Chapter 125: Angry Harry

Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before the rest of us could put on our socks

"Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?" asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes whipped out of sight.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, "he's just ..."

But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was. He just sighed, shrugged, and walked out the room.

Neville and I both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry didn't look too happy.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and I halfway across the common room as we all headed towards breakfast. "You look absolutely-Oh for heaven's sake."

She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?

Like to earn a little extra gold?

Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,

for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.

(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)

"They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. "We'll have to talk to them, Ron."

I looked at her as if she were mental.

"Why?"

"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as we climbed out through the portrait hole. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"

I didn't respond. She didn't know what she was talking about. How could I even attempt to discipline my older brothers? They would never listen to me, badge or no badge.

"Anyway, what's up, Harry?" Hermione continued, as we walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored us. "You look really angry about something."

"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," I said, after Harry kept silent

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said gloomily.

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry said loudly.

"No," said Hermione calmly. "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side."

There was a short pause.

"Sorry," said Harry in a low voice.

"That's quite all right," said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. *Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?"

Harry and I both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.

"About You-Know-Who. He said his 'gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust-' "

"How do you remember stuff like that?"I asked with admiration. It always fascinated me how well she remembered things that seemed completely forgetful.

"I listen, Ron," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

The admiration went out the window. "So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what-"

"The point," Hermione pressed on loudly, "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same: stand together, be united-"

"And Harry got it right last night. If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins-fat chance." I said.

'Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity," said Hermione crossly.

We had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the Entrance Hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers.

"Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that," said Harry sarcastically.

We followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, all looking instinctively at the staff table as we entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again not there. The enchanted ceiling above was a miserable rain-cloud grey.

"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying," Harry said, as we made our way across to the Gryffindor table.

"Maybe ..." said Hermione thoughtfully.

"What?" said Harry and I together.

"Well ... maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here."

"What d'you mean, draw attention to it? How could we not notice?" I said, laughing.

Before Hermione could answer with what looked like something snarky, Angelina Johnson had approached Harry

"Hi, Angelina." said Harry.

"Hi," she said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

That caught my undivided attention.

"Nice one," said Harry, grinning at her.

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person will fit in."

This news intrigued me. I figured that they had a backup keeper, but since she was holding tryouts, I had to be sure to make a schedule for myself to get some practice in. I thought about saying something to Harry and Hermione, but I quickly changed my mind.

"OK," said Harry.

Angelina smiled at him and left.

"I'd forgotten Wood had left,' said Hermione vaguely as she sat down beside me and pulled a plate of toast towards her. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"

"I s'pose," said Harry, taking the bench opposite. "He was a good Keeper."

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" I said, hopefully.

Harry nodded. "Wouldn't hurt. Been the same people since my first year. Would be nice to see who would wanna join."

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water from the rain outside. Hermione had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.

"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably. "I'm not bothering ... load of rubbish."

"It's best to know what the enemy is saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unrolled the newspaper and disappeared behind it for about five minutes.

'Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything."

Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables.

"Look at today!" I groaned as I glanced over mine. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts ... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George would hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today and you'll see why," I grumbled, shoving my timetable under Fred's nose. "That's the worst fucking Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," said Fred, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," said George, helping himself to a kipper.

"Cheers, but I think I'll take the lessons."

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard."

"Says who?" said George, looking astonished.

"Says me," said Hermione, confidently. "And Ron."

"Leave me out of it," I said hastily.

Hermione glared at me. Fred and George sniggered.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asked Hermione.

"Fifth year's OWL year," said George.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs," said George as if the matter was funny. "Tears and tantrums ... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint."

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Fred reminiscently.

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas," said George.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, grinning. "I'd forgotten ... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"You two are impossible," said Hermione.

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow."

"Yeah ... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" I said.

"Yep," said Fred, unbothered. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said George brightly, "now that we've got-"

He stopped talking for a second, his face reading that he had said too much.

"-now that we've got our OWLs," George quickly finished. "I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand."

"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You're going to need all the ingredients and materials-and premises too, I suppose."

"Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione," said Fred "C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology."

"What did that mean?" said Hermione, looking from Harry to me. " 'Ask us no questions ...' Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?"

"You know, I've been wondering about that," I said. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons."

Harry shrugged. "D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Bound to be, isn't it?" I said, chewing up my toast. "OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked Hermione and I, as we left the Great Hall and set off towards History of Magic.

"Not really," I said slowly. "Except ... well ..."

"What?" Harry urged me.

"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah, it would," said Harry fervently.

"But they're, like, the elite. You've got to be really good. What about you, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she said. "I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile."

"An Auror's worthwhile!" said Harry.

"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I mean, if I could take S.P.E.W further ..."

I avoided looking at Harry, knowing damn well I would laugh. I admired that she was still trying to make it work. I just hopes it wouldn't be like last year.

History of Magic was boring as usual, with Professor Binns moaning on and on about shit that no one except Hermione gave a damn about. She alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.

Today, we suffered an hour and a half's droning on the subject of giant wars. I had heard just enough within the first ten minutes, and Harry and I spent the majority of class playing hangman on a corner of his parchment, while Hermione shot us dirty looks out of the corner of her eye.

"How would it be," she asked us coldly, as we left the classroom for break, "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?"

"We'd fail our OWL," I gasped in mock shock that she would say such a thing. "Do you want that on your conscience, Hermione?"

"Well, you'd deserve it,"she snapped. "You don't even try to listen to him, do you?"

"Oi, we do try. We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration- you're just cleverer than we are-is it nice to rub it in?" I said charmingly.

"Oh, don't give me that rubbish," said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she led the way out into the damp courtyard.

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Hermione, and I chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony to talk about what Greaseball Snape would do in the first lesson of the year. We had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch us off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards us.

"Hello, Harry!"

It was Cho Chang. By herself. Which was a shock because she usually traveled in a pack of other girls. Harry sat up straight and started blushing. Hermione and I smirked at each other.

"Hi," said Harry.

"You got that stuff off, then?"

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning. "So, did you ... er ... have a good summer?"

Cho shrugged. "Oh, it was all right, you know ..."

"Is that a Tornado's badge?" I said, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold 'T' was pinned. "You support them?"

"Yeah, I do," said Cho, on the defense.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" I said, earning a shut the fuck up look from Harry that was too late for me to acknowledge.

"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway ... see you, Harry."

She walked away. As soon as Cho was halfway across the courtyard, Hermione snapped at me.

"You are so tactless!"

"What? I only asked her if-"

"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?"

"So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping-"

"Why on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team?"

"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only-"

'Who cares if she supports the Tornados?"

I scoffed. "Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season-"

"But what does it matter?"

"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon-"

"What does any of that have to do with Harry and her talking?" said Hermione as we got up and made our way to Potions.

"Because Harry doesn't need any fake fan in his life. He needs to know these things."

"Oh yeah, because her taste in Quidditch reflects her personality." said Hermione, unfortunately making a stupid point. I for one didn't want to give it to her.

"You never know. It very well could!"

"Oh, out are so insufferable!"

"And you are acting like a real w-"

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. We were so deep into our argument that we hadn't even realized that we had made it to class and sat down. Harry sat in between us, looking as if he wanted to fade away.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at us all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my ... displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

I thought about failing on purpose, but I knew Mum would have my head. Harry looked like he felt the same way as he glared at Snape.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, indicating that he had her full focus.

"The ingredients and method-" Snape flicked his wand "-are on the blackboard-(they appeared there) "-you will find everything you need-'"he flicked his wand again "-in the store cupboard-" (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) "-you have an hour and a half ... start."

Just as we had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry's cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; mine was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticize.

At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.

'Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Ferret Face laughed.

"Yes, I can," said Harry, face tensing.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.

" 'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.' "

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce."

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

Harry cleared away his things, seething. His potion had been no worse than mine, which was now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs; or Neville's, which had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having to gouge out of his cauldron; but it was he that wouldn't be getting any marks at all, which wasn't fair. He stuffed his wand back into his bag and slumped down onto his seat. When at long last the bell rang, Harry flew out the room.

Hermione and I gathered our things and walked out.

"He's gonna be in a bad mood, isn't he?" asked Hermione.

"I don't blame him. I would be pissed too if I has been singled out like that. Snape is a fucking tosser."

"Language, Ronald!"

"What. He is!"

"Maybe you could say something else besides that?"

I groaned. "I will not let you teach me the proper way to insult, Hermione. Weren't you the one who called Pansy a cow just yesterday?"

"That was..." Hermione began before admitting defeat. "Fine. I'll let you have that."

I smiled. "Come on, Harry's probably at lunch."

Sure enough, Harry was at the Gryffindor table already eating, looking as grumpy as a gnome.

"That was really unfair," said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

Neither of us answered. He did have a point and we all knew it. Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," said Hermione in a disappointed voice. "I mean ... you know ..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table "... now he's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," I said as I fixed my food. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," said Harry heavily. Hermione and I both froze, giving him angry and offended looks. His attitude was starting to get on my damn nerves.

"Can't you give it a rest?" said Harry. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his school bag back over his shoulder and left us sitting there.

Hermione looked at me, dumbstruck.

"What was that?"

Exactly, what's he going on about?"

"We weren't even really arguing, Ron!"

"I know!"

"Don't get me wrong. I totally get that he feels horrible, what with everything happening to him and the way people are treating him," said Hermione, wrapping herself a sandwich. "But he has no right to take out his frustrations on us."

"Especially when we are the ones that are really there for him." I said, agreeing.

"Do we really argue that much?" asked Hermione, taking a swig of her pumpkin juice.

I shrugged. "Not as much as we used to. I think it's our thing, you know? Most of the time, I'm not even mad at you. Like what just happened. We were just talking, that's all."

"Well I feel like I should just give him a piece of my mind." said Hermione.

"No, I'll do it." I volunteered. "I don't fancy him snapping at you again. Besides, I'm about to see him in Divination."

"I still don't understand why you two still take that ridiculous class," said Hermione, as we both got up and headed out the Great Hall.

"Because it's easy, and sometimes Harry and I have fun in there." I said as we walked towards the stairs.

"Impossible." said Hermione, grinning.

"Dammit, Mione, I can't be a genius like you!" I cried out in mock emotion.

"Go to class." she said, pushing me up one of the stairs.

I made my way to the North Tower, where I went through the trapdoor. I spotted Harry and made a beeline straight to him.

"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," I said, sitting down beside Harry.

"Good," grunted Harry.

"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," I finished.

"I 'm not-"

"I'm just passing on the message," I said, talking over him. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."

"I never said it -"

"Good-day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice, and Harry broke off, looking cross. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely-as, of course, I knew you would.

"You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so ..."

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving us all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."

By the time we had all finished reading the introduction of the book, we had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to Harry and I, Dean had paired up with Neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat; Harry and I looked at each other glumly.

"I never remember my dreams," I lied, "you say one."

"You must remember one of them," said Harry impatiently.

I couldn't. I just couldn't. I couldn't tell Harry that lately my dreams had been nothing but Hermione filled, and sometimes we were doing things that best friends should not be doing to one another. So I made something up.

"Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night," I said screwing up my face like I was trying hard to remember. "What d'you reckon that means?"

"Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something," said Harry, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest.

When the bell went, Harry and I led the way back down the ladder.

"D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any ..."