so out of place and alien. Great job, Jake. You finally got what you wanted.

"Hey John, are you coming?" Neville asked, poking his head back into the room. Jake nodded with a fake smile and moved to join him on the staircase. The last thing he was worried about was dinner, but he needed to get his head straight and now could at last start doing what he'd set out to do a week ago.

Jake wasn't going to let Harry out of his sight.

"Well it's unusual, isn't it?" Hermione asked Ron and Harry. They were trudging towards their first class of the semester and none of them were particularly chipper in the early morning air.

Ron gave an annoyed sigh before answering, "What, Hermione? What's unusual?" When she didn't respond, he looked over to see her staring intently ahead where Neville was leading the new boy further down the hall, talking incessantly about whatever came to mind as he had been all morning. "You mean John? I don't know, compared to Tonks it isn't that strange."

"Compared to…?" She groaned audibly. "Not his hair, I mean him being here at all! I don't think we've known a student that hasn't been here since their first year."

"Didn't one of the second-year Hufflepuffs just start last term?" Harry asked.

"You're thinking of Valery Cobbler, but she had Dragonpox her first year, it hardly counts," Hermione dismissed him.

"I'm just glad McGonagall didn't stick me with having to show him around everywhere. Poor Neville's probably going mad." Ron commented.

Neville's voice carried down the hallway, excitedly yammering, "…and when we get to Herbology you'll see the Fanged Geraniums, they've got these fantastic stalks and their incisors are just coming in…"

"Poor Neville?" Harry chuckled. "He's having the time of his life. Poor John, more like. I'll be surprised if his ears haven't fallen off by lunch." The two ahead of them turned the last corner and were about to walk through the door to History of Magic when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from behind them.

"Harry!" He turned around to see a beaming Cho Chang approaching, his stomach feeling as if it had plummeted ten feet. Hermione grabbed Ron roughly by the arm and dragged him, despite his loud protesting, away towards the classroom where John was waiting for them with the door open.

"Hey Cho," Harry trembled, turning back towards her. "How...er...how was your break?"

"Oh, it was boring, mostly. Do you know...who's that?" She looked with narrowed eyes over Harry's shoulder where John had evidently dropped his bag and was kneeling down to pick his spilled belongings up at a glacial pace.

"That's John, he's new," Harry answered thoughtlessly. "So what were you going to ask?"

She stared for a moment longer before looking back to Harry dreamily. "What was…oh, right! Since it's the first day back, are we going to have a D.A. meeting tonight?"

"I can't tonight, I…" Harry hesitated, having to bite back the bile in his throat, "…I've got Remedial Potions." The look of disdain that crossed her face made Harry feel like screaming and burying his head in the ground all at once.

"Okay, that's alright. I'll keep an eye out, then. See you around, yeh?" She smiled and gave him a wave as she walked back down the hall, and he returned it gracelessly. Harry's chest rose like a hot air balloon and he turned back to see John just slipping into the room as he neared, grinning and shaking his head.

The euphoria carried him through History of Magic and down the steps towards the dungeons as they traveled to double Potions. Professor Binns, in his usual display of ghostly despondence, had failed to even notice the additional body in the room, but it was readily apparent from his biting glare that Snape would not be as oblivious.

"Today you will be brewing the Draught of Peace, which you will find on page seventy-eight. You have two hours. Begin." Snape's flat demand set them all about their work in a flurry of cauldrons and ingredients. The instructions were simple enough and Harry took care to follow each step thoroughly. Snape would no doubt torment him later that night, the last thing Harry needed was more pointed hatred in front of the rest of the class.

When half the period had passed, Harry was waiting for his mixture to stew and begin sparking before adding the next ingredient. He passed the time by cleaning his area, though his attention waned and drifted to the table in front of him, where Neville worked alongside their new classmate. At this point in the lesson, Neville would normally have spilled several vials or set his potion aflame, yet he was perfectly calm with a simmering concoction that matched the book exactly. Harry was awed by the improvement until he saw Neville's cauldron beginning to produce swirling black fumes. John hastily nudged him and mimed a clockwise stirring motion, which Neville promptly enacted. The fumes subsided and he breathed a grateful thank you to his partner.

"And who…are you?" Neville shriveled under the sinister tone, but John looked happily up at the ominous instructor, who had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and pointed an uncertain finger at himself. Snape cocked an eyebrow and John quickly pulled a scrap of paper out of his bag, along with a quill and ink. Harry could almost feel the ire emanating from Snape as he watched the boy scribble down a few words and hand the note to him.

He snatched the paper and glanced at it briefly before tossing it back down on the table. "Jonathan Long?" His lip curled, a devilish look crossing his face. "Tell me, Long, is it common practice in your home to be disrespectful and not address your professors appropriately?"

John shook his head defensively and bent down to write another note, but Snape tore it away and crumpled it in his hand before he could finish the first word. "Insist on acting like a speechless mutt and I will gladly treat you accordingly."

John just stared at him blankly, which was likely for the better. Retorts only infuriated Snape's malice, a fact they all knew but Neville somehow forgot as he interjected timidly, "B-but Professor…"

"As for you, Longbottom," he targeted the paling Gryffindor. "One more tip from Long and it'll be detention for the both of you. There will be no assistance on your O.W.L.s, nor shall there be any in my class, do I make myself clear?" Neville, who was doing a decent impression of a turtle retreating into its shell, whimpered what sounded like a choked Yes, sir.

"Harry!" Hermione's hissed whisper interrupted his focus long enough for him to notice his cauldron had gone far beyond sparking and was showering his table in a downpour of bright flares. He hurriedly doused the solution with his entire sample of Snarfalump Sap, curing it of the fireworks display but also turning it a sickly green instead of the desired shimmering blue.

"Potter." Harry knew his fate was sealed the moment the steam cleared to reveal his deliverer leering down at him with barely contained satisfaction. "I see you've wasted no time in demonstrating your blatant inability to brew even the simplest of solutions." He flicked his wand out and vanished the contents of Harry's cauldron, sneering fiendishly as he strode away. He announced loudly, "We'll have plenty of time tonight in Remedial Potions to review where and how you were so clearly…incompetent."

Malfoy and his cronies snickered loudly while the rest of the class looked away, avoiding Snape's attention as he returned to the front of the room. Harry glared at his empty cauldron and furiously packed up the remains of his assignment. Dropping his scales in his bag, he stood and stomped out of the room, ignoring Hermione's sympathy but having the unshakable sensation of being watched far more closely than he would have liked.

Lunch afforded him some respite with his friends and a meal, at least until more D.A. members began approaching to ask about when their next meeting was going to be. Harry worked hard to control his temper and not loose his building frustrations on them, though Zacharias Smith in particular made it a difficult task as he laughed uproariously at the thought of Harry having to take extra lessons from Snape. Harry had never so eagerly left the Great Hall for Divination. As it happened, trying to predict the weather or his impending doom from sticks thrown onto the floor failed to improve his mood, and he didn't need a prophecy to know what their next lesson promised to bring.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is last. That's with Professor Umbridge." Neville's glum narrative resounded from behind Harry as they walked down the hall. John must have responded somehow as Neville continued, "You already know her?" There was another pause, and then, "Well I don't blame you; she isn't a very pleasant woman." Harry reached the classroom door first and opened it for the others, looking to John out of curiosity and finding him positively livid, far angrier than even when Snape had been berating him. He found himself wondering what Umbridge could have done to earn such overwhelming contempt.

"We usually just read, she never lets us do any magic in class," Neville sighed while they sat. The news didn't appear to change John's attitude and Neville blundered on, "It's alright, though. We manage to learn on our own, and we get loads of help from the…"

"Textbook!" Hermione yelled, putting a hand firmly on Neville's arm and repeating in a menacing tone, "We get loads of help from the textbook, right Neville?" Harry wanted to hug Hermione for catching the slip, and Neville's eyes were wide as dinner plates at realizing his nearly disastrous mistake. The sound of the small woman entering from her office distracted them all and they waited in punctuated silence as she waddled towards the rows of desks on her short legs. The holiday away had dulled Harry's memory of Umbridge, her powdered face seeming far more repulsive than he had recalled.

"Good afternoon, class," she greeted them sweetly.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they all responded in unison, not counting John, of course, who instead sat staring silently at their professor, his face twisted like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Wands away please," she announced, focusing in on John and staring intently at him despite the fact that his wand was nowhere in sight. She held the look for an abnormally lengthy period before continuing, "I hope you're all rested and ready to learn after your break. Please turn to page ninety-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the ninth chapter, entitled 'Universal Etiquette in Avoiding Intercultural Conflict'. There will be no need to talk."

The room fell into a chapel-like atmosphere of unnatural silence, interrupted only by the gentle brushing of turning pages. After only a few minutes, however, Umbridge's girlish voice pierced the illusion.

"Mr. Long?"

Harry's head lifted from his book. John continued to study the chapter in front of him for a moment longer before reluctantly looking up to Umbridge questioningly. Smiling, she held out her hand with her index finger wagging towards herself. He grimaced at the gesture and walked towards her desk stiffly, coming to a stop just in front of her.

Her grin spread even wider. "Your name is Jonathan Long, correct?" John nodded. "And you are the nephew of Benjamin Stout, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?" He looked surprised but nodded once more, and Umbridge narrowed her eyes vehemently. "Yes, the headmaster informed me of your background, along with your...mundane family. Well, Mr. Long, I don't know how you were taught to behave in your muggle home, but here you will answer me with either a 'Yes, Professor' or a 'No, Professor', is that understood?"

"Bloody hell, here we go," Ron groaned off to Harry's side. John just shook his head shortly and Umbridge tilted her head with a frown like she were indulging a five year old.

"No?" she asked with insincere confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, my dear. Are you refusing to follow our rules?"

Neville's hand shakily lifted into the air, though Umbridge ignored it and watched curiously as Jake pulled a folded slip of paper out of a pocket in his cloak and handed it to the Professor. She took it gingerly and read through the short message that explained his circumstances, an idea that Neville had suggested after their debacle with Snape. Professor Trelawney had been pacified by the tactic, but the same could not be said for Umbridge as her devilish grin resurfaced, even more twisted.

"I see. Very well Mr. Long," she smiled, dropping the note back in front of him. "I can be flexible if needed. Since you cannot speak, you will instead respond by placing your hands on top of your head for me. One hand will be taken to mean 'Yes, Professor'," she rested one of her sausage-fingered palms over her hair, brushing against her velvet bow, "and two will be for 'No, Professor'," she lifted her other hand and settled it above the first. "Is that understood?"

"Unbelievable…" Hermione hissed, striking her own palm up into the air, but Umbridge's attention was centered solely on watching John. The back of his neck burned red as he gave another jarred nod.

"Ah ah ah," she hummed. John's arms tensed at his sides, and Harry thought he might actually take a swing at the woman. Instead, he brought up his right arm and slapped his hand on top of his head, flattening his spiky black hair.

"Much better, and do you have any questions?" He stiffly piled the other hand on top of the first. She smiled and chimed, "Wonderful. You may be seated." John quickly returned to his seat, his shoulders slouched and head bent low to hide his face. Hermione dropped her hand and angrily returned to her book with crossed arms while Neville continuously sent apologetic looks in the newcomer's direction.

None of them could leave the room fast enough when the lesson ended, having the good sense not to discuss Umbridge's little demonstration. Even Neville's constant ranting had wilted into bland remarks about homework and the weather, and John managed to seem even more reserved. Harry himself was only growing more anxious as the evening wore on, and by the time they were leaving the Great Hall after dinner he felt nothing but debilitating dread at having to see Snape once again.

"We'll be in the common room when you're done," Ron said comfortingly. Hermione attempted a reassuring smile but only managed a lopsided grimace as if she'd just stubbed her toe. Over her shoulder, Neville and Seamus were climbing the stairs with John, who was looking intently back at him with a troubled expression. Harry nodded to his two friends in silent resignation and turned away towards the dungeons, knowing delaying Snape's summons would only make matters worse.

When there was no answer at his knocking and he entered Snape's office to find it empty, his mind had leapt with impossible hope. Perhaps Snape had been whisked away for some urgent Potions crisis, or maybe he'd even fallen from the viaduct if Harry were truly lucky.

The door slammed shut behind him, the following gust of air chilling Harry to the bone.

"Sit, Potter."

Jake sat in a corner of the crowded common room, his quill readied and a fresh roll of parchment laid out before him to be filled with his essay on seventeenth century Merpeople Colony Fragmentation. He'd been hunched over the assignment for nearly an hour, however, and still the only mark remained the splotch of ink that had slowly dripped from his dangling feather. The room was filled with hollering and laughter as the Weasley twins demonstrated their latest merchandise, but that wasn't quite what had delayed Jake's work.

"You alright, John?" Jake looked up absently at his tour guide, Longbottom, who sat next to him with the same look of pained embarrassment everyone had worn after their class with Umbridge. The boy wrung his hands, his droopy eyes not quite meeting Jake's. He hated seeing the others pity him, like he were some sad puppy being kicked around, but it did help inspire his vengeful side. Even without his bag of toys and partner in crime, Jake still intended to school Umbridge the first chance he got.

He smiled and gave Neville a thumbs-up, whose eyes in turn widened with misunderstanding. Fumbling for words, he stuttered, "Oh…good! I thought that…well, you seemed quiet and..." Jake perked an eyebrow testily, and Neville's face flushed beet red. "I mean…more than…well…"

C'mon, this is too easy. As funny as teasing the timid boy was, Neville had been the one to show him the most kindness so far and Jake felt he owed him at least for that. He waved his hand dismissively and scribbled Thanks onto a shred of paper before handing it to him. Longbottom noticeably relaxed after reading it skittishly and flashed a halfhearted grin before returning to his own piecemeal pile of assignments.

He appreciated Neville's concern, but in truth Jake was more cheerful than he'd been in weeks. Umbridge was a pig like he'd expected, and he'd quickly come to see why everyone detested Snape nearly as much, though Potter had certainly gotten the shorter straw in that class.

Compared to everything else, though? Returning to the magical world without people giving him sideways glances? Going back to classes that he actually enjoyed taking with students that already knew him for who he really was, even if they didn't know it? It didn't really matter that none of his friends recognized him; in fact it was the most empowering part of this whole endeavor. He'd never believed it possible, but with Stout's help he'd managed to escape to the one place he didn't feel like he was being judged or chastised, where he didn't have to try and meet outlandish expectations.

But that was it, wasn't it? He slouched as another wave of self-loathing came over him. This was nothing more than a breakout for Jake, his irresponsible need to be rebellious and go AWOL. Oh, he'd made a promise to Dumbledore, and felt compelled to return Stout's kindness, but the root of it all? Stripping away the fat, getting down to brass tacks? He wasn't helping others conquer their obstacles; he was fleeing from his own.

A fresh round of clapping began as George's head vanished after donning a hideous pointed hat, jerking Jake out of his trance. He slapped his forehead, agitated. You gotta snap out of it, yo. You know it's not that simple! Even you're not that big of a jerk. His focus drifted over to the fireplace, where Ron slouched on the couch, grimacing at his essay with a dumbfounded expression, while Hermione sat reading a book in her armchair. The sight of her made his pulse race like it always did. You're here to stop Chang, and to protect your friends, too! And don't forget about…

Hinges creaked within the entrance tunnel as the Fat Lady's portrait swung forward. Speak of the devil, he thought as Harry's form wearily crawled out of the hole in the wall and walked through the mass of students to join his friends by the fireplace. Jake had kept a close watch on the boy all day and, even though he had no clue how to tell if Potter finally snapped, he'd seemed pretty sane so far. Even under Snape's irrationally pointed prejudice, Harry had kept his cool, which Jake readily admitted was a marked improvement from the beginning of the year.

Having to distance himself from Potter following dinner hadn't been ideal, but after completing their Potions lesson that morning without so much as a spilt grain of Powdered Monkshood, he sincerely doubted Professor Snape would ever allow him to join Harry for Remedial Potions. Seeing Potter now, however, Jake decided it was probably for the better. The poor kid looked like he'd just come back from war, and the severe expressions on Ron's and Hermione's faces as they spoke with him in hushed voices weren't too comforting either.

Now that looks way too juicy to pass up. Neville was bent low over his papers, his nose occasionally smearing the ink, and nearly everyone else in the room was shoving closer into the far corner to catch a better glimpse of the twins' display. No one's looking; it'll be a piece of cake. Were he here, Stout would no doubt berate him for even considering this course of action, but Jake couldn't resist satisfying his curiosity and carefully lifted up the hood of his robe to conceal his face.

He cupped the right side of his head with a hand and thought intently, Ear of the Dragon. Sparse tingling pricked along his skin, but the same fleshy human ear remained. He scowled in frustration. Stout wasn't joking, it's like I'm back in middle school with this whack collar on. He redoubled his efforts and shouted in his mind, Ear of the Dragon! An appeased grin pulled at his cheeks as his hood distended slightly and the previously cacophonous room warped into reverberating clarity.

Every sound was perfectly isolated and crisp, so much so that he could even make out individual pops from the crackling fireplace, but it was still exceptionally difficult for Jake to sift through the rampant cheering and neighboring discussions to fixate on their group. Classmates comparing notes, girls gossiping about boys, boys whispering about girls, the mind-numbing medley was making his head ache. Ugh, It's like playing Where's Waldo, Soundtrack Edition.

"…the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be…" Harry breathed excitedly. Jake snapped up and immediately dialed in on him, straining to make out their words.

"Of course, it makes sense for…" Hermione began.

"AND OFF AGAIN!" George's voice boomed. Jake recoiled from the deafening yell, clinging to his hood. He shook his head and tried to fish through the sea of voices to find the three fifth-years' closed conversation again.

"…through a door at the Ministry of Magic, it's got to be that one!" Hermione whispered.

"And that woman was after it too," Harry added. "Did your dad ever mention her, Ron?"

"Only said she wasn't with the Ministry," Ron muttered. "Odd place for a weapon, though…"

Say what now? What weapon do the wizards have that the Dark Dorkasaurus wants? Jake tried to remember every detail of their conversation, but he couldn't recall Dumbledore ever mentioning Chang being after a weapon. Maybe he wasn't aware? No way. If there's a weapon, then Dumble knows about it. Though Stout and even the Council revered the man, Jake had the sinking feeling that a certain headmaster was playing him for a fool.

"Yeah…I'm fine…" Harry groaned. Jake barely caught the comment and quickly turned back to the conversation. "I don't like Occlumency much."

"I expect few people enjoy having their mind attacked," Hermione cringed. Her next thought was cut short as Fred promptly shoved one of their enchanted hats on Harry's head, the room falling into laughter at the sight of a headless Potter. Harry tore it off and shoved it into Ron's arms before springing rashly to his feet.

"Come on, Harry, get the gnomes out of your trousers!" George teased him innocently. Harry turned away and walked towards the dorm tower, rubbing his temple carefully.

"I'm not feeling well…" he murmured, disappearing up the staircase. The twins shrugged and went back to their show, but Hermione and Ron both looked troubled, a sentiment that Jake couldn't ignore.

"Done for the night?" Neville asked as Jake shoved his materials in his bag and stood to leave, hastily patting down his distorted ear in a puff of flame and lowering his hood. He waved limply to Neville and chased after Harry, climbing the stairs swiftly until he saw the tail of his robes swirl beyond the door to their dorm. Jake paused at the fringe. I don't want to creep the dude out, maybe I should chill for…

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Harry's voice cried out wildly in agony. Jake tensed and slammed through the door, sprinting inside where Harry was writhing on his back with his hands clamped to his forehead. The flailing legs and tortured yelling dispelled any doubt in Jake's mind and he leapt into action, just as Stout had trained him to.

Disarm him. He dug into Harry's pants pocket and wrenched out his wand, throwing it across the room. Subdue him. Jake flipped the twitching boy onto his stomach and pulled both of his arms behind his back, holding both wrists in a powerful grip. Control him. His free hand pressed Harry's head firmly sideways against the floor. The boy's glasses had fallen off, and there was something deeply wrong with his frenzied behavior.

You're not going anywhere, you…wait…is he laughing?

"Oi! What's going on?!" Jake snapped around to see Ron standing in the doorway, watching with mixed fear and anger. Barring any remotely plausible explanation or a way to communicate it, Jake took his hand off of Harry's head to wave Ron away, urging him to leave. Instead, the boy hurried forward to pry Jake off of him and helped the shaking Gryffindor to a sitting position. "Get off him you loony! What's wrong with you?! Harry? Harry!" Potter was still cackling hysterically, his hands once again clawing at his head.

Ron grabbed the scruff of his shirt and smacked him, hard. Harry abruptly fell into labored breathing and looked around him in a daze, an angry red welt blossoming on his cheek. "You alright, mate?" Ron asked, holding him steady by the shoulders. "Was it…him, again?"

After a moment, Harry nodded tiredly. "Yeah, it was him. He's...happy, the happiest he's been in years. I don't know what about, but I thought I saw…" His searching hands finally found his glasses and, returning them to the bridge of his nose, he looked up at the second observer he hadn't noticed watching him fearfully. "John?"

Ron twisted his neck to glare at him accusingly while Harry stared at him in bewilderment. Suddenly, all of Jake's careful acting and calculated decisions seemed to crumble around him, and the welling panic in his stomach told him that his undercover operation had just become significantly more…problematic.

…Aw man…

That's it for this update, so please let me know what you think about the new content and follow if you haven't already for future updates!