Part 15
Suddenly having so many house elves on hand to do his bidding reminded Harry on Sunday night that he'd been well on his way to learn all manners of small, useful spells for everyday situations, and do them well enough to almost become second nature.
He didn't even know why it suddenly became jarring that one of the Potter elves wanted to snap his fingers to give Harry a thorough, yet gentle, cleaning before bed, but there it was: Harry couldn't let poor Jerry pamper him in the way the elf clearly wanted.
"It's got nothing to do with you or the others," Harry whispered, holding the inconsolable elf by the shoulders. "Dobby has lots and lots of work to do; he needs you way more than I do. I can do the personal hygiene charms myself, honest ... but thank you for looking after me."
"Jerry be a bad elf," the elf cried. "Master Harry not be wanting bad elves to serve him!"
"That's not true," Harry said firmly. "You know it's not. I get that you feel a need to help, but I don't need help with this, okay? I need you to help Dobby run my hotel in France, and work in our gardens. We need lots of food for you, don't we?"
"Potter Manor be having lots of elf berry bushes," Jerry hiccoughed, "but Jerry be seeing wild Potter's Field. That be more work than house elves can handle. Plant life there be very strong. Very deeply connected to ley lines." He wrung his small hands. "Potter elves not be useful that way!"
"Then find other things to do. Take shifts watching over Snape and Dumbledore, learn how to fight from Ninja or whoever is willing to teach you ... anything to keep you busy. But I don't need you to bathe me as if I were a baby." Harry had learned enough about his high-strung friends by now to know not to waver, because house elves would take any give in resolve and run with it. "I'm not a baby anymore, and I need to be able to look after myself, in case I somehow lose you. How can I do that if I don't know any spells?"
Jerry's lip wobbled dangerously, and his large eyes filled with tears. "We just found Master Harry! We not be losing you!"
"Great. That's really great." Harry carefully cupped Jerry's face, noting how it seemed to calm him right down. "I don't want to lose you, either. I just need you for more important things than helping me wash, alright? You're better than that, in any case, and I need to know as many different spells as I can. Just in case the bad people get me alone."
"Jerry understands." Jerry sniffed a little, but there was a look of determination on his little face. "Jerry be grooming elf for old Master Charlus Potter. Jerry be teaching Master Harry everything he needs to know about being presentable in public. If Master Harry not be needing Jerry very much for grooming, Jerry be interested in learning fighting magics. Master Harry definitely be needing bodyguards. Ninja be telling us often."
"It would be a great cover for you," Harry replied with a grin. "Good idea! Has Ninja already chosen some of your friends for his security troupe?"
"Three elves, and they be busy learning," Jerry readily supplied. "Ninja be very good fighter, but he be only one elf. We be needing more teachers to do important work for Master Harry and Master Harry's dogfather."
"I'll talk to Gringotts and Sirius about it, see if we can't find some. Maybe we can even lure them into the family. It's not like there isn't room for a couple more." Harry grinned. "Honestly, you guys give me the best ideas. Thanks for that."
"House elves be trying," Jerry said modestly. He brushed away his tears and straightened up a little. "Now, if Master Harry be insistent on not letting Jerry help with grooming, Master Harry be learning best way to do it himself. Show Jerry the cleaning charm, body and teeth. Then Jerry be showing Master Harry how much better elf magics be."
Out of necessity, their first lesson was only ten minutes long, and Harry still had to endure the faintly amused looks of the other boys when he finally returned to the dorm room to slip into bed, but even that small bit of new magic was enough to get Harry hooked. Jerry would continue to teach him whenever it was convenient, and in exchange the elf would sit in on Ninja's lesson and try to absorb as much as he could.
oOo
Breakfast on Monday was never going to be peaceful, not after Hermione's fiery article in the Hogwarts Herald, but the shrieks of shock in the Great Hall after the Daily Prophet and a few editions of the Wizarding International Times had arrived were still hell on Harry's ears.
"Groaning ghouls, Granger was right!" McLaggen half-shouted and waved around his copy of the WIT. "At midnight, Black's lawyer filed a petition with the ICW in Rome!"
Lavender was nearly glowing with smugness, even as the noise level in the Great Hall rose exponentially. "Did you really think we'd print bad news?"
"No, but how did she know?" McLaggen's gaze, and that of everyone else, zeroed in on Hermione. "How did you know?"
Hermione delicately popped a piece of sausage into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, and only then she said, "That's classified. The Herald's sources enjoy complete protection, as you know."
"She must have an in with the goblins," Ron said snidely into the silence. He poked his knife into Sirius' face on the front page, getting egg yolk all over it. "They might be convinced Black's innocent, but I'm not."
Hermione scowled at him. "Of course you're not. God forbid you believe that something good could be happening to Harry for once."
"What's that supposed to mean!" Ron demanded angrily.
By now the Hufflepuff table was quiet as well, the students listening in without shame. Even the teachers, Harry noted with some discomfort, had their ears pricked, and no doubt a listening charm active.
"It means that whenever something remotely good happens, you're there to pick it apart," Hermione said. Her hair bristled with her fury. "I've had enough of your pessimism, Ronald Weasley! Why can't you be happy that Harry's godfather appears to be innocent? The goblins certainly believe it, and until now their word has been good enough for you, and everyone else as well! Besides, even if Sirius Black weren't innocent, he'd still be away from Britain, which means that the dementors need to go right now."
"Hear, hear!" Fred cried. "Make Hogwarts proud, dementors out!"
His twin echoed the call, followed by Lee Jordan, who used his cutlery as drum sticks. Enthusiastic as always, Colin and Dennis Creevey joined him, and suddenly the Great Hall was filled with the hammering of forks and knives on sturdy tables and the battle cries of incensed students.
"Well done," Hermione praised the twins. "Civil unrest might just get us what we want."
"At your service, Miss Dagworth-Granger," George said with a bow. "Although we're just in it for the Quidditch."
"And maybe Harry's happiness," Fred added.
"Definitely the mischief," George tacked on thoughtfully.
"Oh, and of course letting Ronnikins eat crow." Fred grinned. "Can't forget that!"
"I hate you," Ron growled.
Hermione smirked. "You only have yourself to blame, Ronald. Hey, Parvati, Lavender, how about we owl bomb the Ministry with howlers? Runcorn, you in? You're the most sarcastic of us all."
Another cry rose up at the suggestion and around Harry a fierce barter for howler parchment began, which immediately spread to the other three house tables.
"You're scary," Harry told his girlfriend earnestly, to which she replied with a chirped, "Thank you."
"You're mental, the whole bloody lot of you," Ron groused, snagging the carafe with custard and dousing his waffles with it until they swam.
Professor Flitwick's rather half-hearted shouts of, "Order, students!" were summarily ignored until the bell for the first class of the day rang.
oOo
Most of the first years started with Care of Magical Creatures, which was lucky for Harry. While the others were looking at a group of wild kreazles, he was able to sidle up to Hagrid and pass on Healer Williams' request for more interaction with magical reptiles.
"I might be able ter get a few more lizards, maybe even a goanna ... yer really think yeh can talk ter them?" Hagrid rumbled.
Harry tried to look as innocent as possible. "I don't know, but after the mokes it might be fun to find out. Even if I can't understand them, I'd have at least heard their language. That's interesting, isn't it?"
"Very," Hagrid agreed with a wistful sigh. He then clapped Harry on the shoulder, nearly sending him sprawling in the mud. "Yer a good lad, wanting me involved. There might be lots of important people wanting ter talk ter yeh, though, an' I have no idea what Professor Dumbledore might think about it."
"He doesn't need to know," Harry said, trying to keep calm. Letting the headmaster have any say about his schooling or hobby was increasingly chafing, especially now that Sirius had come out of hiding. "It's my business, not his."
"He might want ter talk ter yeh about it," Hagrid replied uncertainly. "A great scholar, Professor Dumbledore is. Would be a great opportunity, Harry."
"Yes, but one I don't want him to have," Harry insisted. "I do this for myself. Maybe I'll write something about it one day, but I don't need an adult for that. If anyone gets to help me, it'll be Hermione."
Taken aback, Hagrid stroked his thick beard. "Well, I dunno if I should ..."
"I don't want to get you in trouble," Harry said, deciding to cut his losses before the discussion could really begin. "Just forget it, it's not important."
In that moment, Hermione arrived, a fat kneazle cradled in her arms.
"Here, take her," she said and handed the huge thing over. "Millicent Bulstrode was harassing her, so I rescued her before yet another Slytherin could cause trouble for Hagrid."
Harry staggered a little under the weight but rightened himself soon enough. "You're one large lady, wow."
The kneazle purred, blinking slowly.
"I asked Crookshanks to come, so we can compare half-kneazles to their wild relatives, but to be honest, he simply vanished among them," Hermione confessed. "And I'm pretty sure he'll find a dame or two to have fun with. Sorry, Hagrid."
The man waved it off. "It's no matter ter me if it isn't ter them. He's a handsome tom, regardless of his pedigree. Them ladies know what they're about."
Class wrapped up soon after, the kneazles leaving with proudly raised tails and a short, sharp meow for their more liked students. Surprisingly, Goyle seemed to have some trouble letting go of his kneazle, and the kneazle to leave him.
"That was weird," Hermione said quietly as they trudged up the hill. "Kneazles as a whole can't abide mean people. Makes me wonder ..."
Harry huffed a little. "He's plenty mean when Malfoy's around, though."
"I know." Hermione shook her head. "It's just something to think about, I guess."
Against his will, Harry pondered the little mystery until they reached the Ancient Runes classroom. Hermione went to sit with her partner, and Harry put his bag down next to Zabini's. Professor Babbling was already at the front, a veiled blackboard hovering behind her.
"Welcome, class!" she called. "It's good to see you all so bright-eyed after yesterday's letter sorting. To make up for that bit of unpleasantness, and since Professor Vector got such a nice surprise when she did this, I've decided to let you have a challenge as well. Everyone who manages at least a partial result will get ten points and a chocolate frog. Should someone solve this little puzzle, I'll hand out fifty points and a whole box of chocolates. How does that sound?"
The class cheered, only to follow up with groans when the blackboard revealed rune clusters that didn't seem to make any sense at first glance.
"Professor, can we work in teams?" Malfoy asked, a touch of arrogance in his voice.
"If you're prepared to share the spoils, be my guest," Professor Babbling answered. "Your time starts now!"
With Padma and their bags and chairs in tow, Hermione sat down at Harry and Zabini's table. "You don't mind, do you?"
Zabini snorted. "Anything to shut Malfoy's yappy mouth." He looked over to the blond boy holding court with Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Daphne Greengrass. "He thinks he can get the solution out of Greengrass, poor sod."
Harry copied the instructions from the board onto several pieces of paper. "Definitely looks like more spells, but not really. They're aligned strangely. But I see the Hovering Charm in there."
"Could be part of a ward matrix," Parvati said. "But without boundaries it's hard to say."
"Let's start with what Professor Babbling has given us," Hermione suggested. "The placing on the blackboard seems to be deliberate."
Everyone agreed and they began dividing the task of finding clues. Hermione chose the meaning of the runes, since that was by far the most time-consuming task. Padma and Zabini elected to look for connecting points, in a hope to prove the matrix theory, and Harry decided to play around in the hope of stumbling over something worthwhile.
After a few minutes, Hermione said, "Well, these are definitely all spells. See here? It's move-strength-turn, maybe some sort of pushing spell, and the hovering charm, just like Harry said. This here is sun-solid-strong. Lumos, perhaps."
"Definitely," Padma agreed. "But there are more runes attached to the spells. They seem pointless, like they're there to confuse us. Just look at their meanings. It's ridiculous."
Zabini took Hermione's parchment and turned it slowly, looking at it from all angles. "You know what? It could be ... yes. It could be attachment," Zabini said, tapping said runes. "Literally. They're placed weirdly around the spells, but they have to mean attachment. What else could it be?"
"I don't see it," Padma confessed.
"I do, now that you're mentioning it." Harry waved his wand lazily, first in what he thought the first spell was, seamlessly doing the hovering charm and then the full body bind he only recognized because he'd read about it in his advanced textbook. "I'd say this is a spell chain," he said, eyeing the faint string of magic drifting from his wand tip. "Look, the magic isn't seperate. It's like one long spell."
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Zabini asked. "We haven't even begun studying chain casting yet. It won't come up until fifth year."
"The attachment gave it away. I don't know how it makes sense, but it does. And it's not so hard, once you've actually done the spells close together. Look ... under the table." Harry performed the first spell as quietly as he could. "It's a sharp swish. Then Wingardium Leviosa, it goes swish and flick, and the third one goes flick and drag ..." He went through all the spells and did it a second time to let the others see where he saw the connection between spells.
"Well, the magic is certainly only one stream ..." Padma blew out her breath. "I just see a problem with proving your theory. How do these extra runes translate to wand movement? They're not the same runes for the spell clusters you think are connected. There's nothing to make it obvious."
"Because it isn't. I think I have an idea." Zabini took their shared copy of the task and began scribbling on it. A few minutes later, he presented the chain Harry had demonstrated, all the extra runes on the spell clusters connected by lines. The visual looked like a short, undulating snake. "Since it's not the literal sameness of the runes, and not the sameness of meaning either, I thought it might be complementary meaning. If the pushing spell reaches out with sharp-dangerous, then the hovering charm could connect with sheath-safety. See? Those are the runes, they fit. Like interlocking ends to connect the chain."
"That's brilliant," Hermione gushed. "And so very individual! Just think what it probably means for spell chain crafting! Every crafter would have their own handwriting, so to speak! Like code in computer programming! It'd make the chains far more robust, too. I mean, there probably are spell chains around with just the connecting rune to connect the individual spells, right?"
"I have no idea, but it's standard in the duelling community to use spell chains," Blaise said. "It saves time and bundles magical power, which is good for endurance."
"Really?" Harry asked, rapt. "Are there books about that?"
"Yes, of course, thousands of them. My mother took me to a tournament a couple of years ago," Blaise explained. "Even then I could tell that every duelist had a different style, and that everyone's magic was behaving differently."
"I'm a little overwhelmed," Padma admitted. "I mean, it makes sense, or as much sense as we're able to make at this point, I guess, but isn't that terribly advanced? And I still don't get how people even get to this point by just seeing the runes. It seems a lot like free associating to me. Pushing is sharp and dangerous, and hovering is sort of like catching and securing something? Why isn't it the other way around? I could push someone or something to save it, and let someone hover to drop them off a high cliff."
"Those are fantastic questions," Hermione said, not daunted in the least. "I'll try to find an answer if Professor Babbling won't be able to explain." She began writing on her sheet of paper.
"I really want to understand. Can you go through the sequence again, Harry?" Padma asked. "I want to see whether I can spot any gaps in the spell fire."
Hermione raised her hand to obtain permission from Professor Babbling, which was granted with some excitement.
"I'm frankly astonished that you managed to get so far in just an hour," she said as she warded the empty corner of the classroom for them. Noticing their interested looks, she laughed. "Try to pace yourselves, please, we'll get to all the good parts in time. Now, give me a brief run-down of your thought process." Towards the class, she called, "Everyone who wants a demonstration, come on over!"
Malfoy and Parkinson were complaining about having their time cut short, but the rest was thankfully just curious, especially the Ravenclaws.
Hermione, Padma, and Zabini took turns explaining what they'd done until Harry had come up with the spell chain.
"I honestly just took what Hermione said about the runes and ran with it," Harry said with a little shrug. "I tried them out and noticed how well the wand movements fit together. Zabini then discovered the complementary nature of the extra runes. Interlocking spell chain runes, wasn't it?" Harry grinned. "Great stuff."
Professor Babbling clapped happily and the students talked lowly among themselves. "How wonderful! We'll talk this challenge through next time, I promise. Alright, then please demonstrate the spells, Mr. Potter."
Harry drew his holly wand, took a breath, and then unleashed the spells, one after the other. With large movements, the spell fire was very visibly flowing in one glowing string that changed colour as one spell seamlessly turned into another. The last spell was a Lumos that seemed to suck in the magical traces until there was just one glowing orb of light left.
"Fantastic," Professor Babbling praised. "Good work for a beginner, Mr. Potter! You had barely any dips in the flow of your magic. How do you feel? Exhausted?"
"No, Professor," Harry said honestly. "Not at all." He glanced at the ball of light hovering under the ceiling of the room. "Er, should I ... ?"
"No, no, leave it on. My classroom is a bit dark, let it go out by itself," she replied. "Now to your reward, minus the ones I'll give out to your class mates, of course." She hefted a huge box of chocolate frogs onto her desk. "Sharing those will be no issue, I hope."
Harry and the others shook their heads.
"Any ideas on how to distribute those fifty points?" Professor Babbling asked.
It was Padma who stepped forward. "May we have a minute?"
"Certainly. Take ten, I'll just have a look at everyone else's work."
"I propose that Hermione and Harry get twenty-five points, Zabini another twenty because he found out what the extra runes were, and I get the rest?" Padma proposed in a hushed voice.
"That's not fair, you worked just as hard as the rest of us," Harry protested.
Padma smiled. "That's nice of you to say, but I didn't have any great insights. That was all you, Zabini, and Hermione, really."
"I've read ahead a lot," Harry countered. "I wouldn't have had any idea if I hadn't."
"How far ahead?" Padma asked a little narrow-eyed.
"Uhm, just chapters here and there, but ... two years? Three?" Harry winced when she huffed with shock. "I told you."
Blaise raised his hands when Padma turned to look at him. "My mother arranged for tutoring before I started Hogwarts, same as yours, I expect. Duelling is one of many gentlemanly pursuits I'll have to take in the summers after fourth year, and the least obnoxious. I've merely read a bit ahead, to prepare myself for the inevitable."
"I wish I could have duelling tutoring," Harry sighed. "It sounds great."
"And you know me, I'm just a know-it-all," Hermione said and shrugged. "Honestly, Padma, I don't really care about the points for this. I agree that Zabini had the brightest ideas, and if the rest of us get ten points each, I'll be happy."
"Truly?" Padma asked tentatively. "Zabini deserves the points, and so do you for being so quick with the translation, and Harry for recognizing it for what it was. I'll try to do better next time, I promise."
"Ten points for each of us, and Zabini gets twenty," Hermione repeated. "End of discussion."
"But we'll share the chocolate equally," Harry said. "You'll all need it tomorrow for the Patronus Club."
"Rub it in, Potter," Zabini said, but he was smiling a little.
They left a frog on Professor Babbling's desk as they relayed their decision, and if the professor was surprised about them letting Slytherin have so many points, she didn't show it.
"It's rare that someone manages the first challenge," Professor Babbling said, absentmindedly unpacking the squirming frog and snatching it before it could hop off, "so be prepared for more ambushes. There's no sense in holding back when you've got energy to spare for my class. Now off with you, I bet you're hungry."
On their way down to lunch Padma groaned quietly. "I knew it. She'll expect me to excel now."
"Don't worry about it," Hermione replied. "She won't have challenges every class, and you don't have to do any extra work if you don't want to."
"Be careful what you give up, Patil," Daphne Greengrass said as she passed their little group. Her pale eyes went to Zabini. "Your group had a much better time than mine. If you're not careful, I'll angle for your place."
"You forget yourself, Greengrass," Malfoy sneered. He bumped into Hermione, pushing her painfully into the wall. "We do not work with Gryffindorks."
"Speak for yourself, Malfoy," Greengrass retorted haughtily. "I, for my part, want to pass this class with high marks. If you want to keep scraping the bottom of the barrel with Parkinson and Crabbe, be my guest."
Harry glowered at both her and Malfoy. "We're not interested in working with bullies." Uncaring what the others might think, Harry took Hermione's hand in his and inspected the light scrape on her skin. "You do bullshite like what Malfoy just did and you're out. You get me?"
Smirking, Greengrass inclined her head. "Crystal, Potter. Patil, Zabini, have a good break."
With that she strode off, long, pale hair swishing elegantly. It took a moment, but then Pansy Parkinson ran after her, leaving Malfoy and Crabbe standing there like Quidditch goal posts in torrential rain.
"So," Zabini said after a charged moment. "Shall we move along?"
"Yes, please." Hermione pressed against Harry's side, her fingers still in his. As they rounded a corner, she asked, "Did we just admit Daphne Greengrass into a study group?"
"Seems like it," Harry mumbled unenthusiastically. "Though we don't even have one."
"Yet," Zabini said. "And there won't be one for some time yet if you don't make it official. But you can expect her to want to join you for group work. And before you get it in your heads that she's really doing it because we're ... friendly, forget it. She and I are not friends; I'm just her excuse to get closer to you."
"It's ridiculous that she should need an excuse," Hermione said. "Politics in your house are beyond annoying."
"Seconded," Padma muttered.
"And yet they're a vital part of a Slytherin's Hogwarts experience," Zabini replied dryly. "She's not being subtle about it, but then again she doesn't have to be with a pair of Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw. The other Slytherins will just see her ambition to get a cozy spot close to The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Dagworth-Granger heiress and call it good."
"Much like you did," Harry said with raised eyebrows.
Zabini shrugged. "As I said, that doesn't mean it can't be mutually beneficial, now does it?"
They trooped down the stairs, avoiding the trick steps and evading a flying dung bomb, courtesy of Peeves. As they walked, Padma began a tentative conversation with Zabini, which gave Harry an opportunity to heal Hermione's scratched skin with a quick spell.
"There, all better," he said quietly, inspecting the still pink skin.
"Thanks." Hermione smiled briefly, before scowling. "I'd tell on Malfoy, but we both know how effective that would be."
"Next time," Harry assured her. "Until then, a certain house elf could have some fun ..."
Hermione giggled. "You're evil, Harry James."
"We share our avenging, remember?" He squeezed her fingers. "He won't touch you again. Not without regretting it."
"No, he really won't," Hermione agreed.
They held hands until they reached the Great Hall and only stopped when it became natural due to having to climb over the bench to take a seat.
"You've just missed that lady from the Ministry, Madam Bones, and a team of aurors," Seamus told them. He gesticulated with his fork towards the head table, where Dumbledore was sitting and looking quite vexed. "We think it was about the dementors."
"Well, I should hope so," Hermione said and dipped her spoon into the exotic sweet potato and peanut soup Harry's elves had prepared. It was garnished with small chicken skewers and little flowers and looked very unlike the other dishes on the table. "Mmh, that's very good. Why is the headmaster so displeased, then? He was against their placement here, after all."
"Maybe he wanted to be the one to catch Black," Ron said. His eyes held that certain, malevolent glint Harry had come to know so well over the last few weeks. "I think it's great that our safety is so important to him."
"I'm more concerned that he hasn't been able to alter the wards to keep Black out to begin with," Hermione sniped back. "What good are they if every criminal on the run can enter the school at will?"
"True, that," Lee Jordan said around his mouthful of steamed broccoli. "Hogwarts' wards are stupidly old and powerful, should've been child's play to tweak them."
"Might have kept out Quirrelmort in first year, too" Harry murmured so only Hermione could hear.
She promptly choked on her soup, but instead of berating him for his terrible timing, she began to laugh gaily, as if he'd just told the best joke in the universe.
"Care to share?" Lavender asked, amazed at the unusual display.
"It's ... an inside joke," Hermione wheezed. With as much dignity as possible she wiped the tears from her face, although she was still trembling with suppressed hilarity. "Harry."
"'m not sorry, 'Mione," Harry told her and dunked his chicken skewer into his soup. To Lavender, he said, "Can we find out what Madam Bones wanted?"
"We're working on it," she replied. "Professor McGonagall might tell us after class, she's the deputy headmistress, after all."
"Anyone willing to place a little bet?" Fred called.
After lunch, Harry started when Hermione nonchalantly walked with him to his Arithmancy class.
"I thought you had a free period now?" he asked, remembering dimly that this would have been her Muggle Studies class before she'd dropped it.
"I did, but I figured that we could both do with a late morning on Tuesdays," Hermione said, smiling shyly. "I hope that's okay; Professor Vector saw no issue with me switching classes since there was still room in this one."
"No, of course not. Thanks for thinking of it!" He breathed a sigh of relief. "Honestly, sleeping in a little will really help me stay on top of things."
"That's why I did it. I liked having the time to do my homework, but helping you train is so much more important. Besides," Hermione flushed a little, "I have decided to do well in my OWLs and NEWTs, but not stress myself out so much over regular end of year tests. It's not like I'll fail, and they won't be in any way relevant after school."
"Wow," Harry said, staring at her in frank admiration before he blushed himself and looked down at the ground. "Thank you."
Hermione bit her lower lip. "Tuva's approach to schooling made me realize how ... high-strung I've been. She sees the bigger picture, the realities of studying towards the goals we'd like to set for ourselves. I didn't see it. I was just seeing all the tests we'll have to take over the years, and the books we'll need to read to pass those tests. Just thinking about it exhausts me, and I only had that epiphany about three days ago."
"It's a great epiphany," Harry assured her. "I'm glad you can relax a little now."
"Me, too."
They reached the classroom and stopped outside.
"Will you sit with me?" Harry asked.
"Thank you, but I'd better not. You already have a good group," Hermione said. "I'll find somewhere else to sit, maybe let you have a bit of competition."
"We're not that good," Harry protested, but he smiled.
"Don't you dare prove that," she said and entered the classroom with a little flounce. "I'll have you run five extra laps tomorrow if you do."
With that hanging over his head, Harry did his best do pay attention. Professor Vector was her usual lively self, first discussing her homework assignment and then taking them through their paces. Despite it not being a creative challenge this time, Harry found it nonetheless interesting.
Transfiguration after that was blessedly practical in nature. Professor McGonagall demanded a demonstration of the spells they had studied so far and then divided the class into groups. Harry ended up with Parvati, Ernie Macmillan, and Malfoy as well as Gregory Goyle, of all people.
"Each group will get a spell to study and practice," Professor McGonagall said as Harry hatefully glared at the blond Slytherin. "Next Monday, you will give a short presentation, explain how the spell is done, and a demonstration. Every one of you will present and demonstrate, so don't try to fob off your work on the others in your group." She raised a black witch hat. "I'll go around now and let you draw your spell."
Malfoy insisted on being the one to draw their spell, which Professor McGonagall allowed with pursed lips.
"The Switching Spell," Malfoy said incredulously. "Honestly? That's too hard, Professor."
"I assure you that it is well within your capabilities, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said dryly. "Generations of students agree with me." Her stern gaze travelled over them all. "I trust that you'll find the relevant chapter in your textbook, and any additional information you may require in the library. If you require tutoring for executing the spell, come see me during my office hours. I'll allow for fifteen minutes per group."
Before Malfoy could argue further, Harry thanked her and the professor moved on to the next table.
"Fantastic," Malfoy sneered. He dramatically slumped back in his seat. "This school is ridiculous. First rabid hippogriffs and now too advanced spells. My father will hear about this; it's time that the board of govenors finally does something about all of this."
"I thought your father lost his post on the board," Harry retorted. "Because he was bribing and threatening the other school govenors to get Dumbledore and Hagrid fired."
Ernie Macmillan choked on his indrawn breath, and even Goyle looked a little uncomfortable.
"Oh, sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?" Harry went on, watching with satisfaction as Malfoy turned beet red with fury. "I hope you'll understand that I'm not keen on having your dad up in my school business, Malfoy."
"Yes, me neither," Ernie agreed, clearing his throat. "So, the Switching Spell. Shall we look it up?"
Parvati was the first to open her book, inviting Harry to share with her. Goyle tried to do the same with Malfoy, but the boy was so incensed that he smacked the book away and turned around with a huff.
"I'll share ... if you don't mind," Ernie said haltingly. "I could write notes. More room that way."
Goyle grunted his agreement, a little wary but mostly relieved, and the four set to work. The whole remaining forty minutes of class, Malfoy managed to pout and ignore them, and Professor McGonagall's disapproving stare.
Five minutes before the bell rang, Parvati spoke up.
"We should meet every day to talk about our progress," she said. "And we'll need to practice the spell, so it'd be good if we could do that together, too. What time would be good for you all?"
As they all only had classes until four-thirty in the afternoon, it was quickly decided to meet up half an hour before dinner to get their work done. For practice, Professor McGonagall helpfully assigned them several unused classrooms close to the Great Hall, each with a ghost to provide oversight, in case something went wrong.
"If you stick to the instructions in your textbook, no medical intervention should be necessary," the professor nonetheless said, "and I trust that you'll be able to act responsibly. Failure to do so will have dire consequences. Don't disappoint me. Class dismissed."
For some reason, Professor McGonagall's stern eyes lingered meaningfully on Harry, and he decided to stay behind and find out whether she wanted something.
"If you want to complain about Malfoy, I can stay with you," Parvati offered.
"Thanks, but it's not just that. I'll see you in the library," Harry said. He stuffed his notes into his bag and closed it tightly. Even with Blue and Sweetie gone back to Gringotts, he wasn't taking any chances around Malfoy. Catching Hermione's eye, he pointed at Professor McGonagall and received an understanding nod in return.
"Come, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said once they were alone. "There's someone waiting to meet you."
She led him into an adjourning room, where a middle-aged wizard of pale colour, both in skin and hair, was sitting at a desk. Upon spying Harry, he got to his feet and bowed formally.
"Mr. Potter, it is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," he said mildly. "My name is Wymark Finch, and I'll be your personal and family attorney going forward, if it pleases you."
Harry bowed back. "The pleasure is all mine. Really. Uhm, can you prove that you are who you say you are?"
Finch smiled at that, small and a little mean. "Of course. Lord Black instructed me to provide any proof that is necessary. Allow me ..." He pulled out his wand and took a short, unbreakable vow on his life and magic, binding his service to Harry's wellbeing and best interests for as long as their professional relationship endured. Afterwards, as if nothing momentous had just happened, he continued, "If you accept my pledge, please state so with intent. I trust you know how to do that?"
"I do." Harry flicked his wand from his wrist holder and raised it. "I, Harry James Potter, herewith accept Wymark Finch's pledge to the House of Potter."
"Well done, and thank you. As time is of the essence, and my presence will be noticed very soon, let us get the formalities out of the way." Finch pointed to a neat stack of parchments and a dark red quill. "I apologize in advance for the prolonged use of a blood quill. However, it is necessary to bind my firm to House Potter in all the ways that matter."
Sighing, Harry picked it up. "Do I just sign, or do I need to read each of those before I do?"
"Mr. Potter, the vow Mr. Finch has taken on your behalf would not allow him to bind you in shady contracts," Professor McGonagall explained. "While it would normally behoove you to read any contract very carefully before signing, in this instance it is, in fact, not necessary."
"Alright then." Harry signed the first form, inwardly sighing at the thin red lines that were appearing on the back of his hand. He pulled out his wand. "Er, can I heal myself in between? That way I won't have to go to Madam Pomfrey."
"That's perfectly fine, Mr. Potter," Finch said. "It'd be ... fortuitous if this meeting could remain secret. But don't worry if it doesn't, there won't be any negative consequences for you."
And so Harry signed the forms, taking a small break after every five signatures to heal his hand with the strongest spell he had learned from Healer Williams' book. He smirked as he signed the transferral of legal representation to the law firm, making it impossible for Dumbledore or even the Ministry to do something about it as long as Sirius was engaged with the ICW in Italy.
Nearly twenty minutes and four healing charms later, Harry finally got to put the blood quill down. "It still stings," he muttered, rubbing at the pink but unbroken skin. "Is there anything else I can do to make it better?"
"I brought some murtlap essence," Professor McGonagall said. She pulled the small flask from her robe pocket and placed it on the table. "Take a couple of drops and massage them in. You did good work with your charms, you should be as good as new tomorrow, or the day after at the latest."
"Thank you, Professor. Do you need anything else from me, Mr. Finch?" Harry asked.
The lawyer inclined his head in a half-bow. "Not right this moment, Mr. Potter, but I'll regularly send you post from now on. We'll go by owl first, see what Headmaster Dumbledore will do about it. If I fail to receive a timely response, say three days after sending, I will assume that the mail has been redirected, or intercepted, and open a legal investigation."
"What? Over a lost letter?" Harry was surprised.
"Legal post is protected by Ministry laws," Professor McGonagall explained. "Hindering its delivery is a felony offence. Missing post from a lawyer could drastically alter the outcome of a trial, for example. Counter-suing was a huge problem until this measure was implemented, as lenghty trials can be an immense burden on society."
"Trust your father to know what is necessary for your protection," Finch agreed. At Professor McGonagall's sharp look, Finch explained, "Lord Black blood-adopted Mr. Potter on his first birthday, in 1981. Gringotts has all the pertinent documentation, of course. It is not a secret any longer as the ICW has been made aware of this and other facts as of ..." He consulted his watch, "Five hours ago."
"That means Lord Black's petition has been accepted," Professor McGonagall said with an air of grim satisfaction. "Good."
"Walker has that case well in hand," Finch assured Harry. "And the ICW is known to be very thorough in its investigations." He allowed himself another of his slight, mean smiles. "I'll have my hands full these next few months, as the British Ministry will doubtlessly try to mitigate the damage Lord Black's sudden reappearance in Italy has caused to its reputation. But back to the matter of Heir Potter's legal representation: My firm will file all forms and consult with Gringotts on how to handle the distribution of your mail. Your father's trial in Rome will cause a significant increase in mail, so much so that your account manager is certain that you'll need someone to sort your mail for you at the bank."
"Does it have to be a goblin?" Harry asked.
"Not necessarily. One of your many friends would do very well," Finch allowed. "I'll see to it that your account manager sends along his specifications to fill the post."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Harry exhaled and slumped a little in his seat. "It's really happening, isn't it? Sirius might be free soon."
"Yes." Finch said it without sounding the least bit worried. At Professor McGonagall's slight nod, he added, "Our hour is up, so I'll take my leave. Zippy, please."
The elf appeared promptly and stood before Harry with quivering ears. "Master Harry! Zippy be successful in keeping Old Whiskers busy, and now Zippy be taking Master Harry's Finch back to London. Master Sirius be saying it be alright."
"It is. Thank you, Zippy, I owe you one. This was really important," Harry admitted.
"It be a pleasure to serve!" Zippy declared. He held out his hand for Finch. "Back to Master Harry's Finch's office?"
"Gringotts would be fine," Finch said, gently taking the offered hand. "Expect my first letter within the week, Heir Potter. Good day."
The lawyer nodded at both Harry and Professor McGonagall and was promptly whisked away with a quiet pop.
Professor McGonagall blew out a tense breath. "The implications of your elf just popping about Hogwarts like that really has me reeling, lad," she murmured. "You had better keep your secrets, lest the unsavoury elements in this school learn of things they have no business knowing."
"I will, Professor," Harry promised. "I just have one question."
"Only one?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile.
"Dumbledore will find out what I've just done."
"And he'll be furious to have lost control over your publicity," Professor McGonagall agreed. "But that was not a question."
"I'm wondering what he can do about it. Will do about it." Huffing, Harry rubbed over the faint red lines on the back of his hand. "At least he can't get me alone without Mr. Finch ever again. That's something."
"It might be everything," Professor McGonagall murmured. "That man is an accomplished occlumens, and I know for a fact that lawyers of his calibre wear protective runes on their body to keep their clients' secrets. No one knows the exact nature of these runes, of course, but it is known that Walker, Stone & Finch are not just a law firm, but a coven. Weaving business and magic together so tightly makes for a unique protection, and offers many boons beside the obvious ones."
"Such as?" Harry asked, eyes wide. It sounded mysterious and exciting, and he found most law books dry as dirt!
Professor McGonagall's wan smile got a little more real. "Mixing business with magic often allows for a certain ... connection with their work. Like a seventh sense, the combined magic of a coven can give insight into the dealings a member is tasked with."
"I don't understand," Harry admitted. "Do you mean like Ollivander knows what wands his costumers need?"
"Oh, well spotted, Mr. Potter. Yes, Ollivander is so deeply entrenched in his work of matching magical materials and magical beings that he has developed a sort of instinct to help him do it more effectively." Professor McGonagall sat down on a chair and smoothed out her robes. "However, he works alone. With your lawyers, it's a bit different, because there's a whole pool of magic, specialized magic, to draw on. Before taking on a client, the coven's magic will reach out and collect information, for lack of a better word. It will tell them how likely it is to win the proposed case ... and if the client is even telling the truth."
"Yeah, not having all the facts would be a bummer," Harry said, frowning a little. "Just imagine being at a trial and being caught wrong-footed. Must be embarrassing as all hell. Sorry, Professor."
"Oh, it is," Professor McGonagall replied with an amused quirk of her lips. "I've always vastly preferred the structure - and anti-cheating charms - of my classroom. Speaking of which ... to give some credence to your hour with me, I've decided to give you a special project to work on. You have your group work, but I'd like for you to prepare another presentation for the Vanishing Spell. It's a bit advanced, but the cover does have to hold up to scrutiny, doesn't it?"
"Er, alright, Professor. Is it due next Monday as well?"
She nodded. "Yes. It doesn't have to be long, five minutes with the most important points should suffice. You'll get points, of course, and bonus points if you can give a demonstration. If not, I'll do it for the class. The point is not to humiliate you, but to show your peers that you're interested in extra work, and that obtaining extra credits is nothing to be afraid of."
"Okay." Harry stood and felt compelled to offer her a little bow. "Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it."
Professor McGonagall smiled, visibly touched.
"And also," Harry let his wand snick out of its holster, "Finite Incantatem!"
For a horrible moment, magic churned around her, Harry's spell demolishing that which had no business being hooked into Professor McGonagall's core.
"Good Lord," she panted when it was over. "You pack quite a punch, lad."
"Sorry, I cast in parseltongue." Harry scowled. "I'm really tired of casting on you every three days or so. Maybe this time it'll stick a bit longer."
Professor McGonagall touched a hand to her throat and swallowed audibly. "I daresay it will. I'll write to my friend immediately, although Mr. Finch was kind enough to free me of the headmaster's influence before our meeting."
"Oh. Uh, sorry then. Although ... Madam Bones was just here," Harry said. "Didn't she check?"
"She couldn't," Professor McGonagall replied. "She was here on official business, and we can't afford to have her caught in the headmaster's web." Some colour returned to her cheeks and she straightened her posture. "You noticed how I behaved yesterday ... it was subtle and I was strong enough to work against the magic, but if it had been layered onto the other spells, I'd have found a way to let the howlers and threats to the students vanish. I can only assume that Dumbledore didn't want to be caught red-handed with worse manipulations, if it came to that. It was a gamble which he thankfully lost."
"Can't you report him?" Harry asked. "Officially, I mean. He deserves it."
"Yes, he does. However, Dumbledore's position in society is such that my complaint wouldn't be believed outside of my closest circle of friends and confidants. It galls me to say this, but we have to tread carefully. There are more important things at stake than my mental and magical freedom."
"No," Harry disagreed. Fury welled up in him and made the tip of his wand spark sharply.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. Harry." Professor McGonagall carefull placed her fingers onto Harry's fist and gently lowered the wand. "Your freedom, and that of your father, for one." She paused for a moment, the muscles in her jaw working. "To stand against He Who Must Not Be Named you'll need friends and loved ones by your side. After what your parents have sacrificed for our society, it's the least I can do."
"Professor-"
"You are a child," she went on firmly. "You deserve our protection and nurturing, just like any other child of our world. You deserve to know support, love, and happiness before that same society expects even more sacrifice of you. They did precious little in providing for you until now, and if me being spelled keeps you safe for a little while longer, that's a price I'm prepared to pay."
"But you shouldn't have to," Harry argued, growing angry.
"I have every trust in your ability to keep me alert," Professor McGonagall went on, resolute as she always was. "That makes our situation not as one-sided as you think, so please calm yourself. We must not let the headmaster see our upset."
"I wish we could just close our minds off." Harry finally put his wand away. "Or report him, if he decides to look." He scowled for a second longer, and then he smirked. "But I have the next best thing ready."
"Oh? Care to share?" she asked, intrigued.
"I'd better not," Harry said and stood. "Thanks again, Professor. I'll see you at dinner."
Fuming, he managed to leave the room without slamming the door after him, but that was the extent of his ability to keep his strop to himself. Knowing that he was in no shape to see anyone right now, he ducked into an empty classroom and called for Jules.
"Two things," he said tightly. "First, I need an elf who wants to deal with my mail. My lawyer just told me that there'll be lots of it in the future, and Gringotts would like some help sorting it."
"I will ask around at once," Jules promised.
"And then I need the elves on Dumbledore and Snape watch to invent ways to keep them from reading people's minds. Professor McGonagall and Hermione know too much by now, and it'll probably get worse." He huffed sharply. "It's easier to keep watch on two legilimenses than protect a dozen people from being mind-raided."
"Books on occlumency call it mind-rape," Jules supplied, twisting his fingers. "It is a very bad thing to do. Even worse if bad wizards are able to insert thoughts."
A bout of nausea crawled up in Harry's throat. "What?" he croaked. "A legilimens can plant thoughts?"
"Only the really strong ones," Jules squeaked and cringed a little. "Some do good work, healing witches and wizards of mental illness. Some do not."
"Is Dumbledore strong enough for it?" Harry asked, shaking with suppressed horror.
"Not quite." Jules hopped a little closer. "Old Whiskers only wishes he could."
"How does Fawkes stand it, being with him day in and day out?" Harry asked roughly. "Dumbledore told me that he's such a light creature ... how can he stay with someone like Dumbledore?"
Jules brightened a little. "Fiery Fawksy doesn't. He's often away at Potter's Field, eating golden fireflies and helping with burning away whomping willows."
"Oh!" Surprised, Harry blinked down at his small friend. "That's good! I wondered whether he'd have time for visits. But why can't you work with the land if Fawkes helps with the clearing?"
"Phoenix fire isn't destructive, Harry Potter sir," Jules explained. "First it burns, but then there is much regrowth."
"That's a pity, then," Harry said, slumping a little with disappointment. "Dobby was looking forward to cultivating the land next year."
"It will be a great garden one day," Jules hurried to say, patting Harry's leg in consolation. "The ashes are very fertile. Plants are thriving! They're just not the plants Harry Potter sir wants right now. But," and Jules' little chest puffed out, "all Potter elves have enough to eat, and lots of work will soon follow. We can sell plants and animal parts for cooking and potions to buy even more land, if Harry Potter sir wants it."
"Maybe don't kill the animals," Harry sighed. He rubbed his face with both hands. "Can you ... I don't know, ask nicely?"
"Potter elves can," Jules agreed readily. "Is there anything else I can help Harry Potter with?"
"I don't think so. Just take care, and don't let Dumbledore catch you."
"He won't," Jules promised and smiled shyly when Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Jules will go now and ask around for secretary. Good night, Harry Potter sir."
"Good night, Jules."
The elf popped away and Harry slowly made his way to the library, where the others of the Transfiguration group were already waiting.
"Malfoy's not coming," Parvati informed him as he sat down. "No idea how that'll affect our grade, but we've decided to just do our best."
"And inform the professor, of course," Ernie added. "It's better to be upfront with this kind of thing."
Harry merely shrugged. "Okay. Might be easier to do the work if he's not here to complain all the time, anyway. So, how are we going to do this?"
"I want to research the history part," Ernie said. "Parvati wants the practical uses, and Goyle asked to do a discussion of the pros and cons of using it."
"Really?" Harry asked, surprised.
Goyle grunted and shuffled through his parchments.
"Seems like you have it all figured out ..." Harry continued. "What can I do to help?"
"Well, you're good with practice," Parvati said hesitantly. "We thought we'd share our findings with you, and you'd teach us how to cast the spell. Would that be alright?"
Harry nodded. "But if there's another group project, I want to do theory."
"That's a deal," Ernie said quickly. "We just thought that this would be the best way to go about it because we only have one week. It's not because we don't trust you with the theory or the presentation, or anything like that."
"That alright with you, Goyle?" Harry asked.
The large boy just shrugged. "Don't want to fail, is all," he muttered.
"You won't. We're not a bad team, even if we're from different houses," Parvati said decisively. "Let's get started."
Harry took his time taking the book out of his bag. While Ernie and Parvati pounced on their task, Goyle first fished a pair of glasses from the breat pocket of his robes and then consulted a piece of parchment.
"Do you need more books?" Harry asked when it became apparent that the boy had listed a handful of titles. "I can get them."
"You better look up how to do the spell," Goyle replied and lumbered off to the next index stand.
Shrugging, Harry opened the chapter in the book and read the instructions. The wand movement wasn't overly complicated, and the theory didn't seem that hard, either, after Professor McGonagall had helped him with his confidence for the Duro spell.
To give himself something to do, Harry listed the steps for the spell on a fresh piece of parchment and tucked it into the book for later, when he got around to practicing it.
"I'll take the next couple of days for practice," Harry told them on the way to the Great Hall for dinner. "I'll see you again on Thursday, so I can read over your notes. Friday through Sunday we can practice together."
"Sounds good," Ernie said at once. "Thanks, Harry." He nervously shifted the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder. "To be honest, I'm kind of thinking that Malfoy has the right of it. It does seem like a difficult spell."
"If Professor McGonagall says we can do it, I believe her," Parvati said. "Besides, it's interesting to do a project versus always quietly sitting in class and writing essays for homework. More social, in any case."
"Can't say I hate it so far," Harry admitted. He looked at Goyle, who was walking ahead, but not so far that he couldn't listen in on their talk. Apparently there was some Slytherin in him, even if he didn't seem overly bright at first glance. "Seems like we at least partially lucked out in the Slytherin department."
Ernie and Parvati exchanged glances and then shrugged.
"Yes, seems like it," Parvati said. "Malfoy's a useless git, but Goyle's doing his part, and his approach is something new."
"I wonder where he got the idea from," Ernie added.
Soon after they reached the Great Hall and went to find their friends, Goyle now two dozen yards ahead of them so as not to be associated with a pair of Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff. Harry couldn't find it in him to mind, not when both Zabini and Greengrass had made it clear how cutthroat Slytherin could be.
Dinner passed quietly, for once without offending comments from Ron, although Ginny did try to finagle solitary tutoring time with Hermione to get ahead of the other students in her Charms class. Her twin brothers quickly soured that idea for her and Hermione took the offered chance and absented herself quickly for an hour in the library before bed.
"Is it just me or is Ginny getting ambitious now?" Dean asked on the way to the tower. "Not that she wasn't before, but wow, cornering Hermione like that ... that takes some courage."
"I'm glad Hermione said no," Neville confessed. At the other boys' uncomprehending looks, he clarified, "Because she's a heiress now, and that stuff could be taken seriously by other peers. Like, a prelude to offering mentorship, had she agreed to it."
"Mentorship ... that's upper echelon business," Seamus said. "Me mum made me learn a little, in case it's ever being offered. She didn't want me to be too dense to recognize it because it's a huge boon."
"What does that mean, mentorship? It's not just help with homework, or is it?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Oh, no, it's definitely not just that," Parvati chimed in. She pushed into place next to Harry, displacing Dean, who bore it with a sigh and an eye-roll. "Mentorship basically means taking a younger person, usually a student at school or university, under your wing. Homework and studies are part of it, but it's expected that the mentor also invests some money into the mentee's education and helps with their navigation through the mentor's social circles. Just half a century ago, a mentorship was like a tentative offer of sponsorship, if not an invitation to join a family. It's not all done through marriage, you see."
Harry was gobsmacked. "You had it right, Dean. If that's what Ginny's angling for, that's ... wow." He frowned. "It's really rude to try and badger someone into it when they can't say no without losing face."
Lavender frowned back. "It's beyond rude. Parvati and I will tell Hermione tonight, in case she doesn't know about it already. She could get in serious trouble socially if she unwittingly allowed someone to corner her like that, and well ... after she told everyone that her fortune was tied up for educational purposes, it was to be expected that people would come forward and try to get to the money another way."
Harry wanted to tell them that Ginny wasn't like that, but he caught himself just in time. I don't really know her all that well, he reminded himself, and she and Ron have behaved so strangely since school started ... not to mention Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's refusal to send Ginny to a doctor. And now this - yet another thing to do with money.
"Could this happen to anyone at school?" he asked instead. "Anyone with money, I mean."
"In theory," Parvati said quietly, furtively scanning their surroundings. "However, it usually concerns students who're already viewed as intellectuals or prodigies in one or more school subjects. Choosing a complete dumbass as your mentor would make it really apparent that you're only after their money and connections, and would likely harm your social standing."
"So I, er, don't have to worry?" Harry murmured, flushing a little.
"As if." Parvati snorted. "If I were you, I'd invest in good friendships to have a reliable buffer. You're not a doofus, and you're really good at spell casting. You could tutor others in that, and your family does have quite a bit of money. As for your connections ... with some effort on your part, you could become quite the influence both socially and politically. While your family isn't noble yet, it definitely is ancient, and only two or so generations away from reaching the noble status through years accumulated. It could happen sooner with, say, an Order of Merlin or a similar award. People take note of such things as well, so you'd better be prepared."
"What the hell, Parvati," Harry protested. "You still remember how people treated me last year, don't you? No way would I have any sort of influence!"
Dean had the grace to look ashamed. "I do remember, and I'm sorry. It was stupid to get so bent out of shape just because you can talk to snakes when all the post owls seem to understand us just fine."
"Me, too," Parvati sighed. "In India, we worship several serpent deities, and there are quite a few prominent parselmouths. I don't know what came over me; I'm not even afraid of snakes."
"We all went a bit crazy last year," Seamus admitted. "For what it's worth, I'll try not to let it happen again. Though I hope that there won't be another huge, ruddy snake to test me."
Neville said, "Even if there were, I'm with Harry." He smiled shyly. "And I'm not after a mentorship, I promise."
"Ugh," Harry groaned, burying his head in his folded arms. "I so don't need this."
Lavender laughed heartily about his disgust. "Better get used to it, Harry. You're not getting any younger. You think being fifteen is worrying? Just wait what the world is getting up to outside of marriage contracts. There's no real age restriction on that, merely social guidelines."
"Why don't I know anything about this stuff?" Harry demanded, looking up again. Seamus and Dean echoed his complaint. "Is that some sort of anti-mundane-born measure or something?"
"You know ..." Parvati began thoughtfully.
"That could well be," Lavender finished. "Since we're already talking to Hermione about this stuff anyway, we'll tell her which books to read, and to find more books about it besides. She'll sort it out quickly."
Dean raised his hand meekly. "Can I join that meeting?"
"And I?" Seamus said pitifully. "My mum tries, but this seems to be a huge deal."
"This stuff should be taught in the Etiquette class, but they dropped that two decades or so ago, unfortunately," Lavender said. "Yet another thing we can bring in the Herald." She turned to Neville. "Say, do you have books at home about this stuff? I'd like to present a reading list to our readers."
"I have one," Neville admitted. "It's the standard volumne, it's actualizing itself whenever something changes." He looked apologetic. "I think it's rather expensive."
"Doesn't matter," Lavender said immediately. "The most important thing is that people know where to look. I'm sure the Paper Club can come up with more. Parv, can you update our club calendar?"
They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and uttered the password.
"Now, leave it all to us, Harry," Parvati said, already on the stairway leading to the dorms. "There's no need to panic."
Lavender smiled impishly. "Not yet, anyway. Night!"
When the girls were gone, Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Sometimes," he huffed dramatically, "being a wizard is really messing me up."
Neville patted him on the shoulder. "Welcome to our world."
oOo
Tuesday morning started an hour later than usual and was pure heaven in Harry's eyes. He and Hermione had time to do their exercises and have a relaxed breakfast afterwards. There was also time to practice the revealing spell, which Hermione was determined to master today, or at least this week.
"I'm so close, I can feel it," she grumbled after the latest failed attempt. "It just won't ... spark."
"I know what you mean," Harry agreed. "Your magic feels strong enough, so this is a little strange."
"Cast it on me again," Hermione requested, voice a little tight. "I need to know what the problem is."
"Okay ... denuda turpitudinem obscurum magicae!"
The magic burst forth from Harry's wand, enveloping Hermione in a bubble of bright light before dissolving swiftly. Only one spell remained; Madam Pomfrey's protection spell against sexual assault and pregnancy.
"That reminds me that I still have to get this," he said with a wry smile.
Hermione touched the writhing light of the spell. "You'd better do it soon. I'd much rather have nothing at all on me, but apparently it can't be helped." She shuddered. "I feel so helpless sometimes."
"Yeah, me too." Harry ended the spell and pulled Hermione into an embrace. "I might be wrong, but ... are you afraid of using the revealing spell?"
She laughed bitterly. "I'm more afraid of what it could find."
"Don't be." Harry hugged her so tightly that his arms strained against her ribs. Her answering grip was the perfect anchor in their sea of uncertainty. "Whatever you'll find will have already been there. You seeing it won't make a difference to the person that's been spelled. Unless you choose to do something about it, of course."
"I know. It's just so horrifying," Hermione whispered. "I don't know if I could bear seeing you under the influence."
"You can get help if you find something," Harry said, feeling strangely calm now. "If you can't end those spells yourself - and why shouldn't you, you're brilliant - you can still get help, and that's the most important thing, isn't it?"
"Who will I call?" she asked in a small voice. "Dobby?"
"Any Hogwarts elf will do," Harry said. "And I'll tell them who to call. Sharptooth would be good, he's vicious. And my lawyer of course. Madam Bones at the Ministry, just to see them all flip out."
Hermione gently loosened her strangling grip and stepped back. "Not Sirius Black? He would want to know."
"I know," Harry replied wearily. "But he's busy in Rome and I want him to get it over with without going back to prison for murdering someone. For real, this time, I mean." He grimaced. "He'd still find out, no matter what I do, but I still want to protect him. He's ... he's my dad. It'll probably be in the papers today."
"My god, Harry ... I had no idea."
Terrified that she'd begin to cry, Harry snagged her hands and held them tightly. "It's alright, he blood adopted me when I was a year old. I've got him back now, and he won't be reckless."
"I should hope not," Hermione said shakily. "Dumbledore will try to get you alone now. He must be getting desperate, if he's so invested in having you under his thumb."
"Probably. Professor McGonagall knows, and I always have a house elf with me now. Mr. Finch, that's my lawyer, has also filed a restraining order yesterday with the Ministry and the ICW. I had to sign it myself because Sirius is still a fugitive in the eye of Britain's law, but it's binding enough."
"Oh, thank god," Hermione muttered.
"I don't believe for a second that it'll be enough," Harry admitted. "Dumbledore should have gotten the writ delivered an hour ago or so and I'm very glad we weren't at breakfast. His disappointed grandfather stare would have probably smothered me."
"You mean his legilimency stare." Hermione paled and swallowed loudly. "I'll try the revealing spell again, in case the headmaster actually decides to do something reckless."
Harry ended his revealing spell on her and stepped away so she had room to cast. "We've got twenty minutes, I'm sure you can do it before we have to leave for Charms."
Decisively, Hermione swished and jabbed her wand, crying, "Denuda turpitudinem obscurum magica!"
And there it was, the bubble of her pooling magic. It swelled, pressing against Harry's pricked senses, until it suddenly burst and a bolt of bright light punched against him. The magic skittered all over him, zealously searching for hidden things leeching off his core.
"Oof," he complained, staggering back a little.
"I did it!" Hermione cried and nearly let her wand drop in surprise. "Shit, did I hurt you?"
"I'm fine," Harry said. "Just bowled over." He rubbed his chest and then sighed in relief when the light vanished. "Nothing. I'm still clean."
"I'm so happy." Hermione burst into sudden tears. "I was so afraid."
"It's alright. Come here." Having her back in his arms was so good; her agitated magic felt soothing against Harry's own churning and drifting power. "Let's do this again."
"Give me a minute," Hermione mumbled.
Harry gave her five, and then he gently coached her through another two attempts, both of which were successful and far less aggressive than her first.
oOo
Charms passed quickly enough, followed by a lively lunch, during which Harry's words about the papers publishing Sirius' status as his adopted father proved true. He and Hermione hadn't read their paper during their alone time, which had been by design, although now Harry wished that he'd had some sort of tangible forewarning, aside from Sirius' short note in their journal.
"I can't believe that you've got a murderer for a dad," Ron said, face alight with glee. "That's the best thing I've heard all year."
"Except he isn't a murderer," Lee Jordan said, stealing the platter of fried chicken before Ron could swap it with his empty plate. "Else he wouldn't have gone to Rome to prove his innocence. Would be an awful gamble to take just to tweak our collective noses."
"Don't bother with logic, our little brother's got a thick skull," Fred said, taking the platter when Lee was finished shovelling chicken onto his plate.
"Very thick," George agreed.
"I wonder how that's possible when he's so good at chess," Hermione muttered angrily. "Also, I think it's great that Harry actually has a living parent after all."
Ron's smug grin didn't lessen in the least. "He shouldn't get too attached, though. ICW trials are brutal. Having the goblins on his side won't do Black any good if the ICW thinks he did it."
Harry bit down on his suddenly rising fury, just as Hermione's eyes looked heavenward in a bid for patience.
"To be fair," Ginny interjected, "not even the ICW would dare doubt Gringotts' assessment without good cause. Black might well be free soon." She smiled encouragingly at Harry. "Also, they won't tarry over it. It might not happen for Christmas, but early next year seems likely."
"There'll be a judgement one way or another," Ron conceded. His eyes, however, were still glinting a little meanly.
Herbology after lunch took place in a greenhouse and allowed students to partner up to deal with their plants. Harry managed to pick Neville, and they spent the whole class thinking up things for their godbrother ceremony.
"Having it here would be nice," Neville sighed. "Too bad Madam Sprout probably won't allow it. The plants are too valuable to risk."
"Why don't I ask my house elf friends about that?" Harry murmured. "Maybe they can build a temporary winter garden or something, and bring some plants for decoration."
"Would that work with the party the girls are planning?" Neville asked.
"Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati teamed up. They'll definitely make it happen," Harry answered, unconcerned. "Together with the elves, it should work out just fine."
"In that case, sure. Thanks, Harry!"
Harry smiled. "Your idea is loads better than the utter nothing I had."