My relatives would probably hope that one of those things ate me before I could learn the spell if I told them. If I needed their permission for the club, they'd not give it," Harry replied, shrugging when Neville shot him a horrified look. "What? It's the truth."
"Well, we'll all learn that spell, and then those things won't be able to scare us again," Hermione said, her face a study in determination. "Now, who wants to go to the library? We could get a good hour in before dinner."
Neville excused himself, but Harry joined her. They still didn't have much homework yet and therefore spent the time until dinner discussing Arithmancy and attempting to take the hovering charm apart. How this correlated with Ancient Runes, they could only guess at this point, but Harry was as eager as Hermione to find out.
"This is so much fun," Hermione stated as they packed their things away. The dinner bell had just tolled and all around them students left their tables. "I don't even want to imagine how boring Divination would've been."
"Yeah, me too," Harry admitted. "Speaking of boring ... how was Muggle Studies?"
She rolled her eyes spectatcularly. "Oh, don't get me started. The course material is ancient, it's like the professor believes that mundane people still live in the 1800s. That's absolutely ridiculous, because the muggle-born students are telling others how modern and advanced the muggle world is all the time! Lavender and Parvati practically strong-armed me into sending Cosmo and Vogue to them over the summer because wizarding Britain is still in the Stone Age when it comes to fashion magazines ... or fashion, really."
"Tell me what you really think," Harry egged her on, grinning.
Hermione sniffed. "Oh, I won't just tell you. I'll complain to the board of govenors, because that class is a massive waste of time, and an insult to all mundanes and mundane-born, and also because it is the height of cheek to actually take money for that bullshite. It's no wonder pureblood gits like Malfoy think they're better than us. You have an in with Neville's gran, you can talk to her about it."
"Hermione!" Harry laughed, a little shocked about her bluntness. "Already using me to further your cause?"
"Always," she replied with an unrepentant grin, "but my causes are mostly just, and since you are a good boyfriend, you'll let me get away with it. You will, right?"
"I might demand compensation later," Harry warned, but he took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "If it's really that bad, it needs to go."
"We've started a list of topics we really need to write about in the school paper," Hermione murmured. "A lot of it is really infuriating because it is child endangerment, plain and simple. Mundanes would never accept this."
Harry frowned. "You're saying mundane a lot ... why?"
"That's what the French wizards call their non-magical neighbours. It's way classier than muggle. That word sounds idiotic, as if people without magic were incompetent and less smart, which just isn't true." Hermione took a deep breath. "In July, I read a paper about wormhole travel by Dr. Rodney McKay. It was just theoretical, but Harry, his mind! His equations are like poesy and his theoretical analysis nearly brought me to tears, it was so well thought out and logical. No wizard I've ever met can compete with what he's capable of. He's brilliant, and it infuriates me that being a mundane makes him less worthy in the eyes of British wizards."
"I really hope that McKay guy is old," Harry murmured and tugged Hermione into a small alcove. He pressed her against the wall and leaned his forehead against hers. "Otherwise I'll feel very jealous in a moment."
Hermione melted against him. "He's brilliant and around thirty, and I might be a little in love with his brain."
"But?" Harry looked at her. "There better be a but in there somewhere."
She smiled sweetly. "But you're you, and you're smart in a different way, and I really like you. But if you're so concerned about some astrophysicist sweeping me away, you can always get a degree or two."
"You're terrible." Harry kissed her forehead. "And you make me almost believe that I could do it."
"You can do it," Hermione said fiercely. "Don't let anyone tell you what you're capable of. Only you can find that out, okay?" She hugged him almost a little too tightly. "Most people are dumb and we don't play with them anymore."
Harry hugged her back. "Good plan. I approve."
At lunch, a few students looked at them appraisingly, but no one brought up their closeness. It served Harry well, because he had his hands full with Ron's underhanded complaints about their argument at breakfast.
"Weasley, would you shut up already?" Katie Bell hissed. "Stop angling for Harry's broom, it's pathetic."
"Yeah, you better apologize for your unfounded accusations first," Alicia Spinnet added coldly. "Crookshanks is a sweet guy. If he doesn't like you, he'll have his reasons."
Lee Jordan snorted. "I know what those are."
Ron flushed with temper. "Shut it. It's not my fault the school brooms are always checked out when I wanna fly."
"They're not," Seamus said, throwing Ron a disbelieving look. "On Sunday, at least half a dozen were still there when we went down to the pitch."
"But they're old and broken," Ron huffed. "We can't be expected to train for Quidditch on those."
"You mean you can't be expected to train on those," Hermione snapped. "No one else is complaining."
"Well, that's not quite true," Fred chimed in.
"We do, frequently," George continued.
"-because some of these brooms are death traps," Fred said. "Unfortunately-"
"-Professor McGonagall told us-"
"-that there's no money for better brooms in the school budget."
Hermione rubbed her forehead as if to ward off a headache. "You want to take it to the paper, or the board of govenors?"
"Both," Fred and George said at once, echoed by the whole Quidditch team. It was a wonder, really, that Oliver Wood had kept silent until now.
Parvati was already scribbling on the infamous list of topics and Lavender was taking a few notes on a blank piece of parchment.
"Hey, Colin," Harry called over to the second years. "How about taking some pictures of the old brooms? Maybe some in flight as well?"
"Sure, Harry!" Colin replied. "Can I get credit?"
"Of course," Parvati said. "We'll have contracts for that kind of thing."
"How much longer until your announcement?" Dean asked. "You said later in the week, but when?"
Lavender put her pencil down. "Well, it depends. We're in some negotiations and the results will determine what kind of printing press we get, and who's going to be our sponsor."
"Sounds serious," Hermione said.
"A good serious," Lavender assured them. "Honestly, if this works out, we'll be set. It shouldn't be later than Sunday, though."
"Then I'll keep my thumbs pressed," Harry promised, and his housemates all agreed.
To keep his promise to Dobby, Harry excused himself after dinner and let the house elf pop him to the Come And Go Room. There, he had the peace and quiet to study Sharptooth's business plan.
As the estate was situated smack in the middle of a muggle settlement - mundane, Harry reminded himself - it already had some standard wards, but the cost of increasing the security was substantial, as was the long-term plan to aquire the land around the property. For a moment, Harry was grateful that the money for it would come out of the Potter family fortune and not the elf fund, because they would have been nearly broke when everything was said and done.
Still, he wanted his elf friends and the future guests to be safe, and so he signed off on Malijar's gift for the perimeter ward stones, Gringotts France's interior designers for remodelling and refurbishing, and the hiring of human personnel in addition to Dobby and Betty's work.
"A resident healer is a great idea," Harry mumbled, checking that point. "Sirius might go there for a holiday, especially if I can convince Gringotts to supply potions for all the guests. Healthy food choices ... of course. Laundry service, yup, definitely. Taxi service for all of France ..." Harry sat back. He hadn't thought that Dobby would take him seriously, but he could see how a house elf travelling service might be a welcome alternative to Floo travel or portkeys. "Great idea, but we'll have to find out what fees are appropriate."
There was more to decide: where to locally buy produce, meat, and dairy; how to best use the garden to supplement vegetables and herbs for the kitchen; how much margin to add to the cost of running the pension to keep it attractive for guests but make it reasonably profitable at the same time. He was also tasked with deciding what kind of witch or wizard would be allowed to apply for jobs - it was kind of weird to examine his ethics and impose them on strangers. Still, he thought it wasn't too much to ask that his future employees be honest, loyal, friendly, and well-educated in their area of service. The payment plan for the employees was above average and included standard medical service through the in-house healer and options for bonus pay for exemplary service and further training. Harry thought that it looked very well, indeed. Contrasting the generous salary, there were the employment oaths to consider, and Harry decided to err on the side of caution and opted for all the loyalty and security clauses Sharptooth had recommended in his proposal. After all, he didn't want Death Eaters, or, god forbid, Voldemort himself knocking on his door because someone decided to blab.
All of this took nearly two hours. It was rewarding work, even if Harry knew that the first year would be a dead loss. He agreed with both Sharptooth and Dobby, however, that getting things going was far more important than earning money, especially when he had so much of it sitting around in his vaults. He believed in Dobby's planning and couldn't wait to see how it all played out.
"Dobby," he finally called when the warning bell for curfew sounded. "Do you have a moment?"
Dobby popped in at once, small hands clasped and ears quivering in excitement. "Dobby always be having time for Harry Potter sir." His huge eyes wandered to the sealed envelope in Harry's hand. "Harry Potter sir be looking over Steward Sharptooth's proposal!"
"I promised," Harry said with a smile. "Everything looks good on paper and I signed off on it, but if something doesn't work out, tell Sharptooth immediately and he'll sort it out."
"Thank you, thank you," Dobby gushed. "Harry Potter sir be such a generous wizard! Dobby and Betty be beginning work immediately. Cleaning be such a pleasure!"
"Please take me back to Gryffindor tower first," Harry laughed. "And please remember to keep Sirius company, yeah?"
"Dobby will!" Smiling hugely, Dobby took Harry by the wrist and popped him into their established dark corner close to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "Thank you, Harry Potter sir." And off the elf went.
The common room was still full of students when Harry entered, although his year mates were just beginning to gather their things. Hermione beckoned Harry over to the couch she was occupying.
"Everything alright?" she asked. "You're smiling."
"Just good news," Harry replied. Crookshanks stretched from Hermione's lap onto his and batted his paw against Harry's hand. "Yeah, okay. You're a cuddle monster, my friend." He started scratching the cat's head.
Crookshanks closed his eyes and purred with satisfaction.
The long day was catching up with Harry and he yawned. "Don't be mad, but I think I'll sleep in tomorrow. I'm knackered."
"No problem," she replied.
"How are you even doing it?" Harry wondered. "You never seem to be tired."
Hermione shrugged. "I'm used to it. But after deciding against Muggle Studies and Divination, I really only have as many classes as you do. Although I could do with a free period in the morning! It's my Arithmancy class first thing, you see."
"Bummer," Harry offered.
Smiling, Hermione answered, "It's alright. I have a short day on Wednesday instead."
The prefects chose that moment to usher them to bed, and they went quite willingly. It really had been a long day, and as soon as Harry's head hit the pillow, he was asleep.
oOo
Sleeping in on a school day felt decadent. Harry was also a little overwhelmed, though in a good way, because Dobby had surprisingly taken him on a dream tour through his new pension. So say that the experience had been magical would be a massive understatement.
"It's already beautiful," Harry said as his friend spoiled him with breakfast in bed. "I almost can't imagine how great it will be when you've got it ready and running. But it looks so big! Are you sure that you'll be able to manage it all on your own?"
"Well, Dobby be looking for help," the elf admitted, "but we not be needing it for a year at least. There be wizards and witches for direct services soon, so it be alright."
"Good." Harry swallowed his fruit salat. "So, what's on your agenda today?"
"Betty and Dobby be taking Steward Sharptooth to the pension for warding. He be requesting Head Warders Shanoo and Gartuk."
"Oh, okay. Isn't that kind of ... excessive? I don't actually want to turn the property into a fortress."
Dobby shook his head. "It be clever because they be able to forge connection between Harry Potter sir and the additional ward stones. It be very advanced magic, but because Harry Potter be needing to claim wards from Britain, that's what be happening."
"I'd love to get the theory behind that explained," Harry admitted. "It sounds dead useful!"
"Dobby be telling Steward Sharptooth. Maybe he be able to arrange a lesson," Dobby replied. "More lemonade?"
Thoroughly pampered, Harry had a bounce in his step on his way to Charms. Most of his friends were disgruntled about his good mood, but he just greeted them cheefully and took his seat beside Hermione.
"They'll ambush you if you keep this up," she smirked but leaned against him. "What has you in such a good mood?"
"I'm just happy," Harry replied honestly and gently bumped against her shoulder. "How was Arithmancy?"
"I love it," Hermione whispered, eyes shining.
Then, Professor Flitwick called them to order and class began. The whole ninety minutes Harry felt Ron stare at the back of his head. It was unnerving, to say the least, but even worse were the boy's muttered complaints that Harry had all of Hermione's attention while he was languishing.
Towards the end of the class, Hermione finally had enough. She turned around and snapped, "I'm not helping Harry with his Lumos Duo charm. He's helping me. So kindly shut up. Also, I'm not your private tutor. You can do your own work."
"One point from Gryffindor for talking in class, Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick called out. The Slyhterins snickered and even Ron looked triumphant. "And five points to Gryffindor for dispensing valuable advice to a fellow classmate."
Ron was close to blowing up, Harry knew, and he was not interested in waiting for the eruption of Mt. Weasley. As soon as the bell rang, he and Hermione booked it to the great hall and hid out in the bathroom until the others had passed them.
"I have a feeling that you're here more for a potion than my company," Harry said but gamely flicked a vial with blue content at her. "Bone strengthener today."
"I love it. It kind of tastes like ice mice," Hermione said. "Thank you. By the way, when do you plan on brewing your own?"
"As soon as I've found a room where we can work undisturbed. I'm kind of leery of using the Come And Go Room because it's so magical. If I've learned one thing from Snape, it's that ambient magic can be deadly. But I also have no idea what shape the Chamber Of Secrets is in after the goblins took the basilisk. It would be ideal."
"We could look," Hermione offered. "If Myrtle's bathroom isn't safe enough for you, and I agree it isn't, that's really the best option. Also, you said the chamber is huge; we could make it into some kind of study area ... that is, if you want to share. If you want to keep it for yourself, that's fine, Harry. You certainly earned it."
"No, we can make use of it. I just don't want anyone else down there, at least for now. It's hard to find a quiet space at Hogwarts." They drank their potions and Harry put the vials away. He asked, "Does it make me a bad person that I don't want to share with Ron?"
Hermione's face scrunched up. "Are you serious? I don't know what crawled up his bum over the summer, but he's acting like a complete prat. If you wanted to include him, I'd think you were nuts. No one is that much of a glutton for punishment."
Harry sighed. "It's still ... weird. Should we maybe get him checked for curses? I heard the old Egyptians were big with them."
"I can just see Mrs. Weasley reading that letter," Hermione said dryly. "Dear Mrs. M, unfortunately your son Ronald ist being a total git this year. Since you were in Egypt over the summer, we're concerned that he might have picked up a curse or two. We'd appreciate it if you could have him checked out, maybe Madam Pomfrey can help? With thanks, Harry and Hermione."
Laughing, Harry steered her out of the door. "We can do that if he keeps it up. Until then, I'd rather not have very much to do with him."
"How will that work if you share a dorm room?" she asked, not quite sarcastically. "You're rather good with charms, but will that keep him from leaving you alone?"
"It did so far, and Seamus and Dean are rather fed up with him as well," Harry said with a shrug. "Look, he's sitting with Percy ... I'm not sure it'll do him any good."
It didn't do Ron any good. In one second, he looked utterly normal, if still a bit bad-tempered, and in the next his hair turned from red to a glowing neon pink.
"Oh dear," Hermione smirked as laughter broke out. "He'll hate that."
"Only green could've been worse," Harry agreed.
In that moment, Ron's hair turned neon green and everybody roared with laughter.
"What have you done?" Ron demanded. He grabbed a silver serving platter, dumping the roast potatoes onto the table, and stared at his reflection. "Fred! George! You take that back!"
"Careful, Ronnekins!" George hollered.
"You're looking a little purple in the face!" Fred shouted.
Ron's hair promptly changed colour, and he screamed in outrage.
"Nice look, Weasel!" Malfoy cried. "But I always wondered how you'd look with black hair. Just like St. Potter, I'd think. I bet you want to be him. That's your chance!"
More and more students got into the game, calling out colours and causing Ron's hair to change every couple of seconds.
"Er, I propose staying away from him for the rest of the day," Harry said. A few seats down, Dean was smirking at him, just like the twins. "Shouldn't be too hard in the greenhouses."
Ron was in a horrid temper for the rest of the day. He fumed all through Herbology, because Professor Sprout seemed to find endless reasons to call out colours, and during Defence Against The Dark Arts, Professor Lupin actually asked Ron to stand in front of the class, so he could explain what exactly a curse was, and to demonstrate the most common counter curses. It made Ron livid that none of the usual counters helped, which didn't keep his classmates from taking great delight in trying.
"Let's get away," Harry murmured and hurried Hermione away from the classroom. Myrtle's bathroom was close and his girlfriend didn't protest when Harry shooed her inside. "No time like the present, right?"
"Good thing we both learned several cleaning charms," Hermione said with a little grimace. "I remember vividly how you described the way down."
"Better not think about it," Harry agreed. "But I have a plan for that." He hissed at the sink, making it open the secret passageway. "Next thing on my agenda is changing the bloody passwort. I'll go first. Wait for my call, alright?"
Hermione nodded. "Be careful."
The way down wasn't as horrible as Harry remembered. Apparently the goblins had cleaned up the chute and even cast a cushioning charm onto the floor below. It was beginning to fail now, but fortunately it was still good enough for a comfortable landing.
"You can go!" Harry called. Seconds later, Hermione rushed down and straight into his arms. "Hey there."
Hermione grinned. "That was fun. Gringotts cleaned up for you."
"That's just cosmetics. The real deal is that they fixed the cave-in. There, this is where Lockhart tried to obliviate Ron and me." Harry took Hermione's hand with his left and cast a lumos with his wand. "Let's check it out."
All of the basilisk skins had been taken away. Harry had known that, of course, but it was still a little strange to see the tunnels so empty. The goblins had done very good work vanishing the valuables, debris, and dust. They'd even installed new sconces on the walls, which was very welcome.
"Lights!" Harry called and the torches ignited. "Nox." His wand light went out at once.
"This is incredible," Hermione breathed. When they reached the snake-guarded portal to the chamber proper, she stood up straight. "This is it?"
"Yeah." Harry hissed the command to open the door. "It was really scary."
"It still is a little scary," Hermione murmured and grabbed his hand a little tighter. The grinding of metal against stone as the lock disengaged, and then stone against stone when the door slowly opened, was deafining in the stillness of the chamber tunnels.
Carefully, they stepped through the portal, wands at the ready. The chamber was vast and silent and empty. The goblins hadn't repaired the structural damage to the chamber, but they had taken away the rubble and cleaned up the floor. Not a speck of blood remained.
"The basilisk came out of Salazar's mouth," Harry pointed to the ugly stature. "It's still open. Do you want to take a look?"
"Of course," Hermione replied at once. "The goblins won't have left anything dangerous behind ... or would they?"
"Nah, they're thorough. I learned that they value children above profit, even human children." Harry looked around but couldn't find anything to climb the statue. "Huh, I wonder if ... stairs." Like Diagon Alley, the stone began to shift and little handholds appeared. "Seems like we have to climb."
It wasn't difficult to climb up to Salazar's mouth. Once there, the opening was large enough for Harry and Hermione to walk inside upright. Both their wands spilled light into the cavern behind it. It, too, had been cleaned out, but far in the back there was an ornately decorated door. A large metal snake was curling all over the wood.
"Doesn't look like the goblins managed to open it," Harry whispered. "Should we try?"
Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "Maybe some reinforcements are in order. Can you call Dobby?"
"I should've thought of him. Dobby," Harry called, barely flinching when the elf appeared beside them with a soft pop. "Hi. We're about to do something potentially stupid. Would you mind watching out for danger?"
"Dobby will!" the elf squeaked excitedly.
Harry took a breath, then hissed, "Open!"
Nothing happened, although the metal snake lifted its head and flicked its tongue as though scenting the air.
"That's not the entry word, Speaker," it hissed.
Harry's face lit up. "Oh, alright. I see."
"Harry?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What's up?"
"This door isn't locked with a standard password. I'll have to try others. Can you give me a hint?"
"I cannot." The snake started to slither over the door. "If you persist, I'll bite you."
"I don't think so," Harry replied, thinking of the Right of Conquest. "You see, I defeated your master three times. Whatever he owned is now mine."
"Prove it," the snake hissed. "A drop of your blood will sway me ... or be your death."
"Wait!" Hermione said sharply when Harry attempted to let the snake cut his finger with its fang for a drop of blood. "What are you doing?"
Harry stiffened. "Er, that's kind of ... secret. I really can't tell you."
"What? Why?" Hermione stared at him. A myriad of thoughts and emotions ran across her face. "Don't you trust me anymore?"
Harry sighed. "It's not that. I trust you, but I don't trust many other people, including the headmaster and Snape. They can read minds, and I really don't want them to know."
"What?" Hermione shrieked. "They're reading minds? Of students?"
"Well, I think so. Whenever Dumbledore stares at me, it feels kind of funny. And Snape is scary even without trying." Harry shrugged when Hermione sputtered. "Apparently they're known legilimens."
"But that's illegal!"
Harry smiled wrily. "Do you honestly think that'll keep Snape from doing it? He was a Death Eater ... and maybe he still is one. Who can say?"
Hermione appeared to be stunned. "That's just wrong."
"I know, and I'm very sorry. I'm trying to find out how to keep my thoughts safe, but there doesn't seem to be a quick solution." Harry pointed at the waiting snake. "I'd like to do this, 'Mione. Alright?"
"Okay. I won't ask questions." She smiled weakly. "Sorry for freaking out on you."
"And I'm really sorry for not being able to tell you. Alright ..." Harry carefully held his left index finger against the tooth of the snake and allowed it to nick his skin.
Exactly one drop was sucked into the fang. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the snake's eyes began to glow and its body began moving in a complicated sequence. Several bolts released, and a ward of some kind shimmered before it fell.
"Told you," Harry hissed at it. "Shall we set a new password?"
"Yes, Master," it replied. "Your wish is my command."
"What is your name?"
The snake reared up a little and displayed a pretty, golden hood. "My name is Audovera. It means fighter in a war. I'm very good at protecting your secrets, Master."
"Then the new password shall be Audovera's hidey-hole," Harry decided. "Please let us in now."
Audovera glowed all over, her darkened scales cleaning themselves in front of their eyes to a polished brass with golden hightlights, and then the heavy door swung open. Both Harry and Hermione immediately raised their wands and illuminated the chamber.
The first thing they saw were shelves and shelves of books. Their leathery spines were all adorned with gold, and despite their incredible age the air wasn't musty at all, merely cool. A fireplace sprang to life, dust vanished with a sweep of ancient magic. It didn't feel like anything Harry had experienced so far and it made him shiver. There was no wood, yet the flames were flickering merrily just like real fire. Two comfortable armchairs stood in front of it, between them a low coffee table that had still a couple of books on it.
"That's ..." Hermione's breath hitched. "Oh, Harry! That's Slytherin's library! It must be! But how is this possible? I thought all of his treasures were lost."
"They're obviously not, though." Harry swallowed. "There must be several hundreds of books."
"And journals." Hermione trembled with excitement. "His journals, Harry!"
They stepped inside, Dobby always a few steps ahead of them, fingers raised to ward off dangers. For long minutes, they inspected the shelves and the large tomes. Most of them weren't written in English, which disappointed Hermione severely. Especially the journals, which she was eager to examine, were useless to her.
"They're all written in parseltongue," Harry told her. "I'm sorry."
"You can read it, though, can't you?" she asked hopefully.
"Well, I kind of can, but it's ... old. Like Old English. It's hard to understand." Harry carefully turned a page of the journal Hermione had taken from the shelf. "But this seems to be about a spell ... healing, I think. Interesting. People always say that Slytherin was evil."
"No one with half a brain believes that," Hermione huffed. "Honestly, he founded a school with three goody two-shoes. If he'd had such a problem being good, he'd have founded his own little institute for dark wizards and be done with it."
"Maybe he's written about that somewhere," Harry said eagerly. "Just think! People would go nuts!"
Hermione exhaled slowly and turned on her heels. "This is such a treasure trove. Harry, I ... I don't know what to say. Should we tell the teachers? Or the Ministry?"
"No," he said a little sharply. "No one else except other parselmouths can even read them, and I don't want to know what people like Fudge or Lucius Malfoy would do with them. Besides, I fought a bloody basilsik for them, so they're mine."
Hermione sighed. "All true. It's still a pity. Such knowledge, and no one will really appreciate it."
"Well, we will," Harry said, calmer now that she wasn't going to challenge his claim. "I plan on looking at all of them. If there's something useful in there, we'll find it. Who knows, it might help against the Dark Git."
"The Dark Git?" Hermione laughed involuntarily. "Harry! People will lynch you if you call You-Know-Who that."
"I'm pretty sure they won't." Harry scowled. "They seem to expect me to do him in. I'd think they'd be nicer to me because of that, but apparently they're not big on common courtesy and stuff."
"I'd like to knock some sense into people," Hermione admitted, "but that'd take decades and I've got better things to do with my time. Say ..." She glanced shyly at Harry. "What are your thoughts on leaving Britain when you're older?"
The fierce blush that overtook Harry's face was a complete surprise. "Uh."
Hermione flushed as well. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I don't necessarily mean with me ... it's just ... things are so bad with the government right now, and the ... Dark Git doesn't make it any better, does he? My parents already wanted to send me abroad, I've had time to think about it ... I think it could be good. Many countries have far more modern magical governments and societies than Britain."
"Er, I haven't ever thought about it," Harry confessed, fighting down the redness in his face. "I've always wanted to go on holiday, but actually living abroad?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't know how. What would I even do there?"
Still shy, Hermione stood close to him and clasped his hand. "Everything you wanted. You could study, open a business, apprentice with someone ... your parents left you some money, and you're smart. You could do anything, I'm sure of it."
"It kind of would be nice to do that with you, at least for a while," Harry admitted quietly. "But you'll have to tell me how all of that works first."
"I don't know everything," Hermione reminded him, but she smiled gently. "But I'd love to tell you what I know. My parents, too, I'm sure. They've always wanted me to be independent, that's why I've started learning French at a young age. In a couple of years I'll add Spanish or Italian."
"Which would you like more?" Harry asked. He opened a random book and stared at the gross potions ingredients depicted inside.
"Well, Spanish would be the practical choice. Millions of people all over the world speak it. But personally I find Italian far more interesting and beautiful. I like how it sounds, and how people move when they speak." She shrugged. "I'll learn both eventually."
Harry grinned. "Maybe I should learn other languages as well. It sounds fun."
"It should be one you're going to use. Studying because you feel you should isn't a very good reason. You forget things very quickly if they're useless to you." Hermione peeked over Harry's shoulder. "Ew, is that a filetted ox eye?"
"Minotaur, actually." Harry slammed the book shut. "No idea what it's been used for. So, a language, huh? I'd be down with Italian, even if I should probably learn French first."
"I have some books already, but they're mundane. I'll find out if there are magical books. And maybe we can find someone for interactive learning, too. A penpal perhaps?" Hermione carefully put the journals back and wiped her hands on her robes. "I don't know of a student at Hogwarts who's French or Italian or at least speaks the language. There's not much talk about that."
"Zabini might be Italian," Harry said. "His name sounds like it, at least. But he's a Slytherin. I dunno if he'd want to help us, if he even knows the language."
"Well, he's not been an idiot since the year started," Hermione replied. "Asking him won't hurt, and we can always put an ad in the WIT."
"Or ask Gringotts whether they know good teachers," Harry added. "They offer a lot of services. But I'll be honest ... I only want to do it for an hour a week for now. We've got loads of new subjects, and there'll be homework now. I don't want to have too much to do."
"That's fine, Harry." Hermione hesitated but then said, "I'll learn very quickly, because of my ... my gift. But that's good! I could teach you all the basics and you can go as fast as you like in both French and Italian. There'll be no pressure from me."
That sounded like a fine plan to Harry. With the pension a done deal, he wanted to be able to talk to the employees, even if it would be years until that could actually happen. He wanted to read the menus and the signs and even the brochures Sharptooth wanted to print.
"Do you think Hector's legacy includes languages?" he asked.
"It should." Hermione grinned. "Oh, I'll get the best books for us! This'll be fun!"
Only a few short minutes later it unfortunately was already time to head back. Dobby popped them close to the great hall, promising a fine dinner before vanishing with a soft pop and leaving the two young people to find seats at the slowly filling table.
"Hey, where are you two coming from?" Dean asked. "Seamus and I were looking for you, Harry. Since there aren't enough brooms for everyone to play Quidditch, Seamus and I decided to round up enough people for football matches. Are you interested?"
Harry remembered listening to the matches his Uncle Vernon and Dudley had watched on the telly. There had been a lot of shouting and cursing, and it all had seemed rather violent.
"Uhm, I don't know. I haven't really seen a match yet," he said carefully.
"What?" Seamus cried. "How is that even possible! Manchester United, man, everyone knows them!"
"Leave him alone, Seamus," Hermione snapped. "Not everyone is a fanatic."
"You're coming to our next game, Harry. Tomorrow after class if the weather holds," Dean said, not quite ordering him, but not sounding like he would accept an excuse, either. "You too, if you want, Hermione. We won't exclude girls, but to be honest ... it might get rough. It's British footie, after all."
"Ginny told us that she'd try out," Seamus informed them. "That one's fierce, unlike her brother."
Ron hadn't arrived yet, which probably was for the best; that remark would've easily brought his temper up like one of Malfoy's better insults. Despite being committed to Quidditch, Harry agreed to come to the next game to watch, but Hermione dismissed the idea with a little sniff and a mutter about scraped knees and bruised ribs. Harry thought that the real reason probably were her superior reflexes; it could be easy for her to hurt someone in the heat of the moment, and knowing Ginny's competitive streak, things might get ugly fast. As it was, Ron's sister was already bragging to her girlfriends about being included and egging them on to join her, or better yet, create an all-girl team and play against the boys.
Ron made an appearance towards the end of dinner. He looked exhausted and embarrassed, but his hair was back to its normal colour and he had seemingly spent all of his anger. There were still sniggers every now and then, though the students' interest was already being diverted by the latest gossip and the first mild bout of panic in the OWL and NEWT year groups.
Later, in the dorm, Harry got the feeling that Ron wanted to talk to him. The redheaded boy was subtle about it at first, but that could only last so long. He obviously waited for Neville, Dean, and Seamus to leave them alone, and the longer he had to wait, the less polite he was about it.
Neville seemed undecided and generally more interested in seeing what Harry wanted, but Dean and Seamus refused to bend to Ron's scowls and hints, not allowing him even one minute alone with Harry. It worked Ron up like a charm, so much so, that Harry was feeling guilty by the time their bed hangings were closed and privacy charms placed. Worse yet, he was grateful for the respite. The talk with Brady was still fresh and he felt rather unequal to dealing with the situation.
If it's important to him, he'll try again tomorrow, Harry thought, sighing and wiggling his feet happily under his thick comforter. And I'll listen. Maybe we can work it all out then.
He certainly hoped so, but there was that small, persistent voice somewhere in his head, whispering that maybe they wouldn't be able to work it all out so easily. It didn't sound terribly sorry either, and that kept Harry up for a while before sleep finally claimed him and brought him wonderful dreams of sunlight, sweet, fresh air and an old French estate that was being repaired and polished by diligent, magical house elf hands.
oOo
Wednesday began with training in the Come And Go Room. Despite his whining on Sunday, Harry felt refreshed and strong enough for his lesson, and Crookshank's presence brought an element of hilarity to the early hour. The best thing, in Harry's eyes at least, was the simple throw technique Hermione showed him when it was nearly time for breakfast. She threw him half a dozen times and coached him to do the same with her before allowing him to take his shower.
"That's enough for today. Professor McGonagall will post the lists for Quidditch try-outs tonight and you'll need to be fit on Saturday." Hermione grinned. "I think Professor McGongall will make Wood let everyone try out, even the established players, because so many second years want to join. And Ron! Since when does he want to play keeper? Did you know about that?"
"He's been thinking about it for a while, but I guess Ginny wanting to try out gave him a push. I think it's good to give everyone a chance," Harry said. "And if someone's better than me, they deserve to be on the team - and the team deserves them. It's Wood's last year, he'll want to win the cup."
"Very noble," Hermione teased before sobering. "Would you really be okay with it, though? You love to fly."
Harry smiled slightly. "That's just it. I like Quidditch well enough, but I love flying. I can do that anytime, I don't need to be on the team for that. It's really fine with me."
They showered, braved breakfast with Crookshanks in tow, who seemed determined to keep his mistress company despite Ron's barely suppressed animosity, and talked about their classes for the day. All was normal, until the Prophet arrived and ruined everyone's morning.
"Oh no, Fudge got his committee together," Parvati said, showing the headline around. "He's really determined to get Buckbeak executed. What a douchebag. The hearing will be on November 30th."
"Hmmm." Hermione took the paper and lazily poked the tip of her quill into Fudge's smirking visage. "Harry, do you remember what Hagrid has told us about Buckbeak's owner?"
"Sure. He said the bloke was a friend from Greece, and that he's rich. Oh." A grin slowly crept over Harry's face. "You're a genius, 'Mione."
"What for now?" Ron asked, disgruntled. He speared three sausages at once with his fork and took a huge bite.
"You're an idiot, Weasley. If Hagrid's rich friend knew what's going on here, he could throw his weight around," Dean said. "Do we assume that Hagrid hasn't told him, yet?"
"Maybe he did, but Greece is far away, an owl would need several days to make the trip." Hermione took her quill back and snorted about the ink splot on Fudge's pudgy face. "I'll just ask the next time we see him."
"Bold as brass," Seamus said admiringly. "I reckon Hagrid will be glad to have you in his corner, Hermione. Will you write the guy if Hagrid hasn't done it yet?"
Her raised eyebrow really was answer enough.
Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was normally interesting and demanding. Even when they were practicing, the students were usually rather quiet, concentrating on their work and trying to fulfill the professor's high expectations.
Not so today.
Buckbeak's coming hearing was the talk of the day, and while Malfoy was smugly mouthing off to his friends, Hermione was scribbling notes onto a writing pad, her half-finished project sitting next to her abandoned wand.
To make up for her slack, Harry concentrated much more than usual. The Duro spell seemed somewhat strange; he really couldn't fathom why someone would want to harden something instantly to stone ... except maybe in the case of exploding cauldrons with poisonous contents, or to stop an enemy in their tracks. It would be funny to turn Malfoy's bag into a heavy lump of stone, he supposed, but after the lecture Professor McGonagall had given them all, no one was seriously considering it.
That left the quill on Harry's table. Its edges looked decidedly stone-like already, but there it stopped and it irked him.
If I knew more Arithmancy, I could find out what I need to do, Harry thought. It might be a bigger swish, except Professor McGonagall hardly swishes her wand at all. Or I could pronounce the spell a little more sharply ... but Seamus tried that and it blew up in his face. I'm not gonna do that like an idiot!
"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked as she stopped at their table. "You've been frowning at your quill for a while."
"I can't get the spell to advance to the core of the object," Harry sighed. "It's like it just stops when the material gets too thick. But it's just a feather, not a piece of cheese or something, so it's not like the magic can't reach."
"Mmh." Professor McGonagall conjured a chair and settled down in her prim, upright way. "What have you tried so far?"
Surprised to have her undivided attention, Harry repeated his earlier thoughts, finishing with, "I don't think it's the wand movement or my pronounciation, Professor." He sighed sadly. "Maybe I'm just too weak to do it."
A little snort escaped her, catching Harry offguard. "You, Mr. Potter, are certainly not too weak to do this spell successfully. What you are lacking, I believe, is trust."
"Trust?" Harry repeated. By now the whole class was listening in to their conversation.
"Trust in your ability as a wizard," Professor McGonagall explained. "Your magic is a gift, and while not everyone's gift is quite the same, how magicals access it is. You trust your magic to do what you direct it to do. However, telling someone that a spell is hard to accomplish will almost always make them struggle, just because they believe this to be the truth. It doesn't have anything to do with their actual magical ability."
"Really? It's just in my head?" Harry looked at her with wide eyes. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he didn't care.
Malfoy scoffed. "I know what's in your head, Potty, and it's got nothing to do with magic." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. "You're a halfblood, you really shouldn't overstep yourself. Some people just have no talent. Accept it and move on, like all the other talentless little squibs. Last I heard, they were living the good life in the muggle world."
"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall rose and stared stonily at the boy. "Ten points from Slytherin for insulting another student. Your words are patently untrue, for one, and even if there was some truth to them, I'd expect you to do the polite thing and keep such harmful thoughts to yourself. Your mother must be horrified by your atrocious manners."
Malfoy just sneered.
"Maybe Mr. Malfoy would like to demonstrate to the class how superior his magical skill is," Professor McGonagall continued. "Come up around his table, class, so you'll all have a good look."
"What?" Malfoy snapped. "I never said-"
"You implied that your blood makes you a better wizard than Mr. Potter. This is your chance to prove it," McGonagall said coolly. "Don't tarry, come around ... Miss Bulstrode won't bite, Mr. Longbottom. Well? The floor is yours, you may begin, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy flushed a fiery red, from his pale cheeks to his even paler neck. "Duro!" he hissed at his quill. It didn't turn to stone. In fact, the tip began to smoke and curl up a little, as if Malfoy's spell had almost set it on fire.
"Mmmh, disappointing," McGonagall said evenly. "Mr. Potter, care to try again?"
Giving Malfoy a little glare, Harry raised his wand.
I have to trust my magic. I'm good at spells! I learned so much this summer, it can't have been an accident. Just because Professor McGonagall always says that Transfiguration is serious business doesn't mean it's any harder than the summoning charm. I can do it. I can!
Taking and releasing a deep breath, he muttered, "Duro". Immediately he knew that something was different. Like a little block had been taken away, allowing his power to work as it wanted. Magic flowed from his wand to Malfoy's burnt quill. From the tip to the feathery end it solidified in one sweep, until it was an elegant, delicate piece of stone.
"I did it," Harry said, astonished. He looked at Professor McGonagall. "Thank you!"
She nodded curtly. "Ten points to Gryffindor for your successfull transfiguration. Well done, Mr. Potter." To Malfoy, she said, "I hope you have learned your lesson, Mr. Malfoy. Get back to work, all of you. You still have half an hour to finish your project. Remember that I'll grade your efforts." To add insult to injury, she cast Finite Incantatem on Malfoy's quill, returning it to its natural state, before moving away.
After that, Harry had no problem transfiguring his own quill. For every attempt Hermione made, he matched her, encouraging her until she was also able to deliver a perfect result ten minutes before class was over.
"What were you writing earlier?" Harry asked after Professor McGonagall had taken their quills away. "Is it the letter to Hagrid's friend?"
"No, of course not. I'll only do that if Hagrid tells us that he didn't write his own yet. I'm not that pushy." Hermione's small smile took the sting out of her words. "No, I was drafting a petition to the board of govenors for more club activities. I've got no interest in football or rugby, but we really should have more choices on offer. Lavender wants to bring an article about it before we launch the petition, to get public opinion on which clubs to create first."
"I could never do that during Professor McGonagall's class," Harry murmured.
"Oh, she knows about it," Hermione replied. "And she knows that I'm usually good with classwork. In fact, she's the petition's sponsor. The first edition of the student paper will come out in October, we need to get our articles together soon to get them as perfect as we can make them."
"Does the Paper Troupe have meetings?" Harry wondered. "Can I come?"
"Paper Troupe?" Hermione asked. When Harry shrugged, she said, "Sure, but Lavender will expect you to contribute if you do. We'll need every help we can get."
"She won't try to use my name to sell more papers, will she?" Harry asked a little suspiciously.
"Of course she will." Sighing, Hermione put her pencil away. "You're famous, whether you like it or not. This is important to us, Harry. If she's got an idea, will you at least listen to it?"
"I won't play monkey for the masses," Harry said firmly. "Maybe I'd like to write the article about Buckbeak, or at least help."
"The others rather thought you might want to help with the dementor article, but Buckbeak is fine, too." The bell rang and Hermione shoved her things into her bag. "Are you ready for Potions?"
"No," Harry replied truthfully. "But I never am."
Still smarting from Professor McGonagall's set-down, Malfoy did his best to get Harry into trouble with Snape. His anger made him sloppy, however, and Snape actually saw him throw a piece of valerian root into Harry's cauldron. Harry saw it, too, and managed to snatch it with his seeker reflexes right out of the air.
"Five points from Gryffindor for playing with ingredients that have nothing to do with today's potion, Mr. Potter," Snape said silkily.
Harry fought down his first reaction, which was to rail against the injustice. Hermione's gently kick against his shin helped. Instead, he just said, "Yes, sir."
Hermione next to him carefully set the piece of root as far away from their cauldron as she could and covered it with a small bowl.
"Five points from Gryffindor for not storing the valerian root properly," Snape said. "You of all people should know better, Miss Granger."
Hermione looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows. "I do know better, Professor. But tell me honestly: would you have let me get up to take the root back to the stores?"
"It is not your place to question me." Snape towered over her, his black cloak not only sucking up the light in the room but also the air. The silence was so thick that Harry began to feel suffocated. "Another five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Granger."
"Of course, Professor." Hermione nodded and, when Snape had finally quit his menacing staring, made a note on a piece of paper.
The rest of the class passed in oppressive silence, and Harry thought that he'd rarely hated Snape more than he did right then.
"Don't worry about him," Hermione said at lunch, completely unconcerned, while loading her plate with roast vegetables and grilled chicken.
"How can we not?" Ron demanded. "You and Harry lost us fifteen points!"
"And it would have been far more if Malfoy's little stunt had been successful," she retorted. "We've had two years of his unfair behaviour. It won't help us to get angry in class ... and do you honestly think I'll let him get away with that any longer? Once our OWLs are coming up-"
"In two years!" Ron spluttered.
"As I said, once our OWLs are coming up," Hermione repeated with a glare, "we'll need a competent and fair teacher. Otherwise we can just fail out of the class and do Potions independently. If we did that, what's the point of going to Hogwarts? No, I'll write my parents, ask them to coordinate with your parents, and have them all send a complaint to the board of govenors."
"They probably won't sack Snape," Seamus said glumly. "He's a potions master, they're not exactly abundant in Britain."
"I wonder why," Hermione said scathingly. "If there's come one out of Hogwarts during the time he has been teaching, I'll be astounded. Anyway, it has to stop. If you want to help, give me your addresses so my parents can contact yours."
As everyone had been listening, a piece of paper from Hermione's writing pad was quickly changing hands. Not everyone supplied their address, though it were mostly the seventh years who were so fed up that they wanted to complain to the board by themselves.
"Really should've done it sooner," Oliver Wood said darkly. "It's not gonna fall back on me, since Snape didn't admit me into his NEWT class, but the way he's been treating us is just wrong."
"Why didn't you do something before?" Hermione asked.
"We tried, just not hard enough. It stopped with Dumbledore." Wood sighed. "I feel like an idiot."
Far too soon, lunch was over. The page of addresses had vanished at one point, but Hermione wasn't worried.
"It'll probably make the rounds in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," she said as she got up to leave for History. Seamus and Dean made to wait for her, but she waved them off. "What will you do if you're not going to History, Harry?"
"I'll just read the book," Harry replied. "Gringotts should send an answer soon about that. I'll ask about a tutor then. Why, do you want to share the cost?"
Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Depends on how unreasonable the headmaster will be when it comes to your education. If he refuses to approve the money for it, it'll be my treat."
"Hermione, that's too much," Harry protested. "Tutors are really expensive."
"Believe me, I'll spend that money anyway because Binns is a menace. I always thought that history wouldn't be as interesting as actual magic because the only topic were the goblin rebellions, even in the school books, but to understand how his society works, I'll have to learn as much about it as I can. World history, too. Reading about it only gets one so far. What we need are discussions and excursions and speeches from experts." Hermione looked around and, seeing that the great hall was mostly deserted now, bent down to smack a kiss onto Harry's cheek. "Don't look so worried. Me causing trouble isn't your fault, Harry. The adults in this place really should know better than trying to short-change us. But they'll learn."
With that, she flounced off to History of Magic, no doubt to collect more evidence against Professor Binns.
My girlfriend is a total badass, Harry thought, a little stunned. A badass with really nice legs.
Grinning, he got himself together and slunk off to the Come And Go Room to finish this year's course book and start on his first supplemental text.