Else
 
Prologue
 
	A storm was coming.  Black clouds had formed 

overhead, a cold wind was blowing, and thunder sounded 

across the grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and 

Wizardry.  Before long, lighting would be flashing and rain 

would be pouring down.  Anyone with any sense had long 

since gone inside; however, the storm brewing on the 

ground was far worse than the one threatening to attack 

overhead.

	Despite the cold, beads of sweat had formed and 

were dripping down the face of one Harry Potter, who 

wished that they would disappear; they were distracting 

him from the task at hand.  He tried to ignore the fact that 

failure at this task would most likely result in his prompt 

and green-lit demise; he also tried to ignore the fact that his 

"task" was now laughing at him, quite loudly in fact.  

 	"So, Potter...All alone now, aren't you?  Where are 

your friends?" the ominously thin figure asked as he 

gestured toward Ron and Hermione, who were turning 

cartwheels and singing an old Muggle song behind him, 

their faces sometimes twisting in an effort to repel the 

curse.  "Where are your teachers?" he questioned, 

motioning toward the ground where Professor Sprout lay 

face down in the blowing grass.  "And where, most 

importantly," he added, almost as an afterthought, "is your 

precious Dumbledore?"  He laughed again, causing Harry 

to shiver involuntarily.

	Harry wanted to yell at him; in fact, he wanted to go 

straight up to him and scream in his face.  He wanted to 

watch the small flecks of spit fly from his mouth and rest 

on his foe's nose, and witness the look of surprised horror 

that would reside in his eyes as he realized the certainty of 

his coming doom by way of...Avada Kedavra?  He didn't 

know if he was powerful enough; no one was actually 

taught that curse at Hogwarts.  He quickly struck thoughts 

of immediate retaliation from his mind; that's what he 

wanted, Harry knew, and if he obliged him it would be a 

fatal mistake.  He also knew that he should be using this as 

time to anticipate and think, rather than wallowing in fear 

and self-pity. 

	"Well, boy," Voldemort hissed, "do you know 

where your headmaster is?"  

	Harry racked his brain for something he could 

possibly do to come out of this situation with a beating 

heart.  He knew it was a long shot, but it was also his only 

chance...

	"Perhaps I should show you," Voldemort sneered, 

waving his hand and creating a misty view of Dumbledore, 

in his nightclothes and lying on his bed with open, empty 

eyes.  Harry continued to try to think, and hope. The sweat 

on his face increased enough that his glasses began to slide 

down his nose, and Voldemort regarded this with a sinister 

smirk.  Harry tried to focus beyond Voldemort, but when 

he did he only saw Ron and Hermione cartwheeling in and 

out of his view, singing "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."	

"You, my boy," Voldemort chuckled, then suddenly 

becoming serious continued, "are out of time!"

	Harry knew what was coming; he blindly aimed his 

wand at Voldemort, shouted, "Defixus Retexo!" and rolled 

out of the way, the death curse missing his head by 

millimeters.  Praying his friends knew what to do, he stood 

up, pointed his wand, and heard his voice along with two 

others (to his immense relief) scream "AVADA 

KEDAVRA!"  After that, the only things Harry remembered 

were feeling a cold jolt fly into his body, feeling it leave as 

soon as it had come, and watching his world turn black.

 
Chapter 1
 
	Harry woke hours later with a scream, which he 

followed closely with a yelp due to the fact that he had no 

idea where he was.  The room he was in was pitch black, 

his pulse was racing, he had the strange and terrible feeling 

that he was going to die... Suddenly, a candle illuminated 

in what the light quickly revealed to be a doorway, and he 

was greeted by the welcome sight of Madam Pomfrey 

shushing him and hurrying toward his bed.

	"Get back to sleep," she whispered soothingly as 

she attempted to make him put his head back to his pillow.

	"No!  I need-I-..." Harry trailed off as he realized 

that he didn't know exactly what he needed to do.  He knew 

something urgent had been pressing on his mind when he 

had last been conscious, but what... and then it all came 

flooding back to him.  He jumped out of bed, disregarding 

the fact that his robes had been removed (for medical 

reasons, of course) and Madam Pomfrey's look of panic, 

and raced out into the waiting room where he encountered 

the Weasleys, minus Ron and Bill (and Charlie, of course), 

who were sitting nervously and waiting for some word on 

the recovery of Ron and his friends.  Harry paused at the 

sight of them and with great relief noted that none of them 

were crying. In fact, they didn't look distressed at all. 

	As Mrs. Weasley stared at him with tears of joy 

appearing in her eyes, he deduced that Ron, at least, had 

survived.

	"What... what happened?" he managed to stammer.  

Mrs. Weasley was clearly taken aback and began to sob, 

squeezing out, "Harry darling, it's all over!" before she took 

the plunge into unintelligibility.  Mr. Weasley immediately 

began to comfort his wife, and an exasperated Fred took 

over.

	"Well, Harry old boy," he began wryly, but was 

obviously very pleased just the same.  "You seem to have 

done it.  Voldemort," he said, clearly emphasizing the last 

word and surprising Harry, "is gone."

	"We did it?" Harry asked, astounded and almost 

speechless.  "We're all alive?"

	"Yes.  Somehow Hermione and Ron were injured 

just the same as you were, but Professor Sprout..." George 

said, finishing for his brother and looking suddenly put out 

at the mention of the death.  

No one said anything for an uneasy moment.
	
"Anyway, they found you three passed out near the 

Forbidden Forest," Fred finally spoke up, "and they brought 

you in here.  They called us and Hermione's parents, who 

should be here very short-"

	"WHERE IS SHE?!" a frantic looking man yelled 

as he bolted into the waiting room, followed closely by a 

woman in a similar state.

	"-ly," Fred said, looking upon the scene with 

surprise as Percy waltzed over to explain the situation to 

Hermione's parents.

	"And?" Harry asked, thinking that there should 

somehow be more to the story than what he had just heard.

	"And now you're standing in front of us putting on a 

show in your boxers, which I'm sure Ginny finds very 

entertaining," George finished with a smirk on his face.  

Ginny turned the color of her hair and looked away very 

quickly with a smile on her face, but thankfully (for her) 

Harry didn't notice this due to the fact that he had looked 

down and realized that George was indeed telling the truth.  

Embarrassed, he excused himself from the amusement of 

the Weasley clan (the Grangers were far too concerned 

with the welfare of their daughter to know of anything but 

their desire to see her) and went back to face the wrath of 

Madame Pomfrey in order to retrieve his robes.  

	She was surprisingly agreeable, even giving him a 

hug and thanking him before she gave him his clothing.  As 

he pulled the robes over his head, he had a shocking 

thought: Dumbledore.  What had happened to Dumbledore?  

He went cold when he remembered how he had last seen 

him, with his eyes open in wordless horror-

	"Harry?" Madam Pomfrey called to him, noticing 

that he had had his robes halfway over his head for over 

half a minute.  Harry quickly clothed himself.

	"Is Professor Dumbledore-" He was interrupted by 

the opening of the door from the waiting area.

	"Did I hear my name?" Professor Dumbledore 

asked, sticking his head into the room.  Harry sighed in 

relief.  "Surprised to see me, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, 

looking a little more weary and apprehensive than usual, 

but still retaining an air of cheerfulness.  

	Harry was stunned and didn't answer; too much was 

happening at once.

"I do hope you're able to talk.  I am anxious to hear what 

has happened...  I hope you don't mind, Poppy?"  Madame 

Pomfrey grumbled something about not being allowed to 

give students proper care, but allowed him to go with 

Dumbledore into the waiting room.  The Grangers and the 

Weasleys were absent, as they had finally been allowed to 

sit by their respective children while they slept.

	"Well Harry, if you don't mind," said Dumbledore, 

"Begin from the beginning."

	Dumbledore sat down; Harry watched, took a deep 

breath, and obeyed his headmaster.

	"Professor Sprout was talking to Professor Sinistra," 

Harry began.  "We were in the Great Hall eating lunch 

when Professor Sprout called me over.  She told me that 

since I did poorly on the last herbology test I could get 

extra credit if I helped her with finding some plants in the 

Forbidden Forest.  I kind of needed the points so I agreed, 

and when the time came to leave, Ron and Hermione 

offered to go as well, and I figured that it would help her 

since there would be more of us, so we went."  

Harry paused, still trying to absorb everything that 
was happening and had happened earlier that evening.  

Dumbledore nodded him on.  

	"Wh-when Ron and Hermione and I got there, we 

were just in time to see Professor Sprout fall... Hermione 

screamed and Ron grabbed her and began to run; it was 

obvious something was wrong... I heard 'Imperio' from 

somewhere, and Ron and Hermione suddenly began to turn 

cartwheels and sing.  I tried to help Professor Sprout, but it 

was obviously too late.  He began to laugh when he saw me 

trying to revive her, trying to make her live... he showed 

himself soon after, and then he waited until I stood up, then 

he began to taunt me..."

	Harry told the rest of his story without the nervous 

stammer he had begun with.

	"...It was probably a lucky break that it worked, and 

that our spells missed each other, though I think Voldemort 

accounted for this as well."

	"Well, Harry, what did you do?" Dumbledore 

asked, anxious to learn how a 17-year-old underage wizard 

had defeated the most evil and potentially powerful wizard 

in the world.

	"Defixus Retexo," Harry said.  "I remembered 

hearing the spell sometime in 5th year.  We never learned it 

here, I don't think."

	"No, only ministry wizards are specifically taught it.  

It is extremely difficult, especially to actually cause the 

intended spell to be fully reversed.  Despite the 

complication this is possible in most cases, excluding, of 

course, the death curse."	

	Harry nodded.	

	"Well, what happened from there?" Dumbledore 

asked again.

	"It worked, probably because there wasn't any other 

option, and Ron and Hermione were released from the 

curse and thankfully knew what to do.  We all said the 

death curse and threw ourselves into it at the same time. All 

I remember is feeling like something jolted me back, and 

then a sudden pain."

	"You say you felt something enter your body?"

	"Something like that, yes," Harry said, confused. 

Dumbledore's weary and apprehensive look suddenly 

became more final.  "What's wrong, sir?" Harry asked.

	"I suspected this.  He's not gone, Harry."  He stood 

and began to pace

	Harry felt a look of fear form on his face.

	"His soul is still alive...I'll have to inform the 

ministry, of course... hopefully they'll do something about 

it this time."

	"But..." Harry was stunned.  He had just failed at 

killing his arch nemesis a second time.  Dumbledore 

immediately sensed his disappointment and laid a hand on 

Harry's shoulder.

	"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," 

Dumbledore consoled.  "You could not possibly have killed 

him.  You have saved Hogwarts and the lives of your 

friends and probably many students, and once again shown 

courage and responsibility beyond your years.  Voldemort 

is not gone, but he is powerless, and I'm sure that this time 

the ministry will take the appropriate actions to find him."

	"Professor Sprout died, sir... I couldn't stop it, I 

tried-"

	"Mr. Potter, no one blames you for that."  Professor 

Dumbledore looked kindly upon Harry, who had buried his 

head in his hands.  "Voldemort, as you know very well, 

takes killing people as a sport.  He uses it to lure, to 

frighten, and show his power.  You have done nothing 

wrong, Harry."  Harry still kept his head down, but he took 

the comments to heart.

	"Sir, why did you say it was impossible, killing 

Voldemort?"

	"Harry," said Dumbledore sternly but with eyes like 

stars, "that is a question for another time."

	"Everything is!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, 

frustrated.  "My parents, my childhood, my everything!  I'm 

17 years old!  When am I going to know, when I'm 30?  

What is-"

	"Well," interjected Dumbledore, obviously amused, 

"I was thinking tomorrow, since you are obviously very 

tired, despite your bravado."

	"Oh," Harry squeaked, embarrassed.

	"If you would kindly go to bed and get some rest 

now, I will see you in my office at 10:00 tomorrow 

morning.  The password is 'chocolate orange.'"

	"Okay."

	"Now, goodnight Mr. Potter."

	"Goodnight, sir."

	Harry watched as his headmaster left the waiting 

room, then he put himself back into the custody of Madame 

Pomfrey and went to sleep.


***

	Harry woke at 8:30 the next morning, checked to 

see that his robes had not been forcibly removed again 

(they hadn't), put his glasses on, and went to try and find 

Ron and Hermione.  He found Hermione first; she was in 

the room next to his (Madame Pomfrey had given them the 

three private rooms, thinking that they deserved it).  Her 

parents had fallen asleep in chairs next to her bed, and she 

was quietly studying for finals.  Harry stood silently in the 

doorway, watching her, until she looked up and noticed 

him.

	"Harry!" she whispered happily, jumping out of bed 

and giving him a hug that he gratefully returned.

	"Do you know if Ron's awake yet?" Harry asked 

quietly.

	"He's not, I just went next door and checked," 

Hermione said.  "That was brilliant yesterday, Harry, I'm 

so proud of you that I could kiss you!  But if I did I'm 

afraid that would betray some more-than-platonic feelings 

that I just do not have for you, so I won't.  You do 

understand?"


	"Sure," Harry grinned, and hugged her again.  "I'm 

glad you and Ron reacted the way I prayed you two would 

yesterday."


	"Yes, that was a big risk.  But it's over now," 

Hermione and Harry broke their embrace, left the door 

open and sat on a nearby bed in the main infirmary.  

	"Hermione," Harry said seriously, "There's 

something you should know.  Voldemort-"

	"Isn't dead?" Hermione finished for him.

	"Wait, how did you know?"

	"He must have used some spell to prevent his soul 

from being killed.  I'm sure you noticed the cold feeling 

after his body was destroyed?"  Harry nodded.  "That is 

what happens when someone performs the extremely 

complicated immortality incantation... only one known 

wizard accomplished this, back in the 7th century, known 

only as Nabiha.  She was Middle Eastern, very remote and 

private, and very powerful.   When the body dies it 

disappears, and the soul is set free in a burst of energy with 

only one purpose, which is to find a way to live again.  

There is only one way that the person can truly be killed, 

and that's if they kill themselves.  Which, let's face it, 

won't happen to Voldemort anytime soon."

	Harry whistled as he looked at her with frightened 

bewilderment.  "Someone's been making use of that 

unlimited pass to use the restricted section, eh?"

	"Well, N.E.W.Ts are this week, and I want to be 

prepared."  Harry just shook his head.  So much for 

Dumbledore's upcoming description of events.

Hermione suddenly became quite serious.  "So," she continued, "Professor Sprout is..."  Harry nodded.  "And," her voice began to waver and her gaze trailed to the floor, "Dumbledore?"

	"No," Harry shook his head, and Hermione closed 

her eyes in relief.

	"Then Voldemort was lying?" she asked, opening 

her eyes and looking at Harry.  "Not his usual style, if I 

may say so."

	"Well, Dumbledore was going to talk to me in 

about," Harry looked at his watch, "an hour and 15 

minutes.  Maybe you can come up too, I bet he would let 

you in as well.  You have just as much of a right to know 

about everything that happened as I do, though you seem to 

have a pretty good handle on it.  Maybe you could ask him 

that question"

	Hermione smugly agreed with him, and put her 

studying aside (gasp!) so they could discuss things. 

	"I got my letter this morning, Harry," Hermione 

said nervously.

	"Well?!" Harry asked with a smile.

	"I didn't open it yet, I'm too nervous."

	Harry glared in exasperation.  "Hermione, if you 

don't get into Wizard University then no living wizard 

could.  Ron and I both got in, and you're smarter than the 

two of us put together.  Now open the damn envelope 

before I do it for you."

	Hermione made a face and pulled it out of her 

robes, her hands shaking slightly, and delicately began to 

tear the seal on the envelope.  Harry grabbed the letter from 

her and, ignoring her protests, ripped the envelope open 

and began to read.  As she saw a look of severe 

disappointment cross his face, Hermione's eyes opened 

wide along with her mouth, and her lip began to shake.

	"Harry?"  He put on a tight smile, leaving his eyes 

with their sorrowful expression.

	"I'm sorry, Hermione..."  She let out a gasp and 

snatched the letter from him, immediately devouring it with 

her eyes.  "You only got a full merit scholarship and are 

only the most qualified wizard who applied this year-"

	"YOU PRAT!" she yelled, giving him a powerful 

smack on the side and waking her parents up with her yell.  

After he sat back up, she hugged him, then ran over to 

where her parents were still sitting, told them the news, and 

did the same to them.  Ron chose this moment to appear at 

his door, and was also promptly assaulted by Hermione.  

	"Wha-"

	"I GOT INTO WIZARD UNIVERSITY!"

	"Yeah?  I did too, can't be that hard," he muttered, 

tentatively returning the hug, as though if he touched her 

the wrong way she would break.  She chose to ignore his 

comment.  

	"I GOT A FULL SCHOLARSHIP!"

	"Wow!" Ron exclaimed, serious this time.  She 

released him, and he continued to smile.

	"Ron, you're awake," said Harry, relieved that his 

best friend was unhurt.

	"Harry!" Ron exclaimed.   The two ran over to each 

other with big and relieved smiles on their faces, shook 

hands earnestly, and pulled into a quick, appropriate, manly 

hug.

	"Glad you're all right," Ron grinned.

	"Likewise," Harry noted.

	They both stood staring at each other grinning like 

idiots and shaking their heads occasionally for about a 

minute.

	"Oh, I'm so glad we're all going to school 

together," Hermione finally put in, placing her hands on 

each of their shoulders.

	"Oh, I can't resist, Group Hug!" Ron cried 

mockingly, pulling both Hermione and Harry into his arms.  

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you're welcome to join in if you 

want," he called.  They politely declined.

	"Geroff," Harry finally declared, even though he 

still had a big gaping grin on his face.  "Hermione," he 

muttered as he saw the Grangers giving their little group 

rather interestingly contorted looks, "You want some time 

with your parents?"

	"Oh!" she gasped, just remembering them,  "Yes, if 

you two could just..."

	"Okay.  We'll fetch you in an hour to go to 

Dumbledore's," Harry finished, pushing Ron further into 

the main infirmary.  Ron just looked at Harry with a strange 

expression on his face.

	"What is it?" Harry finally asked, slightly irritated.

	"You're alive, I'm alive, Hermione's-"

	"Dead?" Harry interrupted.

	"No, just weird," Ron finished, smiling.  "I just 

can't believe we came out of that, that we killed 

Volde...Harry?"  Harry had suddenly started to look 

uneasy.

	"Voldemort didn't die, Ron."

	"Oh... but... he..."

	"What do you remember right after we defeated 

him?"

	"I felt almost like something flew inside me, I was 

jolted back and... oh."

	"Yeah."

	There was a small pause.

	"DAMMIT!" Ron yelled as he suddenly punched 

the stone wall.  "He-he-augh!"  He began to rub his now 

injured and slightly bleeding fist and sat on a bed.  "I 

thought I... we..."

	Harry sat next to his grieving friend, who was now 

holding his face in his hands.

	"Ron, you did more than Charlie ever could have 

wanted you to do," Harry said softly, not expecting a 

response and not getting one.

	He recalled the day less than a year earlier, when 

Hermione had turned white while reading The Daily 

Prophet.  Ron had asked what was wrong and looked over 

her shoulder to read the headline "DRAGON BREEDERS 

ATTACKED BY DEATH EATERS."  He had gasped and 

read over the article to learn that Voldemort's supporters 

had attempted to apprehend some dragons from a dragon 

breeding center in Romania; some wizards tried to resist, 

and they were promptly made an example of and killed.  

Charlie Weasley had been among the "examples."  Ron had 

put the paper down and stared blankly at his food, not even 

noticing that Malfoy had strolled over.  He'd had intentions 

to taunt Ron about how the size of his family had decreased 

and therefore the world was a better place, but he had gone 

no further than to say, "So, Weasel, another one bites the 

dust, eh?" when Ron launched himself clear over the 

breakfast table and upon Draco.  Neither Harry nor 

Hermione tried to stop the brawl that ensued and by the 

time a teacher (Snape, as luck would have it) separated 

them, Malfoy had been issued a black eye, a broken nose, a 

split lip, and a missing tooth.  Ron had stood silently as 

Snape issued him two weeks of detention to be served 

digging out fly eyes for potions classes and 50 points from 

Gryffindor (Malfoy received 5 points from Slytherin and a 

warning), and ran up to his dorm immediately after Snape 

had finished.  

	Hermione had then done something that had given 

Harry a new sense of admiration for her: she grabbed the 

newspaper and ran after Snape.  From where Harry was 

sitting he saw her stop him, hand him the paper, converse 

with him for a moment (she said something that left a look 

of shock on his face), and walk out of the Great Hall 

leaving Harry alone.  The detention and lost points were all 

revoked later that day.

	Neither Ron nor Hermione had gone to any classes 

that morning, and during lunch when Harry went to check 

on Ron, he saw him through the crack in the curtains on 

Ron's four-poster bawling silently into the arms of 

Hermione. Harry hadn't interrupted them. He waited until 

Hermione left the boys' dorm in the early evening, to 

retrieve both his and her missed homework, before trying to 

console his friend.  He had stopped crying by that time, and 

was sitting wordlessly on the edge of his bed holding a 

letter.  After some sparse conversation, Harry learned that 

Ron was to be excused from school for the next week so he 

could be home with his family.  He hadn't known what to 

do, so he just sat there with him until everyone else came 

up to go to bed.  Anything to do with Charlie had received 

little to no discussion since then.

 	Ron did not say anything until Harry nudged him to 

tell him that they were going to have to go talk to 

Dumbledore.

	"What?"  Ron's face fell even further as he made a 

connection.  "Isn't he dead?"

	"Nope, not since last night, or very early this 

morning I mean," Harry answered, trying to remember 

what time he and Dumbledore had last talked.

	"But..."

	"He's probably going to explain all of that when we 

talk to him.  It was originally only supposed to be me, but 

he'll probably let you and Hermione in as well."

	"Okay, I'll go get Hermione and you can get a head 

start to Dumbledore's office."

	"Good idea, you know where it is?"

	"Yes, I've been there a few times, you know," he 

said, managing to crack a small smile as he went into the 

room adjacent to where they were sitting.  

	Harry pulled himself up and began the walk to the 

office of his headmaster, gratefully noting that he could see 

no one in the hallway.

 
Chapter 2

 
	"Chocolate Orange," Harry said as he approached 

the gargoyle.  He watched it open, stood on the moving 

stairs until they reached the door at the top, and knocked; 

Professor Dumbledore opened it almost immediately.

	"Come right in, Harry. I've arranged for breakfast to 

be served in my office for you and your friends - I assume 

they are planning on being in attendance?" 

	"Well, yes, I was just going to ask you."

	"Shall we go down and retrieve them, then?"

	"Yes, sir," Harry said, and both he and Dumbledore 

rode the stairs together.

	When they reached the bottom, an expectant Ron 

and Hermione were just rounding the corner.

	"Shall we?" offered Dumbledore, and the four were 

carried up the stairs (yet again for Harry, who was a little 

queasy by the time they reached the top).  They seated 

themselves around the table in the office, and at 

Dumbledore's urging helped themselves to breakfast.  

When they were finished he began to speak.

	"First, I would like to congratulate the three of you.  

I am assuming you know that Voldemort has not been 

completely killed; however, he has been reduced to a state 

as weak as the time directly following his first attempt at 

killing Harry.  You three have done more than any wizards 

your age that I have heard of, and you all have the right to 

feel very proud and capable right now."

	Harry looked at Ron and knew that his friend did 

not.  He kicked him silently under the table and pretended 

he didn't notice the venomous look that Ron gave him 

afterwards.

	"When Voldemort was at the peak of his original 

reign of terror, he performed a very ancient, very powerful, 

and very difficult spell that would enable him to survive 

even after his body was exterminated.  The only way he can 

truly die is if his death is self-administered, that is, if he 

kills himself.  That, as you know, is not very likely to occur 

in the near future."

	"That doesn't change the fact that we failed," Ron 

muttered.  Hermione put her hand on his, and this seemed 

to shush him for the time being. 

	"When Voldemort showed you dead," Harry began, 

"I mean, how did you...?"

	"Ah yes.  He wasn't lying.  It was our dear 

Professor Sprout actually; the wards around the immediate 

vicinity of the castle are too strong for even Voldemort to 

penetrate on his own."

	"But Professor," Hermione interrupted with a 

confused look on her face, "how did you survive?  No one 

except for Harry, not even the most powerful wizard, has 

survived the death curse."

	"I will tell you, Ms. Granger, that I did not do it on 

my own.  A new, very new charm, still in its experimental 

stages, is in development to repel and reflect the death 

curse.  I volunteered to test it so that they could monitor the 

results in the sad case that I should get attacked.  They are 

not actually testing the charm with the curse, as that would 

be dangerous and probably result in some unnecessary 

deaths."

	"It worked then?  That's great!" Hermione said, 

excited.  "This will revolutionize, well, everything!"

	"It may in time," said Dumbledore.  "It is extremely 

difficult to perform, and it didn't exactly work as it should.  

It is true that the curse didn't kill me, but the charm didn't 

block it completely; I was petrified.  Luckily Madame 

Pomfrey had some antidote for it, so I was revived almost 

immediately."

	"Oh," Hermione said, looking a little disappointed.

	"I'm afraid most of the information dealing with the 

charm is confidential; it could be highly dangerous if it 

were in the wrong hands, you know," Dumbledore said.  

"But," he continued, eyes twinkling, "you shouldn't fret 

just yet, Ms. Granger.  I heard you were accepted into 

Wizard University with a scholarship, and the spell was 

actually developed by professional researchers who were 

working along with students.  Maybe this is a field that you 

should consider."  

Hermione looked surprised for a moment, then smiled shyly.  "Maybe I will," she happily replied.

"Now, if there aren't any other questions to attend to, I am going to go contact the University and explain the situation to them.  And I believe that you three have some preparing to do for the very large party that is being held tonight.  There has been precious little to celebrate for the past 3 years, and we're taking advantage of it."  

None of them spoke, so Dumbledore smiled and stood up.  

" I believe The Daily Prophet is waiting downstairs in the 

great hall to interview you, if I may warn you.  Incidentally, 

you three are exempt from all exams excluding the 

N.E.W.T.s, and Gryffindor has been awarded 5,000 points.  

Have a good day, and I will see you all somewhere in the 

school I'm sure."  He escorted them down the stairs and 

into the hallway. They watched the gargoyle close behind 

them and began to walk back to the common room, 

unnoticed by their peers (who they presumed to be in 

class).
 
 
Chapter 3
 

	Harry smiled as he remembered the previous two 

weeks; despite his N.E.W.T.'s, they had been two of the 

happiest, most carefree weeks of his life.  Hermione, 

however, had been another story; she hadn't participated in 

even the first night of partying because she was studying in 

the library.  Harry had barely seen her except in the exam 

rooms, and she had always had a sort of ghostly look about 

her and dark circles under her eyes.  Now, she was catching 

up on some much-needed sleep.  Ron was cavorting the 

halls somewhere with Dean and/or Seamus (and probably 

one or two 4th year girls).  Harry was left to pack and 

ponder his immediate future: his last hellish summer with 

the Dursleys.  

	In a way, he knew it wouldn't be nearly as bad as 

previous summers; after all, an end would be in sight.  Not 

just an end, as had been the case with previous summers, 

but the end.  He would be 18 on July 31, and the Dursleys 

would surely be helping him pack his bags (and probably 

even wait with him by the door on the night of July 30 as 

he counted down the seconds to midnight, laughing and 

reminiscing about old times).  But first he must endure the 

months before that day, the months of being tortured by 

Dudley and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, the months of 

hunger and conversation depravation.  

	He tried to ignore this, and instead tried to focus on 

the tiny problem creeping into his mind: where would he 

stay once the guarantee of a home, albeit a horrid one, ran 

out?  He knew that the Weasleys wouldn't mind allowing 

him to stay with them, and he even knew that he would 

enjoy it; the Weasleys were the family he never had.  But 

he also knew he would feel extremely guilty; he was not a 

child anymore and could stay on his own.

	He would ask Ron about it when he got back from 

doing whatever he was doing, Harry decided; after all, his 

first summer alone was more than a year away, and that 

was more than enough time to figure something out.  But 

first, there was another summer with the Dursleys to 

contend with.

	Harry was packing more and more vigorously, 

hating the Dursleys with increased animosity as the seconds 

wore on, wishing that Ron would get back or that 

Quidditch hadn't ended the month before (Gryffindor had 

won the cup, as well as every game, and Harry had ended 

his Hogwarts career with only one official miss, to Cedric 

Diggory in his 4th year).  Kicking his trunk closed in 

frustration, he grabbed his new Lightningbolt broom (a 

Christmas gift from Sirius; Harry was afraid to ask where 

he had gotten the money), opened the window, and took 

off.

	He rocketed over the grounds as fast as he could, 

going as close to the trees as humanly possible before 

jerking away at the last second.  The cool, early evening air 

was like a salve to his angry attitude and he felt his soul fly 

free as he flew low over the lake.  The calm body of water 

mirrored the pink sunset.  He slowed down, took his 

sneakers off, threw them on the shore, and dangled his feet 

in the water as he flew, throwing all fears of anything 

lurking beneath to the wind.

	Finally, he came to a near stop at the center of the 

lake and just stared at the sunset.

	"Nice, eh?" a voice suddenly sounded from behind 

him, frightening him so much that he fell off of his broom 

and into the mirror-like water with a loud splash.

	When he emerged from the watery depths, glasses 

crooked and sopping wet hair hanging in his face, he made 

out Ginny Weasley laughing so hard that she almost fell off 

of her broom as well.

	"What did you do that for?!" he called as she 

swooped over to help him.

	"I didn't do anything, Harry," she spoke between 

fits of giggles.

	"Sure, sure, you just wanted to get me in my 

underwear again," he muttered as she handed him his 

broom, though, despite the fact that he was cold and wet, he 

was smiling as best as he could.

	"Well, I did want to have that chance again.  Last 

time I didn't even take advantage of the situation."

	Harry laughed as he vaulted himself back onto his 

wet broom.

	"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he said as he began to fly, 

with her in close pursuit.  "A few years ago you wouldn't 

even look at me, let alone even dream of making a 

comment like that.

	"Harry, times changed and so have I," she replied, 

grinning impishly as she moved even with him.

	"I know.  Who would have thought you would have 

beaten out Percy for grades, Ms. Prefect," she bowed 

slightly, "AND still beat Fred and George in the stunts you 

pull?"

	"That, my dear Harry," she said as she followed his 

lead in a low dive around the castle, "has never been 

proven."

	Harry gave her a sideways glance.  It was true, she 

had never been caught.

	"Tell me... whatever happened to the tiny blushing 

1st year who couldn't even look at my dashing masculine 

form without going into admiring convulsions?"

	"Well," said Ginny, "The same thing that happened 

to the 2nd year who wouldn't even talk to me to find out 

what a wonderful person I was until I started killing 

chickens and getting whisked away by ghost boys and evil 

snakes.  But now that you mention it, there was the fact that 

you had no interest in me whatsoever."

	"I wouldn't turn you down now," Harry teased as he 

began to increase his speed dramatically.

	"Keep those hands for the golden snitch, Potter, I've 

got a boyfriend," she grinned broadly.

	"Lucky guy he is too."  Harry suddenly performed 

half loop, spun out of it equally as quickly, and began to 

dive back toward the lake.  When he looked to his left, 

however, Ginny was still there.  He whistled.

	"Will you marry me?" he asked jokingly as he 

suddenly bolted upward.

	"No," she replied, still even with him.  He began to 

weave in and out of the trees.

	"Why not?" he asked, going into the Wronski Feint.  

She knew exactly what he was doing, and pulled out of it 

right along with him.

	"Because I'm prettier than you," she answered.

	"No, you've got it wrong," he replied, suddenly 

gunning it for the castle wall.  "I'm the pretty one."  At the 

last possible second, his broom's angle changed 90 degrees 

and he began flying up the side of the castle.

	"Really, Potter," Ginny responded, still next to him 

and not taking her eyes off of what was ahead of her.  

"Whatever you say."

	"No, whatever you say, Ginny."

	Harry stopped suddenly at the boys' dorm window, 

trying not to pant from exhaustion.  Ginny looked like she 

was doing the same.

	"Well, Weasley," Harry commented as he hovered, 

having turned himself right side up again.  She followed 

suit.  "Enjoying the new Lightningbolt, are you?"

	"Potter, I worked all summer for three years for this 

thing, and then I had to wait until one of them had a 

manufacturer's defect so that the permanent lettering had a 

capital N instead of L, and then I had to wait for them to 

ship it to me.  Yes, I'm enjoying it."

	"Well worth it, too," he commented, green eyes 

sparkling.  "Certainly not wasted on a lack of talent."  She 

had to smile at this.  "You'll be a great seeker next year, 

Ginny," he said, tone softening.

	"Harry, I've always sucked compared to you."

	"No you haven't.  Alright, you've convinced me, 

you have.  And even so, you've always been better than 

Malfoy."  She gave him a sideways smile.  "And don't 

forget, the option of marrying me and learning all of my 

secrets is still open."

	"Only if Colin can come on the honeymoon."

	"Ouch, rejected for the third time.  Why do you toy 

with my heart so?"  Harry mockingly shielded his eyes as if 

he were crying.

	"Well, because it's fun, Harry," Ginny responded, 

eyes twinkling.

	"I had a feeling it was something like that," Harry 

answered, returning the twinkle.  He noticed that she was 

watching the last rays of sun sink behind the trees.  Turning 

to look, he absorbed the blue and purple gradient that the 

sky had become.  Last Hogwarts sunset, he thought with a 

pang of remorse.

	He sat with Ginny and watched the sky fade into a 

bluish black ornamented with winking stars.

	"Mind if I come in your way?" Ginny suddenly 

asked, motioning toward the window.  "The girls' dorm 

window is on the other side."

	"Not at all, Ginny dear.  Ladies first," Harry 

motioned toward the window.  Ginny ignored his mockery, 

went first anyway, and waited as Harry flew in behind her.

	"See you later Harry," Ginny said.  Harry nodded, 

and she left the foreign dorm in search of her familiar one.  

As he watched her leave, he was glad that they had been 

able to become such good friends after her infatuation with 

him passed.  The sight of his half-packed luggage brought 

him back down to earth and replaced that rather nice 

thought with an image of the piggish Dudley laughing at 

him.  Frustrated, he kicked his trunk and sat down on his 

bed, ignoring the pain in his foot.

	Just then, Ron's voice echoed up the stairwell.  

Harry heard it call "I'll see you later, Jessica!" and waited 

for his red hair and freckled face to appear at the door.  He 

was not disappointed; Ron's grin appeared seconds later.

	"What's wrong, Harry?" he asked immediately as 

he began squishing his belongings into his trunk.  As much 

as Harry loved having heart-to-heart conversations with 

Ron about his inner feelings, he decided to artfully avoid 

the topic.

	"So, Ron," he began.

	"Yeah?" Ron replied in a muffled voice (he was 

holding a shirt in his mouth).

	"Last night at Hogwarts," he continued.  

Ron spit the shirt out and replied, "So?"

"What do you say we commemorate the occasion?"

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

Harry felt a semi-evil smile cross his face, and 

watched Ron's eyebrow rise in a conniving expression.

***

Admittedly, they didn't do anything monumental, 

simply because they didn't really feel like doing anything 

to anyone except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle (and 

because they didn't have any really good ideas).  They 

considered some chocolate frogs, a la Fred and George, that 

would make them burst into song and dance whenever the 

trigger spell was recited, but they scratched the idea when 

they realized that the only one who would know how to do 

that was Hermione.  As they moaned about this in the 

common room, they were suddenly startled by the landing 

of a bag of chocolate frogs in Ron's lap.

"Been planning it for weeks," they heard 

Hermione's smug voice say from behind them.  Harry's 

green eyes sparkled at her as they never had before.  She 

looked up and smiled, almost modestly.  "I couldn't leave 

Hogwarts without intentionally doing something wrong, 

could I?"

"Says the head girl," Ron remarked.

"I worked hard to be head girl, Ron," Hermione 

answered.  "I've studied, been good-"

"You mean, good at not getting caught?"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.  

Ron shrugged.  "So, is the head girl going to go 

with us to administer the frogs, or are we to do it without 

the honor of her company?"

"Shove it, Ron.  Go by yourselves," Hermione said, 

sitting down and readying paper and a quill.  "I have to 

write to Viktor."

At this, Ron grimaced.  "Tell Krummy I said hello 

then, won't you?" he replied in a girly falsetto.  She gave 

him a look.  He told Harry to come on, and left the room, 

Harry hurrying after him with the invisibility cloak.

***

Two hours later they returned, wet, panting, and 

laughing.  Hermione decided that she didn't want to know, 

but that she would ask anyway.

"So, how did it go?"

	"How did what go?" Ginny, who had been 

conversing with Hermione, butted in.

	"Well, we got in okay, and put it right by where 

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting," Harry replied.  

"We saw them pick it up, and then we left."

	"What happened then?  You look like you had to 

make a daring escape into a toilet."

	"What did you do?" Ginny asked again.

	"Well, not a toilet," Ron answered to Hermione.  

"Just a bath.  And never chide me for making friends with 

4th year girls again, Hermione, because it came in very 

useful today."

	"Making friends my arse," Hermione muttered, her 

arms crossed.  "So how did you almost get caught?"

	"What did you guys do that you almost got caught 

at?" Ginny interrupted again.

	"Your intelligent friend Ron threw off the 

invisibility cloak and began to skip down the hall," Harry 

addressed to Hermione.  "Filch was right behind us, it 

turned out.  When we were running away, we found some 

of Ron's 'friends' and they hid us in the girls' bathroom 

until the coast was clear.  Then, we ran back here."

	"Hid you in their tub.  How clever."

	"No, not hid us, kind of pushed us in... and they 

weren't actually in the tub, if that's what you're worried 

about, Hermione," Ron responded.

	"I wasn't 'worried' about anything," Hermione 

snapped.

	"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Ginny yelled.  Harry, 

Ron and Hermione stared at her with blank looks on their 

faces.

	"You'll find out tomorrow, like everyone else," 

Harry answered smugly.  She glared.

	The three friends stayed up late that night.  They 

reminisced about happy things, like the time in 4th year 

when Draco Malfoy was caught trying to fight with them 

and was turned into a ferret by Mad Eye Moody, or the 

time in 6th year when Draco Malfoy was caught threatening 

to beat up Colin Creevy at The Three Broomsticks and 

turned into a ferret by Madame Rosmarta, or the time 

earlier that year when he was caught trying to cheat in a 

Quidditch match against Gryffindor and turned into a ferret 

by most of the 7th year Gryffindor boys (and more than a 

few girls).  Yes, Hogwarts held fine memories for them all, 

and they would miss it.  They talked long after the fire had 

burned itself into ashes and the house elves came to restock 

it for the morning.
	

Chapter 4
 

	Harry tried to pack for the third and final time.  It 

had been a good last day at Hogwarts; breakfast and lunch 

were tasty, and the end of the year speech had been 

especially moving.  He sat back and remembered the 

morning with a pang of longing.

	"...And it has been a great honor to Hogwarts to 

school possibly three of the bravest young wizards in 

history, and to present them with the Order of Merlin, first 

class.  Hermione Elizabeth Granger, Ronald Franklin 

Weasley, and Harold James Potter, please stand and accept 

this great honor."  The hall exploded into applause; even 

most of the Slytherins, and yes, Draco Malfoy, were 

clapping, albeit grudgingly.

	"...Go forth and help the wizard world, strive to 

make a difference, not just for yourselves, but for the 

people around you.  Remember the sacrifices made by 

those before you, and by those among us today.  Do your 

best to honor the memory of those who gave up their lives 

to ensure the freedom that you now have ahead of you in 

yours.  Look to the future, and try to make it your own..."

	By the end of the speech, Hagrid had been crying 

like a child a 16th of his size.  When he saw Harry 

afterwards, he had grabbed him into a giant hug and made 

him reaffirm his promise that he would indeed write at least 

once a week, and visit at least once a year.  He had 

continued to blubber about how he was leaving for so long 

that Harry began to tear up himself.  Harry would definitely 

miss Hagrid.

	Incidentally, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle entertained 

many with their forced rendition of "Wannabe" by the 

Spice Girls.

	Now here he was, packing and preparing to seize 

his summer with the Dursleys, who were sure to ensure that 

having an Order of Merlin wouldn't go to his head.  

Remembering the wetness and/or pain he had experienced 

the last two times he packed, he refrained from making any 

rash actions motivated by frustration.  Instead, he 

concentrated on neatly folding every item of clothing he 

owned so that it would actually fit in his trunk and allow it 

to close uninhibited.

	At that moment there was a knock on his door and 

Harry walked over to answer it, wondering vaguely who 

still held the formality of knocking.  However, the door was 

opened before he could reach it and in bounded a rather 

flustered and excited looking Hermione.  Harry stopped 

and looked at her curiously.

	"What are you doing here?" he asked.

	She grinned and flung a newspaper at him, which he 

caught.  He saw the 3-inch headline and was rendered 

speechless:
 

PETER PETTIGREW, ALIVE AND GUILTY
 
	16 years ago, one of the most notorious 

betrayals in all of wizarding history occurred 

when Lily and James Potter were murdered by 

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  They had 

performed the complex Fidelius charm and were 

thought to be using Sirius Black as their secret 

keeper.  He betrayed them and divulged their 

whereabouts to You-Know-Who, after which he 

fled the area to avoid being found by his former 

friends.

	After the Potters were killed, Peter Pettigrew 

was seen in confrontation with Black on a public 

street, but being no match for him he was literally 

blown apart by an extraordinarily strong curse, 

which also killed 12 other people.

	Or so the world thought.

	Pettigrew was found in the company of 

several former Death Eaters on Tuesday evening, 

apparently planning to seek and revive He-Who-

Must-Not-Be-Named.  After a struggle, he was 

brought in for questioning.  The results of the 

interrogation were utterly shocking.

	First, Pettigrew tried to get a reduced 

sentence by offering to name several Death Eaters 

who had not been apprehended.  Then when 

questioned on why he was still alive, he would 

only say incriminating statements against Sirius 

Black

	"...He forced me to do this...he's a 

murderer..."

	The suspicions of these circumstances were 

only heightened after Sirius Black himself offered 

to turn himself in if he were given a fair trial and a 

chance to explain what had really happened on 

that fateful day, 16 years in the past.

	According to Black's testimony (given on 

Thursday), he was not the person the Potters 

selected to be their secret keeper; at his 

suggestion, they chose Pettigrew.  Pettigrew 

proceeded to betray their whereabouts to the Dark 

Lord, and went into hiding in a Muggle area.  

When Black learned of the betrayal, he 

immediately went to seek revenge for the murder 

of his friends and confronted Pettigrew on a 

public street.  Pettigrew knew he could never 

prove to be a match for Black in a duel, so he used 

possibly his only asset to his advantage: he is an 

unregistered animagus.  He yelled how Black had 

betrayed his friends, performed the curse that 

killed 12 behind his back, cursed off his finger 

(the biggest part of him that they found intact after 

the incident), transformed into a rat, and 

scampered away unopposed.  When confronted 

with this story, Pettigrew unexpectedly broke 

down, confessed his involvement in the murder of 

the Potters, and begged for the chance to reduce 

his term in Azkaban by naming Death Eaters.

	The Daily Prophet could reach neither 

Pettigrew nor Black for comment, but, after 

keeping the story from the press for four days, the 

Ministry released a statement concerning Sirius 

Black:

	"We regret the rash decision we made to put 

Sirius Black in Azkaban without a trial.  He has 

received a full pardon and our personal apology, 

along with some additional compensation."

	This reporter has never seen such a drastic 

change of events.  The story will be continued 

tomorrow when more information is at hand.
 

	Harry sat down on his bed, still speechless.  He 

heard a tapping on the window, and saw an owl trying to 

get in.  After Hermione opened the window, the owl 

swooped in and landed beside Harry's legs with a small 

letter in its talons.  Harry gave it a bit of bread he kept in 

his room for such occasions and, hands shaking, unfolded 

the note.  Out fell a clipping of the Daily Prophet article he 

had just read, and he read the one-sentence letter with more 

joy than he had ever read anything in his entire life:

	
	Harry, 

		Meet you at the train station.

	Love,

		Sirius
 

	Harry suddenly jumped up and began to pack with 

more earnest than he had ever packed before.

	"Well?" Hermione asked, a little irked that she had 

been virtually forgotten.

	"I'm living with Sirius now!" Harry glowed, 

dropping his final items of clothing into his trunk and 

closing it with glee.  Hermione smiled in relief.  

	"Good.  No, great."  He gave her a hug influenced 

by pure joy.

	"Thanks for bringing me the article, Hermione," he 

said.  

	"I didn't think you'd seen it yet and you hadn't 

mentioned anything about Sirius owling you about what 

was going on."

	"Knowing him, he probably wanted to keep it a 

surprise or something stupid like that," Harry replied, 

gathering clothes from the floor.

	"Need help?" Hermione asked, beginning to pile 

things in his trunk.

	"Why would I need help?" Harry asked, staring 

oddly at her.  "I can pack for myself."

	"Well, the carriages leave in 10 minutes."

	"Oh, yeah, in that case..." 


***

	Harry continued to glow for the entire train ride 

home.  Ron got so frustrated with his adamant cheerfulness 

that he threatened to kick him if he didn't stop.  Harry had 

just shrugged and grinned, but Ron observed Hermione's 

glare and decided not to make good of his promise.

	"Have you seen Seamus and Dean?" Harry asked 

Ron.

	"Yeah, you?"

	"Yeah, they're both going to Australia for the 

summer to 'have an adventure,'" Ron replied.

	"Must be cool, what are they going to do?"

	"I don't think they have any idea."

	"Me neither, but still, why didn't they invite us?"

	"They did, remember?  We declined politely?"

	"Oh yeah..."

	"Hey Hermione, what are Lavender and Parvati 

doing?"

	"They both got jobs at the ministry, actually," 

Hermione replied, "working under Percy."

	"You're serious?  When did he get promoted?" Ron 

gasped.

	"I don't know, but they got their owls confirming 

their jobs this morning.  You should find Percy in a very 

good mood when you get home today."

	"Great," Ron muttered.  "Something else to look 

forward to."

	The train was lurching to a stop, and students were 

beginning to file out of their compartments and into the 

corridor of the train.

	"Well, this is it," Harry said with a tinge of sadness.  

They gathered their things and stepped out of their 

compartment and faced the rest of the students, somber and 

contemplative.  Their last train ride was over.

	They stepped out onto the platform into the masses 

of anxious parents and younger siblings, almost losing 

themselves in the bustle. 

	"I'll see you soon," Harry said, hugging Hermione 

(and even Ron, briefly of course).  Ron and Hermione 

hugged as well, and the three promised to owl each other as 

soon as they got back to their respective homes.  Hermione, 

who was going to try for the apparation test in the weeks to 

come, promised to visit them as soon as she did, and also 

help them with their apparation tests if they needed it.

	Ron soon spotted his family, hugged Hermione 

again, gave Harry a good-natured slap on the back, and was 

off.  Hermione found her always-nervous parents next, 

hugged Harry yet again, and was gone as well.

	Harry was alone and looking, but he couldn't see 

him anywhere.  Then he had a thought: what if the Dursleys 

arrived before Sirius did?  He couldn't stand the notion of 

one more second with them; 16 years of torture had been 

quite enough.  His heart fell into the pit of his stomach as 

he saw none other than Uncle Vernon with the same 

horrible look on his face (as always), standing near the door 

to the station.  Harry slumped and sat on his trunk.  Why?

	Then, he saw another familiar face, no, the familiar 

face, standing anxiously behind Uncle Vernon, eyes 

scanning the crowd for none other than he.

	Harry grabbed his belongings and began to run 

toward Sirius and Uncle Vernon, who was looking as 

thought Harry was a dog with an unusual deformity.  He 

looked even more frightened as Harry got closer and closer.  

Sirius finally saw his godson and ran to meet him.  Harry 

dropped his things and they embraced in a hug, not noticing 

that Uncle Vernon had been pummeled with Harry's 

speeding luggage cart.

	"I'm so glad you've been acquitted!" Harry 

exclaimed.

	"Really?" Sirius laughed.  "I can finally fulfill my 

godfatherly duties and rid you of those horrible Dursleys!"

	Harry stifled a laugh as Uncle Vernon let out a 

small squeak from the floor next to them.  Sirius grabbed 

Harry's luggage cart and proceeded to walk out of the 

station with Harry closely behind him; they both blatantly 

ignored the beefy man with a large mustache and no neck 

staring after them, shocked.	

	They walked to Sirius' car (one of the ministry's 

"compensations" to Sirius), and Harry asked, 

	"Why didn't you say anything to my dear old 

uncle?"

	"Didn't want to have to start something that would 

be illegal to finish," Sirius replied, opening the door.  

"Besides, I don't think you'll ever hear from him again."

	"Me neither," Harry grinned, buckling his seatbelt.

 Sirius' tone suddenly changed and he looked anxiously at 

Harry.  "Listen... home isn't much... to be honest, it's old 

and grubby and filled with junk from the previous renter.  I 

didn't have that much money, only the savings I had left 

and money the ministry gave me to make up for the 16 

years that they sucked away from me.  That and I only had 

a day to look for somewhere to live.  I have a job at the 

ministry now, actually," he continued.  "They've got me on 

as an emergency auror.  The pay's fair enough, and living 

will get better soon, I promise, and-"

	"Sirius," Harry interrupted, "I wouldn't care if we 

were living off of rats in that cave by Hogsmeade that you 

used to haunt, so come off it."

	Sirius looked relived, and started the car.  There 

was a comfortable silence prevailing for most of the way to 

Harry's second real home.

***

	For Harry, life with Sirius was the equivalent of a 

very pleasant haze from which he did not want to be 

disturbed.  They slept late nearly every day and then ate 

breakfast together, reading alternating sections of The 

Daily Prophet and making casual comments on news 

stories and Quidditch games.  If it was a day Sirius was on 

call, they might sit around the flat where Harry would assist 

Sirius in his newfound love of cooking by tasting his 

concoctions, or go down the street to the local pub.  There 

was also the flat to clean out and decorate according to the 

tastes of two males, one 17 and one 38.  Of course, 

throughout whatever they were doing there would be the 

constant flow of conversation to make up for the years that 

were missed.  If Sirius was off, then more exciting things 

could take place (i.e. they could leave the general area).  He 

definitely made up for lost time in that department; 

whenever there was a Quidditch game in England they 

would go, and he even taught Harry how to apparate.

	He, Ron, and Hermione had all passed their 

N.E.W.T.'s with flying colors.  Hermione had sent Harry a 

detailed account of her tortured existence upon having 

received her grades, which were apparently switched with 

some dolt who failed everything and went to another 

school.  She had cried until her astute father noticed that the 

name at the top of the paper was none other than Herman 

Granger, and the next day she found out that he had 

achieved top scores on everything.  Incidentally, Herman 

was rather disappointed, but life goes on.

	Yes, happiness generally abounded through Harry's 

life that summer, and he had the best summer he could 

remember.  Unfortunately, all good things must come to an 

end, and before Harry knew it he was sitting on the roof 

with Sirius, watching the sun go down, and, being an adult, 

drinking something a little stronger than butterbeer.

	"I don't want to go," Harry said resolutely.

	"You're going," Sirius responded.

	"I'm having the time of my life, I want to stay," 

Harry stated.

	"You're going," Sirius replied, tone unchanging.

	"I could get a job at the ministry, be an emergency 

auror like you...we could make the flat even better with my 

paycheck, and maybe even rent a better one-"

	"The pay rots, and you're going."

"From what you say, I bet that dad would have let 

me stay," Harry pouted, using a ploy previously never 

known to fail with Sirius.

	"Your dad would have kicked you by now, and 

believe me, you would have gone anyway, and with a 

bruise."

	"But I'm serious..."

	"No, I'm serious, and you're going.  Pun intended, 

by the way."

	Harry sighed and took a large gulp of his drink.

	"But won't you miss me?" Harry asked, putting on 

his puppy eyes.

	"No, I'll be glad for the quiet.  What do you think, 

Harry?  I'd like nothing more than for you to stay here... 

but you are going to school and getting a good job and we 

can turn this flat into whatever you want during your 

vacations."  Harry smiled in spite of himself.  "If you make 

the Quidditch team, I'll come to every game I can possibly 

go to, I promise."

	"I know," Harry said quietly.  They drank in a 

comfortable silence for a bit as the birds chirped and the 

sun sank over the chimney tops.

***

	The next morning came far too soon, and Harry and 

Sirius apparated over to the school (on time, surprisingly).  

Like Hogwarts, most of the school was secured so that no 

one could apparate or disapparate; however, there was a 

room specifically for the purpose of apparating in and out 

(and also a room that offered regular portkeys for a small 

fee in order to allow students to enjoy the occasional 

evening out).  However, they had not stopped to notice the 

other room; as soon as they arrived, they headed toward 

room 343 in Tower 7 (students were randomly sorted into 

towers).  The school accepted roommate requests and 

Harry and Ron had been put together, much to Harry's 

relief; begin able to room with Ron would make him much 

more at ease in the new school.

	"All settled then?" Sirius asked, surveying his 

godson's tiny dorm room.  The college was a large castle 

somewhere in Canada, though he didn't know exactly 

where; like most wizard schools, its location was kept 

secret.  The students they had encountered had been of all 

nationalities, though the French population seemed to be 

prevailing.  Sirius was glad that Harry had been able to 

room with Ron; so far he hadn't been able to bring himself 

to trust anyone he had seen, especially the legions of 

French girls.  He himself had had some run-ins with girls 

from Beauxbatons when he had been at Hogwarts...but for 

Harry it would be different, he tried to console himself.  


He's 18, don't worry, he's his own person, he's lived on his 

own-

	"Sirius?" Harry asked, looking extremely amused at 

the desolate look on his godfather's face.

	"Sorry Harry, I'm just...do you really want to stay 

home?  Because you can, you know, if you want to.  I 

would let you, I was just kidding before..."

	A broad smile slowly came across Harry's face.  

"I'll be home every vacation," he said, "and whenever you 

feel like fetching me on the weekend.  I did pass my 

apparation test last week, you know."

	Sirius looked a bit gruff.  "Alright," he answered, 

sniffing.  Harry gave him a hug and told him that 

everything would be okay.

	"Get yourself a girlfriend," he told Sirius.  "Make 

use of the empty flat."

	Sirius laughed and hit him upside the head.  "If your 

mother heard you talking like that she'd have charmed you 

so that your mouth tasted like soap for a week.

	"You didn't," Harry replied skeptically.

	"Well, I'm hoping to make good on your 

suggestion."  Sirius paused, ignoring Harry's laugh, and 

looked at his watch.  "I'd better get going, I'm on call in 10 

minutes."

	"I'll go with you," Harry started to say, but Sirius 

motioned for him to stay.

	"I'll be alright, and Ron will be here soon.  You 

stay here.  I'll see you... Don't hesitate to apparate back if 

you need anything at all..." Sirius started to sniffle again 

and Harry, though he couldn't help but smile at the notion 

of Sirius blubbering, gave him another hug before he left.

	Harry barely had time to miss him; a minute after he 

walked out, Ron walked in, followed by Mrs. Weasley and 

luggage.

	"Harry!" Ron exclaimed happily as Harry jumped 

up and joined Ron in their secret handshake.  Mrs. Weasley 

sighed and shook her head.

	"Hello Harry dear, the house was so empty without 

you for the last month."

	"I missed you too, I had fun the day I visited," he 

replied.  "Sirius and I were spending quality time together, 

but maybe next summer he'll let me out of his sight for 

more than a day so I can visit longer."

	"Oh stop lying to make me feel better," Mrs. 

Weasley responded, helping Ron start to unpack.  "I know 

you wanted time with Sirius.  I-"

	"Okay mum, I think I'll be alright now," Ron 

interjected.

	"Are you sure, Ron?" she asked lovingly.	

	"Yes," he replied, more firm than loving.  Despite 

his tone of voice, he gave her a big hug before she left.  

Harry did the same, and before very long it was just like 

Hogwarts, except with plain beds and a much smaller 

room.

	"So," said Ron, plopping down on his bed.  "Want 

to go see when Quidditch starts?"

	"Yeah," said Harry, eager to explore the school.

	The Canadian castle they were holed up in was a 

rather nice school, and almost reminiscent of their beloved 

Hogwarts.  Admittedly, it wasn't nearly as exciting; since it 

was a rather new building, the magic was very conventional 

to them and there were no trick steps, false doors, or 

hallways that led to different places on Tuesdays.  Truth be 

told, they were fairly disappointed with the lack of 

difficulty they had getting to where they needed to go.

	The Quidditch field made them both draw breaths 

of awe; it was a full-sized stadium with very large 

bleachers surrounding it, and the new goal hoops were 

begging to be used.  There was a building off to the side 

that looked as if it consisted of locker rooms and other 

Quidditch necessities.  They stood still with gaping mouths 

for a few seconds until a voice from behind them stirred 

them from their first visual fantasy, and brought them into 

another one.

	"Nice, isn't it?"

	When they turned, they encountered an extremely 

beautiful woman holding a Thunderbolt broom and gazing 

at the field.  "I'm Coach Jennings, I'm in charge of just 

about anything Quidditch in the school."  The two 

hormone-ridden boys stared at the Canadian beauty queen 

for a moment in surprised shock until Ron came out of his 

stupor.

	"Aren't you Maggie Jennings?  Didn't you play 

seeker for Canada?"

	"Yes I did, I quit the team last year to be at home 

with my mother.  She's ill, but getting better."

	"Good," Ron continued.  "I'm Ron Weasley, I play 

keeper, and this is Harry Potter, he's a-"

	"Wait, THE Ron Weasley and Harry Potter?"

	Ron looked startled and flattered that someone 

remembered his name as well as the great Harry's.  "That's 

us," he answered proudly.

	"Very glad to meet you both," Coach Jennings said 

earnestly, shaking Ron's hand and then Harry's, who was 

finally coming out of his stupor.  "So what did you play at 

Hogwarts, Harry?"

	"Er, seeker," he stammered, suddenly very shy.

	"You're both trying out for Quidditch, I hope?" she 

asked as she began to walk toward the locker rooms.  They 

followed.

	"Definitely, yes!" Harry answered quickly, hoping 

he hadn't sounded too earnest.  "Er, when are tryouts?"

	"Warmups begin tomorrow, anytime from 9:00am 

to 9:00pm.  Tryouts start next Saturday at 2:00 and run 

until dinner at 7:00.  Teams and positions will be 

announced next Sunday.

	"What positions are open?" Ron asked 

apprehensively, as he desperately hoped to make it onto a 

team.

	"Well," she answered, "It depends on which tower 

you're in.  Each tower has a separate team; third years 

automatically make the team if they played during their 

second year.  First and second years, and third years that 

haven't been on the team before, have to try out.  There are 

at least two players picked for each position for substitution 

purposes and also for a reserve team."

	"I'm in Tower 7," Ron responded.  "Any keeper 

spots open for Tower 7?"

	"Yes.  I coach that tower's team, actually."  Harry's 

stomach gave a small leap at these words.  "And I think we 

have a seeker position open as well, so you both have 

fighting chances."

	Ron nodded, but he still looked a little worried 

despite the reassurance.

	"How are the tryouts run?" Harry asked, managing 

to find the strength necessary to move his suddenly very 

heavy tongue.

	"We start by testing you out on the position you 

want to play."  She turned toward them while continuing to 

walk her slow, mesmerizing pace.  "What do you two 

ride?"

	"Lightningbolt," Harry answered quickly, eager to 

show off.  She raised her eyebrows in admiration.

	"Ah, third, last, and best of the ever-popular 'Bolt' 

series.  Good choice, Mr. Potter.  What about you?" she 

inquired.

	"Firebolt," he replied a little timidly.  After Sirius 

had bought Harry his Lightningbolt, he had insisted upon 

giving Ron his Firebolt.  Normally he wouldn't have 

accepted anything from Harry, but in these circumstances 

he had made an exception.  Besides, it had been a 

Christmas present.

	"Also good.  You two must fly well."  They both 

reddened at the ears, but nodded eagerly.  "Anyway, after 

the initial position tryouts we let you pick teams and then 

watch you play 10 minute matches against each other to see 

how you react in games.  We let you pick the teams 

because we realize that you may have worked with certain 

people before and probably know their style, and also play 

well together.  That, as you know, is a great advantage on 

the Quidditch field, especially if you're a beater," she said.  

Harry thought of Fred and George and knew it was true.

	They had the building off to the side and were in an 

area that seemed to hold several offices.  Names like Harris 

and McCollough appeared on the doors until they reached 

the one that read Jennings near the end.

	"Would you like to sign up for tryouts now, since 

you're here?"  They both nodded.  She handed them the 

empty form, and they each signed their names on the top.  

"So, I'll see you boys tomorrow then?" she asked briskly, 

taking the sheet and posting it on the locker room door.

	"Yes," replied Harry, dwelling on the "s" longer 

than necessary.  Coach Jennings smiled broadly and bid 

them farewell.  

	Harry let out a sigh.  "I think I'm in love," he 

swooned.

	"Ha, you're her student," Ron grinned.  "But yes, 

she's extremely tasty looking."

	Harry just sighed again and told Ron to leave him to 

his delusions of grandeur.

	The two approached the library in search of 

Hermione, and sure enough they found her surveying a 

bookshelf with great interest.

	Ron advanced with a smile and a greeting on his 

lips, but Harry quickly observed a dramatic change in his 

friend's features; his grin disappeared, his eyes ran cold, 

and he stopped moving toward her.  Harry shifted his 

glance from Ron to Hermione, and saw the cause for Ron's 

change in demeanor: Viktor Krum had walked over and put 

his arm around Hermione, and they were now having what 

looked like a private conversation and exchanging the 

occasional kiss.  Harry swore he saw Ron take on a tinge of 

green.

	"Come on, let's wait this crap out," Ron muttered 

venomously and sat at a table, glaring daggers at the two 

lovers nestled between the bookshelves.  Harry looked at 

Ron and sighed.  He wasn't going to go there.

	10 minutes of uncomfortable silence later, 

Hermione spotted Harry and Ron sitting at a table and ran 

over to converse.  Viktor came as well; this was his third 

year, and he liked the school very much, he told them.  He 

looked forward to seeing them at Quidditch warm-ups 

tomorrow, he continued, and if they needed any help they 

could just ask him and he would do all he could to oblige.  

Though he wished he could stay and talk, he had to 

reaffirm a change that had been made in his schedule, so he 

would see them later.  He left.

	"I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione beamed.

	"Obviously," muttered Ron.

	"What are your schedules?  Do we have classes 

together?"  Both Harry and Ron pulled their schedules out 

to compare them with Hermione's.  Harry had decided that 

he was going to train to be an auror after all, as he felt that 

he certainly had sufficient experience in battling the dark 

forces; also it was one of the only things he felt absolutely 

confident in besides Quidditch.  Hermione had taken 

Dumbledore's suggestion and signed up to study to become 

a spell developer, which was no surprise.  Ron, however, 

had surprised everyone by choosing to study to become a 

wizard pediatrician.  When questioned, he painfully 

admitted that he liked kids and was interested in the 

medical field, and left it at that.

	The gaps between their chosen careers left them 

with only three common classes: general charms, general 

potions, and general Defense Against the Dark Arts.  

Harry's other classes were all advanced Defense Against 

the Dark Arts, while Ron's focused mostly on healing 

charms and recognizing curses and illness.  Hermione's 

classes were a completely different story as they all focused 

in on learning the difficult task of creating spells.  It was a 

small program, and most applicants dropped out after their 

first or second years.

	"I can't wait for next year when I get to take an 

elective," Hermione exclaimed.  "I'm going to miss 

arithmancy this year."

	"I just hope that I'm going to have time to rest.  

This schedule looks like death to me," Harry commented.  

"Hey Ron, awfully quiet aren't you?" he continued.  Ron 

grumbled and continued to glare at Hermione, who was 

beginning to get a bit uncomfortable.

	"Oh stop it, Ron," she finally snapped, and began to 

gather up her books.  "I'm in room 704 if you happen to 

need me...I believe we're all in Tower 7.  I'm going there 

now, as my roommate is probably more pleasant than the 

carrot top.  See you two at dinner."

	Ron waited until she had stormed out of the library 

before he stuck out his tongue and made a face at the spot 

where she had last been.  Harry sighed and shook his head.

***

	The next day, Harry and Ron woke early and got 

ready for what they hoped would be the greatest potion 

class of their lives.  Ron seemed to have gotten over his 

grudge against Hermione, Harry noted, as he greeted her 

cheerfully in the hall with a big smile that she returned.

	"At last!  A proper potions class!" she exclaimed as 

they made their way to the room with excitement.  As they 

passed by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, 

Ron suddenly turned pale and rushed back to the door.

	"What, Ron?" Harry asked curiously.

	"Oh...nothing...never mind, probably just seeing 

things," he said shakily.  Harry looked at Hermione, who 

shrugged and continued walking.

	The potions class was as wonderful as it promised 

to be.

	"What do you know, I apparently have natural 

talent at it!" Ron gloated happily.  They meandered back to 

the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and sad down 

next to each other, chatting about the finer points of the 

elementary truth potion.  The seconds ticked closer to the 

beginning of the class.

	"...And it turns out I was doing it fine all along," 

Ron was saying, "No thanks to that oily git Snaaaa..."  He 

turned white again, but more dramatically this time, and his 

eyes looked like they would fall out of their sockets horror.

	"Well, I see the wonder triplets are still attached at 

the hips," said a sickeningly familiar voice from behind 

Harry and Hermione.

	They slowly turned around in their seats.  First, they 

saw the midsection of a thin, cloaked male, and the further 

upward their eyes got they were greeted with an oily smile, 

a sickeningly familiar face, and greasy hair.  Yes, Snape's 

dream had finally come true; he was a Defense Against the 

Dark Arts teacher, even if it wasn't at Hogwarts.

	"Oh, don't looked so horrified," he sneered.  "Class 

is about to start."  He drew in a breath and attained a look 

that made it seem as if he were about to swallow some 

extremely distasteful medicine.  "And don't make 

assumptions.  As much as I hate to do it, I'd like to start 

with a clean slate, including with you three.  So take me as 

I come and I'll do the same for you."  Snape looked as 

though it had killed him to give the speech, and abruptly 

walked to the front of the room.

 
Chapter 5
 

	After classes that day, Ron and Harry met on the 

Quidditch field and began to observe their competition.  

Ron paled as he saw several very large and very mean 

looking boys (and one girl) apparently practicing to be 

keepers.  Harry paled as he saw the legions of seekers that 

he would have to face, and wondered how many would be 

trying out for the vacant spot in Tower 7.

	"Hello, boys," the same angelic voice that had 

disturbed them the day before called from behind.  Harry 

turned around instantly, said, "Hello, Madame Jennings," 

and thanked the Lord that his voice didn't crack.

	"Ready to go?" she asked.  Her light brown hair had 

been pulled into a ponytail, and she was wearing stylish red 

robes (red was the school color).  Of course, Harry's mouth 

would have been nearly watering if she had been wearing a 

loose paper bag, but that's another story.  Harry nodded, 

grinned, and took off, with Ron in close pursuit.

	They practiced hard for quite awhile, oblivious to 

the fact that their stomachs were crying out for food until 

7:30.  As they exited the Quidditch field, Harry gave 

Madame Jennings a brief and slightly shy wave and a smile 

bordering on goofy.  As soon as they were out of her sight, 

Ron smacked him on the back with his broom.

	"Ouch, what did you do that for?" he snapped.  Ron 

didn't answer, and Harry just glared and returned to his 

daydreams.

	When they reached the dining hall and sat down, 

they had barely put food in their mouths when they heard 

someone say,

	"So, zees are ze famous 'Arry Potter and Ron 

Weasley?"  They looked up, mouths full of food, to view 

three French girls staring coolly down at them.  Ron 

swallowed and said,

	"Yes, and?" before shoving his fork back into his 

mouth.

	"Nossing, just observing ze competition," the girl 

who had spoken before replied.  Harry looked curiously at 

her blue eyes and medium brown braided hair.  She was a 

little short and stout for a Beauxbatons girl, he decided, 

considering the standard 6-feet-tall- rail-thin look he had 

observed over the past day.  Her two companions were 

another story; both had light brown hair and fit the look 

perfectly.

	"Competition in what?" Ron asked, eating as he 

spoke.

	"Quidditch of course," she answered.  "We saw you 

practice.  You are good."

	"Thanks," Harry said.  She glared.

	"Too good," she answered.  "My friends are in 

Tower 7; zey are a chaser and a keeper.  Zere is only one 

slot, as you say, open for keeper."  Ron raised an eyebrow; 

she sighed in exasperation.

	"Zere are 7 teams, and 'ooever iz in zeir sird year 

and 'as made ze team ze year before makes ze team 

automatically.  Zere are sree years in zis school, and only 

one keeper graduated."

	"And what are you?" Ron shot, obviously not 

pleased.

	"I am a seeker."

	"Really."

	"Yes 'really,' what are you, stupeed?"

	"Sorry, just keeping conversation," Ron answered 

through a full mouth, clearly unaffected.  The girl looked 

insulted.  Harry feebly tried to repair the situation.

	"What's your name?" he meekly asked.

	"Michele Bender," she answered coolly.

	"It's nice to meet you," Harry said, and smiled 

hopefully.  She looked at him suspiciously and then 

returned the gesture.

	"It iz nice to meet you too, 'Arry Potter.  My friends 

and I should go and do our 'omework now, so I will see 

you tomorrow on ze Quidditch field."

	"Bye," Harry said, smiling.

	"Hey, can't your 'friends' talk for themselves?" 

Ron asked with a slightly menacing air.  Michele gave him 

a glare worthy of an unfavorable rodent and stalked off, 

"friends" in tow.  Harry glared at him a bit as well.

	"Whot?" Ron asked, mouth full again.  Harry shook 

his head, tapped his tray with his wand (the cafeteria made 

it so that this was how plates were cleaned), and walked 

off.

	"Wait!" called Ron, grabbing a roll off his plate and 

running after Harry.

	"Do you have to be so rude ALL the time?" Harry 

asked.

	"Well, she wasn't exactly a can of peaches herself," 

Ron replied, a little irked that his friend was turning on 

him.  True, thought Harry.  She had, after all, nearly 

threatened him.

	"Well, just try to be a little more polite next time."  

Ron snorted and shoved the aforementioned roll in his 

mouth.

	When Harry opened the door to their tower's 

common room (there had been some disappointment over 

the lack of portrait doorways), he and Ron were greeted by 

the sight of Hermione doing something very un-Hermione-

like with Krum on the couch.  They quickly sat up, and 

Hermione turned so red that one could have confused her 

for a tomato.  Harry stifled a laugh.

	"Hi," he said, quickly making his way toward the 

staircase.  Only when he got there did he realize that Ron 

hadn't accompanied him; he had frozen angrily in the 

doorway, roll still in his mouth, and had turned almost as 

red as Hermione.

	"What, Ron?" Hermione finally asked quietly.  He 

just stared at her and suddenly walked haughtily toward the 

stairs.  As he was stomping up them, Harry asked,

	"You do realize that that roll is still in your mouth?"  

Ron hastily removed the offending lump of carbohydrates 

and spoke.

	"What the hell was she doing?" he shouted.

	"Well Ron, when a man and a woman are fond of 

each other-"

	"She was sucking his hook-nosed face!"

	"And rather enjoying it from the look of it-"

	"She was snogging his eyes out!"

	"Well it looked like it was limited to his mouth, 

maybe his neck-"

	"What the hell was she doing?"

	Harry realized that Ron hadn't heard a thing he had 

just said, and silently listened to him babble himself in 

circles until they had reached their room, and all throughout 

their homework.  Finally, before they turned the lights off, 

Harry grabbed his broom and knocked Ron on the back 

with it.

	"OW!  What did you do that for?" he yelled.  Harry 

glared, got into bed, turned the lights out, and rolled over.  

Ron got the point.

***

	For Harry, the next week and a half was very busy 

and very involved.  Despite the lack of trick stairs and 

moving halls there was still a new castle to learn, and the 

workload was bigger and more difficult than it had been in 

Hogwarts.

	Harry loved his classes-yes, even Defense Against 

the Dark Arts.  Snape still showed definite signs of forced 

indifference toward Harry and his friends, but he turned out 

to be a very good teacher when his field was the one he 

preferred.

	The homework was sometimes difficult to stay 

awake through after his self-inflicted Quidditch practices, 

but as usual he managed.

	Sirius, to his relief, was doing fine.  He had told him 

that it was lonelier than it had been with him around over 

the summer, but he was trying to keep busy.  Television 

was helping him.  He didn't yet have a girlfriend, despite 

Harry's orders to get moving in that department.

	Hagrid was all right as well, according to his letters.  

With the return of Sirius came the return of Buckbeak, and 

after Sirius attested to the good nature of the beast the 

ministry decided not to execute him after all.  Hagrid had 

been overjoyed, but still hadn't included hippogriffs in his 

curriculum until after his students were in their 7th year, had 

a week of intensive study on the consequences of 

misbehaving around them, and had signed waivers.  Things 

were going smoothly at the school; Ginny Weasley and 

Colin Creevy were abusing their roles as Head Girl and 

Boy, and the first Quidditch game would occur in a week.

	However, these things were all far from Harry's 

mind as he polished his Lightningbolt and changed into 

Quidditch robes.  Tryouts were beginning. 

	He and Ron walked tentatively out onto the field, 

unsure of where to go or what to do.  Ron had the added 

obstacle of being upset, due to the fact that he had 

provoked Hermione into fighting with him over her public 

display of affection with Krum yet again.  As one can 

assume, it had been a very rough week in the Ron-

Hermione relations department.  Michele Bender and her 

two wordless and nameless friends were standing at the 

edge of the restless, milling crowd that had gathered.  

Madame Jennings and the rest of the coaches promptly 

stepped out onto the field, leaving them no time to think 

about the coming events.

	They started grouping people into their desired 

positions.  Harry said goodbye to Ron and watched him 

walk off with the other keepers, all of whom seemed to 

have three times the mass as the tall and lanky Ron, except 

for Michele's "friend" who, though she was the same 

height as Ron, was probably 1/3 of his weight.  As Harry 

was being led off with the other seekers (Michele Bender 

included) he noticed Hermione in the stands and gave her a 

wave, which she returned.

	Madame Jennings, to Harry's immense joy, was the 

seeking coach.  She waited until everyone arrived in the 

seeker area and began to give directions.

	"This," she began, holding up a bright blue snitch, 

"is a practice snitch.  It behaves as a real snitch would, but 

it stays in a smaller area so that it's a little easier to catch."  

She saw that everyone comprehended.  "Each of you will 

have a turn with the practice snitch.  Line up when I call 

your name.  Andrews, Bender, Calahan..." she read down 

the list, Harry a little too nervous to embellish her every 

word.  "...Malfoy, Potter, St. Michaels, and Veloise.  

Andrews, you're up."

	Harry lined up against the wall with the 12 other 

seekers all vying for the few spots offered in each tower.  

As he saw Andrews catch the practice snitch within 3 

minutes, and Michele Bender catch it in just under 2, his 

stomach began to turn a little.

	"So Potter, we meet again," sneered Malfoy.  

Harry politely addressed him with a "Hi, Draco," and said 

nothing more.

"Still trying to prove your worth?"  Harry didn't answer.  

"We're not in Hogwarts anymore, you know," he said, his 

voice getting more dangerous.  Harry again didn't reply.  

"The real talent will shine once the favoring authorities are 

removed from the situation."


"I don't know 'oo's talent you are referring to, 'e's better 

zan you," Michele Bender suddenly spoke from near the 

front of the line.  Draco looked a bit taken aback and said 

nothing more.

	"Malfoy!" Madame Jennings called.  He gave both 

Harry and Michele a smirk and sauntered over to where 

Madame Jennings was waiting.  Harry's eyes would have 

stayed where they were for longer than necessary had 

Michele not shaken her head toward Draco and loudly 

muttered,  "Leche-cul."


	"What?" he asked, alarmed.

	"Oh, not you.  Zat Malfoy boy...zo your Weasley 

friend may qualify."

	"No, I mean what does leche-cul mean?"

	"Oh," Michele replied, reddening slightly, "Never 

mind."

	"Potter, you're up!" Madame Jennings called.  

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

	"Good luck, 'Arry," Michele said, smiling.  He 

returned the gesture and went to meat his smiling, 

voluptuous fate. 

	"Take off, I'll release it as soon as you're up," she 

ordered.

	Harry kicked off the ground and began scanning the 

area for a flash of blue.  He saw it almost immediately and 

went after it as if on reflex.  Before he knew it,

	"0:55!  I'm impressed, Potter," Madame Jennings 

praised.  Harry grinned.  It was over.  He stood back in line 

next to Draco Malfoy.

	"Really doesn't take much to excite you, does it 

Potter?" Malfoy sneered.

	"How do you mean?" Harry asked, unable to help 

himself.

	"Well, take Madame Mudblood Jennings over there.  

My father knew her family-"

	"And where's your father now, Malfoy?" Harry 

muttered.  Malfoy abruptly shut his mouth and glared at 

Harry so fiercely that Harry thought he could feel it 

penetrate the side of his head.

	"Don't ever mention my father or his whereabouts 

in my presence-or otherwise-again, Potter," Malfoy 

snapped dangerously, Harry's last name being insult 

enough.

"Then don't ever mention 'mudbloods' in MY presence 

again, Malfoy," Harry spit back.

	"3:52, St. Michaels.  Veloise!"

	Harry was relieved that both Michele and he had 

done better than Draco, who clocked in at 1:54.  Harry 

hated to admit it, but Draco Malfoy presented a threat of 

competition now; six years of seeking had taught him 

something.

	"Do you know what we're going to do next?" 

Michele asked Harry.

	"Nope," Harry answered, shaking his head.  The 

tension grew slightly as everyone watched Veloise catch 

the snitch in 4:45.

	"Alright.  Now," Madame Jennings began, ensuring 

that she had everyone's rapt attention, "we're going to do it 

again.  With bludgers.  Line up, same as last time."

	No one spoke now; it was all observation.  Andrews 

finished in 4:54...Lowenstein was knocked by a bludger 

and exceeded the time limit...so was Debussy...Malfoy 

caught it in 3:10.  It was Harry's turn.

	He quickly deduced that bludgers were much more 

difficult to avoid in a smaller area, and had to devote most 

of the eyes he would use to look for the snitch to watching 

their behavior.  At last he saw it, dodged the ball flying 

toward his head, swerved to avoid the other one in his way, 

reached out, and...

	"2:00 even, Potter.  Bender!"

	Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he landed, and 

thought that this may be the only time he had ever been 

glad to stand next to Malfoy.  Draco didn't look at him, nor 

did Harry glance in his direction.

	Michele caught the snitch in an impressive 3:13.  

Veloise surprised everyone and caught it in 1:59.  Barely 

anyone in the line moved or made a noise.

	Harry looked over to where the keepers were trying 

out and saw that Ron was up.  One of the coaches was 

flinging quaffles at him, and from what Harry could see he 

was doing a pretty good job.

	"Well, now we wait for everyone else to finish so 

we can put everyone in a match situation.  You can all have 

a water break," Madame Jennings announced as Veloise 

landed triumphantly.	

	Harry began to wander aimlessly toward the locker 

rooms, and to his surprise Michele followed.

	"You are better zan I sought," she confessed almost 

grudgingly.  Harry blinked in surprise.


	"Thanks..." Harry stammered.  He began to tell her 

that she had been good as well, but she had left in a quick 

walk to where the chasers were (they had finished).  A 

glance at the sky told Harry that the keepers were 

descending as well, and that the team selections would 

probably happen quite soon.  He began to jog over to where 

Ron had touched down.

	"Ugh," Ron moaned.  "I missed 6."

	"You did good, he was pounding those things at 

you," Harry consoled.  As usual Ron didn't listen.  A 

whistle blew and everyone's heads turned toward Madam 

Jennings.

	"Everyone get into teams.  Anyone without a full 

team, stand over here so you can get organized; those of 

you left over can sub in after games have been played."

	Harry and Ron immediately paired off and began 

looking for the five other members of their partially formed 

team.  Two female beaters, who introduced themselves as 

Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer, promptly assaulted Harry 

and were gladly accepted.    Ron found two chasers named 

Alex and Eddy, and Harry found a third named Joe.

	Ten minutes later, the teams were set and the games 

began.  Harry was pleasantly surprised at the excellent 

quality of the two beaters; they were just as good, if not 

better, than Fred and George had been.  Their chasers 

weren't well matched so they didn't seem as skilled, but 

that meant Ron got the chance to show off his keeping 

abilities.  Harry caught the snitch within ten minutes and 

they were granted leave for a late lunch.  The list would be 

posted the next morning at 9:00 on the locker room doors.

	Harry and Ron waved at Hermione again, but as she 

was waiting for Viktor she motioned for them to go ahead.  

Harry was too tired to listen to Ron complain, but endured 

it anyway, all through their belated lunch, all through their 

studying-filled afternoon, and all through dinner.  After 

dinner, Hermione finally emerged from her Krum world 

and sat down with Harry and Ron.

	"Hey, Hermione," Ron said, almost, to Harry's 

surprise, with tenderness, "I'm sorry for being such a git 

this morning."

	"Oh," she replied, looking shocked.  Ron never 

apologized, except when there was something involved 

relating to his own personal benefit.  "It's forgiven," she 

said, still with some suspicion.  "You did well in tryouts.  

Barely let anything by."

	"Thanks, but don't be nice," Ron answered, shaking 

his head.

	"Ron has a problem accepting compliments," Harry 

laughed.  "I, on the other hand, welcome and enjoy them, 

hint hint."

	Hermione smiled and told Harry that he had also 

done very well.

	"So, how are your classes going?" Harry asked 

Hermione.  "I haven't heard you talk about them."

	"Oh," she said, surprised.  "I haven't?  I thought I 

mentioned them all the time...wait, it's probably because I 

talk about them with Viktor all the time, never mind."  

Harry winced slightly and looked off to the side just in time 

to see Ron bristle.  "I love my classes, my professors are 

even considering letting me in on the research project 

Dumbledore talked about; usually only very advanced 

second and third year students get picked, but they think I 

might be able to hold my own.  I'm really excited about it."

	"When does this happen?" Ron asked, still trying to 

swallow the mention of Viktor's name.

	"I don't know.  Whenever they decide to tell me I 

guess," she replied, fiddling with a necklace she was 

wearing.  Harry noted that it looked new and deduced that 

Krum had probably given it to her.  He was thankful at that 

moment that Ron was dense enough about the world 

around him that he didn't realize this; he didn't want to 

have to deal with even more complaining.  Ron had been 

fine for the most part during the majority of Hermione's 

relationship with Krum, excluding when he visited or when 

Hermione mentioned his name.  Constant Krum exposure 

was obviously something that Ron could not handle.

	"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking 

up.

	"It's good, you know, mostly Defense Against the 

Dark Arts.  Snape isn't being too hard."  

Hermione nodded.  "And you, Ron?" she asked.

"Oh, er, well, just classes I guess.  Lots of healing charms, 

some child psychology.  No big deal."

"Oh," Hermione yawned, straightening up.  "In that case, 

I'm off to bed.  I'm dead.  Goodnight, and don't 

worry...I'm sure you both made the tower's team."

	"Night Hermione," Ron and Harry chorused, getting 

up themselves.  Harry shook his head at Ron as they 

walked up the staircase.

	"What?" Ron asked with annoyance.

	"Don't kill yourself over it," Harry answered 

warningly.  Ron gave Harry a look, and they turned down 

the dim hallway in search of their room.

***

	The line outside the locker rooms was very tense 

the next morning when Harry and Ron arrived.  Harry 

looked at his watch and saw that it was 8:58; there were 

two more minutes until the list was posted.  Ron began to 

fidget with a napkin he had brought with him from 

breakfast.  Harry's eyes scanned the crowd; before long he 

picked out Malfoy, Angelina Johnson (he would really 

have to go and say hi later, he noted), and Michele and 

friends.  Michele was looking at the ground, not speaking, 

and Harry found himself silently hoping that she had made 

it.

	At precisely 9:00, the entrance suddenly emitted a 

pure white glow; when it had subsided there was a list 

hanging on the heavy wooden door.  The line soon 

dissolved and became a crowd of witches and wizards all 

clamoring to see if their name was listed.  As Harry and 

Ron pushed closer, they heard choruses of "YES!" and saw 

sad and shocked faces, and even a few tears (all from boys, 

incidentally).  Harry's doubts began to grow.  Finally, the 

list was in sight; Tower 1...Tower 2...Tower 6...Tower 7: 

Chasers: Joe Svening, Rupert Wilson, Ezra Bennett; 

beaters: Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer; keeper: Ron 

Weasley.

	"Ron, you made it!" Harry yelled to Ron, who had 

gotten stuck toward the back.  He heard a whoop of 

happiness and saw Ron literally jump for joy, then he 

turned his attention back to the list.  Seeker...he almost 

couldn't bring himself to read the words, but he knew he 

had to move or the crowd would kill him (at the very least).  

	Seeker: Harry Potter

	Harry felt a smile creep over his face and he 

practically skipped off to tell Ron of their mutual good 

fortune.  However, he had barely reached the edge of the 

crowd when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

	"Congratulations, 'Arry Potter," Michele said as he 

turned around to see who it was.

	"Thanks," he answered, grinning even wider.  "Did 

you make it?"

	"Oui, I am seeker for Tower 6."

	"Well, I guess I'll see you in matches then," Harry 

replied.

	"Yes.  We will-" she stopped as she saw Ron 

approaching.  "I will see you later, 'Arry," she said, and 

abruptly walked off.  Harry watched her as she did so and 

ignored Ron, who was questioning, "Why?"

 
Chapter 6
 

	It was moderately cool in the Arizona desert; dawn 

was hinting at the fast lightening sky, and most of the 

mammalian and reptilian occupants of the area were hidden 

underground waiting for the sun to rise over the dunes.  

However, two very unnatural creatures were prowling the 

area, though not without difficulty; they frequently tripped 

on rocks and other desert debris and their robes often 

snagged on elements of the terrain.  Despite their bumbling 

about, it was obvious that they had graced the area with 

their presence for a purpose.  They stopped in excitement 

when they saw what they must have been looking for: a 

lone snake off in the distance, slithering through the sand in 

their general direction. 

	The pair stopped and immediately bowed, trembling 

slightly, unmoving as the snake weaved closer and closer.  

They had been searching for weeks, following every 

instruction their master had given them; their loyalty 

seemed to have paid off, for it was happening just as he 

said it would.  They would be responsible for the 

resurrection of their master; their dreams had come true.  

Finally, they were disturbed from their groveling by a hiss 

from the aforementioned snake, which had arrived at the 

spot where the two large cloaked figures were bowing.

	"My lord!" they both whispered humbly.  

"We have come to serve you," the wizard on the left 

trembled.  The snake obviously didn't need more 

explanations, for it gave a loud hiss, went suddenly taut, 

emitted a blue-green light that expanded around the wizard 

who had pleaded with it, and suddenly lay limp and still.

	The one on the left turned around so that his back 

faced his companion.  However, where the back of a head 

would have been there was another face, sickly, gray, and 

snake-like.

	"Goyle," it said, almost hissing.  "You and Crabbe 

are truly two of my most treasured servants.  You shall be 

rewarded dearly."  Goyle dropped into another worshipping 

bow and once again declared his loyalty to his master.  

"Stand up," Voldemort ordered.  "There is work to be done.  

This time, we shall not fail."

	With a pop, the two were gone before the sun rose 

over the hills and the first lizards crawled out into the light.

***

	Hermione yawned, rolled over, and wished for 

another hour of sleep.  She had been extremely busy for the 

past few weeks and the increased activity was beginning to 

take its toll on her.  She had been spending a lot of time 

with Viktor Krum lately; she decided it was nice having a 

boyfriend in close quarters.  He had taken a year off to 

continue with his Quidditch career after he graduated from 

Durmstrang, but came to school after the Bulgarian team 

promised to hold his spot until he graduated from college.  

It was true that she noticed more faults in him once they 

started spending an excess of time together, but she thought 

it was only natural.  After all, people are idealized when 

there are only carefully planned letters and weeklong visits 

to derive information from.  The two were beginning to fall 

into a comfortable familiarity, and Hermione couldn't say 

that she wasn't grateful for the slight increase in time that 

she began spending by herself.

	Harry and Ron had been another story; ever since 

they had both made the Quidditch team they had been 

spending even more time apart than they had before.  

Hermione had three classes with them, and many days it 

was the only time she saw Ron and Harry.  She missed 

them; only last summer it felt as if they would always be as 

close as possible, but now she felt that they were drifting 

apart.  She felt this especially with Ron, who seemed to 

have some sort of problem with her involvement with 

Viktor.  She found it so irritating that he thought he could 

control her so far as to say whom she should and shouldn't 

date.  Her fists clenched just thinking about it.  He had 

some nerve.  Just the night before he made a comment, 

something like, "Who are you?" when she had said hi, and 

when she gave him a look he had answered, with a shocked 

expression, "Good heavens!  She's emerged from 

Krumland!"  Why can't he be more mature, like Harry? she 

thought

	With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that the 

extra hour she hoped for would not materialize and began 

to ready herself for her classes.  She really and truly loved 

her classes; they were all they were at Hogwarts and more.  

She quickly found her previously occupied academic niche 

(the top), and just kept working.

	As good as she was at all of her subjects, spell 

developing was the one she enjoyed most.  To invent a 

spell, there first must be a name for it.  Wizards had used 

Latin since the language was derived; therefore, naming 

spells was as simple as an elementary translation.  Actually 

making them work was another story; standing in front of a 

flower, pointing a wand, and declaring (in Latin), "scent of 

tangerines!" would never do a thing without the number 

work behind it. 

	Yes, spell developing included Hermione's favorite 

things in the world, even more so than reading: numbers 

and logic.  The mathematical combinations and calculations 

required to create even a simple spell were excruciating to 

most students; for Hermione, after an initial week of 

trouble it became a breeze.  By the first quarter of the term, 

she was months ahead of everyone else in her class.  Now 

she was being considered for a special research team that 

was in the process of inventing a defense for Avada 

Kedavra.  If she were included, she would be exempt from 

spell developing and could use that time to work on the 

project.  Needless to say, she desperately wanted to be 

included.

	Hermione sleepily made her way down to breakfast 

and saw Ron and Harry talking groggily at the end of a 

table.

	"G'morning," she murmured, ordering pumpkin 

juice and toast.  Ron looked up and said,

	"Hello."

	"'Lo," mumbled Harry through a full mouth.

	"What are you up to today?" Ron asked, gulping 

some sort of liquid down his throat.

	"Well, classes of course, then it depends on if I get 

picked for that research thing I told you about.  Viktor has 

Quidditch until dinner, so I'll probably be in the library 

until then."

	"Oh," Ron replied mockingly, unable to control his 

glare.  "Well, I hope you have fun then."

	"What?" Hermione snapped.

	"Nothing.  I didn't SAY anything wrong," he 

muttered, keeping the glare.  She abruptly left the table in a 

huff, oblivious to Harry hitting Ron upside the head, and 

went to charms early. 

	She greeted the professor and sat at her usual table, 

pulling out a book that she was going to pretend to read 

while she mulled over why Ron was such a prick.  Granted, 

he was right about the fact that it was true she hadn't spent 

more than 20 minutes a day with him and/or Harry for the 

last month or so, but, so what?  It's not as if they were 

making extra concessions so they could spend time with 

her.  They had Quidditch, and Quidditch, and more 

Quidditch...all they cared about was Quidditch.  Then 

again, she missed them almost desperately.  Viktor was one 

thing, a boyfriend; Harry and Ron were her friends.  She 

had of course made some friends in her classes, but none of 

them ever went to the extent of that which she supposedly 

shared with Harry and Ron.  But Ron still had no right to 

act like such a prick.  She sighed and closed her book as 

people began to walk in, eyes on the doorway in search of 

Harry and Ron.  They appeared momentarily, still sleepy 

looking, and took their usual seats, Harry next to Hermione 

and Ron next to Harry (he usually sat next to Hermione as 

well, unless they were arguing).

	"Let's go out tonight after dinner; we can portkey 

into Toronto, exchange money at Gringotts, see a Muggle 

movie, then we can get something to eat.  Viktor can do 

something else."

	They both looked at her with surprise.  "Well, we 

might as well take advantage of being allowed to leave 

whenever we want...it is a Friday, after all."

	"Sounds good to me," Ron replied, bewildered.

	"Should be fun," Harry answered, smiling slightly.  

"Despite SOME of our behavior," he jerked his head 

toward Ron, "we've missed you just a little."

	Hermione smiled and didn't reply; after all, the 

professor had just stood up to discuss difficult healing 

charms for sick and/or injured animals.

***

	"Hermione Granger, may I speak with you?" 

Professor Meyers, the spell developing instructor, called 

across the room to where Hermione was studying.  Her 

heart gave a small, hopeful leap in her chest and she timidly 

walked past the struggling students to the desk at the front 

of the room.  "Congratulations, Ms. Granger," Professor 

Meyers immediately began.  "The research team said 

they'd be glad to have you on board."  Hermione felt a 

gigantic smile take over her face, which was promptly 

returned by her professor.  "This," she said, addressing a 

figure sitting next to her that Hermione had not noticed 

before, "is Professor Penny Yang, and she will explain 

what's been going on and help you get started.  Good 

luck," she finished, smiling.  Hermione thanked her 

professor and followed Professor Yang out of the room and 

down the hallway.

	"Nice to meet you, Hermione," she said as they left 

the room, extending her hand.

	"Nice to meet you as well," Hermione replied, 

shaking her hand.

	"We've made a lot of progress in the past several 

months," Professor Yang began as she opened a locked 

door and they both stepped inside.  "I was told you know 

about your headmaster's involvement in the project."  

	Hermione nodded.

	"That was the rough version of the spell; it is 

extremely complicated, and as you know didn't work 

effectively as we'd hoped."

	Hermione nodded again.

	"What we're doing now is trying to fully dissect 

Avada Kedavra again, and then combine it with a reflective 

shield charm that we are currently in the process of 

inventing.  Once that's finished, then we will call all of our 

voluntary test subjects back and try the charm on them 

again and hope for the instance of one of their attempted 

murders, and of course that the curse is successful."

	Hermione nodded yet again and asked, "What did 

the charm consist of the last time you tested it?"

	"It was supposed to be just a complete reverse of 

the spell employing the use of many counter-curses, but 

something in the makeup of the Avada Kedavra curse was 

mapped wrong and/or contained some currently 

incomprehensible aspect that does not allow counterspells 

to interfere."

	"Well, it lets the victim remain alive; that's an 

achievement in itself."

	"It was so difficult to perform that we had to bring 

Albus Dumbledore himself in to perform the spell on 

everyone who was testing it; none of us came close, not 

even our best professors."

	Hermione nodded once again in understanding.

	"Here we are," Professor Yang said as she opened a 

door to reveal a large room resembling a Muggle laboratory 

in an old castle.  The eight occupants of the room all looked 

up and nodded at the new member of their group.  

Professor Yang proceeded to point out everyone in the 

room, and handed Hermione a rather large book.

	"This is your notebook; your section is at the end.  

We all have books like this.  They've been enchanted to 

make whatever someone writes in their section appears in 

everyone else's book as well.  It makes it much easier to 

compare notes and decide what to research or experiment 

with.  Document whatever you do in the notebook, no 

matter what the results are.  If you have any questions at 

all, go ahead and ask.  I'll be sharing a table with you, 

alright?"

	"Alright," Hermione answered, very ready to begin.  

Penny smiled and began to work; Hermione sat down with 

the notebook and began to read, feeling as if she had just 

entered heaven on earth.

***

	"Where the hell is she?" Ron snapped, looking at 

his watch for the twelfth time that minute.

	"Calm down Ron, she's only two minutes late, she 

probably got tied up on her way down here," Harry 

groaned, very exasperated.  Ron grumbled.  Harry 

proceeded to ignore his temperamental friend and began to 

daydream about Quidditch, trying to expel thoughts of 

Michele from his mind.  She had been talking to him 

whenever she saw him (when Ron wasn't near), and he had 

been eagerly talking back.  He found her boldness 

refreshing and her honesty brutally attractive, he admitted 

to himself, but he was still scared of her and wasn't really 

sure if she actually like him or if she was just being nice so 

she could use him for his Quidditch skills.

	In fact, they had just spent the afternoon together 

after Defense Against the Dark Arts.  He had been walking 

down the hall with her, talking...

"Snape iz assigning too much 'omework," she had said, 

amusedly watching Harry struggle under the weight of both 

his books and hers (he had offered to carry them).

"Yeah, I'll have to agree with you on that," Harry replied, 

shifting the weight from one arm to the other, trying not to 

show any evidence of discomfort and following the top of 

Michele's head because he couldn't see anything else over 

the pile.  Suddenly, he noticed they were taking a little too 

long to get to Michele's tower... "Hey, where are we 

going?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I 'ave to go to the potions room to 

get somesing zat I forgot," Michele admitted.  "I'm sorry 

for taking advantage of you...oh, wait, no I'm not," she 

grinned.

"That's it, abuse poor little Harry, the strong one who 

carries the books out of the kindness of his little heart," 

Harry muttered.

"No, out of ze need for him to prove his manhood to me for 

some odd reason," Michele answered.

"I don't need to prove anything," Harry replied, flexing his 

muscles just to show off even though it didn't occur to him 

that she couldn't see his arms through his robes, or that he 

wasn't exactly stronger than the average wizard anyway.

"Sure, 'Arry," Michele grinned as she walked through the 

potion dungeon door.  "You can put ze books down now, 

we're here."

Harry did his best not to put them down too quickly, but he 

failed and Michele laughed.  "I, um, dropped them," he 

tried to explain with a smile, but she would hear none of it.


"Oh be quiet, zey're 'eavy, I know."  Michele laughed.


Harry just grumbled.  "So what are we here for anyway?"

"I 'ave to get my book on ze famous one-eyed witch 

Yolanda de Rousseau, she was famous for her work wis 

various poisons."

"Really, a one-eyed witch?"  Harry asked.

"Yes, why?"

"There was a statue of a one-eyed witch at Hogwarts, I was 

wondering if it were the same one," Harry replied.  For 

some reason, the tables had all been pushed off to the side 

of the room.  The bricks all formed a pattern that converged 

in the center where they met a large, pentagon shaped 

brick, upon which Harry sat.

"Why do you remember zat?  I 'ave never been to 

'Ogwarts, but from what you 'ave told me zere were lots of 

statues."

"This statue was special," Harry responded, smiling in 

recollection.  "It was a secret passage to Hogsmeade, the 

wizard village by the school.  You tapped its hump," Harry 

tapped his wand on the floor, "and said Dissendium-

AUGH!"  Harry was cut short as the ground below him 

suddenly collapsed and he fell down into the darkness.

"'ARRY!" Michele yelled and ran over, looking into the 
hole he had fallen into.

"I'm alright," he called from below.  "It's not too deep, and 

the landing's soft.  This must be a secret passage or 

something...come down, let's look around!"

Michele didn't answer, but a second later Harry sensed that 

someone had landed beside him.  "Lumos," they said 

simultaneously, and grinned as their faces came into each 

other's view.  

"Well, let's go!" Harry said eagerly, and they were off.  

Admittedly, it wasn't very exciting; there were some twists 

and turns, and at the end of the passageway there was a big 

room that held many ancient looking things that seemed to 

belong in a prison.

"Zis looks like a secret dungeon," Michele muttered in awe 

as she looked all around her.

"Yeah...and I think this is it, I don't see any way to leave 

here except the way we came.  But this is still very cool," 

Harry replied, walking around and looking at some of the 

shackles attached to the walls.  Michele followed, and 

together they examined what looked to be a torture device 

from the middle ages.

"Zis is interesting, I sought zat ze castle was built recently," 

Michele said, running her hand along part of the top.

"Hermione told me that the foundation had been here for 

awhile, and that it was restored for this school," Harry said, 

picking up a piece of a broken cuff and examining it.  As 

Harry leaned down to put it back, he bumped heads with 

Michele, who giggled shamelessly.

"Sorry about that," Harry exclaimed, smiling, putting his 

hand to her head to see if she was alright.  

"I'm fine," she replied, putting her hand on his and drawing 

it away from her head.  Harry found himself staring into her 

clear brown eyes, which held two reflections of light, one 

for both of their wands.  Suddenly, he was very aware of 

the feel of their hands touching; if she felt the same, she 

certainly didn't seem to mind.

"Are-are you sure?" Harry stammered, doing the only thing 

that seemed natural and taking her other hand, not moving 

his eyes from hers.  

"Yes," Michele answered quietly, pulling Harry a little 

closer with her hands, "very sure..."

Harry's heart began to beat faster as he noted that he could 

hear her breathing, and felt himself slowly drawing her 

closer to him.  Her eyes didn't move as their arms touched, 

and he felt himself silently leaning down to touch his 

mouth to hers...

	"...With stupid Krum, sucking his brain out by way 

of his mouth..." Ron continued to mumble, fading back 

into Harry's reality.  Suddenly Ron stopped, waved at the 

door, and muttered "finally" under his breath.  Harry, upset 

that his recollection had been disturbed, ignored him and 

waved to Hermione as well.

	"Sorry I'm late," she breathed as she made her way 

over to them.  "I made that research project; I was in the lab 

and I lost track of time." Ron opened his mouth, but Harry 

kicked him in the shin before he had a chance to say 

something.  Hermione didn't notice since she was making 

her way toward her dorm room.

	"I'm going to get ready; I'll be down in a minute," 

she called as she ascended the staircase.

	"Ron," Harry began sternly, "I suggest you 

congratulate her when she gets back, and don't say a word 

about Krum tonight, alright?"

	Ron glared and began to grumble again.  Harry told 

him to shut up, and watched the staircase for Hermione's 

reappearance. 

	She soon emerged with braided hair and Muggle 

clothing (Ron thankfully seemed to obey Harry and did not 

say anything about Krum), and they walked to the portkey 

room.  Harry enjoyed the freedom the college offered; it 

was a refreshing change from the extreme security of 

Hogwarts.

	"So, Hermione," Ron began.  She looked at him 

suspiciously.  "Congratulations on making that thing," he 

said hurriedly, eyes not moving from the hallway ahead of 

him.

	"Thank you, Ron," she smiled.  He sneaked a 

glance in her direction and smiled a little as well.  Harry let 

out a sigh of relief at the exchange, then waved eagerly as 

he saw Michele passing by with her two silent friends.

	"Salut 'Arry," she waved, grinning.

	"Hey," he replied, and smiled back.

	Hermione gave him a sideways glance, and inquired 

after his friend.

	"Oh," Harry answered, reddening slightly at the 

ears.  "That's Michele.  She's the seeker for Tower six."  

Hermione nodded, and thankfully didn't pry any deeper 

into the matter.

	They took an empty soda can to the small hidden 

wizard section of Toronto, and they embarked into the 

Muggle section for their stereotypical night on the town.  

Two hours later they exited the theatre, excited about their 

viewing experience.  Though Harry had lived as a Muggle 

for almost the entirety of his first eleven years the Durselys 

had never taken him to a movie theatre, and of course Ron 

had never been, but they both thoroughly enjoyed it (even 

though Ron was easily confused by references meant for 

Muggles, and kept asking why spells weren't used because 

they could make things so much easier).  They were 

surprised to feel how cold it had become when they 

emerged from the theatre; Hermione, who had relied on the 

weather forecaster's prediction that temperatures would not 

drop under 60 degrees, had not brought a coat and 

immediately began to shiver.  Ron took one look at her, 

shed his jacket, and offered it to her.  She gave him a 

surprised look and a shy smile, and accepted.  Harry shook 

his head, but did not dare comment as he hoped not to 

disturb the rare and amicable conversation that had 

developed between the two; they were talking school, 

Hermione's classes, Quidditch, and some other things-and 

they weren't fighting!  Harry treasured the extraordinarily 

rare moment; it was almost like old times (well, like a rare 

moment in old times).  After awhile Ron, who was 

beginning to feel his stomach growl, asked,

	"So, where do you want to eat?

	"How about there?" Hermione suggested, pointing 

to what looked like an esoteric Middle Eastern restaurant.  

Harry controlled his snort of laughter as he saw Ron blanch 

and reply,

	"Alright then."  Hermione grinned and walked 

quickly to the door.  Ron was right behind her, his face 

suggesting that he was about to regret this, and Harry went 

cheerfully behind the both of them, very willing to risk 

horrible food to see how Ron would handle the situation.

	The light was dim in the small restaurant, and ethnic 

music was playing softly behind the bustle of the waiters 

and waitresses and the conversation of the customers.

	"Hermione," Ron began, taking a deep breath.  She 

looked at him expectantly.  "Yoolonistnight," Ron 

mumbled.

	"Yes?" she asked, unsure of what she heard.

	"I said, you, um, look nice, tonight," Ron repeated, 

going very red.  Hermione pulled a stray piece of hair 

hanging in her face back behind her ear, and sheepishly 

said thank you.  Harry reaffirmed Ron's compliment, 

causing her to act even more embarrassed.  

	"Three?" a waitress asked, interrupting the Kodak 

moment. 

	"Yes," Ron replied, snapping back to reality.  The 

waitress led them to a table next to some plants and a wall 

with faux gold trimming.  She gave them menus and the 

ordering process began.

	Hermione merely took a minute to read the menu 

over, and immediately made her selection; she proceeded to 

close her menu with a triumphant movement of her hand.  

Ron eyed her suspiciously and asked,

	"What are you ordering?"

	"Tabouli and Kibee," she responded.

	"What the hell is that?" 

	"Tabouli is a parsley salad, with onions and wheat 

and tomatoes-"

	Ron put his hand to his mouth and let out a cough 

that suspiciously sounded like "birdfood."

	"-and," Hermione continued, trying to control her 

urge to giggle, "kibee is heavily flavored and very lean 

beef, raw or-"

	"Raw meat?!" Harry exclaimed.  "Never mind, let's 

go, Ron."

	"No, it's good," she tried to reassure him, though 

she was laughing.

	"It's raw meat!" Harry shot back.

	"I think I'll try it," Ron suddenly interjected.  Harry 

turned and looked at Ron like he was from another planet.

	"Are you insane?" he asked.

	"No, just feeling adventurous," Ron replied.  His 

face once again told otherwise.  Hermione, not wanting to 

disturb this utterly amusing and very curious situation, 

decided not to mention the fact that it also came fried on 

request.

	The three got back to the school around midnight, 

and Harry quickly retired to his dorm, saying that he was 

extremely tired and needed to rest for the Quidditch match 

the next day against Tower 3, Malfoy's tower.  Ron was 

left looking curiously at Hermione for a moment before he 

blinked, raised his eyebrows, touched her gently on the arm 

and said goodnight. 

	Interesting, thought Hermione, furrowing her brow.  

She didn't understand Ron in the slightest, and though this 

bothered her to the point where she felt uneasy, she wasn't 

sure she wanted to.

***

	The next morning, Harry woke with his alarm and 

literally leaped out of bed.

	"Wake up, Ron, Quidditch game!" he said pertly.  

Ron, instead of moaning and rolling over as he usually did, 

leapt out of bed as well.

	"Oh, incidentally," Harry said as he pulled a shirt 

over his tantalizing, muscular chest (A/N: sorry, I'm 

kidding, I just couldn't resist, hehe), "good show last 

night."

	Ron winced and began to put some clothes on.  

"How do you mean?"

	Harry donned a high, sarcastic voice and replied, 

"Oh Hermione, I'll eat raw meat for you-"  He was forced 

to stop as Ron threw a pillow at him.  

	"Shut up.  I wasn't like that."

	"You're right, you were worse.  You had this look 

on your face, it was all I could to stop myself from 

laughing."

	"I did not!" Ron started digging for his Quidditch 

robes.

	Harry just laughed.  "You know, you could score 

more points if you stopped acting like an arse 99% of the 

time," he said, sticking his wand in his shirt like he always 

did before a Quidditch game, out of habit.

	"I don't act like an arse!  I'm a nice and sensitive 

guy!"

	"Who frequently acts like an arse because he's-" 

	Ron shot him a look that was worthy of Draco 

Malfoy in his finer days, and Harry thought it best to obey 

Ron's initial order and shut up.

	Hermione, who had been awake for hours, was in 

the common room reading out of the notebook she had 

received the day before.  Just as she was closing it, having 

both finished reading everyone else's notes and formulating 

a few ideas of her own, Harry and Ron came bursting down 

the stairs.

	"See you in an hour," Ron yelled as he and Harry 

ran right back out through the exit into the school.

	Hermione shook her head, grabbed her bag, and left 

to find Viktor so they could sit together during the 

Quidditch game.

***

	"That was great!" Sirius commended four hours 

later after Harry had joined him outside the Quidditch field.  

Harry smiled as they began to walk to his tower so he could 

get some robes for the next day.

	The game had been an especially good one for both 

Harry and his team; Ron hadn't let a single quaffle by 

despite the valiant efforts of Angelina Johnson (whom 

Harry still hadn't spoken to, incidentally) and co.  The 

Tower 7 chasers had scored 30 points by the end of the first 

30 minutes, and there were many close calls with bludgers.  

Harry had eventually caught the snitch, though he could 

have gotten it sooner; Draco Malfoy, though he didn't say 

very much, had pulled several stunts (such as blocking him 

and signaling to beaters) to ensure that he didn't catch it 

any sooner.  However, Harry had finally managed to get by 

him by executing the Wronski Feint, causing Draco to 

crash to the ground in a tangled pile of limbs, and then 

grabbing the snitch while Draco was still incapacitated.  

The crowd had screamed and Tower 7 had won the game.  

As he and Sirius were walking back, Harry's head was 

pulled out of its little cloud when Madame Jennings called 

from some ways behind them.

"POTTER!" they heard her yell, "WAIT UP!"  Sirius gave 

Harry a questioning look, but the look of doubt was soon 

replaced by a look that said "Hello" (that Harry was sure he 

pulled from his old school days) as the woman running 

after them came into clear view.

	"Fantastic job today, Potter," she commented, 

slapping him good-naturedly on the back.  "Haven't seen 

that good of a Wronski Feint in a long time. You have a 

definite shot in the pros if you decide to aim in that 

direction."  

Harry almost blushed.  "Thanks," he answered sheepishly.

"So, who's this?" she asked, motioning toward Sirius.  

Before Harry could answer, Sirius cut in and introduced 

himself.

"Black, Sirius Black," he said proudly with an air of 

mystery, extending his hand.

"Oh," she replied, surprised, but extending her hand to 

meet his.  Instead of shaking it he kissed it, causing her to 

smile and Harry to sigh with exasperation.

"Harry lives with me now," he commented, answering her 

unasked question of how he was currently connected to 

Harry.  "Great kid; I hope he's that way here as well."

"Yes, he's very good," Madame Jennings replied, oblivious 

to Harry's rolling eyes.  "I'm Maggie Jennings, by the 

way."  Sirius nodded, furrowing his brow in sudden 

thought.

"Weren't you pro once upon a time?"

	"Yes, until last year."

	"You were excellent from what I remember."

	"Thank you," she replied happily.  The small chat 

continued until they reached the hallway that led to the 

cafeteria.

	"I'm going to get something to eat; it was very nice 

meeting you," she said, looking at Sirius.

	"I'll see you again when Harry has another game, I 

promised him I'd make them all.  Hopefully, no plans will 

change," he replied, giving her his trademarked Sirius 

Black look and hoping that its effect hadn't waned over the 

past 17 years.  She gave him a sideways smile with a hint 

of mischief in her eyes, which then swept over to Ha