In which Minnie is jealous, and Ravenclaw is stormy.

Enjoy!
A_A

Minerva couldn't believe what she saw. Not only did Pomona and Hufflepuff arrive together for dinner in an unexpected camaraderie, but they seemed to be tipsy! She didn't expect that from Pomona. Honestly, she expected Hufflepuff to be better as well. But they clearly had a different, medieval sense of right and wrong, and it was apparently acceptable to present yourself among children while under the influence of alcohol.

She wished to show her disapproval by pointedly ignoring their arrival, but then, they sat at the Hufflepuff's table. Both of them. Indignant, confused, and... maybe a little jealous, Minerva didn't really know what to do with herself. They planned a meeting this evening, Pomona and she, and nothing was cancelled, but in this situation... Pomona would probably prefer to spend her evening with Hufflepuff instead. Since that was apparently a thing they did.

A soft clinging of the glass sounded next to her and carried itself melodiously through the Great Hall. Dumbledore rose to speak.

"Good evening," he said cheerfully, "Since so many of you are here, I will get ahead of the good news that will appear on the notice board tomorrow morning. After all, the joy should never be delayed."

As he started speaking, the students hushed slowly but completely, eyes glued to him. Minerva already cringed internally at the prospect of hearing the joint cheer that would certainly erupt after Albus gave them the news. She was more than happy about it herself, of course, yet Gryffindors looked to her like a quiet but tense sea awaiting a violent storm.

"Without further ado: the inter-house Quidditch Cup will take place this year," he said, and the last words drowned in the deafening applause. And only three quarters of the students were present! Dumbledore didn't wait to say anything more, just smiled at Minerva and moved to the exit.

Last evening, she presented Albus with an overall plan for the event, one she was eager to prepare but also pestered with questions by many students (Oliver Wood especially) and Godric Gryffindor. The last one offered his help with planning, but Minerva politely refused. She was able to construct a plan herself, after all, and she already had Rolanda breathing at her neck. Yet, she asked for his help later on with the organisation. With the Triwizard Tournament in place, she had many more additional responsibilities, and this year, she and Rolanda would be left alone with the organization of each event. And now, they additionally needed to prepare the alternative placement for the Third Task before Spring, when the Ministry workers intended to start on the hedge.

"You must have made one hell of a plan, Minerva!" Godric announced, suddenly standing before her on the opposite side of the table.

"Of course I did," she replied indignantly as if he suggested otherwise just by voicing a need to state such an obvious thing.

"Is something amiss, Minnie?" Godric asked pleasantly with an amused light in his eyes. Maybe she should be happy that the Weasley twins weren't Gryffindors anymore. They would eviscerate the castle under the influence of this man.

"It's Minerva," she corrected sternly. "And everything is in perfect order. So nice of you to care."

She wanted to imply with her tone that it was absolutely none of his business and he should go clown around somewhere else, yet the message either slipped his attention or - what's more probable - was ignored.

"You're the hero of the evening," he said warmly, "and even if Albus just stole the appreciation of the students from you, I know who made it happen, and appreciate it greatly. How about we get together with Rolanda so you could tell us all how it'll all go and how can we help you make it happen?"

Well... that was... nice, Minerva thought, thawing a little. Although she thundered at the man with her gaze, as soon as he said, "And there's a smile I was waiting for!" Although she did it without much of a spite.

"Will Saturday evening suit you?" she asked.

"Perfectly," he agreed. "Maybe we could go out somewhere where they serve something decent to drink. After all, it will be Saturday night, and I hear that's the day usually spent on pleasure. A good drink added to Quidditch and your company would make it a perfect celebration of Saturday."

Minerva huffed a muffled laugh.

"Are you certain you shouldn't be celebrating Thursday now?" she asked.

"If you offer an out for a drink, I won't refuse. Especially if you know a place serving a decent beer."

"Beer?" she raised her eyebrows, amused. "You should learn to drink Scottish whisky before even trying to join me for a drink."

"Clearly, you have never enjoyed a good beer. No surprise, it's almost impossible to find today. But I'm making my own, and I will gladly show you the difference."

"I will hold you to that," she replied, amused. "But no, not tonight. I don't have a custom of drinking in the middle of a week and a pile of summer assignments that demand my attention. I might as well start just after dinner."

"Did you have other plans?" Godric wanted to know.

"Yes, I had," she replied only and left him with that. At least for a moment, because as she moved to circle the table and leave, he went on its opposite side and joined her at the very end.

"I heard that our house has the best start for the Quidditch Cup this year," he noted, as he was now closer and could say it confidentially.

"The best or the worst," she replied, "Wood, Rogers and Diggory? That may be the recipe for a great disaster or an even greater success. Well if Hufflepuff will remove her curse, that is. Cursing students as a punishment," she huffed.

"She'll remove it before they'll start training. It wouldn't be fair to devoid us of three excellent players," Godric winked at her, and Minerva laughed, this time wholeheartedly.

"You said Slytherin was your teacher?" she asked, and when he confirmed with a nod, she added, "That shows."

"Hello, you two," Pomona stopped them a few steps later. Alone now, Helga still sat with students, discussing something with a group of firsties.

"Pomona," Minerva nodded.

"Do I smell elderflower?" Godric raised his brows, and Pomona blushed as if that meant something that Minerva wasn't privy to. Her mood soured again.

"Only a little," Pomona replied with a very satisfied smile. She had this expression of a very satisfied Quokka. Quokka was Pomona's patronus, and the animal couldn't be more appropriate, even if Minerva had no knowledge of the existence of this animal until Pomona presented her with the patronus. The animal was the size of a regular cat and a little similar to the raccoon. Chubby, with tiny dexterous paws, little black eyes and a pointy nose. The difference was that quokkas have brown fur without any pattern, smaller ears and significantly less noticeable tails. And they look like everything fills them with giddy enthusiasm. And Pomona tended to look like one whenever she was happy about something, excited, content, or tipsy. Just like now.

Before Minerva or anybody else managed to say anything else, they were approached by Rowena Ravenclaw. Cold. That was all Minerva could say about her at this point.

"Good evening," she said softly, "Please excuse my interruption. Godric, I wanted to ask for your help, if you don't mind."

He shook his head.

"No problem, what..." he suddenly stopped the question when Rowena gently slipped her hand under his arm, then he finished, "Excuse us, ladies. Looks like a delicate matter."

Rowena nodded, looking apologetically, Minerva and Pomona wished them good evening (hiding curiosity to the varying degree of success), and when they were leaving, Minerva heard Rowena say, "I need your Sal-managing skills this evening. I did what had to be done, and... Let me start from the beginning..."

Then, they were too far away to be heard.

"How about we excuse ourselves for this tea?" Pomona asked eagerly, "I have so much to tell you, and I expect you to have at least the same or even more! Shall we?"

"We shall," Minerva agreed.

They usually met in Minerva's private quarters, and so they did this time. Her rooms were reflective of Minerva: severe, disciplined, and somehow warm anyway. The living room had a sitting area furnished with armchairs and a sofa, with just enough padding on the seat, backrest, and armrests, so they couldn't be called 'wooden'. Comfortable, yet giving no chance to nest in them. Pomona, for contrast, had a set that allowed full immersion in the cushions and blankets, which were so soft that you wanted to stay there forever. Minerva hated it.

The rest of the furniture was similar in Minerva's quarters: functional and comfortable to use. The decorations were sparse. A couple of photo frames on the mantle show Minerva and Elphinstone, Elphinstone alone, Minerva's parents, and one of her brothers. Most of the fabrics in the room were - obviously - tartan. And her collection of brooches stood proudly on the commode under the mirror. There was always one missing: the one she was currently wearing. And the students had no idea how priceless artefacts they were...

As soon as Pomona sat down, a very old cat found a way to her lap. Grendel was at least seventeen, and for over a year, she stopped going out of Minerva's quarters, preferring the heat of the fireplace instead of roaming around the castle.

The generally warm and friendly atmosphere between both women was somehow chilled this evening. Minerva prepared the tea and biscuits in silence, broken only by Grendel's purring.

"Have you had a good afternoon?" Minerva asked when she finally sat down in one of the armchairs.

"Oh yes," Pomona nodded, "Neville helped me with the emberthorne. I suppose that Weasley twins were nifflering in my greenhouses again, and that's the reason for the whole problem with chomping cabbage. Helga joined us for the mandrakes; you know how when I did it alone, it took ages? With both of them, it took us less than half an hour! And we had a little chat with Helga afterwards."

"Sounds pleasant," Minerva said, although she wasn't certain she was able to hold the dislike for the very idea out of her voice. She must have, as Pomona continued.

"Yes, it was. She has such medieval rooms, you cannot imagine! You sit on fur like it's the most usual thing in the world," she laughed, shaking her head, "I don't believe I've ever seen something like that. And she makes delicious herbal liquor. No sugar, and yet so deliciously sweet, and the smell..."

Speaking, Pomona expressed her delight with the entire body, wiggling a little, especially with her shoulders. The cat gently placed a paw on her forearm, to remind her about petting.

"You could have restrained yourselves from sitting among students after drinking," Minerva rebuked. "Or better yet, just order food to her quarters. Hasn't she got a house elf assigned?"

"We were only a little tipsy, I don't think students even noticed," Pomona said, but the excitement left her arms, now slumping slightly.

"You should have known better," Minerva said to underline the message, "That was highly unprofessional. Unlike you, Pomona. Is it normal for her?"

Minerva observed as the woman before she blushed, ashamed, but shook her head.

"No, of course not. We just thought it wasn't that much... Well, judging from what she told me, it's entirely not like her to be unprofessional. She just doesn't yet know that currently, it's not something one should do..."

"Yes, I've noticed. Those medieval standards are certainly not up to date. They should learn or leave, don't you think? We don't need them demoralising our students."

"Well, I don't know if they are demoralising them, per se," Pomona started, but Minerva replied with a short laugh.

"Cursing students as a punishment?" She asked, raising her eyebrows in bitter amusement, "That's not an example to set. And Draco Malfoy? He used an Unforgivable curse, for Merlin's sake! Unsuccessfully, for his benefit, but still. That's unthinkable! And they endorsed it! Publicly, for that!"

She saw that here Pomona was in agreement with her.

"Well, that was... that was something Mr Malfoy shouldn't do... And Gryffindor shouldn't endorse it, but maybe Mr Malfoy will learn something from this situation? Maybe he'll understand something and grow from it? You must see how ashamed he is, always avoiding everybody else, hiding in the corners, eating in the kitchens... It's good that Godric's teaching him. From what he told me, he aims to help the boy understand the responsibility coming from even knowing, not only using such curses. He wants to help Mr Malfoy with his grief. Let him process the anger..."

"Process the anger by encouraging revenge? Pomona!"

"Well, I..." the woman stirred, "Of course they have different morality, standards, customs, but it doesn't mean they're evil or even wrong. We could just show them how things evolved through the last millennium, so they respect our current standards."

"An old witch won't change the placement of her cauldron," Minerva announced sententiously. "They killed at least four people in our times. They turned Hogwarts upside down; Gryffindor is leaning towards teaching dark magic rather than defence against it, corrupting our students morally; Hufflepuff and Slytherin are snooping everywhere, talking with students, and visiting classes. Cursing our students. And Ravenclaw..." Minerva stopped, not able to come up with anything. Suddenly, she realised that as much as the other three founders were ever-present and pushing their noses to every single matter, Ravenclaw was sparse to be seen. She was there for the meals, at least mostly, but other than that, she remained out of sight. What was she doing? ' I did what had to be done,' Minerva suddenly recalled Ravenclaw saying to Gryffindor. What had to be done? What are they plotting?

"They are up to something. Albus says so, and I believe he's right," she said with full conviction.

Pomona, on the other hand, wasn't convinced. They didn't give an impression of people scheming for something in secret. They rather gave the impression of people who came back to their legacy to find it in a state they found unsatisfactory and willing to better it. Because there were, after all, things that should worry them. Minerva spoke about Helga cursing students, but it was only a limitation on their ability to fly, a good measure to punish their behaviour. She was dwelling on the behaviour of Mr Malfoy, but for Pomona, it was clearly unrelated.

Of course, it was an abhorrent thing to do, but Helga considered it a delicate issue. After all, it was a grief-stricken boy, forced to (apparently) learn from the person who killed his parents. The situation could have been prevented if anybody cared to prevent it. And now, the boy wasn't to be faulted and resented for the rest of his life for something did under such a strain. He should be given help. And that was exactly what Godric tried to do. And as the one guilty of the killing, he could be the worst person to help. But it was Godric Gryffindor. And Pomona needed no more to know he had his whole heart dedicated to the students.

And Godric killing... Well, it was not the best he could do, but he didn't go out to murder innocents. He got out to defend the crowd of innocents from the Death Eaters! He only did it... well... less savoury than the modern world was used to. But it surely could be explained that nowadays such measures aren't welcomed.

However, Pomona said nothing. She knew how strongminded Minerva was, how vehemently she could defend her ideas, so he said nothing. Therefore, Pomona kept petting the cat, letting her thoughts ponder on the issue. They fell silent, sipping their tea and nipping on biscuits. The companionable silence was a common occurrence between them. But it lasted shortly this time.

"I'm not saying I support the harshest punishment for Mr Malfoy, but he should be punished. Expelled from Hogwarts for what he did."

"It really wouldn't be fair," Pomona disagreed, "The boy just needs guidance. It's his grief and upbringing that led to this situation... He has the potential for betterment. He's so intelligent, creative, eager to learn."

"Yes, but impolite, spoiled, and rotten," Minerva countered. "He won't get better with those two Black harpies raising him and a murderer as his mentor," after the last words, she pursed her lips but then added. "Albus wanted to take him under his wing, to guide him. But Gryffindor interrupted. Can you imagine? He disrupted their meeting for the sole purpose of excusing the boy out!"

Pomona only nodded. Minerva and she never saw eye to eye on the matter of Albus. Of course, he was an important man, a formidable wizard, an icon of light. Yet... Pomona couldn't forgive him for Caradoc. They were so naively in love, so close to each other, planning marriage and children, and... slowly, everything changed. Caradoc got closer to the Prevett brothers, nice boys and good friends, but devoted to the idea of bettering the wizarding world, of winning the war and changing everything afterwards, of fighting for the great Albus Dumbledore. And since then, it has always been Headmaster this and Headmaster that... Straight after Hogwarts, he became scarcely present, and if he met with Pomona, it was mostly to glorify the war effort, talk about things they did, and the things they did... those things were the reason for which when he asked her to join, she refused.

Pomona left for Spain to finish her education. And when she returned, it was Caradoc who convinced her that England wasn't safe and to come and work in Hogwarts - the safest possible place. For some time, they got closer again, but he just kept pressing her to join the war effort. Pomona refused every time because she quickly noticed that as scary as the atmosphere was, the attacks weren't all that random, and they were aimed solely at those who outright opposed You Know Who or supported the opposition. Not those who disagreed with him but kept quiet. She believed there was a better way than both sides murdering each other. That there could be a place for compromise if they only sat down and talked it through. Maybe not so fast as during an afternoon tea, but with time, goodwill and a little bit of effort... But nobody was interested in that. Both sides seemed to have long forgotten what they were fighting for, fighting just to destroy the enemy. At the same time, the rest of the wizarding world tried to keep quiet, wishing for the war to end one way or another, not wanting to take sides but to live.

Nobody looked for compromise. For common ground. For the well-being of the wizarding world. And so, Pomona refused to join the madness. Refused to support the fighting with her own wand. She tried to convince Caradoc, but instead, she saw him teaching the students who had barely left Hogwarts to commit to the exact same stupidity. And she saw students leaving to join the other side. She saw them fighting in the corridors. Some of them. Most were just scared.

And then, Caradoc disappeared. Prevett brothers died. Bonses, McKinnon, Meadows, Fenwick... It started to seem like one side got the upper hand, but Potters were murdered, Longbottoms... On the other side, You Know Who disappeared, Death Eaters were caught and brought to the trials, sometimes killed. The light side was not prosecuted. Pomona thought they should be. She thought Albus Dumbledore should be prosecuted for dragging children into the war. Dragging Caradoc into the war.

Minerva knew all of that. She mourned the loss of her students. And never allowed Pomona to say a single word against Albus, even when Pomona suggested that Albus was grooming a new generation for some purpose. Whatever it was. So now, Pomona said nothing. Only nodded.

Although, a thought came to her.

"You know, Minerva," she said gently, "Helga asked me about Harry Potter, she said she's worried, and wanted to know what I have noticed about him."

"Well, she might have asked me, as he's head of house for three years," Minerva was indignant. "And I'm surprised she asked, after almost kidnapping the boy for the summer. One could think she had enough time to observe him."

"I suggested to her to ask you," Pomona nodded, "But... she's a family member, so I told her what I noticed."

"Some family member," Minerva snorted. "Pomona! She's as much of a relative to Harry as you are to me. That's not a reason to take the boy from home. And if she'd come to me, I'd say as much. That it's not her place for her to stick her nose."

"Well, isn't it good for Harry to have a magical family?" Pomona asked, uncertain and unwilling to share with Minerva what she had learned from Helga earlier about his relatives. It was the boy's secret, not hers. And there was nothing to be done at this point. There was a lot just a couple of months ago, but it looks like everybody was oblivious to whatever happened there to anger Helga so much.

"He has a family," Minerva replied, "Decent people. Albus says he lacks nothing."

"And... What have you noticed about him? During those three years? What would you say?"

"I would say he's a good boy with decent enough grades. It could be better if he applied himself, but he finds a thrill more worth his time than learning, apparently. A troublemaker, but friendly enough. Better behaved than his father and as brave as James. And apparently as studious as James. Kind, like his mother was. A little arrogant and pert at times, but not excessively. Not as much as James or Sirius Black," she smiled fondly, thinking of her students. She always had a soft spot for the Marauders, even if she was usually severe while dealing with school troublemakers. Although, in Pomona's eyes, they were rather bullies than kings of mischief, as the majority of the staff seemed to believe.

However, the crux of Pomona's problem was that she didn't entirely agree with what Minerva said about Harry Potter. She heard often that Harry was something like Lily or James. That Harry is arrogant or brave. Pomona would rather say defensive, not arrogant, and kind-hearted enough to risk his life. Not really excluding brave, but not placing it in the centre. For as she saw it, he did all those things to help, and that was more important.

The meeting was rather short as far as their meetings went. Minerva was just in the mood to talk too much and too aggressively about things Pomona disagreed with. Not wanting to fight with her friend and knowing that in a week or two Minerva would settle a little, Pomona left. She wondered why her friend did not see the same picture as Pomona did every time it came to Albus Dumbledore and his child soldiers.

Each day since Monday, Draco has been hiding in the corners and skipping meals. He was the primary topic of the gossip mill, and he suddenly stopped envying Potter. Fortunately, people got another excitement: Quidditch. It brightened Draco's mood twofold, first because the speculations about who would get into the house teams were more exciting than Draco's.

Second, Draco wanted to play. He hasn't sat on the broom since... since... It was a long time.

Focussing on Quidditch and happy not to hear his own name whispered in every corner, Draco joined Theo and other boys from their dormitory for breakfast. To be honest, he had quite decent dorm mates. He knew all of them from social gatherings. Actually, he knew this way most of the fourth-year Ravenclaws. They had only one mudblood, Granger, and only one half-blood (but of better breeding), Tracey Davies. Actually, trusting his own expertise, Draco assessed that Ravenclaw was the most pureblood house of all. Hufflepuff had a lot of half-bloods, Gryffindor was quite balanced, while Slytherin... Well, the situation wasn't as bad as for Gryffindor, but the blood got a large infusion of mudbloods, half-bloods and blood traitors.

Passing by, Draco glanced at their own blood traitor, Fred Weasley. The twin was just gathering quidditch players, and he quickly grabbed Draco by his forearm.

"Malfoy, I was just talking about you!" he exclaimed joyously, "Sit down, my new friend, we need a good seeker. I know your record against Harry isn't as golden as Harry's against you, but you're our best shot."

Draco pulled out of his grasp but sat down. It was the friendliest thing he had heard the entire week from a person other than Theo, Vince, Gregg or Potter. Blaise clearly had other things to do than to show off with their friendship at the time.

"That's it?" Draco raised his pale eyebrows, looking at Weasley and Bell. "We've got nobody else?"

"Right now," Weasley said, still grinning, "Right now, friend, we'll find other players quite quickly, I assure you. Ah, there... Oy! Lisa! Wanna play quidditch?!"

Draco wasn't optimistic about the success of the team formed this way. Although Rogers, Diggory, and Wood have been fighting since yesterday, Slytherin merely got Warrington and Chang. Ravenclaw could catch quite a good start and should worry only about Hufflepuff and only because of Potter. Who would otherwise worry about Hufflepuff? Even Weasley seemed to be aware of that.

"If you don't mind, Fred, may I call you Fred?" asked Walter, stopping between Fred and Draco. He was fourth year as well, previously in Hufflepuff. "Thank you, Fred. I'm Walter Pinch-Smedley, I would like to try as well."

"You haven't played before," Fred noticed, but it wasn't a refusal or ridicule, just stating a fact. He moved a little to the side and patted the bench so Walter would sit down as well. "We could meet on the field and fly a little, no matter when we'll be allowed to have try outs."

"Good idea, but on Saturday, today we have arithmancy in the afternoon," Lisa Turpin said as she approached them in the company of other girls. Girls always walked around in herds. This, in particular, also included Granger, Greengrass, and Tracy Davies. "We would like to play."

"All of you?" asked Bell, looking especially at Granger. Draco shared the disbelief in her voice. Granger could barely fly, having no correct instincts for the broom. Draco still remembered that from their classes during the first year. It was dreadful. Granger was dreadful.

"No, of course not," Turpin chuckled. "Only Tracy and I. What time tomorrow would suit you?"

Granger didn't really look dreadful, though. She looked... pretty. Draco almost choked on his pumpkin juice (but he didn't; it would be uncivilized) as he caught this thought. Although just looking objectively, Granger was pretty. She got rid of the bush she called hair, and the curls framing her face had a very pretty colour and actually showed her face for a change. Quite a nice face.

"What about just after breakfast?" suggested Davies.

Granger lifted her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and Draco noticed a very nice earring. He didn't think Granger wore jewellery. Although he didn't notice she had nice lips before.

"That would give us plenty of time. The pitch should be empty, and even if not, we don't really need it," spoke Fred, nodding, and that shook Draco off his thoughts. Why was he staring at Granger?! Was he a mudblood lover now? How low has he fallen... And Greengrass was way prettier, anyway!

"So nine o'clock, or do we give ourselves time to change?" Draco asked in a tone that hid his internal berating.

"Changing sounds good," decided Turpin after a heartbeat of silence.

"I'll be so posh! Changing for breakfast and after it, mum will never believe it," Weasley said with theatrics, so Draco simply ignored him.

"Nine thirty at the pitch," he suggested calmly, and the rest accepted. Internally Draco started to get angry, that he had to intentionally stop his eyes from darting to Granger. Instead, he looked at Greengrass. Here. Perfect lips, perfect eyes, perfect hair, perfect taste, perfect pureblood.

"How's Ravenclaw treating you, Daphne?" he asked, as the girl seemed highly uninterested in the Quidditch talk that engaged Lisa and Tracy. It was only polite to ask.

"It's a significant improvement," she replied with a polite smile. "And how about yourself?"

"Fairly good in comparison to other houses. And your roommates?"

"Oh, I was lucky this time; Lisa and Hermione go along perfectly with Tracey and me. We have so much in common. We already have a year-long lay on one table in the library, if you or your roommates would like to join us for a study session. It's big enough to fit you if we move the books a little."

Draco smiled in response, as the perfect gentleman he was. Of course, he was. For the right sort of people. Just as his parents taught him.

"It's so nice of you to offer. I'll pass it to Theo and Terry, as Walter..." he glanced to the side, but Pinch-Smedley was deeply in the conversation with Weasley, "to Walter as well, it seems."

Greengrass replied with a smile, and she sat down, although - as Draco noticed - she had to pull Granger down for the mudblood to take a seat. Unmannered, as all of the mudbloods coming to Hogwarts. Draco reached for a teapot, and being perfectly mannered, he offered.

"Would you care for some tea, Daphne?"

"Thanks," she nodded, moving her cup towards him. "Do you maybe have the Arcanes of Futhark? We couldn't find it in the library, and Miss Pince said there's only two copies, and they are out."

"Yes, I can lend it to you on any day of the week, but I need it on Saturdays. Tea for you, Hermione?" he asked seemingly easily, but doing that because he had perfect manners.

"Yes, please," she replied, raising her chin.

"Theo has his copy as well if you would be adamant about having it for Saturday," Draco continued, pouring tea for the Mudblood. His father would be devastated. His mother would be proud of his manners.

"I think we could manage during other days," Daphne replied sweetly. Her eyes shone with amusement, and Draco stopped himself from gritting his teeth. "Tracey, we'll have to leave for herbology within a quarter. How about some breakfast?"

"Ups," Tracey laughed, reaching for scrambled eggs. Daphne's words brought the attention of other people interested in Quidditch, and even Fred Weasley stopped talking for a moment as they occupied themselves with breakfast. After all, most of them had some classes after breakfast, and only a few had the pleasure of having a free period.

"Good morning," came a pleasant but rather cold voice from behind Draco, "Would you mind if I join you here?"

Draco recognized it without a doubt and hurried to remove his bag from the bench, to free the spot on his left.

"Of course not, Madame," he said pleasantly, "Please join us. Would you care for some tea?"

"Yes, that's nice of you," the woman replied, taking a seat. There was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Table manners are one of the things that evolved significantly during the last millennium. You would be terrified not finding even a single fork."

"Truly?" Daphne asked instantly.

"Yes, spoons and knives only. And they were often worn in person. Some tended to wear their spoons in the upper part of their shoes."

That made a correct impression on most of the purebloods around, but not only. Granger seemed to get a little green. Only Weasley seemed unmoved.

"It sounds handy," he declared. "It's actually quite funny that shoes have no pockets of any kind, don't you think? It's hard to forget your shoes when you go out."

"It also sounds rather... disgusting," replied Tracy. "And uncomfortable. I wouldn't like to carry anything in my shoe."

"You can have a pocket on the outside," Fred waved it off and turned to face the Hufflepuff table, "It could be awesome, hey, Forge?"

"You called, brother of mine?"

"We're making shoes with pockets!"

"Awesome!" the other twin replied.

"I'd like a pair when you're ready," Ravenclaw said softly, gracing them with a smile. The twins high-fived, grinning, and leaned towards each other, both readjusting to straddle the bench and holding their plates in their hands. They seemed to ignore the possibility of sitting at one table.

In the meantime, Draco's eyes somehow drifted to Granger. She was unusually silent; as much as he cared to notice, she tended to lecture everybody around. Now, she just ate her breakfast, and not in such an uncouth manner as he expected. She even knew how to hold her cutlery. And whatever she did with her hair... they were shiny and bouncy, and one springy strand caressed her cheek.

"How about you visit me this afternoon, Hermione?" Ravenclaw asked, causing Draco to shake off with a feeling of horror. He couldn't find the mudblood attractive! It was atrocious! But asked, Hermione beamed with visible pleasure. She had a really nice smile.

"Gladly," she replied, "I have some questions about the... the book, you lend me. I'm done, but I've marked quite a few quotes I find hard to accept or understand."

"And I have some of mine. Differential Equations Theory of Ordinary Differential Equations shed a lot of light on what you told me about. It really changes the face of arithmancy!"

"I've never heard of this book," Daphne said, furrowing at Hermione, "Where have you found it?"

"Muggle world," Hermione replied. "It's a classic written by Norman Levinson. He describes the mathematical background to the calculations we use in arithmancy to understand what leads to the emergence of certain patterns in the co-dependent relationship of events. It makes it much easier to understand arithmancy."

"And it's fascinating," Rowena nodded, the coldness in her voice changing into eagerness. "We should introduce mathematics to Hogwarts. It's so much more developed than it was before that teaching just a little bit during arithmancy is a significant neglect. I have months of studying ahead! And, Hermione, I'd like the list of books we talked about so I can place an order as soon as possible. Muggle or not, classes or not, this knowledge should be available to Hogwarts students immediately."

The majority reacted with curiosity and enthusiasm, but some who heard seemed to think exactly what Draco thought. Draco swallowed this conversation with difficulty, not really wanting to accept that there was anything that was simultaneously Muggle and influencing the magical world and magical theory. He needed out.

"Shouldn't we go to the herbology now?" he asked over the excited chatter.

It didn't save them, however. The conversation stayed with them the entire way to the greenhouses, broken only when the Slytherins arrived. It was the first time Draco had welcomed their arrival since the resort.

"Mr Goyle, is that a correct telescope?" Professor Sinistra asked sternly, causing Draco to roll his eyes. He saw how Potter slid a hand down his face, and Granger pursed her lips in frustration (Draco quickly diverted his eyes from her). Ever since the second year, at the first lesson of the semester, Professor Sinistra asked each of them to point out and describe one simple thing in the sky. Really simple. It served as a quick revision of the basics. Taught by experience, Professor Sinistra always chose something that was especially simple for Greg and Vince. Potter just told Greg to look to the north-east; he even pointed the correct telescope, for gods' sake! And Greg managed to mess it up.

"Umm... No?" Greg turned towards the class.

"No," professor Sinistra nodded. "Who will tell Mr Goyle where to look for Cassiopeia? Mr Potter? Aloud, this time..." the last she added a little softer.

"North-west. Second telescope... I mean, the one with the number two..."

Greg moved to look for the constellation, entirely unmoved by the situation. Professor Sinistra sighed. It was about to take some time.

"Mr Macmillan, can you name stars that make up the constellation? From the brightest, please."

"Beta, Alpha, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon Cassiopeiae," Ernie said almost instantly.

"Good." Her eyes shortly darted towards Greg, who was still searching for the constellation. "Miss Bones, how many fainter stars are there in Cassiopeia?"

"Seven," Bones replied, and Professor gestured for her to continue, so she listed the stars, and in the meantime, Greg managed to find the constellation on the sky, and was asked to describe its asterism. He managed.

Except for Greg, only Vince was given a constellation to identify, while others were instructed to point to a single star of one of the currently visible constellations. Since this year, they were not asked by the Bayer designation, which made it significantly simpler, but by their singular name, what made it... Well, asked for Okab, Draco had to think for a moment to locate it as a Zeta Aquillae A. However, it was one of the most difficult questions tonight. Only Granger and Potter got something harder. Granger, because she was expected to know (of course), and Potter for helping Greg. He failed until he was informed that he could find Alpherg in Pisces.

The lesson ended when the Tower Clock struck midnight. Draco scowled, thinking that until this year, he'd have to walk down the stairs for around a quarter. Now, half this time, he had to reserve for climbing another tower.

"I miss the Slytherin common room," sighed Daphne as they started the walk.

"Our..." Granger cut herself off, " I mean, Gryffindor's tower was a little further than Ravenclaw's is, so it's an improvement."

"I like the amount of light in our common room, but it's a nuisance to climb the stairs every evening... especially tonight. Merlin, I'm so tired..."

Draco hardly noticed when he and Theo fell in step with their former housemates: Daphne, Tracey, Vince, and Crabbe. It just so happened that they all had additions now. Lisa Turpin and Granger from Ravenclaw, and Potter from Hufflepuff. That was... sort of weird to walk with two-thirds of the Golden Trio. Especially since he got those idiotic thoughts about Granger and Potter started to act funny.

It took them the entire way to the Astronomy classroom to stop complaining about the way ahead and start another topic.

"I saw you're doing something about Quidditch already," Potter said, looking at Draco.

"If you think I'll tell you something, you're gravely mistaken," Draco replied coolly, and Potter laughed, amused but somehow weak.

"Fred and George already talked. We're going to take the pitch after you. And relax; we're not even officially practising yet. I'm just glad it's back."

"If our whole strategy is going to be discussed by the Weasleys, we may as well give up already," Draco murmured.

"As it's a secret that you and I are going to play as seekers," Potter replied, and Draco must have agreed with that.

"I am going to beat you this year," he announced.

"I bet you'll try," Potter grinned.

"As glad as we all are that Quidditch is back," Daphne interrupted, "I'm tired of listening to Quidditch all day long. Could we please talk about anything else? And I mean it, anything."

There was a moment of silence between them, all too tired to quickly come up with something instead of Quidditch. Draco rolled his eyes, seeing Potter hissing with his snake. Slytherin or not, snakes usually gave Draco chills, and Parseltounge was simply creepy… even if somehow weirdly imposing. Although weirder, Greg put a stupid smile on his face and walked closer to look at the snake.

"Hullo, little one," he mumbled over Potter's shoulder, and Draco groaned internally. Was this how Potter bought these idiots? The stupid worm (it was too small to be called a proper snake, really!) and hinting during the classes?

"What do you need it for, anyway?" Draco asked, and it came out a little angrier than intended.

"Excuse me?" asked Daphne, walking in the line of sight precisely between Draco and Potter and clearly tired enough to get confused.

"Not you," Draco rolled his eyes, and this time Granger furrowed.

"What is your problem again?" she asked, clearly vexed.

"I just wonder why Potter needs the snake. If that can even be called a snake, it's preposterous!"

"He's called Pretzel," Greg said stupidly.

"It's idiotic," Draco snapped.

"And here I can agree with you," Granger said intently, and Draco rolled his eyes intently not looking in her direction. "I told you, Harry, that you should name him Gorgon, it's way more fitting."

All the Ravenclaws, including Draco, nodded in agreement.

"He looks like a pretzel," Vince piped in idiotically.

"While he doesn't kill or petrify with his gaze," added Potter.

"Your intellectual capacity is enormous," Draco said with a sneer. "Together, all three of you can find a classroom and compare your animals to food. Congratulations."

"I've changed my mind," Daphne said loudly, "Let's go back to Quidditch. Or just… just don't talk at all."

"I concur," Theo added, and he already walked to the side of the group, clearly not amused by constant bickering. Again, they walked in silence for the length of half the corridor. All except Potter, who kept conversing with the snake. Two beady eyes of a little worm were glued to Draco as the tiny tongue tasted the air.

"Are you instructing him to bite me?" Draco interrupted the silence, missing Daphne's eye-roll.

"He's not venomous," Potter replied, grinning stupidly. "He was just curious why you smell like one who wants others' eggs."

"What?" asked Davies. And that was exactly what the majority of the group wanted to ask.

"Snakes perceive the world entirely differently," replied Granger in her know-it-all tone, annoying Draco further. "That's very interesting. They don't understand more complicated social constructs, of course, but they identify the intentions of other snakes by smell, so he often says the weirdest things about the simplest things."

"He asked why are you jealous," Potter explained. "Wanna talk about that?"

"How about you shut up?" snapped Draco, his irritation doubling.

"Our corridor!" Daphne exclaimed with relief, "Goodnight!"

She and all the other girls turned decisively, and in the exchange of 'goodnights,' Theo steered Draco towards the Ravenclaw common room. Draco was positive that he heard the annoying cackling of Potter and those two dummies.

"Why do you even care about the snake?" Theo asked softly, but Draco didn't answer. He didn't care about the snake. Potter was just annoying even when he wasn't. Because sometimes he wasn't. Like tonight. But he was. And that frustrated Draco even more! This whole day, bah! This whole school year was absolutely awful, and nothing looked like it would be about to change. Nothing was like it should be! Only Granger was as annoying as always, but the way she looked was simply wrong.

Draco ignored others for the rest of the way and then shut himself in the bathroom.