To Ride the Carousel Again

Chapter 27

I make nadda, zip, zilch from this story.

JKR as not seen to grant me any publishing rights.
Pity, really. I could use the money.

Take a breath. Take a moment.
That felt good, but we still have things to do.

August 11 was an interesting day. I had not received any notifications of follows, favorites or reviews for any of my stories since June 13. For the last four days, my phone has gone nuts with two months of notifications. So, for all of you who did follow, favorite, or review in that two-month window, I thank you. It will take me a lo-o-o-ong time to work through them as I try to read bios and your favorite stories looking for good stuff for ME to read. And replies to reviews. Thx.

Last chapter was slow and maybe boring. This one repeats a lot of angst from previous chapters to
hopefully set up some explanations and clear the decks for some action.

Approx. 5,700 words.

/*

As a way to gain followers and influence the younger year students, he could perhaps take them on a guided tour of the Stone's underground room complex. Just like for him, it could become part of their Hogwarts experience they would never forget.

/*

Tuesday, October 22, 1992

Harry was trying to pretend to himself that the last several weeks had been relaxing. Yeah, he was stressed about the basilisk, but he had the diary stashed safely away, so the monster snake wouldn't be appearing in the corridors soon.

Sitting alone in the Common Room late at night after everyone else had gone to bed, Harry was ruminating. He thought he was doing well in the 'make friends and influence people' part of his directives from Upper Management. Neville and Susan were firm friends now.

Greengrass, and her shadow Davis, had joined in Harry and Hermione's comportment and deportment lessons when they could get away from their housemates without raising suspicion. It turned out both were smart and had a dry, biting wit that wasn't malicious. Without Ron beside him being an anti-Slytherin bigot, he found he thought she had potential to be a good friend.

Letters from both Sirius and Lupin were both plentiful and informative. Apparently Lupin and TongueRipper were getting along in a true goblin business fashion.

The goblin was informative only when asked directly, but would provide answers when asked directly. It turned out that Lupin actually enjoyed baiting the account manager into being more helpful than the other Gringotts Account Managers.

It took over a week or so, but Lupin talked the Account Manager into supplying a summary of the cultural leanings of the persons who owed Harry money.

His Facilitator explained that it would be against Gringotts policies to outright proclaim one of their customers as a rabid supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, certain code words in the precis could be easily interpreted if one knew the Gringotts work around words they used.

"Extremely vulnerable to wizard mind magics," translated as "Claimed being Imperious'd was how he became marked with Voldemort's slave tatoo." "Poor judgement with odds mathematics," could mean several things, but usually meant a gambler who lost a lot of galleons because he could not compute odds, even if sober. "Not favored by Uloggh" meant monetarily poor due to bad luck or other circumstances beyond the borrower's control.

Apparently, the goblins pulled no punches with their estimate of the intelligence of those marked as Death Eaters.

His Facilitator also wrote that Tongueripper was getting cautious inquiries as to the New Lord Potter's attitude towards missed payments towards owed debts. Lupin wrote that the goblin seemed pleased in a very nasty way when the inquiries were sent to him. At the moment, he was sending back replies stating that he was awaiting word from Lord Potter who would not be available until Yule.

Lupin said the goblin was looking forward to Harry's Yule time away from the school.

Harry decided a talk with Sirius and Lupin was needed. Should he tell TongueRipper to bait the debtors by telling them that Lord Potter was a vindictive hardcase due to some incidents with heirs at Hogwarts, or wait until Yule to talk with everyone?

Sirius' letters from St. Mungo's were sometimes short stories about baby Harry, his parents or their school days, or pranks. Occasionally he forgot to remove the teardrops from the parchment before he owled it.

Harry had done weeks of experiments in the Come-and-Go room. He could now make the room into a DADA and Charms practice room for himself. He could blow stuff up to his heart's content and not damage the room.

And since no one could be watching him, he had his old fourth-year spells working again and was trying out some fifth-year DADA spells but his twelve-year-old body was lacking in power to successfully cast some of the more destructive spells he wanted to be able to use.

He was also trying to use it to become proficient with his boar spear. So far, his size, or lack of it, had him being rather clumsy with it. Although the room had provided a book on how the spear should be used, after a session where during his twisting to track the room-provided basilisk, he had come that close to gashing his leg with the spear blade.

Now he was trying to be more careful as Madame Pomphrey would certainly tell the headmaster why she had to fix him up.

Transfiguration was for some reason much harder. He was beginning to think the powerful magic of the room interfered with his spells. He thought because of the way the room provided practice material, it was much harder to transfigure such an 'artificial' thing. Perhaps with a change of visualization, the room might provide more workable materials.

The last thing he had found by experiment was if he imagined the index book on its pedestal in the Potter library, the room would give him any book in the Hogwarts library. Including books from the restricted sections.

The only thing wrong with the room was the place gave him a headache after he spent time there.

He had to be careful using it. His disappearances were hard to cover since Lord Potter in the hallways was such an eye magnet.

Hermione was the only dark cloud on the horizon. He had realized he had a problem on her birthday. He found himself having to rein her in at least twice a week for overworking herself. The signs were obvious to him after four years.

She was on a Save Harry crusade.

The problem was, Harry could not figure out what she was working so hard at saving him from. Wormtail was dead and Sirius was free after being officially found innocent of the crime of leading Voldemort to his parents and killing a dozen muggles. The interconnected Sirius and Wormtail story had been next year's problems and she would know nothing about them.

She knew nothing about the basilisk slumbering under the castle. That might become a problem some year, but at the moment he was the only person who knew that.

Could it be she was still working on telling Harry why the strange and maddening things that occurred around him? He had asked her to find out.

At the moment he had no clue what to do, but he felt it was his fault and that he had better do something. She was living in the library, they were barely talking outside of school subjects, and he missed his friend dearly.

However, he would have to wait until after Halloween. Her not being attached to him at the hip would help in keeping his plan a secret.

/*

The first thing Harry figured he had to do was check on the chamber. Finding out that he could not get into the Chamber of Secrets would ruin a lot of his planning and Halloween was coming.

It was early Tuesday evening. The twins were in the common room doing homework and did not seem to be checking the Marauder's map. Hermione would be in the library for at least another hour. He didn't know where Neville was.

Harry was under his invisibility cloak carrying the much-reduced-in-size boar spear that he had brought with him from the Potter armoury back in September. He had gotten elf Guerna to check him for tracking charms and was also carrying a shrunken school broom in a robe pocket.

He had nicked the broom from the school broom shed a few hours ago. His Nimbus 2000 was a high-performance, extremely complicated piece of wizarding magic and had bunches of powerful runes etched on it and tons of spells laid on it. When shrunken, many of the broom's rune control and power clusters became too close together and created some type of 'magical short' that ruined the broom. It just would quit working properly, and according to his maintenance pamphlet, would require a rebuilding nearly as expensive as what the broom had cost new.

Older, and slower brooms of low to medium performance did not suffer from the same interference problems and could be shrunk down to eight percent versus the seventy-seven percent of the original size which was the smallest he could shrink his Nimbus.

Most of those who owned a Nimbus 2000 or 2001 preferred not to take a chance with their high-performance ride and as a precaution didn't shrink them for any reason.

Easing into Myrtle's bathroom, he was relieved to not see her lurking within sight.

There it was, the remembered snake etching on the unusable sink tap.

Harry had put some thought into what Ginny had done now that his wits weren't dull and his curiosity was aroused. How had she returned to the bathroom from the Chamber? She could not scramble up the sewer pipes, and she had not flown, so?

He concentrated on the tiny snake carving. "Open," he hissed at the valve, and with a grinding sound and a bright white light, the tap spun and sank from sight to reveal the large sewer pipe he, Ron, and Lockhart had slid down to the true entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

No one had seen Ginny in totally stained robes that occurred from sliding down the pipes. One trip and any robes were useful only as rags.

Harry then tried "Stairway." No luck.

"Steps". And with another grind, ("Remember to silence the door next time, idiot!") a set of steps attached to the far wall spiraled down into the depths.

It was now that the fear Harry had been burying sprung to the forefront of his brain halting his advance to the revealed stairs. That bloody snake had killed him twice, there was no third chance this time if the monster killed him again.

It took him minutes to force his legs into walking again.

He started down the steps on shaky knees, and at his muttered "Close," both openings started closing and Harry had to Lumos his wand so he could see.

He had gone down about two dozen steps when a thought suddenly struck him. "If I were Slytherin, I'd have a backup plan just in case some unwanted parselmouth-speaking descendant made it this far."

Harry backed up a step and carefully pulled the shrunken broom from a robe pocket. Tapping it with his wand and stating "Finite," he grasped the broom with his left hand, mounted the now full-sized broom, and gingerly floated off the steps.

The slow descent with marginal one-handed control of a crappy broom, and only his bubble of light around him, made for a nerve-wracking journey. The wavering light produced nervous-making shadows on the walls. He managed to fumble both the broom and his wand more than once while he kept the stairway on his right as he followed its descent into the depths.

Harry was surprised that he found the bone-covered tunnel floor long before he expected it. The slide down and around in the pipes had made the distance seem much farther. Yet at the same time, he now thought, Ginny could never have climbed the stairs back up to Myrtle's bathroom without being completely knackered if the Chamber was buried thousands of feet deep.

At a low-and-slow cruise above the tunnel floor the broom handled atrociously, so he opted to land and walk to the door. He still was startled by the eerie green length of the large shed snakeskin lying on the tunnel floor as it appeared in his light.

There was the wall with its two intertwined serpents, their eyes great, glinting emeralds. (1)

Nervously, Harry gathered his nerve as the eyes seemed to study him. "Open," he hissed.

The serpents untwined and parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry, trembling from head to foot, forced himself to walk inside. (2)

As before, the torches flared into life creating a flickering chase of odd greenish light and shadow across the long chamber lined with tall snake-carved pillars soaring up into the darkness above.

As carefully and quietly as he could, Harry eased along the chamber trying not to jump at every shadow that seemed to move in the flutter of the odd torches. Every 'plop' of water dripping into a puddle had him straining to hear if there was any further noise.

Finally, the huge, self-aggrandizing statue of Salazar Slytherin came into view. Harry's gaze became fixated on the head of the ugly statue, particularly the mouth where the basilisk was hopefully sleeping, willing it not to open.

Forcing himself to move, he started closely looking at the pillars, walls and particularly the statue. He was looking for concealed doors, hiding places, and places to spring an ambush on the snake if it was chasing him. He was looking for hidden rooms. He was looking for other exits from the chamber.

He had convinced himself that someone as smart as Slytherin was supposed to be, would not want to be noticed disappearing near the same place even before the entryway became a girl's bathroom during some remodel project a few hundred years ago.

He remembered Hermione from last time saying that loos were a modern invention and a thousand years ago all they had were garde-robes, a hole over a pit with a wood plank to sit on, and no plumbing. Ron and he had snorted and snickered for many minutes imagining to each other having upper years in detention sticking their heads into the toilet pits to clean them with spells.

Until Hermione had crossly said, "And maybe they made the junior years clean them without magic." Hermione had not been in a good humour that day.

Taut with nerves, Harry forced himself to examine every bit of wall and statue he could looking for more little snake carvings.

He had to force himself to stay and be an investigator. He could swear he was hearing faint but unintelligible noises or echoes from somewhere. It spookily reminded him of the Veil Room. Noises from the dark, barely in hearing range that he could not pin down where they were coming from.

Almost two hours later, Harry had found nothing and was forced to give up the search for the night. If he didn't show up in the common room soon, either Hermione or somebody was going to notice they had not seen him all evening, and start asking questions he did not want to make up answers for.

That was what he told himself. His nerves had been on edge for over two hours and his worry about the snake suddenly appearing had exhausted his mental reserves was a bit more truthful he thought wryly.

The broom trip back up was as slow as going down. Harry jumped onto the last dust-disturbed step and hissed "Open." Easing up through the floor he closed the hole behind himself and forced himself to watch, wand in hand, as the opening closed just to make sure none of his imaginary whispering creatures had followed him from the dark below.

While he made a careful, yet uneventful return to the Gryffindor common room and a night of fitful sleep, another creature noticed the footprints of water tracked from puddles in the large open wizard-made cave. And became worried.

OooooovvvvvvoooooO

It was Wednesday night and Hermione Granger was sitting at her favorite desk in the library. Normally, this would have meant she was in her Happy Place, learning from books. Especially magic from old musty tomes. Surrounded by Knowledge, sitting here often gave her a feeling of being the Mistress of all she surveyed.

However, not this night.

She was feeling lost. No, bereft was the better word she decided. Her friend, her BEST friend, had since her birthday become distant and secretive. Oh, he still talked to her, but his talking had become about the common things they were both doing. Classwork and homework, the weather and how the dungeons were getting colder.

The only non-Hogwarts topics were connected to his Lord Potter persona, or the inane laws and bills he was being asked to support or be against in his Wizengamot correspondence.

He was not talking about occlumency practice or the Why Did It Happen he had tasked her with almost two months ago. She had been so looking forward to school again. This year she should have had two friends to be with from day one. Harry and Ron.

For some reason Ron had turned into a total arse who was impossible to be around. Then Harry, after a few weeks of true friendship suddenly became distant and secretive.

She had thought their friendship of nearly a year was solid. The last month of holiday where he had shown her so many wondrous things at his manor, and allowed her to perform her magic in front of her parents, that day had been almost as wondrous as the day Professor McGonagall had told her she was a magical witch.

And frankly, she was tired of speculating why he had cut her out of his somehow knowing about Pettigrew. The frustration was giving her headaches.

/*

It had taken this long for Harry to grab his Gryffindor courage in both hands and track Hermoine down when there would only be the two of them.

She did not see Harry enter the library and walk up behind her. She was sitting at her favorite table, surrounded by a castle wall's worth of books with a quill hovering over a piece of parchment. She was still dressed in her Hogwarts uniform even though classes had been over for hours.

Quietly he eased around to standing in front of her. She was apparently so deep into whatever she was contemplating that it took her a moment to realize he was standing in front of her.

She jumped in her chair and "Eep'ed" a bit.

"Harry," she admonished. "You startled me."

Harry sat down across from her, frankly staring at her all the time.

She was starting to get nervous under his unblinking gaze when Harry reached to the back of his head and started ruffling his already messy hair.

"So, whatever he is here for has him very nervous and maybe embarrassed. He only has that tic when he is one or the other, or both," she thought.

Clamping down on her impulse to start questioning him, she opted instead for her best imitation of the stern McGonagall Silent Treatment and merely stared back at him.

Even when Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times without saying anything, she did not crack.

Finally, Harry said, "Hermione, can you take a walk with me? I need to show you something."

She abruptly nodded her head, rose from her chair and after two minutes of returning books to their shelves, she slung her magical backpack over her shoulder and gestured him to lead on. All silently.

"Ohh, she must be really pissed at me for virtually ignoring her for weeks," ran through his mind.

He decided to go with silence also as he was thinking anything he said would only make things worse.

He led the way up the staircase to the seventh floor and down the hall to nowhere. He could see she was getting upset by the whole silly acting thing they were both doing, but he used the quiet to help with the secrecy.

He had her stand near the tapestry of Barnabus the Weird, while he crossed the floor to the other side and proceeded to silently pace three strides up and down the hallway three times.

When Hermione's look suddenly went from The Treatment to 'Have you lost your mind', Harry merely gave her that crooked smirk of his that told her she'd been had somehow. Then he pointed out to her the door in the wall beside her that had not been there half a minute ago.

Her head whipped around looking in surprise at the new door, to then turned to glare at Harry. And then repeated the turn and glare. And repeated twice more before she settled on glaring at the cause of all her confusion.

Still smirking, Harry opened the door and led her into a short, two-step long hallway. As it ended, he stepped aside and gave his friend an uninterrupted look at the magnificent room revealed in front of her.

Bookshelves. Lots and lots of bookshelves riveling the Hogwarts library or Potter Manor. A comfortable-looking brown leather couch and two matching chairs in front of an inviting lit fireplace. Two large light wood tables with plenty of space to sprawl out research materials accompanied by flowery chintz-covered cushioned seat chairs.

And like Potter Manor, the light in the room was perfect for reading.

With glazed-over eyes and a sagging chin, she slowly walked into the room, head swiveling back and forth taking it all in.

Suddenly her eyes locked upon a certain extra-large, heavy-looking, dusty tome. She dazedly walked up to it, struggled to pull it off the shelf, and with effort, staggered with it over to the nearest table where it landed with a thud.

In a near whisper, she reverently spoke, "Its Hogwarts, A History, Edition Two. I didn't know any copies still existed. Even then they were very rare because they had to be handwritten. The permanent duplication spell had not been created yet, nor the Dicta-Quill been invented."

She did not realize Harry had come over to stand next to her as she carefully opened the cover and several pages. Harry was impressed with the stylized mini-drawings that were surrounded by carefully written text.

He was leaning in to see better when his eardrum was nearly shattered by a shrieking Hermione, "OH, BUGGER! IT'S WRITTEN IN LATIN! I'M NOT FLUENT IN BLOODY LATIN YET!" (3)

Harry picked himself up off his bum on which he had fallen when the shriek bomb went off in his ear. He was trying to think of something to say, but the shock of hearing his prim and proper friend swear like a London docks worker had his brain in total disarray.

As Harry watched, the distraught girl suddenly quit muttering profanities and bursting into tears, plopped down beside him on the floor, grabbing onto him as she cried.

Not having a clue as to what had his friend acting so strangely, he decided just to hold her for as long as she needed. He had before, he could do it again.

This was a long cry. It was nearly fifteen minutes before his friend wound down to hiccups and sniffles. Harry was able to free an arm at which point he thought of having a handkerchief in that hand for her use.

An extra-large handkerchief appeared in his hand and for some reason, Harry thought a 'Thank you' at the room. Somehow, he was not surprised to feel a light touch ghosting across his head and hair.

It took a few more minutes before a now-mortified Hermione finished using the handkerchief. As soon as she was done, Harry picked her up off the floor, and despite her protests, carried her over to the couch and held her against his side as he sat down and snaked an arm around her to hold her tight against himself.

Again, he did not say anything as he had no clue what to say but hoped his actions told her he was her friend and would help her in any way he could.

It took a while, but Hermione slowly relaxed into Harry's side. After what seemed to be an interminable time, Harry broke the silence. All his hard won two extra years of maturity went into his words.

"Do you want to tell me what I've done this time to make you act this way? Miss Hermione Granger is wound like a too-tight clock spring and I am willing to bet I am the cause. I seem to be doing something wrong, but I don't know what.

I'm not quite as thick as Ron, but you will have to be clear. No hinting, circular talking, or thinking 'of course he'll know what I mean'."

At that, he shut up and merely kept holding her.

Hermione Granger's normally logical thirteen-year-old brain was a messy whirl. First Harry was virtually ignoring her for weeks and then suddenly he gifts her with access to a magnificent library. Again.

An errant thought crossed her mind, "If he thinks I'm only interested in books as 'presents', I need to get Mum to help me be a bit more girly. Or Lavender and Parvati would be ecstatic to get their magically lengthened nail claws into me for a feminine make-over."

The longer she sat there cuddled up against the boy who was her secret crush, the more she decided that what she was doing at the moment felt pretty good.

"Well, what are you going to do now, Granger?" she thought to herself. "You just had an epic meltdown because you've been tying yourself into knots the past several weeks over Harry and his more secrets. He was so open there for a few weeks and you thought it would last forever!"

He even admitted he needed you. Then with no warning, he suddenly slams the window into his world shut. Throw in my 'secret' crush, which he is totally clueless about, and I guess I was bound to lose my mind sooner or later."

The duo sat together for a while longer.

"Maybe direct honesty would work?" she thought. "At least on the parts I'll admit to."

She sighed and started. "Harry, In the last month, how often have we talked about the Why of what happened last year? You asked me to find out how we ended up in that room with the vials and the magical fire. Yet you haven't once asked me how my research was going.

You have become incurious about my progress, yet you told me that this summer you had a Curiosity Suppression Curse removed from you.

You also wanted me to learn about Occlumency so you could tell me some more of your secrets without Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape reading them from my mind. Yet again, another project you have dropped like a rock in the sand and left there.

Instead of talking about these things, all we speak to each other about is the weather and classwork. Why does it seem that you don't need my answers because you already know them?"

Harry could not help himself. He tensed and froze.

"I should have been thinking and planning what to do in case she called me on my failing of being a friend. But damn it, I can't tell her anything. If she's not my Soul Mate, I don't know what Upper Management will do to us."

Harry hummed to himself. "You're right. I believed that capturing Pettigrew and getting Sirius Black free was so important that I was terrified that if he got an inkling of what I was doing, Dumbledore would be able to block those things from happening."

"Harry," she interrupted. "I might have been able to help if you had helped me work on occlumency as you told me we would. You seem to have deliberately passed me over." The hurt in her voice was obvious.

He had thought about that earlier but had not realized how much it had meant to Hermione. She had been there for him for years. Sometimes her council the only thing that kept him alive. And he was back to foolishly believing that he was the only one who could do what had to be done.

Visibly firming up her resolve she squirmed around to look straight into his eyes and said, "And it seems to me you have become disinterested about the Why of what happened last year."

"And," she again shored up her nerve, "It was something said you were really interested in six weeks ago."

Her voice hitched a bit as she continued, "I understand that having your new friends around has shortened the time you can spend with me, but please do not tell me I've been wasting my time gathering information about last year."

The Lumos went off in Harry's head. She was worried. She was worried that now since he had become more social and was interacting with more people than just her and Ron, she was replaceable as a friend.

It all coalesced in his mind in an instant. He knew from last year that once she had become friendly with him, and by association, Ron, she had slowed down her frantic attempts to show everybody that she was smart and should be the classmate they would turn to for help in classes.

It had not worked, especially with the definition of Lazy Git, Ron, constantly disparaging her for being intelligent and smart and ambitious. The scene in the room with the Mirror of Erised should have been a sign. Ron wanted all the popularity and accolades Hogwarts could provide but had never made any effort to do the hard work that the wanted glory would demand.

Hermione wanted recognition also but had no clue as to how to act with other people to make them into friends. Especially if she had little in common with them.

Harry arm-hugged her a little tighter as he gathered his thoughts. (And with an inward cringe, some of his excuses.)

"You are correct," he said in a low voice. "I have been neglecting you. However, do you understand how much work I've created for myself since I revealed my being Lord Potter, freeing my godfather Sirius Black, and having been lauded as the one who found out about Pettigrew?

You see some of it advising me on my role as a Lord of the Wizengamot. You don't see the work with my Facilitator Lupin, or Sirius Black to work on my House Potter Gringotts accounts. Do you remember from this summer seeing how many people were in arrears on loans they had with my family?"

She nodded her head slightly.

"I have to decide what to do with them, and Gringotts treats debtors and thieves as our ancestors did two hundred years ago. I read somewhere that if you stole anything that cost more than a shilling, they transported you to Australia."

"Except I think the goblins are even more harsh.," he concluded.

Hermione had nodded her head occasionally as he rambled through his explanation though she had winced at his description of how debtors and thieves were treated by the goblins.

One part of the ramble had caught her attention.

"How are you working with your Lupin and Black when I don't see you getting any more owl mail than usual or related to your Wizengamot seat?" she questioned.

"Damn it! Another secret thing I forgot to mention to her." He thought.

"Sirius had Moo - - Lupin gather some magical mirrors from some flat he had been living in before he was sent to Azkaban. Since the rent was automatically paid by Gringotts, all his stuff was still there.

Anyway, each one of us has a mirror that can talk to the other one like a mobile phone can." At that point, Harry wiggled around and dug an object that looked a lot like a gold-coloured ladie's compact out of a pocket and handed it to her.

"Open it up and say Moony." He instructed.

Hermione did as he asked and a few seconds after her shaky and tentative "Moony," she almost dropped the compact thing as the face of Remus Lupin appeared in the top mirror.

He spoke before he realized who was actually calling him. "Good evening, Harry. What can I do for you to . . ." He shut himself off abruptly as he registered that it was not Harry's face on his mirror.

"Hello Hermione, what has Lord Potter done so that you are calling me tonight?"

She was so stunned by the artifact that worked better than a cell phone, (his voice was undistorted and she could clearly see who she was talking to) that she just handed the mirror case over to Harry.

"I was merely showing Hermione how you and Sirius were burying me in work without sending me whole flocks of owls that might be intercepted by a nefarious old crooked nose coot who is much too interested in my doings," he told Lupin.

In spite of Sirius vouching for Remus, Harry was still beset with nagging doubts about his time as a student legacy loyalties.

After chatting with Lupin a couple more minutes, Harry closed the mirror and turned his attention to Hermione.

"Since you are right, that I have been neglecting my teaching you new magics, I believe we have time to have an occlumency lesson right now. And as a bonus, no one will interrupt us."

A/N:

One: Description from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 16.

Two: Description from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 16.

Three: {When this edition of Hogwarts, a History was written, and at least for the next forty or so years, Latin was the Universal Language of the nobility and the educated. Soon to be supplanted by French for the nobility after William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings and became King of England. Latin stayed as the universal language of scholars.}