Snakecharmer

Chapter 4

Ups and Downs

–

It was a damned bit easier a thing to decide, than to do, which became obvious. Daphne and I spent the rest of that day going over the text, her pointing out the things I should be focusing on, why, and how that structure persisted in most books in our classes, once you understood it.

In essence, she showed me how to skim and grasp the pertinent potions of the text, without having to bore myself into a coma, reading every last word.

By the end of the week, I was picking it up faster, but was still behind my Slytherin counterpart. I didn't mind this so much, as we worked together from that day forward, and I was happy to do so. My grasp of the practical helped her to understand the ideas that the book presented as possible uses – unelaborated within – for much of the techniques, and my muggle upbringing let me put it in perspectives that were unusual for her, and gave us better exercises to practice with.

We were also quite a bit ahead of where I expected to finish, by that point as well. This pleased me greatly, to my surprise, as I saw we had an other full week to go, and how much better we could become. This caused me to pause, and laugh, and continue to do so till I got punted in the shoulder as I rolled across the cold stone floor from an irate girl.

When I'd calmed down, I explained to her what was so funny. In essence, I told her that she was turning me into Hermione.

I stopped laughing when she gave me a fair mimicry of my friend's hair to deal with for the rest of that day. How the devil she manages not to go insane with this... horror, attached to her head eludes me.

The second week of more intense practical work had us focusing on our inner mindscapes, something we quizzed one another about daily.Mind Your Mindsuggested those without a dire need to use something familiar for their initial mindscape, but to be wary, because once one was picked out, it was terribly, almost prohibitively difficult to change later.

"Makes sense," I admitted, sitting back to consider the question. "From what we've learned, this mindscape ideal will be the basis on how we organize our minds from here forward. Changing that once we've settled on one is like saying, 'alright, now only speak in Russian!' to someone just learning it."

Daphne quoted a passage on the dangers of such a thing, "'Common problems associated with altering one's own mindscape without a master's understanding of both Legillimency and Occlumency include but are not limited to; dementia, memory loss, personality fragmentation, loss of magical control, bad breath, bedhead, acne...' ok, I think from there on they're just throwing things in to make it sound worse. Not that they need to."

"Indeed," I chuckle, shaking my head. "So, I suppose this is one of those life-changing, important decisions that you can't undo."

Stretching and wincing when her own back creaked, Daphne nodded, "Suppose so, Potter."

We lapsed into quiet thought before pretty much perking up at the same time. "Can't be something anyone would expect of us."

"Right," I agreed. "I'd considered the Gryffindor common room, or a library, but both would be too easy to break into." Daphne winced, blushing slightly. I grinned, "Same thing, different theme?" I inquired.

Her tentative nod was my reply. "We need something unexpected. Unusual."

"Obscure."

We grinned, eerily in unison. "Muggle," we both murmured, me with happiness that I was actually being a decent student, Daphne I can only guess due to the trauma such a thing would cause some poor sod looking into her mind.

Sitting back and considering it, I snapped my fingers. "Maybe, we could use some fiction? Or a movie?"

"It doesn't need to be exact, just a framework. How we do so, only needs to make sense to us," Daphne mumbled, thinking out loud.

"Lets get your dad," I opined. "We know enough about Occluding to get by – I think – and we need material. A trip to London would be great for research."

Daphne smirked, but was nodding. "Plus, we're both getting stir crazy."

"Barking," I agreed. "Lets see if we can get a break."

–

As it turned out, we certainly could.

Daphne's father poked and prodded at our rudimentary defenses with his, admittedly, poor Legillimency before giving us both radiant smiles. "I am quite proud of you two. Going to the effort of getting ahead in your studies, and even being up to forming your defenses."

Beside me, Daphne demurred a small thank you, but from the angle I was at, I could see her shooting me a triumphant smirk that her father missed. Eh, I suppose she deserved it. When Mr. Greengrass turned his smile to me, I just pointed at his daughter, "I blame her, Mr. Greengrass. She's been a wonderful partner, and managed to keep me focused."

The look of shock on Daphne's face was well worth the cost of swallowing a little pride.

This just made her father's smile a bit larger. "Indeed? Well, good, good. Shouldn't you two be off?"

Perhaps I shouldn't have been quite so surprised that Daphne could drive. It certainly would have been easier on the ears. "No, I wasn't asking because I didn't think you as a girl shouldn't know, just as a witch!"

That calmed her down for a bit, till we managed to get back onto the main highway. "I know most purebloods would sneer at one of their counterparts using something so muggle. To be honest, I grew up with cars and electricity and such things."

"Is that why you and your little group of oddball Slytherins don't mingle with the others so much?"

Daphne's eyes flashed dangerously, and I knew I'd stuck my foot in my mouth again. "You have an amazing talent for being dense, you know that?"

I just rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the road and scenery as it passed by. I'd never spent much time on the road or traveling, so it was still somewhat new and interesting. Plus, we seemed to be out and away from a lot of the hustle and bustle of London and its suburbs. Lots of empty space, fields of tall grass and what crops seemed to be still standing. I had no idea where I was, I realized, but it didn't bother me so much. If I didn't know, likely no one else would either.

"Did you really want to know, or were you just being cross?"

Her question got my attention back, and I considered it for a moment rather than just say something immediately. "I would like to know. You and a few of the others seem to get along with just about anyone, I mean you paired with Neville in potions-"

"The Longbottom family has been allied with our own for a long time. I grew up with Neville, till his gran decided that he needed to work with tutors to get up to pace," Daphne interrupted somewhat coldly.

Bringing it to mind, I never recalled a moment where Neville had ever indulged in a bit of Slytherin bashing. Most people who in our House that noted his seating with Daphne, figured it was either a safety precaution Snape had insisted on to save the cauldron budget from going into the red, or that he'd paid the girl for tutoring and to help shield him from the irritable professor. I never bothered to ask, because it was Neville, and if you backed the poor guy into a corner he'd turn into a mumbling mess.

Despite it, I wasn't insisting anything bad about the guy. He managed pretty well, even if his wanded subjects were a bit stubborn. "Hey, I wasn't insinuating anything," I replied, seeing Daphne relax a bit. "Neville's a good guy. Little skittish at times, but all around alright."

Daphne snorted, "He's a bit henpecked by his grandmother. Right unpleasant old bat, but quite influential and powerful in her own right. I suppose she leans on him a little harder, because he resembles his mother."

My eyes narrow somewhat, recalling Petunia. "Why would that matter?"

"I think she blames Alice – Neville's mum – for her and his dad ending up in St. Mungo's." While I'm trying to process this, Daphne waves her prior words off, "I've said too much, shouldn't be going on about them. You should talk to Neville. He's a good person, doesn't have a lot of friends, but your family and his have a history."

I made a note to do so – after all, he was a Lion, no reason not to look him up. "Right. So, you were going to tell me about the oddballs?"

"Do stop calling us that," Daphne huffed, shooting me a glare for a moment before turning her attention back to the road. "The three of us, Tracey, Blaise and I are the children of neutral families, that happen to be in Slytherin. There are others with the 'Claws and 'Puffs, but we're pretty much it, for Snakes."

My mind grinds to a halt at that. "Only you three...?"

Daphne seems to know what I was thinking, and shakes her head, "In our year. There are others, but for study groups and such, there's not much reason to work with upper or lower years." I was already cursing my own short-sightedness in thinking those three made up the only non-dark families, when she continued, "We run a study group, and a lot of others are there too, from the other Houses. You'd be surprised how much inter-House work actually goes on, only behind the scenes."

She's right, I would be surprised. Mostly, because in Gryffindor, such a thing would never get off the ground. That brings to light my other question, "Not many Lions there, I'd wager."

"Not particularly. Some of the 'Claws want Granger, but they were vetoed. Someone needs to slap some sense into her first."

I chuckle at that, "So, the rant the other day wasn't quite as random as I thought?"

"Perhaps," she allowed with a grin. "If she looses the attitude, a lot of doors would open, now and later. And if it came from you..."

"...she'd be more likely to listen," I grin and shake my head. Only a Slytherin... "I read you, loud and clear."

"Good. She's got talent, but no social skills. We can help her with that – well, once we get a bit of polish on you as well."

I hold up my hands in surrender, "In my defense, my guardians were pricks."

Daphne hummed and nodded. "Point. Still, I can't believe you were left in the dark about so much of your family history."

I return my attention to the scenery, anger burning a slow simmer through my veins. "Me either. And I plan to find out why."

–

Muggle London was a far cry from Surrey, and it showed on both our faces. "Wow, that's a lot of muggles."

I nodded, sitting a little straighter. "Yeah. Pretty busy."

Daphne fidgeted with the steering wheel, seeming perfectly content to sit in the parking space she'd claimed. "Uhm. What do we do now?"

At any other point in my life, I would have been somewhat flummoxed by her asking me for help. I mean, c'mon. Lions and Snakes. Right now though, we were on a mission, and there wasn't space for such things. Still, it was nice that she asked. "Well, I think we can use a directory, and find someplace close," I mutter, leaning back. "What kind of things did we want to look into?"

The raven-haired witch shrugged, eyes tracking the people who came too close for her comfort. "Anything, really. The goal was something to base our mindscapes on, so something inventive and muggle to throw off wizards would be good."

"Huh. Oh, we don't want to be too obvious, though." She gave me a blank look, so I continued. "Say I picked out a computer," I shoot her a glance, and she nodded. "Alright, so you know what one is. Do you know how to work it?"

Daphne indicated she didn't. "Can't get them to work in the wards. They're too delicate, my dad said. Also, too expensive to experiment on."

I grimace, "He's got a point. Anyway, now one of those would utterly confound a pureblood, most likely. Now, imagine say... Hermione."

Her reaction was to swear and slap the horn, which sent people shooting us irritated looks. Daphne responded with a very firm one-finger salute. "Damn. You've got a point. So was this a waste of time?"

Shaking my head, I consider the problem a moment. "No. I don't think so. But we won't get an easy answer out of this. I don't think we'd be best served by one anyway. Muggles have a lot of entertainment options, since there's so many of them. Libraries bigger than the one at Hogwarts, just for fiction, for instance."

That single declaration left Daphne wide eyed. "That many... we're lucky if FB gets new editions yearly."

I figure FB is shorthand for Flourish and Blotts, and nod. "I've noticed. They didn't have much fiction, but then, to a muggle, what we do daily would fill up a book. What can wizard authors imagine that would be as entertaining?"

Never figured Daphne for a bookworm, but that supposedly simple question opened up a floodgate. Apparently, wizarding fiction fell into a few simple categories. Romance, because you just can't seem to dodge it. Muggle-fiction, which told stories about amazing muggles who did things that I really didn't want to let on, had actually happened in some cases (Muggles on the moon! What a riot! ...right Daphne.). The last was pretty expected, that being tall tales of wizards doing wizardly things in wizardly fashion.

Now, I've never been the sort like Hermione, who reads books just because they were there, and so was I. Despite that, I was quite aware of fiction, and the kinds one was likely to find. Blame Dudley's early years, and knowing that the great lout would rather go on a diet than step foot in a library. I picked things up by association. While I was explaining science-fiction, Daphne got a glazed look and was suddenly by my door. Huh, never knew one could apparate due to book-lust. Have to let Hermione know...

A few polite inquiries let us know that a bookstore by the name of Waterstone's was the end-all for what we were looking for, so we got back into the Greengrass' sedan and muddled our way around traffic and bad directions close enough to satisfy Daphne's dislike of London and my dislike of our only way out being too far off.

We made it to London fairly early – as our days started at standard Hogwarts time – so we had plenty of daylight to burn. This was a good thing, as Daphne fell in love with the place. Waterstone's was probably the single most impressive bookstore I'd ever seen. The building looked to be six floors, five of which I think were taken up by the racks. Daphne was hard to get into the actual store – Piccadilly was a rather busy place, and there were a number of interesting shops on the way from where we left the sedan.

When we finally got inside though, I was having flashbacks of Hermione and the Restricted Section. Daphne was initially befuddled by the search system, not knowing some of the terms, but once I'd explained, she was off toward the fantasy section in a flash. I was going to remind her that she was here to look for something new and unusual, but even as dense as I supposedly am, I know better than to stand between a woman and her books.

Figuring I'll catch up to Daphne when she's done, I wander around, mostly looking at the ends of rows, where the sellers were advertising things. It seemed that they picked out easy sells and popular reads for those, and I payed them little attention for the most part. I nearly skipped the horror section out of principal – I have enough scary in my life, thankyouverymuch – but the image at the end-cap got my attention. Like some of the other displays, there were media of sorts accompanying the books. A few video tapes, something new called DVD's, and a few books and posters. It was the backdrop poster that caught my eye.

After seeing Voldemort in all his naked snakey glory, not much I figured could creep me out. However... this guy did a pretty solid job. I shrugged, and picked up a few of the tapes, reading the synopses and the book,The Hellbound Heart, to get an idea what the deal was with the gruesome figure.

After five minutes of flipping around in the book, I put it back down and found a window, to get some air. "That guy... needs help," I murmured, shaking off some of the more gory imagery. Still... I took a seat near the wide window and considered the books and the things inside, and referenced what I knew of what we were learning inMind Your Mind. One of the authors of our text mentioned active defenses, which worked kind of like a booby-trap. Someone got past your shield and into your mindscape, and then had to deal with traps, that functioned from the Occlumen's perspective to help organize. The real difficulty was attaching the traps to the mindscape, so they weren't just laying around randomly and easily bypassed. Active defenses had to both be a part of the system, and serve a function. That was what made them effective. Otherwise it was just so much clutter.

I looked back toward the bookstore proper, and sighed. "Well. If it worked on me after all I've seen, maybe it would be worth a shot." And so,The Hellbound Heartbegan my small collection of material.

Daphne and I crossed paths somewhere around the science fiction area, and we traded ideas. She shared my opinion that an active defense would be a good idea, and that brought up our selections so far. After some thought, Daphne decided to discard anything too obscure, as it had to be something she would understand, otherwise the mindscape would break under strain. That limited her, but with the new material she was finding, she seemed content enough. I caught a glimpse of some of her titles, but she noticed and hid them with a smirk. "No peeking," she chided, to which I rolled my eyes.

After fixating on the active defense idea, nothing else I ran across really seemed to attract my attention, so I wandered the racks looking for recreational material instead. That search went well, and I had a few books from a liberal author who did sci-fi, a pair from an expert on history and mythology, and one guide to fencing and classic sword fighting that caught my eye. Gryffindor's sword may be useful again some day, or another for that matter.

That turned my mind in a more thoughtful direction, and I took out the notebook that I'd began carrying around for when I got ideas, and scratched out page of thoughts. "Wizard duels and fights I've seen up to now have always been about spells. Fought at distance, rather than close up. No physical contact. Something to look into," it read as a header, to which down below I worked out possible uses and questions to look up later.

While I was writing, Daphne had snuck up behind my back and was reading what passed for my handwriting. "Not bad," she murmured by my ear, startling me, causing her to snicker. Once we'd settled in a pair of the comfy, squashy chairs, she continued her thought, "You have a point. Wizards don't really fight with their fists or weapons so much anymore. It's considered uncivilized."

I wrinkled my nose at that. "Yeah, and tossing about Avadas is. Still, I think it's a good point."

"Didn't say it wasn't. We'll ask my father when we get back to The Fields," she already had bags of her purchases, so I made my way downstairs to the registers, and used a little money that I had left to buy my few books. Daphne I noted, had a small library in the making, but was managing it well enough.

Rather than return straight away, we dallied at a local eatery, Cafe Nero, and had coffee and a sandwich. The noise was enough that we could talk normally, which, I'm surprised to admit, was pleasant.

"So what did you pick out?" I looked up from my brief meal and wiped at my hands with a napkin, while Daphne went on, "Or are you going with that first book?"

I nodded, "I'm sticking with the scary one. I figure I've got enough material up here," tapping my temple, I grin, "to make it work."

Daphne shuddered, and pulled out a really large book of riddles. "I'm going to use this, and an idea I got from our text.

"They gave an example of an active defense, that of a dragon on a hoard of gold. Kind of antiquated imagery – dragons only like gold because of the amount of heat it retains, it's shiny, and their body temperatures make it melt into a kind of couch in time – but the idea works. Just going to make it a bit different."

I shook my head, realizing that tidbit nearly doubled my knowledge of dragons, despite having faced one, and nodded toward her remaining books. "And those?"

She ducked her head and blushed slightly, causing me to grin. "Well, we were there so..."

"No worries," I soothed, stretching. "I remember what you said about FB, so sort of expected a little binging there. Now the real question is... what do we do with the rest of our day?"

We discussed a walking tour, though neither of us were big into sightseeing, a shopping trip which did appeal to both of us, but was out because all our funds had gone into books, and finally just calling it an early day and heading back, taking a more scenic route. Our questions were answered, however, when a bus advertising the Apollo West End theater lumbered by, and I grabbed up Daphne's bags and paid our tab. I asked directions and shortly was dragging a complaining and questioning Daphne by the hand down Piccadilly, and onto Regent street.

Once I explained what I had in mind, our places swapped, and it was me being dragged along by an excited witch.

The Apollo was a theater that followed in Waterstone's footsteps very well. Mainly, in that it was huge. We had a few movies to choose from that were playing shortly after our arrival, and decided to take in an early showing of a sci-fi thriller called "Species". Frankly, I wasn't interested in anything named "Tommy Boy" and Daphne didn't really like the other options.

Sadly, we had a small hangup at the door – age. "What do you mean, we need an adult?"

I tried to explain the rating system, and why, as a line formed up behind us. Daphne decided that a small demonstration in applied magic was needed, and to my horror, pulled her wand and held it underhand, her arms folded. Eyes wide, I watched as she turned and asked me something I was too shocked to answer, but was cut off from inquiring on what, when the attendant handed the young woman our tickets, with a glazed look.

When I looked, I noted she had tucked her wand back away, and was waiting for me by the doors. As I came abreast, I took her elbow and lead her to the side, by a row of posters for the movies. "What the hell was that?"

Daphne blinked at me, her happy expression souring. "Confundus charm. I've known it for ages, since my family works with muggles so much," I thought I caught something about heading off overly amorous Slytherins as well, but decided not to press the point.

Running a hand through my hair nervously, I looked for owls, and got an earful of Daphne laughing at me. "What? Why are you so cheery?"

"They can't track us here, Potter. We're in the middle of downtown London, no where near our homes."

I reached up and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "Right, forgot. It's not on the wand. Still-"

"Oh, let it go. You've already faced dragons, dementors and dark lords, and I'm too smart to need some chaperone just to watch a film. Now, get me some popcorn, and I'll meet you by the entrance to our venue."

I suppose I earned popcorn duty, considering. Still, what she said was food for thought. After all that's happened to me, the last thing I really wanted anymore was someone like Molly Weasley trying to smother me with their good intentions. If that kind of person had their say, I'd probably be banishing and summoning pillows, brewing cheering draughts, and transfiguring pin cushions till I was twenty. No, thank you.

I got Daphne a Coke to go with her popcorn, just because. It had nothing to do with getting me on that train of thought. Really.

Besides, Daphne had a very pretty smile for me when she saw it.

Seating was good – nothing too crowded – and we had a tiny argument over which row. Daphne liked the idea of the front row, but I wasn't huge on coming out with a sore neck, so we compromised and got a pair in the fifth row.

We stared at the actual seats for a moment, before looking to one another and nodding. Regardless of how good our day was going, those seats were just a bit too close for comfort, so we put an empty one between us. This worked fine until the third time Daphne asked me about something in the movie she didn't understand, and I took that empty seat.

"Potter, what are you doing?"

"Shh. We'll get thrown out if you keep asking things so loud." Her expression darkened, and I amended, "I don't mind the questions, there are just rules about noise. Just whisper." Daphne grumbled but we sorted ourselves out, so we didn't have to rub elbows. How the hell do people manage these seats on a full house?

We had some classically embarrassing moments, particularly involving mislaid hands depending on who was holding the popcorn, but we kept our cool. Mostly. I'm sure I was a relatively fair image of a tomato, and if Daphne's expression and breathing were to be taken into account, she wasn't much better.

About halfway through the film, Daphne began to realize why precisely we ran into the age issue. "Oh... my."

My eyes must be nearly the size of my glasses, I figured. "Y-yeah."

The somewhat strained silence didn't break till we were halfway back to The Fields, our books strewn across the back seat and our windows down, whipping hair and clothes around. "That was an... interesting film."

I looked to Daphne, noting her light blush and chuckled. "Yeah, I had no idea. Maybe next time we should ask about what we're getting into."

The Slytherin girl turned to look at me, an inscrutable expression on her face. "Next time?"

"Sure, I mean other than being a bit embarrassing, it was still fun. Don't you think?"

When I looked again, she'd turned her attention back to the road. I may have imagined it, but I think she had the ghost of a smile about her, "Yeah. It was."

It wasn't until dinner, and after Daphne had excused herself from the table to start on one of her books that Mr. Greengrass clued me in to why our conversation – Daphne and myself – had grown so stilted. "So, how was your date?"

"Oh. Oh bloody, buggering hell," There are some days you just can't express yourself politely.

–

I was rather glad to be in a real room again, though I wasn't surprised to find our 'classes' weren't over, and that they'd continue to be down in the dungeons. Before I finally fell asleep, I had given some thought to the previous day, and decided that it wasn't so bad.

Daphne could have a pretty sharp wit about her sometimes, but she always had a reason. She came off cold, but there was a real person underneath, if you managed to break through the ice. I've seen hints, but so far she's not thawed around me. Not that I expect her to.

One thing has stood out through all the studying we've done together and the time I'd spent in the Greengrass' home, and though it bothers me a little, I can definitely understand her viewpoint. To me, it was clear that Daphne didn't believe in whatever plan her father had. She was going along with it, of course, but wasn't 'on board' as Vernon would say.

This had confused me early on, when the healer debacle occurred, but after Mr. Greengrass explained things, it fit neatly into what I was considering to be the real Daphne. The real Daphne has opinions that would send most of Gryffindor scrambling for beater's bats. She's arrogant, definitely the idea of a 'pureblood princess', and takes full advantage of her witch's nature when dealing with muggles. Daphne was quintessentially Slytherin, but did it in a way that didn't outright offend.

I'd been thinking this, while brushing my teeth. It gave me a good chance to observe myself, and what I saw irritated me. "Stop thinking about the princess," I ordered my mirror's image. "Nothing good can come of that."

After all, I'm Harry Potter. The solitary Lion in a den of Snakes. It wouldn't be smart to forget that, regardless of what's going on.

I stumbled down to breakfast, and looked around the table. Astoria's picking at her eggs (normal), Mr. Greengrass is scowling at his newspaper, making notes on a nearby pad (also normal), and Mrs. Greengrass is looking at me with a raised brow, glancing to the chair I should have sat in by now (normal, yet again).

Daphne wasn't there. Awkward.

Shaking my head to clear it, I slumped into the chair, and got a few words from her mother, to adjust my posture, and pick my chin up. This wasn't unusual – she's been subtly trying to get me at least nominally trained to deal with polite company over the last two weeks. Considering the situation, and that it goes ignored by the table in general, I didn't mind. If Astoria or Daphne had laughed, I may have called it quits the first time, but thankfully, that wasn't the case.

Half an hour later, Mr. Greengrass asked if I'm alright. Apparently I'd been picking at my breakfast and not eating for a while. Shit. This was irritating, why couldn't she just be at breakfast and ignore me like usual? Now I was wondering what the hell was going on, and my head was running away with me.

With an obviously fake grin I excused myself and once I was around the corner, dashed for the basement. Once I'd hit the cold stone floors, I calmed down and could catch my breath a bit easier. Man, what was up with me today?

I finally get to the classrooms, to find a calm, meditating Daphne sitting with a notebook and piece of paper before her. The door closing seems to have gotten her attention, and she scowled a bit, before opening her eyes and seeing me there. "Oh, morning," she mumbled, scratching a few things down on her notepad, before going back to her meditation.

I breathed a sigh and relaxed. Business as usual.

–

We were given a week more to work on our mindscapes, and it was a week I could have happily done without.

True, we needed time to get the complexities and the beginnings of those things down, so that later we could build on those foundations and truly assemble our deeper defenses, but...

"What do you mean, I have to give up Quidditch?"

Mr. Greengrass regarded us both levelly, though Daphne continued taking notes from her text. "Just as I said, Mr. Potter. It of course won't be permanent, but I think once you understand why..."

I don't think I'm an impatient person. Not really. Four years have gone by, and I've yet to lose control over the fact that someone's tried to kill me each time I step food in Hogwarts. I've been patient, waiting for someone to clue me in, but even my limits are finite.

I don't love Quidditch. No, don't call theProphet, just hang on. I like the game fine, it's fun, the people I play with for my House are great, and I'm happy they've let me be on the team as long as they have. Quidditch is really the first place I felt wanted, and that means something. Not only that, but I really love flying. I'm free up there, something I bet everyone who plays can relate to. Add it all together, and you get my 'love' for the game.

There are no other broom sports or activities at the school. Outside of Quidditch, they're locked up in the shed, until games or practices. I don't even know if there's a program or allowance for casual fliers, but considering how many restrictions I seem to just collect by breathing, it's not a bet I'd take.

So, all things considered, I'm not taking Mr. Greengrass' decision that I shouldn't be playing very well. "Frankly sir, I don't think this is something I'm willing to discuss."

And now I have everyone's undivided attention. "Potter, I really think you should hear my father out."

"Indeed, so far we're butting heads on principal alone," the man in question stated. He could have called the sky blue at that moment however, and I would have disagreed out of spite, I think. "Hear me out, at least.

"The reason I suggest you forgo Quidditch this coming year, has much to do with what you'll be learning, and the reason why." Oh. He's talking about training time. I leaned back with a sigh. He's not playing fair, bringing Voldemort into this.

I waved him on and stopped running vicious circles in my head. "Go on."

Having realized this wouldn't be an easy battle (Hah!), the older man took a seat on the floor near the painting. "I know I haven't gone into detail about our plans. Much of that was due to risk. If somehow, you were lost before we began and had no way to protect your mind, then the implications to us would have been damning."

He's wasn't saying anything I don't know. Logic and what hints have been dropped told me this some time ago. "As you can guess, the next lessons we will have involve not only the titles and responsibilities I mentioned before, but also instruction on more complicated and detailed ways to use what you will learn. Politics," Mr. Greengrass nodded at my look of distaste. "In addition, of course, there will also be lessons in magic theory and practice, to prepare you for your other role."

Now he has my attention. If he was going to assume I'd put away Quidditch just for political posturing and the ins and outs of being some kind of titled land owner, he had another thing coming. Putting it in context of preparing me to deal with Tommy boy, well that seemed a fair trade. The question is then, how he planned for me to be tutored, while attending Hogwarts, because otherwise I didn't see why the question of Quidditch had even occurred.

Greengrass smirked slightly, straightening. "Your tutor, and if you have one, will depend on how well you do this summer, and how well our plans come together. This coming Monday, we will explore your family, and also speak with someone close to you, and historically the Potters, who will help you to understand the gravity of what is going on."

It's not a straight answer, but I got the feeling it's the best I was going to get. "Who is it? I don't know of anyone who'd be willing... to..." No way. He can't mean...

"Sirius Black, Mr. Potter," the older man stated calmly. Behind me, I hear Daphne's quill scratching down her paper in surprise. The sound reminds me of dementors circling, of hippogriff wings beating.

I stood up, shaking my head. "Don't mess with me, like this."

"I'm not, Mr. Potter. I told you when we met, I wanted to see your potential," Mr. Greengrass stood as well, opposite me. "I will need him as well."

I was fairly shaking, when he stopped talking. "Do you understand what it will mean? If someone finds him? I just got him back, Greengrass – I don't care what your goals are. My godfatherwill not be harmed."

He didn't stay to argue the point. Simply nodded and went on his way. After catching my breath, I noted the ozone stink in the air, and that all the loose material in the room had shifted around.

Daphne was looking at me, in much the way the healer had that day not so long ago.

I called it an early day, and went to sleep. Nevermind that it was eleven A.M.

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