Chapter 1: The Harmonic Lessons

Minerva McGonagall kept the door open long enough for Harry Potter to leave her office. She did follow the boy's path until he turned onto the next hallway, but she was quick on returning to her desk afterwards. It wasn't until she was comfortably seated that she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, reading over the note the boy had brought with him.

Of course, Mr Potter hadn't made things easier by going on and antagonizing the woman at the first opportunity. Still, Minerva couldn't say she was surprised. The boy had a temper to him and what he was going through couldn't be ignored. A part of her wished Dumbledore would be clearer with him, yet he insisted he had his reasons to keep Potter completely in the dark.

Minerva finished putting the last notes on her outlines for the upcoming classes, then stood up and made her way towards the headmaster's office.

"Pumpkin Pasty," she said to the gargoyle once she arrived. At the sound of the password, the gargoyle turned around and revealed the passage to Dumbledore's office.

The place was its regular self, with shining silvery objects scattered in a hectic order only the headmaster could understand. Not far away, an empty perch caught her attention, for there were no signs of Dumbledore's trusted phoenix. The headmaster himself was peacefully seated behind his desk, going through some documents as the portraits around him mumbled about a dozen different topics. Minerva hoped Dumbledore wasn't reading the Daily Prophet, for he wasn't going to find anything of value in this morning's issue.

"Oh Minerva, please take a seat. I'm glad you received my message," the old wizard said. His blue eyes were not twinkling, something that surprised Minerva and alerted her about the upcoming situation. Minerva always knew when there was something important to discuss as Dumbledore's eyes would be, for once, serious.

With a calm nod, Minerva sat down.

It was then that she saw what the headmaster was reading. It wasn't a document, but a bright pink book. When Minerva saw the title her eyebrows went up faster than a Quidditch broom, a small noise of disbelief escaping her. The book was labelled 'The Magic of Love: How To Turn That Long-Running Friendship Into Something More.'

A sudden cough came to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes peering through his glasses at Minerva.

"Yes, perfectly. Thank you," the professor said hurriedly, not daring to meet the headmaster's eyes.

There was no way Dumbledore could be interested in her, not romantically at least. It was unheard of, at least at their age. Besides, she had always thought Dumbledore was more interested in wands than in cauldrons, so to speak.

"Are you sure?" he persisted as he conjured a glass of water and levitated it towards her.

Taking it politely, Minerva sipped from the glass at once. "Yes, it was nothing. Please carry on," she assured him, barely daring to look at him over her glasses.

The headmaster arched an eyebrow but decided to let it go. "Everything in order with this week's classes?" he asked, moving the book to the side and putting his hands together.

After vanishing her glass of water, Minerva straightened her robes, deciding to pretend as if she had never seen that book. "As much as it can be," she said. "Although, I wouldn't dare to say we're equally prepared for our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

The headmaster nodded solemnly, then adjusted his half-moon spectacles. "A valid statement. Nevertheless, I must say, if we give Professor Umbridge no reasons to stretch her connections with the minister, the situation might be much more bearable for everyone involved."

"It wouldn't hurt to repeat that to a certain heedless Gryffindor."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow, if only a little, seemingly surprised. "Harry? Is he having problems with Dolores already?"

"Did you expect anything else?" the witch answered tiredly as she handed him Umbridge's note of complaint.

Minerva couldn't help but glance quickly at the book resting on the man's desk. It was a given that the book didn't have anything to do with her, she realized, relieved. The situation had just taken her off guard. But why was the greatest wizard alive reading such a sort of book? Minerva couldn't really tell. She turned to the man, looking for clues, but he was focused entirely on Professor Umbridge's note.

The accusations in that paper couldn't be less relevant to Minerva, and the house points she took from Potter were almost a triviality. However, detention on the first day of class could only escalate higher. She didn't know what other situation Umbridge could take advantage of. They certainly could use some caution now.

"I see," Dumbledore said once he was done reading the note. "We must try to minimize any conflict between Harry and the minister's envoy then."

"Easier said than done, Albus. You know him, overly noble but incapable of stepping down if he perceives any injustice. It would be reckless to not plan for the scenario where Mr Potter says the wrong thing."

"I'll keep an eye on it. Please inform me of any new development. Let's hope it's all unjustified fear and it doesn't come to anything serious."

Minerva agreed, though she knew that keeping Harry Potter from doing anything rash was as hard as trying to force a bludger to remain still. It was an admirable trait, what the boy could do for the sake of a good cause, but by Merlin, he could use some self-control.

"Albus, why did you want to see me? Is it too foolish to hope for good news?" she asked after a moment of silence, avoiding a look at a certain pink book.

"I wish that were the case. No, I'm afraid we're only getting started with this year's challenges."

"What do you mean?"

"I got a troubling report this morning from our contacts at the Ministry. Cornelius' most recent offensive has been set into motion, and it's the foulest of plans!" Dumbledore said loudly, his voice reflecting his indignation.

Minerva waited, making it clear to the headmaster that he should continue. She knew she wouldn't like this new tactic, whatever it was, but it was of the utmost importance to be prepared.

Albus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "My sources tell me that the Ministry is attempting a secret play right under our very tables. A play to get Harry on a date with Pansy Parkinson," said the headmaster in the most serious of tones.

To say Minerva was shocked would be an understatement, but Dumbledore didn't seem to give any indication that he was joking.

"I beg your pardon?"

"As you heard Minerva, Cornelius has somehow gotten this idea that if he can get Harry tangled with someone of his liking, then he can handle Harry's public image as he pleases. Taking control of Harry and the world's perception of what transpired last year in a single bold stroke."

"But... that's idiotic!" she lashed, her eyebrows knitting together angrily.

Was the minister that out of his senses? This was obviously the most dim-witted plan she had ever heard of. How did he expect Harry to agree to date Pansy Parkinson of all people? Minerva was very much aware the Slytherin girl was nowhere near Potter, romantically speaking. And, if by some ill-fated miracle it came to be, how could the minister make practical use of that to achieve his plans? Surely there must be literally hundreds of better plans, and most of them less contrived, and more likely to work.

Dumbledore didn't seem to share her opinion, for he looked rather worried. Surprised that he seemed to be taking this seriously, Minerva wondered what Dumbledore saw in the minister's awful plan.

"It's a real menace, as unbelievable as it might sound. And Pansy Parkinson of all people! It's beyond me how people might think this could work, especially when it was certainly conceived thinking of the worst possible match for the boy," Dumbledore said quickly, looking more angry than usual. He seemed to make a big effort to relax his demeanour before turning back to Minerva. "You do realize this would be catastrophic if allowed to happen, don't you?"

"Albus… I don't think there is anything to worry about. Mr Potter can be reckless but he wouldn't fall for such a tactic. Give the boy some credit."

"Oh, I agree. Harry is a pretty capable young man. Still…"

"Still?"

"We must be extra cautious. Our stance is not the best, and I don't want to make it worse by underestimating our opponents."

The portraits of all the past headmasters in the room voiced their agreement in different tones, yet all of them seemed to support Dumbledore.

"Are you taking this seriously then?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

It was madness, yet it didn't seem like Minerva could talk him out of it. "How do you even plan to counter this? Do you want me to give Mr Potter a warning?"

"Oh sweet Merlin, no!" the headmaster boomed incredulously. "Of course not, Minerva. The boy has too much on his plate without knowing of this evil scheme against him. This vile, despicable scheme! There's no need to involve him, especially when we can neutralize the threat by ourselves."

Minerva frowned, unsure of where this was headed, yet she asked all the same. "Then what are you proposing we do?"

"Simple, we set Harry with a match of our own choosing," the headmaster offered smugly, with a tone that made it seem as if it were the most sensible option they had.

Minerva was dumbfounded. "I don't think I'm following you, Albus. I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying."

"Think about it, Minerva. It's what Cornelius least expects! He has everything set for this Pansy Parkinson pairing travesty, this… this... Hansy! As I believe it should be called," Dumbledore started, struggling to pronounce 'Hansy' through his gritted teeth, as if it was a filthy word.

"But—"

"Think about it, Minerva! Wouldn't it be quite a surprise for Cornelius to find out that, while he was pushing for this horrid match, someone else came and stole Harry's heart? Someone better. Perfect, if you ask me."

Minerva lowered her eyes and rubbed her forehead with both hands. "You really are serious. Merlin help us! You want us to push a student to date another one?"

"Why of course! The very war depends on it!"

"The war—? Merlin, Albus…"

It was too much to handle. Many times people had suggested Dumbledore might be a little off his marbles, but she had never considered their words until now. Nevertheless, what was Minerva's alternative? Let the minister win? Voldemort? Too much depended on the man before her.

"And I imagine you already have a candidate to beat Miss Parkinson to Potter's heart?" she ventured.

"I do, yes."

"And who might that be?"

"It surprises me that you even have to ask, Minerva. There's only one true answer. What we need is Harmony," he said, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Harmony?"

"Yes, Miss Granger is the answer. You see, Harry and Hermione's names mix to form the word Harmony. Quite clever, isn't it? I came up with it myself," he said, looking chuffed with his idea.

"Miss Granger?"

"What's so hard to believe about it?" the headmaster followed in a suave voice, as if he were a salesman trying to convince her to buy his latest cauldron model. "Miss Granger and Harry have been friends forever. They're passionate and understanding of each other's position, and very supportive of one another. They would both benefit from a relationship that can't be anything but lovely, never mind saying prosperous for the war efforts. Think of it, The-Boy-Who-Lived having The-Brightest-Witch-Of-Her-Age as his partner and closest ally! It's what epic tales of good versus evil are made of!"

Minerva seemed to be getting dizzy with the headmaster's odd enthusiasm in match-making. "I'm not sure, Albus. She's already one of his closest allies, I don't know how having them snogging in the hallways would improve that," the professor answered sternly. "And besides, there's the matter of Mr Weasley, as I imagine you must have noticed."

With a quick motion of his hand, the headmaster set that thought aside, as it was unimportant rubbish. "That's water under the bridge. Mr Weasley had his chance last year. He's helpful to Harry, but the boy has rude manners and is too rough around the edges. Let's not forget his disdain for schoolwork. Not right for Miss Granger, not at all, what with the endless bickering and that sort of behaviour. Actually, I dare say Mr Weasley would be much happier with a more comfortable partner, Miss Brown perhaps? You surely have to agree."

Comfortable for Mr Weasley or for Dumbledore's chosen match? Minerva wondered, before letting out a soft breath.

When she had made her way to the office moments earlier, she never thought they would be having a conversation like this. Why were they discussing student pairings as if it was a more urgent matter than dealing with Dolores Umbridge, or with Voldemort for that matter?

The headmaster noticed her hesitation, for he pressed on. "Why Minerva, you surprise me. I thought you would be eager to jump in the Harmony train at once. It's not hard to notice your affinity for Miss Granger."

"I do not play favourites. And the fact that I have great faith in Miss Granger's approach doesn't mean I want to push her to date this boy or the other. She seems pretty capable of making her own decisions."

"Oh, I agree. Wouldn't like it any other way... in peaceful times. However, in the present situation..." the headmaster continued, in a tone that had a certain giddiness to it. "We must act soon. And it would be nearly impossible to succeed without your full support."

A sigh of pure heaviness escaped her. She rubbed her forehead once more, a mild headache coming to her. "I don't know, Albus. To me, their relationship has always looked more akin to that of siblings."

"Relationships change all the time," answered the headmaster with a smile, patting the pink book Minerva had all but forgotten.

"That book—"

'The Magic of Love: How To Turn That Long-Running Friendship Into Something More,' Minerva read once again. Dumbledore raised the book as if it was some sort of magical weapon.

"It's a treasure!" Dumbledore proclaimed, wielding it like a sword. "Everything's in here! It will be our blueprint!"

Minerva McGonagall didn't like this, not one ounce of it. Even so, she had to admit the headmaster might know more of the matter than she did. Maybe Cornelius had other ways of fulfilling his goals, maybe this whole dating tactic was a smokescreen. In any case, she knew she couldn't deny her help to the man.

At least she was entirely sure that he didn't want anything romantic with her, which was a dragon-sized relief.

Already feeling at odds with what she was going to say, Minerva sighed. "Very well. And what do you propose I do?"

Albus Dumbledore's smile enlarged, like that of a boy who had just been told he could have a second chocolate frog. "Marvelous! I was starting to fear you would never ask."

When Harry made his way to the Transfiguration classroom, he had a pretty good idea of what to expect. All the other teachers had made use of a long speech detailing how difficult this year was going to be, so he guessed a mandatory O.W.L.s warning was in order. As much as he dreaded the idea, he imagined a long essay to be assigned as homework wasn't out of the realm of possibility either. However, the class turned out to be unpredictable to a great extent. He at least wasn't expecting the shirts.

The first sign that something was off came as soon as he crossed the door. He was walking with Ron towards their usual desks, when the voice of Professor McGonagall stopped them in their tracks.

"Mr Potter?"

"Er, yes professor?"

Harry wasn't sure what this was about. Did it have anything to do with his detention with Umbridge? It was unlikely, McGonagall would've said something the day before if that were the case.

"I would like you to take this seat today, if you don't mind," the professor said, somewhat uncomfortably. She gestured towards a desk at the very front of her class.

It was unusual, yet he didn't see a reason to refuse. "Sure, no problem."

Ron was about to follow him — which spoke volumes considering how much his friend hated the front row — when the old witch stopped him. "You can stay in your place, Mr Weasley," she said, looking apologetic. Then the professor's eyes found Hermione, as her hand signalled the place next to Harry. "Miss Granger? If you please."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, yet she nodded and took the offered seat. "Do you know what this is about?" she asked him, once there. She had been avoiding them since breakfast, when Ron made a joke about her house-elf hats looking like woolly bladders. However, the curiosity was greater than her previous annoyance.

"Not really, no."

At the time, Harry didn't give it much thought. It was surely nothing, and, as he had expected, the professor went right into talking about the O.W.L.s.

"You cannot pass an O.W.L.," said Professor McGonagall grimly, "without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why anybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. "Yes, you too, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So…" the old witch stopped mid-sentence, turning to look at Harry and Hermione, then sighed. "We'll be starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L."

Hermione was quick to move her book to the right page, even though Harry imagined she must've read about those spells in advance. He was planning on looking with that same page himself when Professor McGonagall went on. "That being said, we're going to start with vanishing in our next class. I have a different task for today. A small project if you would like to call it that."

Curious looks were exchanged as the students turned their heads to the professor, caught off guard by the statement.

"A project she said?" someone asked in the back.

"What's about?" another replied.

Professor McGonagall didn't look pleased. "If you pay attention you'll know soon enough, Mr Finnigan."

The mention of Seamus made Harry frown. His classmate had made it quite clear that he didn't believe him about Voldemort's return, choosing instead to trust the mockingly false words of the Daily Prophet.

With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall conjured a large roll of parchment, then moved to stand in front of Harry and Hermione's desks. "May I ask you two to put your given names on this parchment? Large letters, please. One side for Mr Potter and the other for you Miss Granger," she said heavily. "If you can be so kind."

It was an odd requirement, granted, yet nothing overly suspicious. After they did as she had asked, the professor walked back to put the piece of parchment over her desk. Even from his seat, Harry could notice that Hermione's handwriting was less messy and more flourished than his.

"Geminio," Professor McGonagall said and the parchment split unto two identical sheets.

Over and over, the old witch tapped her wand to parchment, and with each muttered incantation a new copy appeared. She didn't stop until there was a stack of parchment on the desk, each one with Harry's and Hermione's names on it.

Whispers echoed from the back, wondering what the whole thing was about. Harry was curious as well, and next to him, Hermione's eyes narrowed. The girl didn't miss a single flick of the teacher's wand.

"I suppose everyone remembers how to turn parchment into fabric," she said, more as a statement than as a question.

Harry's eyes widened. It was the first Transfiguration class of the term and his memory was more than foggy. It would be challenging enough to remember those lessons with a clear mind, but worrying about Hagrid's whereabouts and the excruciating amounts of homework they were getting made it much harder. His upcoming detention didn't help either. Even so, a few people had no problem remembering and nodded at the professor, no one as vigorously as Hermione.

Suddenly, Harry remembered what it was like to sit next to Hermione in class.

"Very well," McGonagall continued, taking that as a yes. "Let this little task help you as a reminder. We're going to practice not only substance but shape as well. I'm going to hand each one of you a roll of parchment, but I don't want a square piece of fabric by the end of the class. No, I want a complete shirt."

"A shirt?! With sleeves?!" A few students voiced their complaints, and there were more than a few grumbles and groans.

"Yes, Mr Weasley. Shirts are expected to have sleeves. Two would suffice."

"B—But…."

"I imagine you have used shirts before."

"Er… Yeah," mumbled Ron.

"Alright, no misunderstandings then."

Another voice came from the desk at Ron's side. "Professor, we haven't done anything like that."

Professor McGonagall huffed. "I'm very proud of my memory, Miss Patil. And I do recall going over shape Transfiguration. Extensively."

"Not a shirt, though."

"I do have confidence in your skills, Mr Thomas. I would hope you do too," the professor replied. "Now, there's no need to fret over it just yet since I still have to tell you the most complicated part."

"There's more?" Harry heard Lavender shriek in the back, reflecting more or less what he felt at the moment.

Professor McGonagall chose to ignore the interruption. "You see, each parchment has two words on it," she said, holding one of the parchments for all the class to see. Harry could see his and Hermione's names very clearly. "Your task will be to rearrange the letters to form a new word. Let me show you what I expect from this assignment."

Holding the piece of parchment with one hand, Professor McGonagall proceeded to flick her wand and transform it into a medium-sized yellow shirt. It was, as Harry expected, flawless in shape. That was not all of it though, for it had a single word emblazoned on it in large pink letters: HARMONY.

"You may choose whatever colour you like," the teacher said.

"Harmony?"

"Yes, Miss Brown. You do know the meaning of the word, I presume?"

"Yes, but— Harry and Hermione?"

The whole class was looking at them, and Harry tried to pull himself down on the chair. However, as he soon found out, it was hard to hide in the front row of the class. What was the meaning of this lesson? He wondered.

Professor McGonagall ignored the whispers and went directly to the mechanics. Explaining the letter rearrangement, which was the part they were going to have more trouble with. Her face showed no signs of joking and was instead dead serious. Harry couldn't stop himself from remembering Voldemort pulling a similar trick with some letters at the Chamber, changing his muggle name to the one he picked for himself. He got an uncomfortable sensation from his scar as the events of the previous year came back once more.

"Are they a couple or something?" someone asked from the back.

Harry's thoughts of Voldemort vanished at once. He turned to Hermione, scared and blushing. Hermione's eyebrows had gone up and she appeared to be just as embarrassed as Harry.

"Yes, Miss Patil? What's bothering you?" the professor asked, rather annoyed.

"Nothing, professor. I was just wondering if Harry and Hermione were a couple, what with the project and all… It's nothing…"

Professor McGonagall could've moved on with the lesson, but for some wicked reason, she decided to add, "They're not a couple. Not to the best of my knowledge. Not yet at least."

Not yet, she had said.

The whispers went wild, and someone — who sounded very much like Ron — was coughing hard in the back. What was McGonagall doing? Did she want to replace the rumours that he was crazy with rumours that he was dating Hermione? He had enough of that rubbish last year, after Rita Skeeter's article.

This whole shirt task sounded like the barmiest of ideas, to be honest, and it wasn't McGonagall's style at all. How in Merlin's beard did she even come up with it?

Harry only saw Hermione as a friend, nothing more. It had always been like that. Actually, the only girl who had Harry's attention at the moment was Cho, and the last thing he needed was the Ravenclaw hearing this kind of gossip. He imagined Hermione felt the same, she had never said otherwise.

"We're not. Harry and I are just friends," Hermione hurried, a frightened look on her face as she turned to the back. She talked out loud without raising her hand for what seemed like the first time ever.

Professor McGonagall only nodded, trying to keep the whispers to a minimum. Nevertheless, Harry still heard them running wild throughout the class.

Making an effort to not pay attention to the new round of mumblings, Harry focused on his task, which was quite daunting. It didn't help that the whispers intensified each time he asked a question to Hermione. His friend's cheeks went pink more than once, and she tried to keep her eyes on her own parchment.

The non-stop whispers made Harry wonder about the twins' products. He wasn't thrilled about the use of Fainting Fancies or Puking Pastilles but, worryingly so, they seemed like the lesser of two evils at the moment.

In regards to the creation of the shirt, Harry was having some trouble, but he wasn't the only one. He noticed Dean's shirt was missing the letters and one sleeve, while Neville made something that looked much more like hairy trousers than a fabric shirt. Next to them, Seamus got a large square that said 'Harmonica' instead. Ron grunted at some point and ended up with shreds of fabric instead of a shirt.

As the end of the class approached, only Hermione had completed the shirt, though she was still missing the letters. She was asking the professor for some pointers with them. Harry turned to his own work. It was shirt-shaped, sort of, though it was just a single layer of cloth. More of a desk cover than an actual piece of clothing.

"Let's turn this into a week-long project," the professor announced. "I will go over your results by next Tuesday. There will be no essays for now, but I do expect each one of you to have a completed shirt by then."

After that, the class was dismissed. Harry saw Parvati and Lavender whispering about something as they left.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked pointedly on their way out.

"I don't know," Hermione answered, "It was rather… unusual."

"Sure, too bloody unusual," he replied, sarcasm all over his words.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, so please explain it to me."

Hermione had turned to Ron with a daring glare as if preparing herself for an argument. Harry saw Ron's initial surprise, but the expression was quickly replaced for one of annoyance once the redhead got a glimpse at the yellow shirt Hermione was holding.

Bracing himself for the argument, Harry rubbed his temple.

"Rita Skeeter's article, last year it—"

"Oh please!" Hermione interrupted Ron as she walked to stand before them facing him. "Are you really going to bring that up? I thought you knew better."

"So it's not true? You two aren't—"

Hermione flushed wildly. "Of course not! Harry and I are just friends, more like siblings really. It's stunning that you even have to ask."

After a brief pause when Ron seemed to be taking his time with those words, he turned to Harry.

To say that Harry was annoyed would've been an understatement. He had more than enough trying to put off the lies spread by the Prophet, now he was supposed to defend himself against the rumours about him and Hermione. Again? And from Ron, of all people?

"Do you really want me to repeat that?" Harry threw at him, exasperated.

"You knew about this shirt thing?" asked Ron, crossing his arms.

A frown came to Harry. "Oh sure, McGonagall shares all of her class material with me before each lesson. Asks for pointers, I reckon."

"Whatever," Ron said finally.

The three of them were heading towards the Great Hall when Harry realized the amount of homework they had already. So, to their ever-increasing bad lucks, he and Ron had to spend lunch hour in the library. Hermione didn't join them, as she was still shirty about their earlier conversation.

Perfect. Just what Harry needed. Homework and arguments. And he still had Umbridge's detention to look forward to. He didn't know what to expect from that one, but it couldn't be more dreadful and embarrassing than what he just witnessed at Transfiguration. Could it?