Reading Time: 109 Minutes

Title: The Ending of the End
Series: If Only
Series Order: 2
Author: Aussiefan70
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): Gen. Main character pairings in epilogue only.
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence-Against Children
Author Note:
Beta: Geminiangel
Word Count: 106,361
Summary: Harry and his friends start second year, and mostly have decent professors who make learning fun (with the odd exception). Meanwhile, Harry’s family roots grow stronger and deeper, there’s a creature on the loose at Hogwarts (never fear, Harry has people for that), and Dumbledore has a bad day…all year. Then again, so does a certain dark lord, so at least the Old Goat isn’t alone in that.
Artist: Spuddoc

---

---

Chapter 5

The family of five spent much of the week in the Enklabe. The press had gone a little crazy with the results of the hearing, particularly Harry telling Dumbledore off. Harry came out looking like the golden boy, and Dumbledore, well let’s just say he might have broken the all-time record for most Howlers in a single day or even week.

Unfortunately, Harry had lost a lot of his privacy in the process. Many details of his life, that he’d been so used to jealously guarding, were now fodder for every gossip in the wizarding world. And it seemed there were plenty of those. The Daily Prophet milked his adoption with a special edition Monday evening, and was still telling his life story on the front pages (they’d essentially serialised it, for goodness sake) through the end of the week.

But that was something for another day. He and Soraya, along with Firelock and Ringstar emerged from the Enklabe Thursday morning, to head to Neville’s home in the Cotswolds, Hawthorn House. On an unplottable twenty acres, created partly out of wizarding space near Chipping Camden, it was a beautiful country home, built of the local golden-coloured stone, with manicured grounds and half a dozen greenhouses designed to blend into the surrounding gardens.

Harry had racked his brains for an innovative birthday gift for his godbrother and best friend. Everyone knew of his love of plants and gardening, so Harry wanted something more unique. And then genius had struck and he’d hauled Soraya out to do some Muggle shopping.

He’d hit pay dirt at Waterstones bookshop, where found two books that were perfect for his gift idea. He’d noticed Neville doodling plant illustrations on pages of his notebooks and thought him to be quite good. And that was with no training either, as Harry had found out with some careful questioning.

So he’d bought several books on botanical illustrations, both with pencils and watercolours. Soraya, falling in love with the idea of nurturing Neville’s gift, offered to go in with Harry, and dragged him to a Muggle Art Supplies shop not far from the Leaky Cauldron. They picked up several sketchbooks, suitable for pencil and watercolour work, in a couple of different sizes, then kitted Neville out with a basic artist kit of a set of coloured pencils, graphite pencils of varying hardness, as well as a selection of watercolour paints with a tray for colour mixing and a starter set of sable brushes.

It wasn’t exactly a low-cost gift, but it was the first time Harry had ever really had the chance to properly shop for someone he considered family, and Soraya couldn’t help but indulge him in this.

After hearing of the shopping fest, Ringstar and Firelock had put their heads together. They knew one of the witches on the Curse-Breaking teams also doubled as an illustrator for their finds. She’d also demonstrated some amazing skills in painting and drawing detailed botanical works of the plants found close to the digs.

Firelock had seen several framed examples in her office and had specially commissioned a watercolour of the rare irises that Ringstar had managed to grow against all odds, two years before. Colleen Keegan had been happy to offer Neville some classes to earn a little extra income (and keep one of the bosses happy) for half a dozen lessons over the rest of the summer.

Ragnok and Wildspur, hearing about the ever-growing scope of Neville’s gift, decided (only half as a joke) that the boy also needed some downtime in the gardens, just to enjoy them. So they’d ordered a sturdy canvas hammock that could be strung between two trees and had added weatherproofing charms so it would last. Unable to attend the party, due to a prior engagement at Gringotts Bilbao, they’d sent their gift along with Firelock.

~0~0~

There was a large crowd gathered at Hawthorn House when they arrived. Augusta, having a slightly sneaky streak, had requested the other guests show up fifteen minutes before Harry and his family. Neville was nearly beside himself to be celebrating his birthday with Harry, as well as surprising him with the scope of the party.

Of course, their first-year friends from Hogwarts were there, but so was Cedric Diggory, and Fred and George Weasley. Many of the parents had been invited as well. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout were present, along with Hagrid. Silvia had joined them, as had Judge Balladean surprisingly. He was catching up with his old Hogwarts friends as they waited.

Firelock had arranged for a Portkey for them all, as well as Ches, rather than trying to crush all the guests around a fireplace to yell surprise when Harry popped out. Instead, they were landing in the back garden, which had plenty of open space to enjoy the gorgeous day.

So at the stroke of noon, the group of six landed with no more incident than Harry facing backward by accident. Turning around, he surveyed the large group and laughed when he saw the banner strung up on the side of one of the greenhouses. It read:

Happy adoption, adoption, adoption, birthday and birthday!

Congratulations Neville and Harry!

The look on Harry’s face showed they’d pulled off the surprise and he grabbed Neville for a hug first, before going to his gran, then Amelia, Susan, Augusta and Soraya. He’d pegged quite accurately who’d been the instigators for this large event.

They had a wonderful time. Professor McGonagall had arranged for the Longbottoms to borrow some Hogwarts house-elves for the celebration, and they’d achieved miracles in pulling off a large garden party with only a couple of weeks’ preparation. A delightful selection of finger foods, in rather plentiful quantities filled the crowd up, without being too heavy, and there were cocktails or mocktails, depending on age and preference, to try as well.

To keep everyone amused, there was badminton and croquet to enjoy. The flyers had been invited to bring their brooms and several aerial duels could be seen overhead.

Eventually, it was time for presents and both boys did very well with their collection of gifts when they were done. Neville was blown away by Harry’s gift (as well as all the add-ons from the family) and laughed uproariously at Ragnok’s gift idea. Though it was noticed he spent some time afterwards surveying possible sites for his new hammock.

Harry’s gift from Neville and his gran was equally apropos. They’d noticed his interest in recording his travels, and significant events, not to mention important people in his life. For the first time ever, he had people and things to celebrate, and he’d put Soraya’s camera through its paces.

So finding both a Muggle and magical camera in the gift box, along with a collapsing tripod was perfect. It seemed like great minds think alike because there was also a gift certificate for a well-respected Muggle correspondence course focused on basic to intermediate photography skills, that also offered him professional critiques of his assigned projects, to improve his skills even further. Needless to say, Harry was as gobsmacked as Neville had been.

Both boys ended up with quite a pile of gifts by the time the party was over, receiving everything from chocolate frogs to books, to some creative inventions from the Weasley twins, not to mention a tin of rock cakes apiece from Hagrid (emphasis on the rock). The party broke up late afternoon and the house-elves took over to restore the grounds to their normal pristine condition.

Soon only Harry and Neville’s families remained, which was when they sprang the second surprise. Augusta handed Neville a duffel bag, packed with several days’ worth of clothing and other necessities, while Soraya assured Harry that their bags were already waiting for them in the Enklabe. Part two of the birthday celebrations would be a trip to San Francisco for a couple of days.

Given the eight-hour time difference, they’d be leaving for the Californian Enklabe around 10 pm. In the meantime, those travelling would be getting a couple of hours of sleep with a carefully metered sleeping draught to help adjust to the time zone difference. Arriving around 2 pm local time would give them most of the afternoon and evening to explore, along with all of the next day. They’d be arriving home again after a good night’s sleep and an early breakfast Sunday morning, which would have them home around mid to late afternoon Sunday. The wide grins on both Harry and Neville’s faces suggested that they were thrilled with the plans.

~0~0~

Having had a restful sleep for nearly five hours, Harry, Neville, Soraya, Firelock and Ringstar set out for their walk to the San Francisco Enklabe at quarter to ten that evening. They arrived in the US fifteen minutes later, something they’d never get used to. The Californian Enklabe was similar to the set-up in Amsterdam. Half of the land was given over to grape vines and wineries. The other half was a coastal area, with small communities scattered along the seashore and through the rolling hills; it was a beautiful sight.

The party was greeted by Firelock’s counterpart, Oakbard, who passed over their hotel room details. They were staying at the San Francisco Marriott Marquis, just south of Market Street, and only a few blocks from the bank in the magical quarter, which had its entrance hidden in plain sight, in the very busy Union Square. They were booked into a suite with three bedrooms on one of the floors that were reserved for magical guests. One of Oakbard’s assistants would make sure they were checked in and their bags sent to their rooms, so they were cleared to start sightseeing.

Ringstar had taken the lead on this trip, San Francisco being one of her favourite cities. They also had a multi-use Portkey to get around, though as Ringstar mentioned, half the fun of San Fran as she called it, was using local transportation to get around. Making sure Harry had his cameras with him in his backpack, they set out across busy Union Square and their first novel experience, a cable car ride.

They walked to Powell Street, and strangely to the boys, several blocks down the hill to the terminus at Market Street. They realised the method in Ringstar’s madness when they saw forty or fifty people waiting for the next cable car ahead of them. Ringstar explained there were two ways to ride a cable car, sitting down or standing on the edge. Needless to say, the newly minted twelve-year-olds were all for the second option, particularly when they saw others doing it on the car descending on the opposite tracks. When Soraya expressed that she wanted to do it too, Firelock put his hand up as well, and Ringstar resigned herself to holding everyone’s bags and backpacks.

They purchased three-day Muni passes for each of them because they’d more than pay for themselves over the next few days. Only a few minutes later their cable car arrived and the boys were excited to board. Fortunately, there was enough space to ride along the outside, and Ringstar found a seat right beside them, tucking the bags under her feet.

The ride was thrilling as they were on the outside of the car, closest to the vehicles, and the plastic poles that would slap you on your backside if you hung it out too far at the stops, which were in the middle of the road to their amazement. Soraya and Firelock were probably even more kid-like than the boys at the novelty of the whole experience.

Harry, who’d hung his camera around his neck, looped an arm around the sturdy pole he and Neville were sharing and took photos as they went. He was very pleased with his shots of Lombard Street, an incredibly steep street that cars had to negotiate in a series of switchbacks. Eventually, they arrived at Ghirardelli Square to the aroma of cooking chocolate; Ringstar explained that there was indeed an iconic chocolate factory located there.

They walked across the park to the shorefront and stared in amazement at the sight of both the deep reddish-orange Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island. Ringstar had given them some background on some of the places they’d see, as they’d travelled between Enklabeak. But she really thrilled the boys (Firelock being included in that designation) at the news they had tickets on the 9:20 ferry to Alcatraz the next morning.

They wandered along the beach for a little while. Harry dipped his toes in the water and realised a huge ocean was quite a bit colder than the bay in Udara. They walked along the seafront for a bit. Of course, the boys had to raid the souvenir shops (Firelock still included in that appellation) and came out with a t-shirt each, as well as trinkets for their schoolmates (and Ragnok, who enjoyed them as gag gifts). Harry had Soraya help him pick out a t-shirt for Susan, which roped the girls in, and soon everyone had at least one souvenir.

They ducked back to Ghirardelli Square and the chocolate shop in the tall factory building bordering the park. After a couple of taste tests, Ringstar was glad they’d brought the bags and backpacks, because there was plenty of chocolate going home with them, including a substantial cache for Uncle Filius and his sweet tooth.

Though it was only 4:30 pm local time, it was after midnight by their body clocks. But it seemed the partial sleeping draught had done its job because everyone was still raring to go. Standing waiting for the return cable car (fascinated as they watched the men haul the car around 180° on the turntable), they figured they had one more sight left in them, before heading back to the hotel, hopefully finding food along the way.

Ringstar suggested a wander through Chinatown. An iconic tourist activity, Chinatown was also a bustling community in its own right, and only a few blocks from the cable car line. The boys were wide-eyed as they wandered the streets. In a way, it reminded Harry of his first visit to Diagon Alley, in that it truly was a very different world. And it wasn’t a trip to San Francisco without visiting the district at least once, Ringstar insisted. By the time they exited the dragon gate, the combination of the delicious smells and the long day meant that they were all ready for dinner.

This is where Ringstar taught them another traveller’s trick. The locals know these places to eat. They managed to flag down a van-sized taxi and asked Pietro the driver where he’d take his own visiting family to eat. Pietro, up for the challenge, checked that Italian was okay, and took them to a place only a local could find. Tucked in between much grander neighbours, there was a discreet sign in the window that nobody noticed, mostly because the aromas had them so distracted.

Pietro hopped out of the taxi and took them inside, introducing them to the host, who was a pretty dark-haired woman in her late sixties. Pietro kissed her on both cheeks, said “Look after them, mama,” and promised he’d be back to take them to their hotel when they were done eating. Which was a good thing, because later, walking more than a few steps from the door to the taxi was about all they could handle, stuffed as they were by the amazing feast they’d been fed.

Mama (who never told them her actual name) took over the ordering and told them, “I serve you what I like to cook and you eat like you’re my family. Because tonight, we’re all family, no?”

Not willing to fight a force of nature, they were served foods that came with no names and bore little resemblance to the items on the menu. Mama bustled in and out, sharing cooking duties with Papa. Soraya suspected she let Papa cook only the things he couldn’t, in Mama’s opinion, mess up, because several times she popped out with a platter, still wearing her apron. After antipasti, insalata, primo piatti, secondo and then dolci, they were all ready to be rolled back out to Pietro’s taxi.

Firelock paid the bill, which seemed suspiciously low, but Mama wouldn’t allow any argument. And when she wished him, “Bidaiatu seguru, semea” (Travel safely, my son) in perfectly accented Gudurian, then kissed him on both cheeks, he knew there was much more to Mama than meets the eye, given he and Ringstar both wore glamours. And he wasn’t going to ask a single question. Some things were simply better left as a mystery.

Pietro noted their contented smiles and asked, “So Mama took good care of you, hey?”

“Very good care indeed. I think I won’t need to eat again for a week,” Soraya replied. “But we couldn’t stop eating, it was all so good!”

“Mama is a genius. Papa is pretty good too, though Mama will never tell him that. She doesn’t want him asking for a raise, she says.”

In no time at all it seemed, Pietro was pulling into the drop-off area below their hotel. As a parting piece of advice, he mentioned the lounge at the top of the hotel, where enormous half-round art deco windows showed some of the best views of the city and the Bay Area. It was an absolute must see after dark, he insisted. Thanking him for helping create a highlight of their trip, Firelock was happy to tip heavily and offered Pietro his best wishes to him and his family as he pulled away.

They grabbed the keys to their suite at the front desk and headed to the lifts. They had been instructed to use the far elevator, which required the insertion of the key card. This would give them access to the magical floors, where all the electronics were rune protected and warded to work around magical beings.

The suite was gorgeous, and they could see over the bay that the sun was beginning to set. Dropping off their bags and souvenirs, Harry’s family returned the lift and headed up two more floors to the lounge. Pietro hadn’t lied, the views through those enormous windows were worth the visit. The three parents decided to share a bottle of wine and watch the sunset, selecting a Sonoma Valley Syrah. Neville and Harry settled for a Coke each, and they nibbled on a shared cheese plate and marinated olives. They were rewarded with a spectacular sunset over the city to the west, the colours reflecting in the mirror-like glass of the office buildings. To the east, they watched the lights emerge over the bay in Oakland and traffic crossing the Bay bridge.

Returning to the suite, the boys fading fast, they shuffled off to the room they were sharing before brushing their teeth in the ensuite, changing into pyjamas and falling asleep before their heads hit the pillow. Firelock, Ringstar and Soraya stayed awake long enough to set alarms for 7 am, giving them plenty of time to get ready in the morning and sleep for over nine hours before then. All three checked on the boys and then headed to their respective rooms. Within minutes silence reigned in the suite.

~0~0~

The long night’s sleep did the trick. Everyone woke up feeling quite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Harry and Neville went through the breakfast buffet in the Club lounge like locusts through a wheat field, and they all felt comfortably stuffed once they were done. They grabbed backpacks, bottled water, and a light jacket each back in the suite, then left the hotel and headed for Market Street.

This time, their transportation was a street car, which took the group towards the wharves and along Embarcardero. Ringstar, the fount of all wisdom for the trip, let them know that many of the street cars (or trams, using the term they were more familiar with) came from different countries around the world, which had them all comparing the trams that passed them in the opposite direction.

The ferry to Alcatraz left from Pier 33, and the boys couldn’t resist counting their way along. Less than half an hour after leaving the hotel, they’d picked up their tickets and were ready to board the ferry. Just heading out into the bay was a fascinating experience. After clearing the dock area, they could see not just the island, but both the Bay and Golden Gate bridges, not to mention sailing vessels and other pleasure craft. It was a rare non-foggy day for summertime, and the breeze was just shy of them needing their jackets to take the chill off.

Docking at Alcatraz, they decided to watch the video on the history of the Island and some of its more infamous residents over the years. What was fascinating was that there was a former inmate there as well, who was willing to answer questions about his time on ‘The Rock’. Emerging from the building, and contemplating the long, steep roadway up to the prison, both Ringstar and Firelock were glad that Oakbard had made arrangements for them to have secure Portkey locations, to avoid the long walk. While Ringstar and Firelock were both very active and healthy Guduriak, it could not be denied that their shorter stature made the really steep walks more arduous.

Harry and Neville were fascinated by the stories they heard, as they listened to the audio tour and walked around the prison. They were frequently horrified by the conditions some of the prisoners were held in, particularly in segregation. Soraya hit the nail on the head though. Alcatraz wasn’t much different to Azkaban, it just had a better climate and no Dementors.

Harry knew little about Azkaban, though knowing it was somewhere in the harsh North Sea; he’d bet that even if they offered time outdoors, the view had no chance of rivalling that of Alcatraz. The rec yard had incredible views over a lot of the bay, and the guide informed them that the prisoners could often hear the music and sounds of parties on the mainland, when the wind blew just right.

They finally reached the end of the tour, and rested a moment in the fresh air to enjoy a sip or two of water from their bottles, before they took up the rope Portkey and returned to the dock area. They were in luck and only had to wait a few minutes to board the 12:25 ferry back to the wharf.

Docking back at Wharf 33 fifteen minutes later, stomach growling was starting to be audible from the pair of twelve-year-old boys. They decided to grab a streetcar and go a couple of more stops to Fisherman’s Wharf, headed for Pier 39. Ringstar told them it was all aimed at the tourists, and she was right, but the vibrancy of the place drew them in.

Given the choice of eating establishments, it wasn’t any great shock that Neville and Harry chose the Hard Rock Cafe. Soraya and Ringstar shrugged. It was an American cultural experience, they supposed. Firelock was barely containing how thrilled he was with their choice, suddenly becoming one of the boys again.

They shared a big plate of nachos to start with, then it was burgers all round. They discussed their visit to Alcatraz and Neville shocked no one with his comment about the lack of chances to do any gardening. The plans for the rest of the afternoon were laid out as well. Thanks to the Portkeys, they could combine quite a few, if everyone was up to that many Portkey trips.

On offer was a visit to the massive Redwood trees at Muir Woods, or a more thorough exploration of Pier 39 and the Aquarium of the Bay (and more shopping of course). There were also the bison in Golden Gate Park to see, a pop over to the lookout area at the other end of the Golden Gate Bridge for different views of the Bridge and bay, and Ringstar also recommended Grace Cathedral as worth a visit, for its beautiful stained glass windows and artwork.

Soraya had thought to bring the brochures Oakbard had thoughtfully included with their Alcatraz ticket information. So over hot fudge brownie and apple cobbler desserts, they made their decisions, though it was not easy.

In the end, they decided to head to Muir Woods for an hour, then Portkey to the Bridge lookout and see the bison on the way back to the city. They’d Portkey back to Pier 39 to explore a little more if they had the time.

As it turns out they did. Muir Woods was magnificent. They’d never seen trees like these back at home, and the walk was relaxing after the pace of the city. Neville was in seventh heaven amongst the massive trees, and one time he grabbed Harry by the hand, placed it against the trunk of a giant redwood and urged him to feel the magic. To Harry’s surprise, he could feel a thrumming beat under his hands, and the magic enveloped him, in the same way that the wards Soraya had created on the flat welcomed him every time he came home. They spent an hour walking amongst and communing with the trees, and it was a wrench to leave. But Harry had already gone through two rolls of film and there was much more still to see.

By 3:30, they were snapping photos of the Golden Gate, and pictures of bison fifteen minutes later. Just after four o’clock, they were back at the Pier and topping up on souvenirs. The sightseeing ended with watching the sea lions that congregated to the side of the Pier.

Realising another cable car line terminated half a dozen blocks from the Pier, it was decided to take that method back to the hotel, with the boys riding the edge again. Taking the elevator to their suite to change and drop off their bags, they stopped in the Club area, to choose a dessert each for later.

Tired from a very full day, the group consensus was to eat at the hotel rather than go out again. Looking at the menus, the main restaurant seemed pretty similar to what they’d had for lunch, focusing on American fare. Having enjoyed their time in the top floor Lounge the night before, they opted for grazing a variety of small plates and then finishing with dessert in the suite.

Which was exactly what happened. It was close to seven o’clock when they arrived at the Lounge, and they settled into a seating area that offered couches arranged around low tables. After pairing another cheese plate with a charcuterie board, the addition of small chicken tacos, shrimp cocktails and seared scallops were also greatly appreciated, accompanied by freshly made potato chips.

Sunset came and went, as they shared stories of their favourite things from the trip and discussed other places they wanted to see. It was nearly 9:30 when they returned to the suite, and the cheesecake and chocolate cake they’d grabbed earlier in the evening was the perfect ending to the day.

Sleep came easily again that night, and they had breakfast in the Club area once more. By 7:45 the group was back at the Enklabe, and thanking Oakbard for all he’d done to make the boys’ birthday trip so wonderful. The fifteen-walk back to the house in Loraldia let everybody stretch their legs a little, and after hugs and many thanks, Neville, Harry and Soraya used the very handy Floo connection back to the flat, before sending Neville all the rest of the way home, via a second Floo trip.

~~○●○●○●○~~~

After such an eventful July, Harry and Soraya were pretty happy to see August slow down a little. The day after they get home from San Francisco, Harry and Neville totally derailed the purpose of the study group mirror-box calls by raving about their two days in California. It didn’t help that they had to explain a lot of things to their magically raised friends because, while their horizons had been broadened since becoming part of the Harry and Co group, their concepts of what America might be like were vague, to say the least.

Harry promised to have all his photos developed by the next study session or in-person get-together. That finally settled everyone down a little so they could get back to that week’s topic. It didn’t help that Susan was absent, being on holiday at the family cottage in Devon; she had quite the ability to keep things on track.

What did help was that they were going over Herbology essays that day, and their resident guru Neville knew all they needed to know about ways to identify dangerous and venomous plants in their natural habitat. Harry, who’d already picked Neville’s brains, spent that part of the conversation proofreading Padma, then Parvati’s. Surprisingly the twins had taken two very different approaches with their essays, which was handy for Harry as he learned quite a few things from the pair.

Soraya had gained approval for her flyer/broom warding project and was deep into researching the various rune sequences and arithmancy that could be anchored to spells for long-lasting effect, to ensure that broom and rider would stay together, and if headed groundward, would have a soft landing. Bill Weasley, the twins’ oldest brother, had accepted a position on Soraya’s team and was due to arrive from Egypt at the end of the week.

Harry didn’t mind that his Mam was a bit distracted. He’d had almost her exclusive attention for nearly the entirety of July, which had filled a part of him that he’d never known was empty. To have someone who was there for Harry, and Harry alone, was incredibly, but wonderfully, strange to him. Though it was also certainly something he could get used to.

And it’s not like he didn’t also spend time with his Guduriak mum and dad, because he did. Ringstar had deliberately cut back on her Healer demands for the length of Harry’s summer holidays, which freed her up to not only add a couple of extra sessions with her new son but also allowed them to simply spend time together. And if Ragnok found himself working without his second-in-command more than usual, he never said a word about Firelock skiving off, and was even known to take the odd day here and there to have fun with the new family to boot. A true sun worshipper, somehow those days Ragnok joined them were always the ones spent on the beach near Azurrez.

Firelock finally persuaded Soraya and Ringstar to allow Harry to join him in some simpler icefall climbs, along with Grinlast, and roped to the hilt to the two boys, he found himself sliding and falling much less. It turns out that he’d been a little lax with his safety techniques in the past, and the tongue-lashing he received from his wife was impressively thorough.

Harry spent long hours on his broom as well and soon knew the entire Enklabe like the back of his hand. Neville, now that he was much less fearful of flying, joined him often, when he could be dragged away from his garden and greenhouses at home, or the lessons with Colleen Keegan. It turns out that Neville was becoming quite a skilled artist with some professional-level instruction.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered why Hogwarts offered such a limited range of classes, particularly ones that could be considered vocational in nature. After all, how did someone learn to create the animated, sentient portraits that were so popular in the wizarding world?

Harry also visited Hawthorn House regularly, now that he was proficient with the Floo. He’d enjoyed his gardening chores the most at the Dursleys and didn’t mind getting his hands dirty helping Neville with his project of the day. The oversized hammock that Ragnok and Wildspur had gifted Neville had been secured to a couple of trees at the edge of the woods, in a glade with enough canopy to give dappled shade in the summer’s heat. The boys would often end their day lying head to toe, with cool lemonade supplied by the house-elves, as they talked over their plans for the next day or what they’d been up to that day.

Susan returned from the beach in mid-August, joining the boys most days. Her aunt worked long hours normally, and much as she loved her father, he remained a distant, withdrawn presence in her life. Her times with Harry and Neville let her be a true child, somewhat of a rare thing in the past. Particularly now that Hannah had thoroughly bonded with Lavender and Parvati, and wished to spend less time with her old childhood friend. It wasn’t that they argued or fell out, the separation had come naturally as their interests led them in different directions.

School lists finally arrived in the third week of the month, which was quite late from what Soraya said. She’d offered to handle shopping with the trio, which relieved Amelia of a burden in an especially busy week, and thrilled Augusta who despised having to be in Diagon Alley when it was crowded with back-to-school shoppers. Harry and Soraya, along with Neville, had stocked up heavily on Muggle stationery and school items for the entire study group the week before, having received everyone’s requests during the Monday morning study session.

Neville and Susan Floo’ed into the flat at 10:30. They planned on finishing their History of Magic essays together, then having lunch with Soraya at the Greek taverna that was under new management. By 1:30, they were comfortably and happily full and headed to the shops on Diagon Alley. Having Soraya with him to go shopping was much easier than Hagrid, as she was able to shrink all their purchases into each student’s backpack as they went.

They stocked up with second-year potions ingredients, with Neville getting a new cauldron as well after his gran agreed it was time to retire his dad’s old one. Parchment, quills and ink, mostly just used for essays these days, were quickly procured at the stationers, and Harry needed a trip to Madam Malkins for new school robes, having had a substantial growth spurt over the last year.

An hour and a half later, they were taking a break at Fortescue’s, sitting at one of the tables out front and enjoying a bowl of ice cream each. They only had book shopping still to do and were discussing the rather odd list which had no less than seven books by one Gilderoy Lockhart, for their DADA class.

“Seems like your new professor is a fan,” Soraya commented, with a look of disdain. “Seven books is beyond excessive. Fortunately, none of us is struggling for money, but I couldn’t imagine affording this if I had five children in school, like the Weasleys.”

They’d seen the gaggle of redheads wandering about doing their shopping earlier, and the twins had come over to say hello. When it looked like Molly Weasley was headed their way, Fred and George hurriedly returned to her side and began making an animated play to entice her into Gambol and Japes, the jokes shop. Harry knew he owed them for that distraction, and reminded himself that he’d bought extra coloured pens and notebooks for the pair when they’d shopped the week before.

“Fred and George would at least be able to share, I suppose. They certainly do practically everything together. They’re no different when it comes to homework, at least when they hang out in our study room when we’re practising spells,” Susan commented.

“But yeah, shopping for all those kids at once, that has to be expensive. I know Ginny starts first year this year. You’ll have to watch out there Harry, she’s quite a fan of yours it seems.” Neville couldn’t resist teasing his best friend just a little bit. Harry responded by balling up and tossing his paper serviette at his godbrother, refusing to dignify the comment with a verbal reply.

A few minutes later, they left Fortescue’s and headed for Flourish and Blotts. Surprised to find a large crowd around the bookstore, Soraya realised the cause when she spotted the banner that advertised Gilderoy Lockhart’s book signing event that afternoon. Knowing that Harry would likely be recognised, if not mobbed, in that sort of crowd, she drew the friends off to the side, sheltering in the doorway of the store next door, and suggested that Harry use one of his glamours.

Thankful for the suggestion, he tapped a button on his watch and immediately transformed into a sandy brown-haired boy with blue eyes and a much rounder face, not to mention growing two inches taller. Harry took a deep breath, because he truly hated being in crowds but wanted to get the last of their shipping done, then released it with a huff, and headed into the fray, his Mam and his friends in tow.

The bookstore was indeed a nightmare. Just as they made their way past the registers, they heard Lockhart, with an annoyingly bright smile and sickly sweet tone of voice, announced he’d be the Defence Against Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts that year. Soraya was unimpressed with the appointment. She’d read his first book when it came out and spotted numerous inconsistencies that suggested it was at least a partial fabrication. Despite the mob of practically swooning witches around her, she had never been a fan.

The children had located the rest of their books in a few short minutes. They had a new book of spells, targeted at second years, along with a new potions book that had apparently been set by Professor Snape. Flicking through the book, Harry noted it was much more detailed than last year’s, including topics on how to perform certain preparation techniques, how different ingredients interacted, and the theory behind how a potion came together. It seemed the Potions Master was getting serious about his students properly understanding the class.

The bookstore staff had rather cleverly bundled the required seven Lockhart books together with string, which helped expedite the checking out process. Still, there was quite a line of Hogwarts students ahead of them, leaving Harry, Neville and Susan to witness an odd occurrence. Draco’s father had been rather insulting to the Weasley twins’ dad, using the second-hand books in the youngest Weasley girl’s cauldron to demean their lack of wealth.

They were startled when the cauldron was knocked flying and Mr Weasley launched himself at Mr Malfoy. They landed hard into a bookshelf, heavy tomes dropping on their heads, and an ineffectual attendant asked them to break it up. In the end, Hagrid appeared out of nowhere it seemed, and separated the two wizards, with Malfoy senior shoving the book back into the girl’s hands and stomping off, Draco close behind and happy to escape the drama it seemed. Hagrid spoke to Mr Weasley, calming him down, though with rather derogatory comments about the Malfoy patriarch.

By this time, the line had moved up and Soraya was handing over payment for all three sets of books. Harry shrugged to himself and thought what an odd encounter, then put the whole thing out of his head. He was more focused on whether he was happy to be heading back to Hogwarts or upset that the wonderful summer was coming to a close.

~0~0~

The days were rapidly counting down now for their return to school. Justin’s dad arranged for another trip to the cinema for the Harry and Co group. They saw Beethoven, a very adorable and funny film about a St Bernard puppy and his family, followed by a visit to a Chinese restaurant, where they practically cleared out the buffet tables. Megan also arranged another trip to a Holyhead Harpies game, which delighted Harry, and had him dreaming of flying for Hufflepuff in the coming year.

The strangest occurrence of the summer was an early evening visitation at the flat by a rather odd house-elf. Calling himself Dobby, he insisted to Harry and Soraya that the boy must not return to Hogwarts this year. Dobby had the curious habit of calling Harry by his first and last name and himself in the third person. And what’s more, he insinuated that Harry’s life would be on the line if he returned to school.

Soraya immediately intervened; she refused to see her son being scared half to death by a fear-mongering house-elf.

“Dobby, either tell us what you need us to know or be gone. I won’t permit you to terrorise my son.” Soraya’s voice was firm as she spoke to the creature.

“Dobby is so sorry. Dobby doesn’t want to make Harry Potter to be afraid. Dobby just wants Harry Potter to be far away from Dobby’s master’s plans. Now Dobby has said too much and must go iron his hands, and his ears, for telling such stories of his master.”

Soraya laid a calming hand on the small being. “I know you’re taking a great risk to be here, Dobby. Let me ask you one or two more questions, then I’ll let you go. Is the threat to Harry something that’ll cause him harm directly?” The elf shook his head in a silent no.

“Is there a threat coming to Hogwarts that will cause trouble for the students in general, including Harry?” There was an emphatic head nodding to that question.

“Thank you for the warning Dobby. But Harry must return to school. He would miss his friends and learning how to use his magic.” Soraya could see the small creature becoming almost frantic at her words.

“Dobby, we will alert the professors to the threat. Harry’s Uncle Filius will be close by all year, and will keep watch over Harry.”

Dobby wasn’t inclined to accept the assurances. With a huff, he responded, “You must do what you must, and so must Dobby,” and then he snapped his fingers and disappeared from sight.

Harry and Soraya exchanged troubled glances, and then Soraya sighed. “I’ll let Filius know about our visitor. If anything odd happens during the year, you need to tell him and mirror-box call me or Firelock and Ringstar. Don’t try to sort any mysteries out by yourself, my son.”

“I won’t, Mam. And I’m pretty sure neither Susan or Neville would let me…even if I wanted to.”

Soraya let loose a deep chuckle. She was absolutely certain that Harry had hit the nail on the head with that comment. Some might call Susan bossy and Neville a worry-wort. But Soraya was keenly aware that Harry’s best friends considered looking out for others to be an intrinsic part of a friendship. She wasn’t as concerned as Dobby would perhaps like her to be, knowing her son had such a fierce pair of friends.

Reviewing their conversation with the odd little house-elf later that night as she got ready for bed, Soraya contemplated one thing she’d missed earlier. For all the wards she’d set up on the flat when Harry had moved in with her, they hadn’t stopped an unknown house-elf from entering their home.

That realisation led her to two decisions. Firstly, she’d bring up the issue at the weekly meeting of the Senior Warders the following day, because action needed to be taken on this issue. Gringotts prided itself on how secure the wards were that they were contracted to erect. This was more of a tiny glitch in the ward systems than a gaping hole, but it remained that house-elves being able to pop through at will was a security risk.

The second decision was not to alter the flat’s wards for now. As much as she hated the risk to her and Harry, Dobby was a source of useful intelligence, if there was indeed a threat emerging at Hogwarts.

Soraya continued changing for bed, then mentally slapped herself for forgetting one other key thing she needed to do. She threw a jumper over her pyjamas to look a bit more put together then pulled out her mirror-box, and contacted Filius. After explaining Dobby’s visit and warning, he agreed that the Hogwarts staff needed to be on alert to the potential danger.

He promised to meet with the other Heads of Houses and warn them of the likely threat. It went without saying, with Harry being involved in the situation, that Dumbledore would be kept out of the loop. It would be just the sort of excuse he would try to capitalise on, to get close to Harry. Soraya wished him good luck and good night, and then settled in with the novel she’d been reading. She’d done all she could for now.

Chapter 6

Somehow, September 1st appeared seemingly almost out of nowhere. After a somewhat tumultuous summer that had many more highs than lows, Harry was headed towards becoming a second-year Hogwarts student.

The start of term fell on a Tuesday and Harry and Soraya had breakfast with Ringstar and Firelock in the flat. None of his parents wanted to let him go back to school. Not only did Dobby’s warning sit heavily on them, but this was their newly adopted son. They’d only had him for two months and were expected to send him away again? The separation anxiety was reaching a fever pitch, and Harry found himself in the odd position of having to calm his parents down. Inwardly he was giggling madly at the sight of his three favourite adults dancing on the edge of an emotional meltdown. It was strange to be the voice of reason, Harry decided. It was also pretty amazing to have people who cared, and he was fairly sure he could get used to it.

Hedwig was the deciding factor in how they made their way to Kings Cross Station. If she decided to fly to Hogwarts then Soraya would Side-along Apparate Harry to Platform 9 ¾. But on this day, the somewhat temperamental owl (not that Hedwig would ever admit it) had decided she’d rather ride than fly to the school, so they were catching a cab to the station.

Ringstar and Firelock had walked with Harry to the exit at the back of Gringotts where a taxi waited for their son and his Mam. Harry found himself half crushed by the farewell hugs from his Ama and Aita. He reluctantly climbed into the back of the cab and turned backwards in his seat as they pulled away, waving farewell until they were out of sight.

“Doing alright there, Harry?” Soraya asked, knowing most almost teenaged boys would hate to be caught feeling sentimental.

She’d underestimated Harry though, because he responded, “How is it that I’m so happy and so sad all at once? I don’t want to leave you guys behind. But I’m excited to be going back to school. It makes no sense!”

“It’s just a fact of life, my son. You’re going to grow up and go in whatever direction your heart and mind leads you. Just remember your Mam, Ama and Aita will always be here for you…no matter what happens or what you need.”

Harry grabbed his Mam in a hug at those words. ‘It’s a good thing we have our mirror-boxes,’, he thought. ‘I’d hate to have to spend months at school with no more contact than owl mail once or twice a week.’

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the drop-off area at Kings Cross station. Soraya paid off the cabbie while Harry exited with Hedwig in her cage, his trunk shrunk down and in his backpack as usual. They made their way into the station with plenty of time to spare as it was only 10:25, and walked to the secluded corner where access to tracks nine, ten and eleven was located. Harry went to walk through the brick barrier, only to find it remained solid and he bounced back into Soraya, who was right behind him. He pushed against the wall with his hand a second time, as did his Mam, and found it as impermeable as normal brick.

Thinking quickly, Soraya pulled Harry into the far corner past the platform eleven entrance and fished her mirror-box out of her the expanded storage space in her handbag. She quickly called both Amelia and Susan Bones together, hoping one of them had their own box with them and would answer. Otherwise, Augusta would be next.

Fortunately, Amelia answered almost immediately. Explaining the issue with the barrier, she asked that the DMLE Head call some Aurors to investigate, in case of malfeasance. But knowing it was early enough that other students entering from the Muggle side might be locked out as well, she offered to gather any likely-looking candidates and hold them in place until a solution could be found.

Amelia took the bit by the teeth and pulled Filius onto the call. After a brief review of the circumstances, he asked Amelia to get hold of the train driver to hold the departure until he could there with a master list of the students who should be on board, and could check everyone was present and accounted for. By the time Filius arrived by Floo from Minerva’s office fifteen minutes later, list in hand, Soraya had collected nine other Muggleborn students and their families, forming quite a large group in the small area that allowed access to the last three train lines.

In the end, the barrier remained impenetrable, and there were hurried goodbyes between students and parents as Amelia and two Aurors paused their investigation to Side-along Apparate all the students onto the platform. Hedwig was decidedly displeased at the situation but settled when Susan raced up to take her cage and Harry’s backpack, shouting second-to-last carriage over her shoulder as she sped back to the train.

Filius was making sure he had all the students accounted for, having gone down the length of the train, to ensure he’d laid eyes on everyone. It was now almost 11:15 and he was preparing to send the train on its way then Floo back to Hogwarts, when Soraya casually mentioned that they’d brought him Ghirardelli chocolate back from San Francisco, and it was stored in Harry’s trunk.

Suddenly, Filius rearranged his plans and asked Amelia to mirror-box call McGonagall to notify her of the late departure, and that her colleague was riding the train as an added safety precaution. Amelia and Soraya just smiled; the diminutive Charms Master was so easy to manipulate if his sweet tooth was appealed to. But the driver blew the whistle then, ready to get going, and Harry gave Soraya one last hug before racing onto the train, Flitwick at his heels, leaving Amelia and her Aurors to sort out the barrier mystery.

~0~0~

Harry had jumped onto the last train carriage and made his way forward as the train pulled out of Kings Cross Station. Filius followed a little more slowly, as he was checking each compartment for first-year students, wanting to make sure no one was feeling serious separation anxiety already.

He arrived at Harry’s compartment nearly ten minutes after the train had gotten underway, accompanied by a blonde-haired first-year girl with pale blue eyes and a dreamy expression. Harry was sitting with Neville, Susan and Megan, and they were chatting about the Quidditch game they’d all been to several weeks before. Spotting Flitwick, Harry reached into his backpack and retrieved several chocolate bars, handing them over with a laughing, “Here you go, Professor Uncle Filius. Mam said you could only have two at a time.”

Flitwick chuckled at the fact his chocolate supply was being rationed by his twelve-year-old nephew of sorts. “Many thanks, Harry. Mmmm, raspberry and dark chocolate. Oh, and sea salt and dark chocolate. Your summer holiday essay just automatically scored an Outstanding,” he joked.

He became more serious then. “This is Miss Luna Lovegood. She was sitting all by herself in the last carriage and I knew just the group of students for her to ride with. You don’t mind, do you?” The professor looked pleadingly at the four second years.

“Not at all. Come join us, Luna. Where are you from?” Megan took the lead in making the younger girl feel welcome, also introducing her to the other three friends, while Flitwick continued with his plan to check on the other first years further up the train.

“I live close to Ottery St Catchpole, in Devon,” Luna said, taking the seat between Harry and Neville.

“Oh I love Devon,” Susan replied. “We always spend a couple of weeks over the summer at our cottage near Ilfracombe. We have the best time.”

“My father and I live on the south coast, but yes, it’s a beautiful place to live.”

While the three witches chatted, Harry had been racking his brains, trying to recall why the town Luna came from was familiar.

At a pause in the conversation, the answer came to Harry. “You must live near the Weasleys. Fred and George mentioned they lived near that town.”

“Yes, they live fairly close to me. I used to play with Ginny all the time. But well, she’s gone a bit boy mad in the last year, so she hasn’t been much fun, and we haven’t spent as much time together. Truth be told, Harry Potter, the boy she’s gone a bit mad for is you.”

Harry blushed at that revelation. He’d caught a hint of that when he’d seen the girl with her family at Kings Cross the previous year and had kind of hoped that her infatuation had worn off a little.

“I had a bit of a clue from a comment I’d heard, but it’s still an issue huh?”

Neville looked at Harry with concern. He knew his best friend wasn’t the slightest bit comfortable with the way most of the wizarding world looked at him.

“With any luck, she’ll be sorted into Gryffindor like her brothers,” he commented reassuringly.

“Here’s hoping,” Harry replied emphatically, then turned the conversation back to Luna, wanting to get to know her better, particularly when she told him that his Wrackspurts were less busy when he didn’t focus on Ginny.

The younger girl intrigued him; it was very clear she marched to the beat of her own drum. The radish earrings alone said that. But she also had fascinating tales of trips to other countries that she’d taken with her father, searching for creatures called Blibbering Humdingers and Crumple-horned Snorkacks, and time passed quickly as Luna settled easily into membership of the Harry and Co group of friends.

At two o’clock, packed lunches appeared in front of each student, and the Hogwarts house-elves had even realised Professor Flitwick was on board, as he got a meal as well. He’d done his rounds of the train and had returned to their compartment, knowing most students would not welcome a professor joining them for the trip.

The meal was simple, just thickly piled sandwiches of ham, beef or cheese and salad items, per student preferences, though Susan wondered just how the house-elves figured out what the first years would like. They also had freshly fried potato crisps, a piece of fruit and a slice of chocolate cake as well, along with a bottle of lemonade, so they were comfortably full when done. This still didn’t stop most of the students from raiding the trolley when it came by, particularly given it was now sporting quite an amazing selection of Muggle and magical sweet and savoury treats.

Even Professor Flitwick, stocked up as he was with two more Ghirardelli chocolate bars, indulged, satisfying his near-insatiable sweet tooth with a Muggle Twirl and some of Honeydukes finest fudge. Luna, despite her very slender build, had a sweet tooth to equal the Charms professor, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Luna, who was clearly very intelligent, would sort into Ravenclaw, as she’d found a kindred spirit in the Head of that House.

Several hours later, after arriving at Hogsmeade and being taken up to the school by the thestral-drawn carriages, while the first years crossed the lake, Harry’s suspicions were proven correct. In a surprisingly short amount. of time under the Hat, Luna was sent to the Ravenclaw table and was greeted by Padma, who’d met the blonde girl when there was a general rearrangement of seating in the three compartments that their group had occupied.

Harry recalled that he’d promised to visit and talk with Herrick, the Sorting Hat, during his own Sorting last year. In the busyness of classes, clubs and homework, not to mention the aftermath of Quirrellmort, he’d forgotten to do so, beyond the one time he’d been half-coerced into Dumbledore’s office, while Soraya read the Headmaster the riot act.. All of a sudden, he heard Herrick’s voice in his head again.

“Don’t worry young Harry. Now you’ve remembered, we can talk whenever you like. Just say my name in your head, and if I’m not busy, I’ll happily chat with you.”

“Oh, this is brilliant. I thought I’d have to sneak into Dumbledore’s office to find you. And I’m certain that’s a bad idea right now.”

“He’s been in a terrible temper for weeks, and he’s very upset about that restraining order. I have to say, I didn’t think Tiberias Ogden had it in him to do something like that. Maybe that was why I felt he needed to be in Gryffindor. Took him long enough but he finally found his courage it seems. Oh, I must go, Harry. Can’t interrupt all those fascinating announcements.”

Right then and there, Harry decided if he ever needed sarcasm lessons, he’d be going to Herrick for them. He wished the Hat good evening and returned his attention to the head table.

Dumbledore, who was decidedly not looking in Harry’s direction, gave a few opening remarks, introduced Lockhart as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, and then called for the food to arrive. As he tucked into his meal at the Hufflepuff table, Harry contemplated the final sorting of the night. Ginevra Weasley had been a near Hat-stall, before finally being sent to Gryffindor, and Harry had the horrible suspicion that she’d been arguing for placement in Hufflepuff, to get better access to Harry. He made a mental note to check with Soraya later, as to whether they could ward their study room against specific students, so it would remain a safe haven for himself and his friends this year.

Luna, however, had already been invited by Susan and the other girls, and Harry knew that, even being a year younger, the girl would fit in well with the group. Somehow her quirkiness just meant that everyone had accepted her and wanted to take the first year under their wings.

Finally, dinner was over and the last announcements were made. The Weasley twins managed to set the School Song words to the music of Puff the Magic Dragon, which Harry thought was a brilliant, if slightly ironic, choice of Muggle songs, and they had nearly everybody who’d ever heard the song joining in by the end. As the Ravenclaw students were led up the stairs by their prefects, Luna waved happily to her new Hufflepuff friends, who were descending towards the Badgers’ Sett.

Minutes later, Harry looked around the familiar common room, waiting for Professor Sprout to give her usual start-of-year message, and he wondered just what new and wonderful things this year would bring.

~0~0~

They received their schedules the next morning at breakfast. Neville was thrilled to see their first class was double Herbology, enjoying the fact they were starting the new school year with his favourite class. Double Potions in the afternoon was less exciting, though Harry was eager to see if the new book that has been assigned meant even more changes in Professor Snape’s teaching methods.

Both classes went well, though the professors cursed the habit of setting summer homework as their desks piled high with essays on parchment. Harry was interested to see how the study group’s grades turned out for their assignments after they’d put all that work in each week to understanding the material and polishing their essays as best they could.

They had Defence with the Gryffindors on Thursday morning, their second day of classes. Harry was incensed that the quiz they were given was a self-indulgent ode to all things Lockhart, rather than related at all to the topic he was supposed to be teaching. When the professor fled the classroom when the bell rang, in fear of a bunch of Cornish Pixies he’d released, he volunteered Neville, Susan and Harry to round them up.

They had to free Ronald Weasley from the chandelier where he’d been lifted by the ears (he then raced off, his face as red as his hair) and put the room back to rights as well. To add insult to injury, they were late for their History class that followed. Fortunately it was Binns and he barely noticed their arrival, just tut-tutting then returning to his droning lecture on the Statue of Secrecy.

On the way to lunch, the trio filled in the rest of the Hufflepuff second years, as well as Padma who’d shared the History class with them, on the debacle that Lockhart had dumped on them. It was decided to meet up in the study room after dinner to talk about the situation. It was obvious that something needed to be done about the man, and the suggestion Graham made to bring their mirror-boxes so their parents could be included in the discussion was a sound one. Padma promised to let Luna know about the meeting and would get word to the Gryffindors too, as she had Transfiguration with them that afternoon.

Harry meanwhile made a mental note to make sure that his Ama and Aita sent a pair of the mirror-boxes to Luna and her father. He had a feeling the first year would appreciate the ability to keep in close touch with him.

~0~0~

The meeting that evening was productive at one level, in that it put everyone on alert. But at another level, it was very frustrating that they had nothing yet to directly prove Lockhart’s incompetence.

Though one very useful thing came out of the group mirror-box call to the parents that followed. Firelock volunteered a couple of Guduriak admin trainees to go through the entire list of Lockhart’s published works and create a detailed timeline. As far as he could see, there was no way the wizard could have done everything he claimed in the years since he’d left Hogwarts.

The second surprising piece of the evening was when Luna greeted Firelock and Ringstar in fluent Gudurian.

“Arratsalde on bioi,” she opened, addressing both Ringstar and Firelock (good evening to you both).

They both replied, “Arratsalde on“, wishing the fey first-year good evening in return.

Luna continued, still in perfectly fluent Gurdurian, to thank Firelock and Ringstar for not discounting their perceptions, just because they are children.

Harry, who by this point was pretty fluent himself, just gaped. It had taken him months to get half as comfortable with the language. He was deeply intrigued by this girl who was messing with everyone’s expectations.

~0~0~

The group of friends was starting to settle into a steady back-at-school routine, though Harry was struggling a little, thanks to a couple of persistent (and rather uncomfortable) first-year Gryffindor distractions. The first issue was with the Weasley twins’ only sister, Ginevra. As Luna had mentioned, and Harry himself had noticed, the girl was a bit obsessed with the false persona that had been created by all those books that had been written without his knowledge or consent.

Ragnok had put a stop to any further publication and had any copies pulled from bookstore shelves. He’d even managed to engineer a nice settlement for the illegal use of Harry’s name and image. But that didn’t stop the fact that there were thousands of the books sitting on bookshelves all around Britain, and being read and re-read by wannabe Mrs Harry Potters.

As a twelve-year-old boy, the last thing he wanted to contemplate was being involved with a girl, let alone consider a future wife, so the near-stalking behaviour demonstrated by Ginevra was driving him a little crazy. She appeared wherever he went, almost as if she had a tracking charm on him. It was bad enough that he gave in to his paranoia one day and had his Uncle Filius check. Thankfully it was negative, but it didn’t negate the fact he was tired of being continually followed.

The study room had become a sanctuary for Harry, and by extension, Neville and Susan, and because she just appeared and stayed, Luna. After bringing up the topic via their mirror-boxes, Soraya had taught him how to ward the room so only those permitted could enter. Ginevra had tried once and found the door would not give way, no matter how strong an Alohomora she threw at it. The twins tried to make her see sense, knowing she was driving their friend up the wall, but she followed him silently anyway, never saying a word, just this constant presence the boy could not be rid of.

The second situation was another stalker, of a different sort. Also a first year Gryffindor, Colin Creevey was an eternally cheerful and enthusiastic child, who carried a camera with him everywhere as if his hand had been superglued to it. The Muggleborn boy was enamoured with all things magical, and Harry in particular, and kept popping up out of nowhere to snap pictures of his new hero. Being perennially blinded by a flash did not do wondrous things to Harry’s temper, and when Colin asked him to autograph a photo, he kind of lost it, and soundly told the boy off.

It wouldn’t have been such a big thing, but it happened outside of the Defence classroom and Lockhart managed to hear part of the conversation. By the time it was all over, Harry was being lectured by the foppish fool on the best ways to manage his fame, and on not letting it go to his head. The irony of that wasn’t lost on Harry. To add insult to injury, the DADA class that followed consisted of Lockhart acting out a scene from one of his books, and he compelled Harry to play the part of the troll.

He was fuming when the class was over, and his friends were glad to see him head off to the owlery to spend some time being comforted by Hedwig’s affections. And if Neville happened to stand guard outside and dissuade others from going in for the half hour it took for Harry to settle back to his normally genial demeanour, nothing was said about that after either. But it did make all of the Harry and Co group hope that the admin trainees found a lot to pin on the DADA professor, and soon.

As it turns out, the trainees were finding plenty of questionable material in Lockhart’s books. Enough that they’d sent out enquiries to various other Gringotts locations around the world, where trained fraud investigators went to work. Ragnok, being very fond of Harry, had sent word out that he’d owe a debt of gratitude to any other Buruzagi who assisted with debunking Lockhart.

Ragnok’s name carried great weight amongst the Guduriak clans and he was known to always honour such debts. As a result, the fraud investigators went to work with alacrity. It would take a little more time to have the evidence needed to take the charlatan down, but the clans were determined it would happen.

~0~0~

One of the bright spots of Harry’s week was always the flying classes. Now an elective for second years, for the first time ever, the classes were scheduled in the gap between the last afternoon class and dinner, twice a week. Madam Hooch had divided them into two groups based on skill level, and enlisted some of the House Quidditch team members for assistance.

The first group, of which Neville was a member, were for those needing to consolidate their flying skills and improve their confidence. Madam Hooch supervised this class closely and was aiming to add more complex flying skills as the term progressed.

The second group was largely supervised by Gryffindor Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood and fourth-year Hufflepuff Seeker Cedric Diggory. They were focusing on more Quidditch-based flying skills and spent much of the time on various drills, and formation flying, akin to the skills used by Chasers. Harry spent his time concentrating on the Seeker and Chaser positions, as he still intended to play in the pick-up team games, and he liked having the versatility to play both positions.

However, the first time he pulled off a Wronski feint, under Cedric’s close supervision, found him getting soundly berated by Susan for scaring her so badly. Cedric stood by and chuckled. Harry had performed the feint perfectly, which meant, technically, he was supposed to scare the daylights out of the watchers.

Madam Hooch just laughed at Susan’s antics, and said to Harry, “Fifteen points to Hufflepuff for an excellent feint,” then turned to Cedric and said, “Hufflepuff team trials are going to be interesting this year.”

She was alluding to the fact that if a current player got out-flied during trials, then the position usually went to the better flyer. Cedric gulped a little. Harry was a fantastic Seeker. But maybe he’d get one of the open Chaser positions. He superstitiously crossed his fingers, hiding them in his robe pocket as he did.

~0~0~

Hufflepuff Quidditch trials were held the last weekend of September. They wouldn’t play their first game for several months yet, so Emily Dean, the Hufflepuff Keeper and Captain was pretty laid back about getting trials underway.

They’d only had one Chaser graduate last year, so the team was looking pretty stable, but as Madam Hooch had mentioned, anyone could try out. Harry had a go at both Seeker and Chaser positions and was just edged out of the Chaser spot by a fourth year with a longer reach. He gave Cedric a good run for his money though, and ended up locking in the Seeker position for the Reserve team, with Cedric promising to get him some game time during the House Cup matches.

Harry was more than thrilled to get a team position, not minding in the least that it was on the Reserve team. This was the first year he was eligible to play, and he knew his parents would be proud of him. He was so excited to grab his mirror-box and tell them the news that he didn’t even notice Colin had been snapping pictures the whole time, and Ginevra Weasley had practically drooled as she watched from the stands. But his friends had noticed and they promised to keep an eye on the ‘Fan Club’ as the duo had been dubbed.

~0~0~

Once practices started up, along with the pick-up game programme that had started up last year, and Charms and Herbology clubs got going, Harry started to feel like he was meeting himself coming and going. But he was enjoying everything he was doing, and thanks to the secluded study room, his homework time was used efficiently, so he was keeping up with his studies.

Many of the friends had brought extra books, either gifts they’d received or ones that parents and older siblings had used before them, to add to the growing book collection in their study room. Soraya had sent along some of the more advanced spell books she’d used in her Mastery, and they were building quite a nice little resource library of their own.

Ragnok had come through for them again and gifted them with all of the remaining additional study materials available from the WEA (Wizarding Examinations Authority), so they actually had sources that were a little more obscure than most. The Gringotts Buruzagi had anonymously donated multiple copies of the core WEA materials, for all years and subjects, to each of the common rooms and the library the year before. But Hermione Granger became very upset when Professor McGonagall mentioned a particular reference Susan had used in her essay on transfiguring metal items into fabrics.

The Gryffindor swot had been very indignant that they weren’t sharing what they had with everyone and assumed they were being treated differently because they were friends with Harry Potter. By now the fact that about a third of the second-year students had created their own study room was common knowledge.

By the time she worked up to a foot-stomping, “It’s not fair to exclude others, and you’re probably cheating off of each other anyway, to get the marks you’re getting…” Professor McGonagall had reached her limit.

“Miss Granger, that is enough.” The stern direction cut through the girl’s building tantrum. “That’ll be fifteen points from Gryffindor for being disrespectful to your classmates and your teachers. Do you think we can’t tell when students copy from each other, or are you implying we’re all stupid?”

The bushy-haired girl might be bright, but there were times she wasn’t that smart because she continued to argue, “But Professor, it’s unfair that they have books the rest of us can’t get in the library.”

“Miss Granger, that will be another ten points for continuing to argue and detention with me tonight at eight o’clock. For your information, nearly all the materials they use are available for purchase from the WEA, and I am sure you have heard of ordering books from the Owl Catalogue from Flourish and Blotts. Now sit down, and do not interrupt again, or you will also be serving additional detentions with Mr Filch.”

A gobsmacked Granger sat down abruptly. She’d never had a detention in her life, and to be spoken like that by her Head of House was mortifying. Not to mention Professor McGonagall had taken twenty-five points from her. She’d be shunned in the Common Room for that. Not that many people really talked to her there, but still.

Harry and his friends watched the girl as she contemplated the events of the last few minutes. None of them could say they truly liked her; Granger was too competitive and abrasive in her manner. But they hoped she learned something from what was likely a humiliating experience from her perspective. Time would tell, Harry supposed, though he wasn’t especially hopeful. Neville meanwhile wondered if it was worth talking to his gran. Surely at least a few copies of the more advanced or rarer WEA materials should be available in the library for everyone to use. Perhaps, as a member of the Board of Governors, she could do something about that.

~0~0~

The second-year classes proceeded apace. DADA was a complete waste of time, as Lockhart spent more time play-acting than actually teaching anything useful. He’d tried to haul Harry to the front of the class to act as whatever creature he was supposed to have defeated several more times. A cease and desist letter from Firelock, also bearing Soraya and Ringstar’s signatures, finally put a stop to that. Firelock might also have implied in the letter that he’d be considered persona non grata at the bank if he continued harassing his son, which had drained all colour from the wizard’s face when he read that.

Harry, to thoroughly drive the point home, began listing all three last names on his essays when he handed them. It had been Ringstar’s rather evil suggestion, and the wince that Lockhart gave when Harry passed over the first essay labelled that way, seemed to demonstrate the professor had gotten the message.

Binns was no better than Lockhart as an instructor, though in different ways of course. One of their study sessions each week was usually devoted to teaching themselves the History of Magic material using the WEA guides.

Potions classes were going much better than the older students said that they used to. The new book they’d found on their booklists was much more comprehensive and easy to follow. The recipes had clear directions, which left much less room for error, both in the preparation of ingredients and the actual brewing. There was a comprehensive review of various preparation methods and the reasons for using one over another, and colour-coded keys in the recipes warned of potentially dangerous interactions. In all, it was a very thorough how-to book, to get students through to their OWLs. From what the sixth and seventh years said in the common room, there was also an advanced volume for the NEWT students.

They’d talked about the new book in their study group and clever Luna figured out the secret. The author was one Evan S Perseus. She’d been doodling away on a sheet of notepaper and a pencil, then suddenly proclaimed, “Oh that makes sense!”

She turned the paper so most everyone could see it, and they read:

Evan S Perseus

=

Severus Snape

It was an anagram, and their rather dour Potions professor had gone and written a much better book for his students. To say they were surprised was an understatement. Instinctively, they all knew he’d hate to have that news bandied around in school gossip. Instead, they volunteered Justin, who tended to be the most polished diplomat of the group, to write a collective thank you to the professor, with the assurance that the author’s identity would remain a secret. They all signed their names and Justin slipped the envelope into the pile of essays when they turned in their next assignment.

Professor Snape never directly acknowledged the letter, but it was mentioned in the staff room that he was taking much fewer points these days, particularly from the second years. Severus refused to comment on that phenomenon either. He was just content that his classes were much less volatile, in many ways, when the students had a decent textbook.

Herbology, Charms and Transfiguration remained fun and challenging courses. Thanks to their discipline with studying over the summer, pretty much all of the Harry and Co group was either ahead of the class and being enlisted to help other students, or were getting the spells and techniques easily. Harry and Neville aced the lesson on the baby Mandrakes in Herbology, as they’d helped transplant these plants over the summer, moving them from Udaberria to Udara when they’d matured enough and needed a warmer climate to finish growing. Their Head of House was just a touch jealous; she’d have practically killed to have such wonderful opportunities in her youth. Still, she relished her chances to visit the Enklabe now, knowing what a rare privilege it was.

Harry still struggled to see the point of Astronomy, and why they couldn’t combine several empty classrooms to create a large space and charm the ceiling to show the night sky, like Muggle planetariums. He hated having a class at midnight, particularly as the weather got colder. Sometimes he wondered why outdated traditions persisted in the wizarding world. Then he happened upon a Muggle Studies textbook in the common room and realised the information presented was fifty to one hundred years out of date. That explained a lot, unfortunately.

But there was usually little time to contemplate the inconsistencies of the wizarding world. There was always something Harry needed to do, or someplace to be, or a Quidditch game to get involved with. And he was thriving on all of the challenges of attending a magical school, along with the companionship of so many good friends.

Chapter 7

The axe fell on Gilderoy Lockhart in the third week of October. Ragnok’s admin trainees had done a magnificent job, and the evidence the fraud investigators gathered across eleven different countries was compelling. They’d ended up finding nearly twenty victims who’d had their stories stolen and memories obliviated, and it was thought that the remaining tales were pure fiction. Ragnok had forwarded the information to Amelia Bones, and she appeared Tuesday morning during breakfast, accompanied by three Aurors.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had a wonderfully booming voice when he projected, which was why Amelia had chosen him to make the arrest. Public humiliation was the order of the day.

From easily twenty-five metres distant from the Head Table, in a Great Hall filled with breakfasting students, Kingsley called out, “Gilderoy Lockhart, please stand.” The other two Aurors were approaching on either side and leaving no room for escape.

Kingsley continued, “Please surrender your wand and come with us peacefully. You are under arrest for fraud, intellectual property theft, and illegal use of mind magics. Other charges may be laid later if additional evidence substantiates that.” The entire room was silent, except for lavish protests from the wizard being arrested.

Shacklebolt finished his part of the arrest, in a move that Amelia had copied directly from the Muggle police. Prior to her installation as DMLE Director, there’d been no formal process to ensure those arrested knew their rights.

“You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in the Wizengamot court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Lockhart deflated at those words. He knew the jig was up, that he’d likely overplayed his hand by accepting Dumbledore’s offer of the DADA position. It had invited too much scrutiny from students with powerful parents.

Dumbledore finally found his words and stood up to protest the arrest. “Surely, Amelia, this is all a misunderstanding. Let’s all move to my office and I’m certain we can sort this out. No need to disrupt everyone’s breakfast.”

Amelia ignored him and looked at Minerva. Maintaining a professional demeanour, she asked, “Professor McGonagall, might we use your Floo to return with our prisoner to the DMLE?”

McGonagall nodded her assent and began to lead them from the Great Hall. Realising that Dumbledore was simply wringing his hands rather uselessly, before exiting the Hall she called out, “Defence classes are cancelled until further notice, while we arrange for a replacement instructor. You will be expected to study quietly in the library, common rooms or other study space during your class times. This is not an excuse to just mess about. Understood?” She directed her severe gaze around the room, decided the students had gotten the message, and then led the way to her office. Truthfully, she wouldn’t miss this DADA instructor one tiny, little bit.

~0~0~

It wasn’t until classes were over for the day before all the professors could gather in the staff room to discuss the DADA position. Dumbledore had wanted to hold the meeting in his office, but Minerva had revolted at the idea of stuffing every single staff into the smallish room, not to mention the prank opportunities that would present to the Weasley twins, if they were all collected together in the one tower, with only a single means of egress. The possibilities were too dreadful to consider, so she overrode Albus’s wishes. He wasn’t happy about it, but Minerva frankly couldn’t give a damn at that point.

Fortified with an enormous mug of tea (she’d used engorgio and a strong warming charm on her cup), Minerva settled down at the foot of the table, knowing Albus would sit nowhere else but at the head. Of course, he arrived well after everyone else had assembled, and was a bit disconcerted that his deputy Headmistress had already instituted a discussion of their DADA options.

The professors were conferring about who might be available at relatively short notice, picking brains for the names of Defence Masters, and even running through lists of past students who’d gained O’s on their NEWTs.

Dumbledore of course had to interrupt. “Surely we can work together to cover the DADA classes until Christmas break. That will give me time to launch a proper search for candidates and conduct interviews.”

Filius snorted, “You’ll be needing Time-Turners to manage that Albus, unless you’re planning on teaching the class yourself. No insult to my colleagues, but it could be safely argued that Severus alone is truly qualified for the position, and of the rest of us, only Minerva, myself and yourself have a strong enough background in Defence to teach some of the material. Thank Merlin, Minerva’s no longer doing your paperwork since the Board of Governors put their foot down last year, but that still doesn’t free any of us up enough to take on an entire additional curriculum. We need a dedicated DADA professor, and sooner rather than later. Unless, as I mentioned, you’re willing to teach the class yourself.”

Severus actually applauded at hearing those words. It was about time the old goat got a bit of a reality check, and couldn’t help but smirk at the none-too-subtle reminder of Albus’ losing battle with the Governors. While he did indeed have a Defence Mastery, since getting his own textbook into the students’ hands this year, his teaching experiences were much less fraught, and he was, dare he say it, almost enjoying himself.

There was an old rumour floating about that he begged for the Defence position every year, and was always turned down. He didn’t know how it had gotten started or why it persisted. Any fool could see that Potions was his first love.

He’d only gone for the second Mastery as a challenge to himself, in the years after the war ended, when he found himself becoming increasingly frustrated at being stuck as a teacher. Severus had hoped to leave Hogwarts and find a research-based potions position, but hadn’t been able to escape the hooks that Dumbledore had into him from his days as a Voldemort supporter. So he’d staved off some of the ennui and resentment by working on the Defence qualifications.

Of course, Dumbledore started backpedalling at the implied threat that he’d be stuck back in the classroom again. He’d enjoyed teaching Transfiguration for about the first decade of his career before his ambitious nature saw him becoming bored with being a mere teacher. He protested vehemently that he had too much on his plate to add full-time teaching to it, and suddenly they were back to Minerva leading the discussion about potential Defence candidates.

Filius offered to speak with Ragnok to see if any likely candidates amongst the Gringotts employees might be interested in taking a sabbatical from the bank, until next summer. The rest of the staff thought that was quite a good option, though Dumbledore bristled at the thought of another goblin ally being in his school.

Poppy suggested talking with Bill Weasley, the curse-breaker having been top of his Defence class for his NEWTs, and who’d recently returned to Britain. Pomona poured water on the idea by saying, “Have you seen him recently? Long hair, dragon tooth earring, dressed in leather most of the time? We’ll never get any useful work out of just about any girl from second or third year up, and more than a few boys of the same age as well!”

That set practically everyone to laughing, with Rolanda Hooch nearly falling off her chair with her loud guffaws.

Minerva smiled and rapped her teaspoon on the side of her mug. “As amusing as Pomona’s comment is, there’s an element of truth to it. But I believe Mr Weasley just accepted a position on a team working on a special project at Gringotts. I doubt he’d even be available, or if he’d want the DADA position in light of his recent move.”

Filius indicated that was indeed the case. Last that he’d heard, Soraya’s team were deeply entrenched in solving the challenges of the broom flight-safety project, and enjoying themselves immensely. He very much doubted that Mr Weasley would be tempted away from what would likely turn out to be a very lucrative undertaking. Not to mention that Harry’s adoptive mother was a formidable witch, and he had no intentions of making her mad.

Severus spoke up then. “I attended a Defence Masters conference during the summer holidays. Several attendees had recently attained their Masteries. One or more may still be looking for a more permanent position. And with the goblins breaking the DADA position curse over the summer, when they restored the castle’s wards, it might be good to find a younger professor, who will be willing to stay and develop the position.”

“Do you have the means of contacting them, Severus?” Minerva asked, determined to find a solution to the vacancy as soon as possible.

“There was a contact list of all the attendees in the information packet. Perhaps we might make some Floo calls together and determine if any are suitable and available?” Severus was as focused as McGonagall in finding a DADA candidate. Otherwise, he knew Albus would find a way to shoehorn Defence classes into his every waking hour that wasn’t devoted to teaching Potions.

“That sounds like an excellent plan. Would you meet me in my office once you retrieve that list? We can start making calls before dinner with any luck. Albus, once we have a name or two, we’ll arrange for formal interviews with you and me. I think we can have a new DADA teacher in fairly short order. Would you at least take over the OWL and NEWT students in the meantime? So they don’t get so far behind?”

Minerva had boxed the Headmaster very neatly into a corner. Not only was she going to be the one to short-list the candidates, but she’d clearly indicated she would be integral to the final selection, and she’d forced him back into the classroom, at least part of the time. Albus was impotently fuming as the meeting broke up. Damn that popinjay Lockhart for getting caught!

~0~0~

Severus met Minerva in her office a very short time later, having been able to lay hands on the contact list quite quickly. They went through the list fairly rapidly, eliminating ones that they knew were not a good fit for Hogwarts.

The Deputy Headmistress had a surprisingly wide knowledge of the international wizarding community. It turned out that the deputies of the various magical schools around the world maintained an informal information network, partly to ensure that teachers fired for cause didn’t misrepresent the situation to get hired at another school.

They whittled the list of forty down to three names. The first two were recent Mastery graduates, Wandara Bishop from Australia and Hayden Brissette from Québec in Canada. The third was the current teacher of Defence at Beauxbatons, who was rumoured to be looking for a change in scenery.

The latter was the first one to be eliminated. The wizard, Etienne St-Jean, was tied to a contract through the end of the school year. He also indicated he was looking for warmer climes than Scotland with that change of scenery.

With time zone differences, they managed to catch Wandara Bishop just as the witch was waking up to start her day in Sydney. She’d just received acceptance to study for a second Mastery in Healing in the new year and offered her regrets. If the position had come up earlier, she’d have likely been quite keen on the job.

That left Hayden Brissette, who it seemed was taking the opportunity to do an extended tour of Europe, if the number of auto-updates to the Floo address were anything to go by.

“I should perhaps tell you a little about Hayden, Minerva. They’re a metamorphmagus, who isn’t too attached to any single identity. They showed up in a different body each of the five days of the conference, and to be honest, I couldn’t honestly tell you if Hayden is a witch or a wizard. I have to say, it’s a brilliant defence strategy for more than just undercover roles. I saw them duel and when they turned into a small child at one point, it completely threw their opponent. They’ll keep the students on their toes. I’m just not sure how Albus will cope with it.”

They managed to catch the new Defence Master at their pensione in Rome. Hayden was in the persona of a middle-aged blonde witch that day and was greatly interested in the Defence position. Minerva was impressed with their quick intelligence and ideas for class activities that they threw out, off the cuff. Needing to look into the availability of an international Portkey, Hayden asked to call back after they’d both had dinner to arrange a time for an interview.

Minerva readily agreed, and sat back from the fireplace, bemoaning the state of her knees.

“I have a good feeling about them, Severus,” she commented. “Albus will likely throw a fit. I think he believes he has the exclusive rights to being the only eccentric here in the castle. But don’t worry, I’ll manage Albus.”

Her tone of voice left Severus wondering just exactly what she had on the Headmaster to sound so certain of her control of the situation. Especially as her smile looked exactly like the cat who’d swallowed the cream. Sadly, he knew she’d also never tell, leaving him with an eternal mystery.

They went down to dinner then, so as to be available when Brissette called back. There was plenty of chatter at every table in the Great Hall about Lockhart’s arrest and who’d be the new DADA teacher, including at the head table as well. But Severus wasn’t one to gossip at the best of times, while Minerva refused to be drawn until the interview plans were in place, so Dumbledore found himself left disconcertedly in the dark. Which just added to his frustration levels.

~0~0~

Hayden Brissette returned the Floo call just before 8 pm. They’d secured the earliest Portkey possible and were scheduled to arrive in London at 7:30 the following evening. Offering to be available any time from Thursday morning onwards, Minerva wasted no time, booking an interview at 9 am, and offering to meet the young Defence Master at the Apparition point just outside the gates at 8:45. The wily Gryffindor was planning on getting to know Hayden a little better on the walk, as well as give them a bit of background to the recent history of the Defence position as well.

Brissette arrived as a thirty-ish wizard, short, with russet-coloured hair and green eyes, on Thursday morning. They had only the very slightest touch of a French accent as they spoke, and when Minerva commented, they replied that their mother was from Vancouver and so they’d grown up speaking both languages as a matter of course.

Dumbledore didn’t exactly endear himself by greeting the Defence Master, with “Welcome, my boy. It’s good to meet you.” Minerva had tried to get through to the Headmaster, about the need to avoid gender-based terminology, but her words had seemingly gone in one ear and out the other.

Still, the remainder of the interview went well, and an hour later, Hayden Brissette was being shown the Defence classrooms, office and living quarters. They’d shrunken their belongings in a travelling trunk and were ready to move in; the rest could be sent over from Canada later. Brissette agreed that taking the weekend to go over their teaching plans would be sufficient and that classes could resume on Monday morning.

At dinner that night, Dumbledore introduced the new Defence professor, to loud applause. Thanks to the efficiency with which Minerva had arranged for a new instructor, Albus had weaselled out of teaching the fifth and seventh years for the remainder of the week, and the OWL and NEWT students were greatly relieved to have a replacement teacher available.

Brissette appeared at breakfast Monday morning, their first day of classes, as an androgynous-looking, twenty-something brunette, which set tongues wagging amongst the students, wondering if the new teacher was using glamours or was a metamorphmagus.

The second year Hufflepuffs had Defence that afternoon, with the Gryffindors, and were greeted with the news that they were to refer to their instructor as Professor, not sir or ma’am, and that it would be polite to use the pronoun they when referring to the professor in the third person. Susan, never one for being backward about coming forward, asked the question everyone wanted to know.

“Professor, if it’s not impolite to ask. Are you a metamorphmagus?”

“Indeed I am. It’s Miss Bones, correct?” Hayden replied. “We will be covering techniques to help hide your identity in our classes later this year. You can’t shift as easily as myself, but there are still many spells that can be used to mask your identity.”

The professor morphed into the middle-aged blonde witch identity that they’d been using the day of the Floo call about the position, before switching straight back.

“But the use of glamours, and even Muggle makeup techniques and disguises, can be very effective defence strategies, particularly if you’re moving through a hostile environment.”

The second years were quite amazed by the versatility their new professor showed. Brissette closed the discussion on a practical note. “Keep working hard on your Transfiguration skills. Changing size, age and shape means you also need to be adept with clothing transfiguration. Otherwise, it’s incredibly hard on the budget if you have to go shopping every time.”

That set off a laugh, and curiosity satisfied, the professor was able to get back to the planned lesson for the day, which was how to deal with doxies and other household pests.

Meeting in their study room that evening before dinner, the response to Professor Brissette was universally positive. Their sense of humour and obvious knowledge of the material had the group feeling much less like they’d be teaching themselves Defence for the rest of the year.

~0~0~

While Gilderoy Lockhart was getting accustomed to life in the Ministry holding cells, as he awaited his trial, another prisoner was preparing for his own long-delayed trial.

Amelia Bones had been directed by the acting Chief Warlock Tiberius Ogden at Harry’s adoption hearing, to look into the Sirius Black case. In the four days she had left to her before her holiday in Devon, she’d put a team of Aurors to the job of reinvestigating the case and had been shocked to find they’d essentially had to start from scratch, as the case file was devastatingly thin, and indeed, there had never been a trial.

She’d contacted the still-Acting Chief Warlock with the news, to find that the canny Augusta Longbottom, in her motion to force Dumbledore to stand down from Harry’s hearing, had phrased it so that he was replaced in the role of Chief Warlock until further notice, leaving the change open-ended. As such, the magic of the Wizengamot was still recognising Ogden as the Chief Warlock. She knew without a doubt that Dumbledore would do everything in his power to regain his position, but she would capitalise on the opportunity while she had it.

She needed a signed order from Ogden to authorise Black’s release to her custody, and then to remand him to the secure ward at St Mungo’s for medical evaluation and, pending the outcome of the investigation, to hold him for trial. Ogden, rather enjoying the chance to see justice properly done for Harry and his godfather, signed whatever Amelia needed without argument.

Amelia travelled to Azkaban herself that afternoon, accompanied by Kingsley Shacklebolt. They found Sirius Black to be terribly dishevelled and more than a bit smelly, in the near rags of the prison robes. After nigh on ten years of steady Dementor exposure, the wizard was still surprisingly articulate, though he jumped at every small sound and shifted his eyes constantly. Looking for what, Amelia could not tell.

Black proceeded to tell a rather fantastic tale of secret animagi, switched-up Secret Keepers, a faked death, and his own innocence. Unfortunately, not one piece of evidence currently existed to substantiate his story. His wand had not been taken into evidence somehow, which meant they couldn’t even cast Priori Incantatem to establish what spells Sirius had used that day.

The prisoner had eagerly offered to be questioned under Veritaserum or with Legilimency, to verify his claims, but Amelia felt very leery of doing so, without having a mental health evaluation completed first. If they were going to be relying on Black’s testimony almost solely to prove or disprove the case, she wanted him evaluated physically and mentally before interrogating him further, with more invasive techniques.

She’d removed the haggard-looking wizard to St Mungo’s late that afternoon. As they rode in the boat headed back to the shore, Sirius cackled madly, then stood up and faced the prison, and gave a two-fingered ‘salute’ to the island. It wasn’t the ‘V for Victory’ sign that was so commonly used by Churchill in World War Two either. Kingsley just chuckled at the gesture, while Amelia couldn’t decide whether it was the actions of a sane or insane man. It could so easily go either way.

At St Mungo’s, in a secured room inside a locked ward, Sirius Black was allowed to strip out of his filthy robes and take a hot shower for the first time in almost ten years. The Healer in charge of the Unit had run a quick diagnostic spell, determined there were no critical issues that needed to be addressed there and then, and had authorised the shower. It was well over an hour before he re-emerged.

His shower was followed by a carefully portion-controlled meal, wanting to avoid refeeding syndrome which happened so easily in inmates released from Azkaban, where food was far from plentiful or nourishing. He’d be given smaller meals five or six times a day for likely several weeks to a month or more, to ensure he could return to a normal eating pattern, and without messing up his critical electrolyte levels.

It was getting very late by this point, and everyone could see the wizard was fading, so further questioning and evaluation would be delayed until the next morning. Monitoring charms were used on all prisoners in the locked ward and would ensure the Healers and guards would be notified of any emergencies.

The Healers ended up having a busy night of it. Black suffered from terrible night terrors. Now that he was finally released from Azkaban, where he slept most nights in his Animagus form, the terrors were given free rein in his sleeping mind. They even managed to break through a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion that the Healer reluctantly provided, given they were yet to complete a full medical examination.

In the end, all they could do was magically apply soft bumpers to any sharp or hard surfaces, put up silencing charms so the other patients could get some sleep, and place a guard to keep a direct eye on the man at all times. It was a very long night for all, and the Healer wished that he could allow Sirius to transform into his Grim form, but the warding spells on the secure unit suppressed the ability to transform, to reduce the chance of escape.

The medical examination the next morning revealed the expected malnutrition, along with early signs of osteoporosis in much of his skeleton. He also had chronic magical fatigue from the continual use of his Animagus form, and the Healer recommended he avoid magic use except for essentials for at least a month. Given Sirius was currently without a wand, and not especially proficient at wandless magic outside of his Animagus transformation, it wasn’t much of an issue for now.

There were several poorly healed breaks to his wrist and a couple of ribs, thanks to an early beating from some Death Eater prisoners. They knew it was unlikely that Black had been the one to betray the Potters to the Dark Lord; he’d been too fierce a fighter for the Order of the Phoenix. During the war, several of his attackers had ended up in the prison courtesy of being on the losing end of a brawl with the man, and they’d happily taken their revenge.

The Mind Healer had a field day when she assessed Black. Aside from the night terrors, which could potentially lead to dangerous levels of sleep deprivation, he was suffering from acute anxiety and paranoia, and his hyperarousal levels were off the charts. Having been a Healer since the war with Grindelwald, she had no difficulty comparing his case to that of the Battle Fatigue diagnosed in Muggle and magical soldiers at that time. Truthfully, she suspected the roots of this disorder could be found in his very active role as a soldier for the order, from the point of leaving Hogwarts at age eighteen.

The outcome of the Mind Healing assessment was that, while legally sane, it was arguable as to whether Sirius Black could adequately mount a defence if taken to trial. Nor was the use of Legilimency or Veritaserum currently safe. The wizard, whose world had been completely turned on its end more than once, was caught up in a fog of fear and anxiety. It was as if, after holding things together enough to finally tell his story in Azkaban, his mind fell to pieces, as it had to deal with the consequences of the war and his incarceration.

Amelia left for her trip to Devon having been advised it would be four to six weeks before Black could be questioned further. It was one week into his stay at St Mungo’s before Black’s mind cleared enough again to ask about Harry Potter, his godson. One of the guards, thinking he was being helpful, gave him the edition of the Daily Prophet detailing Harry’s adoption and his treatment by the Dursleys. Sirius flew into a rage at the thought of his godson being abused, could not be calmed, and ended up having to be forcefully sedated. It was days later before he came to himself again.

The Auror team meanwhile, was attempting to investigate a ten-year-old case, where the Obliviators had been at work amongst the Muggle witnesses and all the magical witnesses were either dead, missing (in the case of Pettigrew), or not well enough to be questioned. But they were diligent and thorough and slowly managed to build a picture of what had happened that Halloween night and in the days that followed.

Not wanting to show their hand, and risk a likely fleeing fugitive, there had been no mention of Peter Pettigrew or his Animagus form in the press. But as for the rest of the case, they’d received corroboration of the plan to possibly switch Secret Keepers for the Fidelius on the Godric’s Hollow cottage from Tressa Chenoweth, who’d been Lily’s second closest friend after Alice Longbottom (née Alderton) at Hogwarts. She’d fortunately retained the letter where Lily had mentioned the plan.

They’d also managed to find several Muggles who’d been remote enough to the explosion on the street where Sirius Black confronted Pettigrew, who’d recalled the short, squat man had been the one waving a stick around, just before the explosion. The Aurors had presented themselves as university doctoral students studying remote and forgotten memories and had managed to pull the memories forward enough to get witness statements.

All this was sufficient to claim reasonable doubt as to Black’s guilt. If you were in front of an unbiased, halfway logical court that is, something the Wizengamot wasn’t exactly famous for. So when Amelia got back from her holiday, she was very pleased with the progress her Aurors had made but knew they were going to need to question Sirius Black with Veritaserum. She was pretty sure that would seal the deal at the trial, but to use Veritaserum in open court posed quite a risk. There was always the chance that someone would ask the accused a self-incriminating question, and all hell would break loose.

It didn’t matter though, right now, because Black was still at least a month away from being ready for trial. Though one thing looked hopeful. Nearly three weeks after being forced to step down as Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore had yet to reclaim the position. It seemed his reputation had taken rather a beating the day of the adoption hearing, and his pleas for reinstatement were falling on deaf ears. Amelia had tentatively scheduled a trial date at the end of October, which would hopefully be presided over by a Chief Warlock named Tiberius Ogden.

~0~0~

The period between the end of August and Halloween was also a busy time for the Horcrux hunting team. They’d finally begun to get some range on the scrying Doohickey, as it was now universally known by the Gringotts team, and they’d been having teams Apparate around the country, trying to triangulate the locations, something that they’d picked up from the Muggle world.

They now knew there were two Horcruxes in the northern half of the UK, though whether that was the north of England or Scotland, they were unable as yet to determine. They’d also worked in a ring around London and picked up two more signatures. With the ones already retrieved from Harry and the Diadem, they had six identified Horcruxes. The issue was, they were expecting seven. So they’d either missed one, perhaps located in an unplottable location. Or Foldy’s attempt with Harry had backfired and he’d been ‘wraithified’ before he could make the final Horcrux. (there was a whole new language developing with this hunt, Ragnok bemoaned, as he read the reports).

Still, now it was down to the teams developing the scrying and sensing devices, to tinker with them further, to improve their accuracy. They weren’t making super fast progress, but solid gains had been made, Ragnok and Firelock decided, after meeting with the team. The researchers were also still painstakingly picking their way through thousands of accounts, trying to identify the magical signature behind Fold-a-dork. And there was simply no way of predicting when or if success would arise from that task.

~0~0~

Four days before Halloween, Harry was in Professor Flitwick’s office having a conversational Gudurian lesson with his honorary uncle. They’d developed the habit of meeting between the end of classes and dinner time every Tuesday. Every few weeks, Susan and Neville would join them for more basic language skills training, but it was mostly a time for Harry and Filius to bond and work on Harry’s fluency.

Harry had just struggled through trying to describe his entire day without resorting to any English words, when he paused suddenly, cocked his head and appeared to be listening intently.

“Come let me kill you…let me tear you apart…rip you to pieces…I’m so hungry.”

“Did you hear that, Uncle Filius?”

“What did you hear?”

“It was a cold, mean voice. It wanted someone to come close so it could kill them and tear them to pieces. It’s hungry.”

Filius considered his memory of the minutes before. “I just heard a soft sound in the distance and didn’t think much of it.”

Harry put two and two together then. The odd voice, in a strange accent, with broken sentences. It was familiar to him after meeting the corn snake earlier in the year. “It has to be a snake of some kind. It sounded…a little crazy. And if it was loud enough for me to hear…so it had to be big.”

Suddenly shouts rang out from further down the corridor. “They’ve killed her, they’ve killed my cat!” It was the voice of a hysterical Argus Filch.

“Stay here, Harry. Do not leave this office. I’ll see what’s going on. Do you have your mirror-box with you?” Harry nodded. He kept it shrunken down in his book bag at all times. “Something has clearly happened. I’ll try to find Professor McGonagall. You try to get as many of our people together on a call as you can. My intuition tells me there’s something very wrong happening here.” Flitwick headed to the door.

“Yeah, I feel the same. That voice, it made me feel kind of sick, it was so ugly.” Harry shivered and shrunk a little in his chair. For all of his maturity, sometimes it was easy to forget he was just a twelve-year-old boy. Not now though; Harry looked very much the vulnerable child. Filius rushed back and pulled his ‘nephew’ into a hug.

Turning back towards the door, he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go anywhere alright? No matter what you hear?” Harry nodded, a disconsolate look on his face. But then he shook himself a little and reached into his book bag.

“I’ll be safe in here, Uncle Filius.” He expanded then opened his mirror-box and activated the talk mechanism for a group call, then started listing the names, “Mam, Ama, Aita, Ragnok, Madam Bones and Madam Longbottom.”

Filius muttered a soft, “You’re a good lad,” and dived out of the room, throwing a wandless locking charm of his own invention over his shoulder at the door as it closed.

Ten minutes later, six small faces inhabited the screen of Harry’s mirror-box , though Flitwick was still absent. Harry had heard teachers shouting for students to return to their common rooms, and the loud sounds of muttering and gossiping students as they filtered past, cleared out by the Headmaster and the other professors.

Meanwhile, Harry related what he’d heard, that he knew it had to be a snake by the accent, and he was guessing it was a big one.

When fifteen minutes had elapsed with no sign of the professors, Ragnok, Amelia and Augusta decided to give Harry and his family some time together, suspecting the boy needed the comfort of his parents.

“Call us back when Filius returns with more information,” Ragnok suggested gently.

It was a good idea. Harry talked with his three parents several times a week. But he was still developing the skills to rely on adults in a crisis, and this was a perfect learning opportunity. Ringstar walked him through managing his rising anxiety as the minutes passed with no answers, then Firelock and Soraya distracted him with planning for the Christmas break, followed by tales of their own school days.

It was more than an hour later when Flitwick reappeared, with McGonagall in tow. As Ringstar pulled Amelia, Ragnok and Augusta back onto the mirror-call, Harry related what he’d heard from the suspected snake.

Flitwick, meanwhile, had reached into a locked desk drawer, pulled out a bottle of Balvenie and poured a healthy measure into two glasses. Handing one to Minerva, they both threw them back in one swallow, and then Filius returned the bottle to its normal resting place and began to explain the night’s events.

“The bathroom occupied by the ghost known as Moaning Myrtle had flooded again. Argus Filch and Mrs Norris saw the mess, and Argus returned to his office to retrieve his mops and buckets. When he returned, Mrs Norris was pinned to the wall, stiff as a board, and looked to be dead. There was writing on the wall. ‘The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.'”

There were appropriate gasps from the group at such news.

Filius continued, “Argus blamed young Luna Lovegood, who’d arrived seconds before him, stating she’d killed the cat. However the cat is only petrified, and Miss Lovegood was given an alibi by the Grey Lady herself. They’d just finished a discussion on the history of the castle, in the classroom two down from mine, and parted ways moments before. But Argus is beside himself. The potion to reverse the petrification requires mature Mandrakes, and the ones in the greenhouses won’t be ready until late spring. We spent the last half hour arguing in the Headmaster’s office about obtaining more mature specimens, and whether to notify the Ministry. He refused to allow us to do either, you might be interested to know, Amelia. Supposedly importing Mandrakes isn’t within the budget, and this is a Hogwarts issue only.” The echoes of Dumbledore’s voice could be heard in Filius’ words.

Minerva took up the narrative. “Albus is determined to avoid taking any form of responsible action for any of this. And it will put the students, all of us, at risk. As I understand it, his reactions are no different to a time fifty years ago. There were rumours that someone, the heir of Slytherin to be accurate, had opened Slytherin’s secret chamber. Students were petrified, and they couldn’t tell how. Then a girl died, and they threatened to close the school. Hagrid was blamed, he was in his third year at the time. He’d been raising an Acromantula inside the castle and they blamed the spider for the deaths. That’s how he got expelled and his wand snapped.”

Ringstar put her Healer’s hat on immediately. “But that makes no sense! An Acromantula will straight out kill its prey. It cannot petrify. Any Healer should have been able to tell you that.”

Ragnok, who had a special interest in studying magical creatures, chimed in next. “There’s only two creatures known to cause petrification, a Gorgon and a Basilisk. Harry, did it sound like just one snake speaking or several different ones?”

“I’m almost one hundred percent certain it was one snake. It sounded more like it was speaking its thoughts out loud, than several people holding a conversation.”

“There’s not been a report of a Gorgon in Britain, or anywhere in Europe for that matter, for well over five hundred years,” Amelia stated. “But how could a Basilisk live unnoticed in a castle full of teachers and students?”

“I don’t know, unless it can escape to the Forbidden Forest and hunt, though surely it would have been seen by the centaurs if it did. But Hagrid mentioned something had been killing chickens in the henhouse. Isn’t the crow of a rooster deadly to a Basilisk?” Minerva was dredging memories from her magical creatures class of nearly fifty years before.

“That suggests to me, if this is indeed a Basilisk, and I’m inclined to agree it must be, that we need to be prepared for more attacks, more petrifications,” Amelia replied. “And my hands are tied until a student or staff member is injured. Fudge won’t let me intervene at the school. My cynical side is saying that he’s trying to give Dumbledore enough rope to hang himself. He’d like to see the man gone from Hogwarts.”

Augusta had been mostly silent up until now. “I’ll alert the Board of Governors. I don’t think we dare share the idea of a Basilisk too widely yet. Sadly, we have no proof. But I will do what I can to ensure more oversight, so we can hopefully nip some of the more ridiculous reactions in the bud. Tell me though, isn’t there any way to get mature Mandrakes sooner? It’s unconscionable that if a student were to be petrified, Dumbledore would allow them to lie for months with no relief.”

Harry spoke up then. “There’s almost fully mature Mandrakes in the Enklabe, Aita. Neville and I helped transplant them and move them to the fields in Udara.”

Firelock replied, “I will check as soon as we are done here. Perhaps Professor Sprout would like to come and select which plants would be most suitable. I’m sure we can find a few more gardens to tour, that she didn’t see last time, while she’s here.”

“Wow, she’s going to be so excited. Neville will be extremely jealous if she finds some new plants without him. It would be loads of fun if we could come too.”

Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry, “I think that can be arranged. It will probably be Saturday before you both can be freed to leave Hogwarts, but a simple request by one of your parents is all I need to approve the visit.”

Soraya, Ringstar and Firelock all spoke over each other to issue that request, to the amusement of the rest of the group.

“Back on topic though. Harry, please let one of the adults in this group know if you hear the Basilisk again. Use your mirror-box if you need. Try to stick together with your group of friends as you move around the school. At some point, someone will figure out this is a snake at fault, and will likely point fingers at you for your Parsel abilities.”

Minerva hated to tell Harry that, but she knew that the students, and the wizarding world in general, were often very illogical about the things they feared.

She continued, “We’ll have you and Professor Sprout retrieve the Mandrakes on Saturday. I will manage Albus, as best I can, but everyone, stay on alert for changes in this situation. We have no idea how to find the Chamber or how to open it, so all we can do is keep on the lookout for strange occurrences and any clues we may come across. Let’s find a mutually agreeable time to meet weekly for any updates.”

There were murmurs of agreement, though Augusta spoke up, “If students become petrified, I would be thinking very hard about withdrawing Neville from Hogwarts, and I suspect Amelia and Harry’s parents feel the same way. We will not allow Albus to sweep this under the rug, Minerva.”

“Aye, I don’t blame you. I’d be doing the same. All I can tell you is I will do my best.” The Gryffindor Head finished with a deep sigh, then looked at the time. “Filius, Harry, if we’re wanting any dinner, we must set off now.”

The sound of goodbyes echoed in the Charms office as the others ended their calls, and then Harry and the professors made their way to the Great Hall, where of course the only topic of conversation was the Chamber of Secrets.

Chapter 8

Professor Sprout, despite the circumstances, was more than thrilled to have the chance to visit the Enklabe again, as well as obtain the Mandrakes. Neville also successfully persuaded his gran to let him tag along, given his love of Herbology.

Thanks to Ringstar’s forward planning, two dozen mature Mandrakes were already potted up for transportation. Which meant that Harry’s Ama and the boys got to spend most of the day touring the less well-known areas within the four quarters of the Enklabe, and the different plants that grew in each location. They introduced Professor Sprout to Elder Fellgar on their travels, and the two women were soon as thick as thieves, bonded by a mutual love of plants.

By late afternoon, the trio were back at Hogwarts, and Professor Snape was beginning to brew the potion to reverse Mrs Norris’ petrification. Fortunately, the same potion worked on both humans and animals, and had a three-month shelf life. Everyone hoped it wouldn’t be needed, but were thankful for the quicker-than-anticipated solution. By the Halloween feast on Sunday night, Mrs Norris was back to her grumpy self, but Argus Filch was beaming, and nobody could begrudge the man’s joy.

It was a relatively festive Halloween thanks to the access to the Mandrakes, though Harry wasn’t one for big celebrations on this day, as usual. He attended the feast for a short while, then slipped out of the Great Hall, with Neville and Susan following right behind.

The trio of friends, who’d first bonded in their mutual losses from the last wizarding war, spent the rest of the evening in a quiet corner of the Hufflepuff common room, and somehow Luna managed to join them, despite being a Ravenclaw. They’d each managed to speak to their parents or guardians that night, and that took away some of the melancholy but didn’t relieve it entirely.

Meanwhile, someone who knew better than to write to a diary that wrote back, but did it anyway, was pouring out feelings of loneliness and being homesick, and the disappointment and frustration of plans and dreams being thwarted. The shade that inhabited the diary was more than satisfied with how things were progressing. In the Muggle vernacular he’d grown up with, and hated, his plans were going ‘full steam ahead’.

An unseen observer that evening knew full well that the diary meant nothing good, and was pretty sure Mr Harry Potter sir was going to be put in danger unless he could do something about it. Dobby resolved to start plotting. He’d keep the great Harry Potter safe, whatever it took. And if he had to iron his hands after, then so be it.

~0~0~

Life continued on as normal when normal included a school full of hormonal teenagers, one plotting Headmaster, an all too earnest house-elf and the shade of a dark lord floating about. Not to mention a deadly snake that could kill or petrify with a look. Just a regular day at Hogwarts really.

Dobby had decided that he was going to steal the diary back, to make sure that no further harm could come of it. Maybe if he threw it in the Black Lake, the Giant Squid would eat it and destroy it. But the current owner must have been listening to the shade within the diary too well, because the diary was never left unsecured. Unless the owner was in the shower, in which case, it was in a school trunk loaded with protective spells no first-year should be able to execute, it was always on their person the rest of the time. By the end of November, the normally excitable elf was frustrated and ready to switch things up.

Dobby decided it might be time to execute a plan B.

~0~0~

Hufflepuff had successfully beaten Ravenclaw by a handy margin the last Saturday in November. Partly as a training exercise, partly as a grudge match, the Eagles had requested a replay the following Sunday, mostly to keep on top of their game skills for their upcoming meeting with Slytherin after the holiday break.

Cedric Diggory, wanting to give Harry some air time as Reserve Seeker, had offered to switch positions for the game; he’d be backup to the second year. Harry was looking forward to the game. It would be competitive but with no strings attached.

Harry ate a good breakfast, not really feeling the nerves he suspected he’d have with an official Quidditch Cup game. He spent the morning on his DADA essay on the use of aerial strategies such as a broom or high ground in a defensive battle situation. Professor Brissette had asked them to pick a skill area that they felt they were good at or wanted to improve and apply it to defence techniques. For Harry, flying fit both categories.

The class where they’d been assigned the essay had been an interesting one. Professor Brissette had arrived in a closed tartan robe, with long grey hair, in a neat, tight bun at the base of their skull, a long beard to mid-chest, and thin as a twig; they could easily have been Professor McGonagall’s brother. There was no discernible rhyme or reason to the Professor’s choice of appearance on a given day, but it did make for engaging lessons. Particularly in the beginning, when they’d frequently get caught acting out while waiting for their teacher to arrive for class. For the professor had mastered combining a chameleon charm with being a metamorphmagus. The day Susan sat in the professor’s lap by accident, not even seeing they were there, was a much relived anecdote, to Susan’s chagrin.

Harry was a touch more nervous by lunch, but still managed to get soup and a couple of sandwiches down before heading to the Quidditch pitch for the one o’clock broom launch. He’d been dogged on his way out of the castle by the perennially enthusiastic Gryffindor firstie, Colin Creevey, as usual.

After the ‘autograph incident’ where Lockhart had embarrassed both of them, Creevey had been much more discreet with his picture taking. But the longer Lockhart was gone, the more the camera crept back onto the scene.

Finally frustrated with being constantly blinded by a flash, Harry plucked the camera out of Colin’s hands, then passed it off to Dean Thomas, requesting that he hold onto it until the game began.

He pulled Colin over to the stands with him, intent on having a fairly serious chat. Colin really needed to get a life outside of his camera.

“Colin, I’m not trying to be mean about you and your camera, but you must have a thousand shots of me right now. And I know some of them are ones I’d really prefer hadn’t been taken.”

A shot of Harry just wrapped in a towel as he emerged from the showers in the Quidditch change rooms, had been making the rounds amongst the Hogwarts first through third-year girls for weeks.

“Someone who was much more vicious than me could have sued you for invasion of privacy on a few of those. And unless you’re planning a future career with the paparazzi press, you don’t want that sort of reputation. Colin, the wizarding world is a pretty…hmm…insular place I guess is the best description. What happens at Hogwarts follows you…for good or bad.”

Colin went a little white at that. As a Muggleborn, he was only just beginning to learn the political dance that all those raised in the Muggle world were forced into.

Harry went on, “But you know what worries me most…for your sake? You’ve been here several months, and you’ve only really seen the magical world through your camera lens. You’re not letting yourself become engaged with this new life around you. Have you just sat with your friends in your House colours and cheered for your team? Have you even been on a broom outside of flying class? Have you asked Hagrid to let you help feed the Thestrals? You’re missing so much of the fun and richness of being a wizard because you’re only watching and not experiencing things.”

Colin gulped and replied, “I can kind of see what you mean, but I love taking photos. I want to be a professional when I graduate.”

“That’s a brilliant goal, Colin. But can I share something I learned from one of my primary school teachers about the arts? I like to draw. I’m okay at it, and I don’t get loads of time for it while I’m here at school. But she said to me, consider doing something more than just drawing. If you also add perhaps a journal and start describing what you see, perhaps music that evokes what you see…it makes you see in a better, clearer way. She also said getting stuck in and doing things hands-on, gives you a different viewpoint as well. And she was right, my drawing got loads better when I tried what she said. So what do you think? Are you willing to give it a go, and experience life as a wizard a little more and photography a little less?”

Suddenly Harry found himself with an armload of a Gryffindor first year, as Colin excitedly said, “I’ll give it a try, Harry. I promise…and thanks for being patient with me. Sorry, I’ve been a pest.”

“You’re alright Colin, a little enthusiasm is a good thing. Now…wanna watch, like really watch, us play?”

“Sure thing, Harry,” was the reply, followed by another impromptu hug, and the Gryffindor firstie bouncing up the stairs to the stands.

~0~0~

Quidditch was an absolute blast, Harry thought to himself as he swooped over the pitch and the stands. A bit mental in a way; after all, who ever thought of flying brooms as a means of transport or sport in the first place? But for all that, it was totally amazing as an experience.

They had perfect Quidditch weather. Though bracingly cold, the skies were clear and there was next to no breeze either. As Harry scanned from side to side for the Golden Snitch, he was able to notice the scoreboard had Hufflepuff in the lead again by fifty points. The Badger Chasers were working together as a well-oiled team.

The moment of distraction from the Chasers saved Harry’s bacon. He’d tipped the front of his broom down a little in his flight path as he went for a slightly closer look at the passing technique a couple of the Chasers had used. After all, he often played that position in the pick-up games and was eager to learn new skills. That sudden shift had the Bludger, which had been pelting in from the rear, go over his head, ruffling his hair as it did, it had passed so close.

Harry did a swift half-turn on his broom, ready to give a serve to whichever Beater had aimed for his head, only to find no one there. The Bludger had literally come out of nowhere. Before Harry could contemplate his predicament any further, the large iron ball was back and aiming to knock him off his broom once again.

The Beaters from both teams had picked up that they had a rogue Bludger on their hands. It was a rare thing but not unheard of. They were racing to form a protective ring around Harry as Madam Hooch, who’d volunteered to referee, also raced into the fray, struggling to unholster her wand at the high speed to which she’d pushed her broom.

The Bludger came at Harry again, and zigged around the swish of a Beater’s bat, then dived towards the ground to escape. In the space of a breath though, it reversed its course and came at Harry from below. Harry executed a sideways barrel roll, squeaking faintly from the near miss, and pushed the tip of his broom downward. He needed to get closer to the ground, with enough room still to manoeuvre, but where a fall wouldn’t kill him if he was knocked from his broom.

He actually did make it to the ground, where there were a host of wands that were able to cast a shielding charm on him now he was no longer a moving target. But at one level, it was all too late. Around six feet from the ground, the Bludger had evaded all those who’d thwarted its path and slammed into Harry’s left shoulder and torso. He’d kept a one-handed grip on the broom to reach the ground, but then collapsed, knocked out by the pain.

At the same moment, Professor Flitwick, who’d been taking a walk by the lake and had been alerted by a prefect to the dire situation on the Quidditch pitch, fired a massive explosive charm at the Bludger. It shattered into small pieces just a second or two away from slamming into Harry’s head. They wouldn’t be able to examine it for tampering, unfortunately, but better that than Harry being killed.

Madam Pomfrey, alerted by a Patronus message from Filius, arrived within a minute or two. She’d been collected by Madam Hooch on her broom once again, the latter being very fearful about the severity of Harry’s injuries. The sight of the short-cropped, grey-haired flight instructor in Quidditch robes, with a mediwitch, in full regalia and carrying her medical bag seated behind, was an imposing sight few would forget. Dean just wordlessly passed Colin his camera to record the momentous event. Words alone would fail to describe that experience later, to those who were not there to see it.

When Madam Pomfrey began to cast her first diagnostic spell, Harry showed signs of rousing. Just the initial results were enough to have Poppy cast a medical-grade stunner at the second-year boy. Those results weren’t pretty, and Harry didn’t need to spend a minute of consciousness with the pain he’d be experiencing if awake.

Having established it was safe to move the boy, she pulled a stretcher keyed to her verbal commands out of her medical bag, expanding it as it emerged. It was a new innovation, part of a quick triage approach to trauma, and Poppy had purchased both the magically expanded bag and stretcher out of her own salary. The Headmaster tended to ignore new inventions, despite their inherent benefits to the students and the school.

“Take him to the infirmary, code one speed,” she instructed the stretcher. It took flight and seconds later, Poppy followed, mounted behind Madam Hooch once again. She’d have had to order a code two if she’d actually been running behind the stretcher. Code three was a more leisurely walking pace.

By the time Harry reached the infirmary (via a window left open following the flight instructor’s exit), the Headmaster had Apparated to the Quidditch pitch. He mouthed words of assurance to Professor Flitwick and the students and promised a full investigation, but the older students weren’t sanguine such a thing would happen, nor were the staff. Dumbledore had a long history of promising more than he could (or would) deliver.

The Harry and Co group weren’t around to hear the promises though, they’d raced up to the castle and were camping outside of the hospital wing almost the moment Harry’s stretcher became airborne.

Susan, not trusting that Harry’s parents would be notified of his (what seemed to be serious) injuries, had unshrunk her mirror-box the moment she flopped down onto the cold flagstones of the infirmary corridor. In short order, Flitwick’s mirror-box vibrated in his pocket. All of Harry’s friends and family were now carrying them permanently on their person, given the uncertainty of having a Basilisk at loose, just for security’s sake. Filius was soon back in his office, and opening his Floo to Soraya, Firelock and Ringstar. Ragnok could be heard calling from the green flames, “Let me know how Harry is, as soon as you find out.”

Dumbledore, of course, was feeling exceedingly impotent when he was denied access to the infirmary twenty minutes later. Soraya poked her head out on hearing his voice and waved the despised restraining order at him. He tried to argue on the grounds that it was school business and Harry’s parents were present. Soraya just exercised the exigent circumstances clause of Harry requiring emergency medical care and retreated behind the (now heavily warded) infirmary doors.

After looking around and realising his defeat had been witnessed by a dozen or so of Harry’s closest friends, and captured on film by his number one fan, Dumbledore retreated. He might be a great wizard, but he knew when he’d met his match.

Inside the infirmary, there were five incensed adults (two of the Guduriak variety) and one unconscious twelve-year-old wizard. As Professor Flitwick slipped in behind the warded doors that miraculously let him through, he asked the critical question.

“How’s Harry?”

Poppy Pomfrey huffed, “Dislocated left shoulder, proximal humerus fracture, fractured left clavicle and first three ribs, and a cracked, but non-displaced scapula.”

Only Madam Hooch, courtesy of her long years of friendship with the mediwitch dared ask, and with considerable trepidation, “And for the non-healing types in the room?”

“The left shoulder is broken and dislocated, along with the collar bone and the first three ribs. The shoulder blade is just cracked. The poor lad is going to have a night of Skele-gro, no pain potions because they’re contraindicated, and the hope that Dreamless Sleep puts him out well enough. Because if that fails, I’ll be up every hour casting medical-grade stunners.”

“I have a version that lasts four hours, Poppy,” Ringstar interjected. “It’s not quite as strong as the one you cast, but I’m thinking if you can get us through the next four or five hours and the worst of the Skele-gro pain, I could take over from there. If that’s alright with you, of course, it is your infirmary.”

“Bless you, my dear. You’re more than welcome to practise Healing here, any time that you like. After the way Swifthorn took care of Harry’s hands earlier this year, I’m more than happy to work together with you for the sake of the poor lad.”

And work together they did. In next to no time, Harry’s fractures were realigned and magically tacked back together for want of a better phrase. He was then hit with another stunner, and then the Dreamless Sleep potion was spelled into his belly. Moments later, he dropped into a much deeper sleep than either the stunner or the potion could achieve individually. The Skele-gro potion followed moments right behind and then it was just a waiting game to see how Harry coped with the next twelve to twenty-four hours.

Shortly after she and Poppy had comprehensively knocked Harry out, so as to heal his injuries, Ringstar recalled that Soraya had mentioned Harry’s best friends were likely still clustered in the corridor outside.

Knowing she’d be slammed with questions the minute she opened the infirmary doors, Ringstar sent a non-verbal calming spell out into the hallway. It was a practical solution, if not perhaps the most elegant, and she just didn’t think she had it in her to handle a bunch of near-feral pre-teens just then.

There were still plenty of questions, as both Quidditch teams waiting anxiously, along with the mass of second years (and one blonde first year) that formed the Harry and Co group, and several other hangers-on like Colin Creevey, and disturbingly, Ginevra Weasley. It seems that infatuation hadn’t waned, thought Harry’s Ama.

But facing a now mostly calmed horde, Ringstar informed them that Harry had been treated and was healing. Curiosity and anxiety satisfied, most of the group dispersed, given dinner time was looming. But Neville, Susan and Luna insisted on seeing their friend, and sitting with him, despite the assurance he wouldn’t be waking until morning. They stayed by Harry’s side, talking quietly, through the dinner hour, which resulted in Madam Pomfrey having to send for meals for the whole group, including Harry’s three parents.

But inwardly, she didn’t mind that too much. She was happy to see Harry had friends and family. The mediwitch had been yet another person horrified by what she’d read about Harry’s adoption hearing. Poppy had even unbent enough to allow the four students to stay until curfew, then offered Soraya and Ringstar the beds on either side of Harry. Firelock refused to leave Harry’s side, so he Transfigured his seat into a comfortable recliner, and thus stayed within arms reach of his son all night.

~○●○●○●○~~

The next morning Harry woke up feeling rather stiff and sore, but mostly disorientated because he wasn’t in his Hufflepuff dormitory. Then he went to move a little and his left side reminded him that it wasn’t perhaps the best idea at that point in time. Firelock was the first to rouse at Harry’s movements, though Ringstar and Soraya rolled out of bed moments later.

Seeing his parents huddled around his bed brought the memories of the day before back to him, and his first words were, “Does anyone know why that Bludger went after me?”

“Sorry Harry, we don’t. Bludgers can go rogue but it’s pretty rare, and they don’t tend to target one person when that happens. Our best guess is someone charmed it with the intent of harming you,” Soraya felt Harry deserved the truth, as did his other parents.

“Oh great. Someone’s trying to kill me during Quidditch again this year. Wait, do you think that was the something terrible happening here at Hogwarts this year, that the house-elf told us about?” It baffled Harry that anyone would consider him a threat worth targeting.

“The house-elf was Dobby, wasn’t he? It’s a possibility worth looking into. Hmm, I wonder if he’d answer if called?” Firelock mused. “It’s worth a try. House-elf Dobby, we need you in the Hogwarts infirmary.” Firelock’s tone was decidedly commanding.

There was a sharp pop, and then the small creature appeared, anxiously wringing his hands in the front of the rather dirty pillowcase he wore.

“Dobby has come as commanded. Oh Harry Potter sir, you were supposed to be at St Mungo’s or with the Guduriak Healers. Dobby knows it is unsafe for the Great Harry Potter to be here at Hogwarts. Dobby was hoping the Bludger would make Harry Potter sir’s parents see that. Dobby must punish himself for this failure.”

The odd little elf then grabbed the metal water jug and began beating himself about the head. Soraya grabbed the jug out of his hand and held it out of reach. Dobby looked at her with tears in his eyes, as though she’d just betrayed him.

Kneeling down, she asked softly, “So you were trying to send a message that we shouldn’t be here at Hogwarts again? And you charmed a Bludger to hurt Harry enough we’d take him to outside Healers?”

Soraya wasn’t angry, she could tell the intentions had been to protect Harry, but the execution had been terrible.

“Dobby is so very sorry, but Harry Potter sir is in grave danger. And Dobby must protect the Great Harry Potter, no matter what Dobby’s family might be planning. Dobby is so very sorry he cannot say more, but his magic prevents him. Dobby understands if Harry Potter’s parents are mad at him.”

Soraya sighed. The house-elf was between a rock and a hard place, she knew. But it would help so much if they could get more information.

Firelock decided to try. “Dobby, I think we know at least some of what the danger is. I assure you, the three of us, some other parents, and some trusted professors are on high alert. Are you worried about the Heir of Slytherin?”

Dobby nodded his head vigorously, as he said, “Dobby is not permitted to say. Dobby would have to punish himself very severely if he told you anything. But Dobby will do what he must to protect Harry Potter sir.”

Firelock chuckled a little. The cagey little house-elf had figured out a work-around to the binding to his family.

“We are aware there is a Basilisk at large, that must be related to this danger. Does the danger come from a member of staff?” Firelock was working hard to ensure the wording was as accurate as he could make it.

“Dobby must not tell his family’s secrets and plans. Dobby would be in much trouble if he did this.” The house-elf shook his head strenuously as he spoke.

Firelock glanced at his wife and Soraya, “Then it must be another student. The question is, are they acting willingly or under some form of coercion.”

Turning back to Dobby, he continued, “Is this student acting with any sort of malicious intent?”

“Dobby must not answer sir’s questions. Dobby must protect his family,” all the while shaking his head madly.

Firelock was contemplating what to ask next when the house-elf called an end to the inquiries.

“Dobby must not listen to any more of sir’s questions. Dobby might be missed by his family and must return home.” The house-elf looked around regretfully, he’d already pushed his luck with the bond to his family.

Harry called out, “Dobby, thank you for trying to watch out for me. I truly cannot leave Hogwarts, not without a clearer understanding of what’s going on. But you have my gratitude for doing the right thing. May I shake your hand?”

“Harry Potter sir wants to shake Dobby’s hand? Never has a wizard ever shaken Dobby’s hand. But the Great Harry Potter wishes it, so Dobby will of course shake Harry Potter sir’s.” He was by Harry’s side in an instant, hand extended.

Harry reached out, glad it wasn’t with his still aching left arm and pumped the house-elf’s hand several times. Dobby, protuberant eyes glistening with joyous tears, gushed his thanks again, then disappeared with a loud pop. He’d relayed his message as best he could, and needed to get back before his absence was discovered.

Ringstar just shook her head in bemusement. “Well, that was interesting. So we have a student under some sort of compulsion, who is setting a Basilisk loose and opening a secret chamber here in the school. I think we’d better get Minerva, Filius and the rest up to speed. And by the look on Madam Pomfrey’s face, I think we need to fill you in as well. But perhaps after we check Harry over, then get him a pain potion and some breakfast?”

Poppy Pomfrey switched into high gear at that prompt, running a quick diagnostic spell, and then fetching a mild pain potion, satisfied the Skele-gro had done its job, and it was the residual soft tissue pain that Harry was feeling.

“You’re doing much better, young man. If you feel like a shower, just move very gently. We’ll reapply the bruise balm after and we’ll give you a potion to accelerate the soft tissue healing. But we can’t do that until twenty-four hours after the Skele-gro, or they tend to cause odd side effects. So I’ll be keeping you again overnight, but I expect you’ll be ready to join your classmates at breakfast tomorrow.”

Harry looked a little despondent at spending another day in the infirmary and missing classes, but as the son of a Healer, he knew the look that said don’t argue with my professional opinion a little too well.

Soraya patted him on the shoulder, “We can get you some of your books so you can work on homework if you like. And I know your friends will make sure to give you a copy of their class notes, and any assignments. Would you like us to stay and keep you company? We talked last night. Any of us can arrange to spend the day with you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine here. If Neville can bring me my book bag, and my Potions and Transfiguration books, I have two essays to work on. And I’m trying to keep reading ahead in Charms, so I can keep helping Uncle Filius in class. Plus he gave me a book in Gudurian to read if I get bored.”

Harry figured he’d get even more done if he didn’t use the excuse of having his parents there to avoid doing his homework.

Soraya leaned in and gave Harry a kiss on the top of his head, along with a gentle hug, mindful of the sore spots.

“You’ll have to forgive us if we’re a bit overprotective right now. This is the first time our kid has gotten hurt. We’re beginners at this, you know,” she admitted with a laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot. Cedric Diggory retrieved your broom and checked it over, and it’s fine. He’s keeping it safe for you until you’re back in your dorm tomorrow.”

Harry was thrilled to hear that. He’d been half afraid his broom had crashed into the stands or something when he’d gotten knocked off, or that the Bludger might have damaged it.

Ringstar and Firelock came over for hugs of their own and promised to check up on him later, through the mirror-box. They’d also take care of notifying everyone about the information they’d gleaned from Dobby as well. With cheery farewells, they departed via Madam Pomfrey’s Floo.

Professor Sprout bustled in at that time, to check on her bruised-up Badger. She was delighted to see Harry was doing much better and promised to give the message to Neville, to deliver Harry’s book bag and extra books between breakfast and his first class. She was certain the three friends were planning on stopping by anyway, but this would save an extra trip. The Head of Hufflepuff also knew she’d turn a blind eye to Susan and Neville having dinner with Harry, and spending their evening with the boys.

She’d have a little word with Filius over breakfast, but she knew there’d be no objections to Miss Lovegood joining the trio. She was an odd addition to the group of students, being a year younger, but it had been a good thing. Her demeanour and interests would have likely led her to be a loner, and perhaps even the target of bullying, had she not found such fierce allies before she’d ever arrived at Hogwarts.

~0~0~

By the time Harry got done with a very cautious shower, largely just letting the water rain over him, while gingerly washing mostly one-handed, and back into bed, Neville and Susan had arrived with his book bag and promised to take notes for all their classes that day. Luna came in several minutes later, bearing a bright purple plush dragon.

“My mum gave me Tovra when I broke my arm, falling out of a tree. She charmed him with healing spells, to speed up getting me better. I don’t know if they’d help, Harry, but you’re welcome to borrow him until you’re healed up.”

Harry could tell the dragon was something precious to the younger girl. He knew Luna’s mother had died in a spell-creation accident several years before, and that he’d fiercely guard any special gifts from his mum if he had them. So the generosity of her offer was typical of his friend, who truly was a selfless person.

Taking the dragon very carefully, as if it was a fragile treasure, he replied, “Thanks, Luna. How about we sit him on my pillow, right by my left shoulder? He’ll be safe there and close to the worst of the damage. Madam Pomfrey thinks I’ll be allowed to come to breakfast tomorrow. I’ll make sure to bring him back to you then.”

Most twelve-year-old boys wouldn’t be seen dead in public with a purple stuffed dragon. But Harry tended not to care. He’d been given a great honour in the loan of the dragon, and he’d show the utmost respect in returning Tovra to his owner.

“That’s very sweet of you, Harry. But if you need him for longer, I know you’ll take care of him. Though you don’t have too many wrackspurts today, so I think you’ll be feeling much better with another day of rest.”

“I’m sure with Tovra’s help, I’ll be fighting fit by tomorrow.”

Madam Pomfrey appeared then with a breakfast tray for Harry and shooed the others away to classes, promising they could return at the end of lessons later that day.

As Harry tucked into his breakfast, he was thinking of a way to thank Luna for her grand gesture. An idea popped into his head. He’d need Madam Pomfrey’s help, possibly Soraya’s too (she was great at Transfiguration).

Harry was duly informed, both in person by Madam Pomfrey, and via mirror-box from Soraya, that they’d be happy to help with his special project. After he’d finished the two essays that were due that week, and read a couple of chapters ahead in Charms and his Gudurian folktales book, that is. Sighing deeply, he pulled the overbed table closer to him and set to work.

Being uninterrupted, he actually got all his ‘required’ tasks done shortly after lunchtime, which let him begin on his Transfiguration idea. He knew Luna thrived on whimsy, and he also wanted his thank you to reflect their friendship, so he’d decided on matching scarves for Luna and Tovra, bearing both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff colours. Madam Pomfrey had offered some rolled bandages to use as the starting point, and Soraya had promised to help him with making the change permanent and resizing the one for Tovra. In the end, she was so intrigued by what he was trying, as a second year, that she took a few hours off, just to come act as Harry’s personal coach.

Harry began the process by Transfiguring the bandages into scarves. That’s where he learned an important lesson. Each step had to be locked in, so to speak, with a charm to make the change permanent. Then he had to figure out what he wanted the stripes to look like, which necessitated Soraya being sent to his dorm (with Professor Sprout’s permission) to retrieve his art supplies.

He played with the four House colours and decided he liked the aesthetics of a black, yellow, silver and blue repeating pattern. Soraya then walked him through the series of spells that let him change the colours and replicate the pattern, then Harry set those permanently as well. That left Luna’s scarf done and all he needed to do was permanently miniaturise Tovra’s to scale, and Harry was finished. And just in time as well, for the bell rang for the end of the last class. Soraya was enlisted to bring wrapping paper and ribbons back later to seal the deal, presentation-wise.

Professor McGonagall, who’d heard on the grapevine that Soraya was in the infirmary, stopped by to hear what they’d found out from Dobby. She’d been teaching all day and hadn’t had a chance to talk with anyone for the latest update. Spotting the scarf project, the Transfiguration teacher was very impressed with Harry’s efforts and explained the spells he’d been performing were at a fourth and fifth-year level. She readily awarded him fifteen points for his skill level.

Minutes later, Luna, Susan and Neville appeared, as Minerva and Soraya made their exits. Susan, being the better note taker (both in legibility and thoroughness) had copied what had been covered in class that day, along with the details of the newest Herbology essay. The four sat companionably working on their homework for the next hour before Madam Pomfrey came back to cast her diagnostic spell and administer the soft tissue healing potion.

The best part of this potion, as compared to Skele-gro, was that it was painless, and its only side effect was a pleasing warmth that infused the affected areas. It was the magical equivalent to Deep Heat or similar analgesic rubs, except it was taken internally. Harry felt much better within a minute or two of downing the draught and was begging to be released that night, he felt so good.

But the chance of potion interactions couldn’t be denied, and Tovra appeared to be up for hanging out for another twelve or fifteen hours, so Harry’s fate was sealed. He wasn’t escaping until the next morning. But after having dinner with his friends, and then having a variety of other study group classmates drop by, the evening passed quickly. Soraya snuck back in after all the students had headed back to their dorms before curfew, and they wrapped the scarves in a pretty package, then Harry settled in for the night. After he’d been tucked in and had a kiss on the forehead of course.

~0~0~

Harry felt immensely better the next morning. He’d slept well and his left shoulder had barely a twinge when he tested out his range of motion. The bruising was half what it had been as well. He’d still need to use the bruise balm for a couple more days, but he was well on the mend.

Neville had brought his shower kit and uniform to the infirmary the night before, and Madam Pomfrey promised to have a house-elf pop anything he didn’t need for classes that day back to his dorm. After one final check-over by the mediwitch, Harry was free at last and headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast. He had his book bag slung over one shoulder and carried one purple dragon and a prettily wrapped gift.

Harry dropped his book bag under the bench, next to where Neville was sitting, then placed the dragon and the present at the empty place setting to his right. His timing was perfect because Luna arrived at the Hufflepuff table (where she ate most meals) half a minute later.

With a courtly short bow (that he’d secretly practised with Soraya the night before), Harry spoke, “Thank you for the loan of Tovra, Luna. I wanted you to know how much I appreciated that you offered him to me. I really believe your mum’s spells helped.”

Luna gave a soft smile and sat down at the table, and Harry rushed to join her. Opening the present, Luna exclaimed in delight and immediately donned the scarf, and then tied Tovra’s around the dragon’s neck too.

“It’s lovely, Harry, and represents our shared friendship. I’ll treasure these scarves as much as I treasure Tovra.”

Harry just smiled shyly in return; he knew Luna would get the symbolism of the blending of the House colours. Up at the head table, Poppy gently elbowed Minerva and said, “He didn’t need a lot of help with those Transfigurations. He’s got a bit of a gift for it I think.”

“I’m more impressed that he came in here boldly carrying a soft toy and a wrapped gift, despite the teasing he might get from some of his peers. He’s got plenty of James and Lily’s Gryffindor courage as well. That should be ten points to Hufflepuff I think,” Minerva replied. “So should we start a betting pool for when those two start dating?”

“I do love that the bet is on when and not if. But it’s pretty much a given, isn’t it? Reminds me a bit of Frank and Alice. They were set on each other from the day they met. Alright then, ten galleons it will be no earlier than the start of Luna’s fifth year.” Poppy was usually pretty accurate when it came to the dating game.

“You’re pretty close, in my estimation. I think they’ll become a couple the summer before that. They’ll turn up to the Welcoming Feast hand in hand.”

Poppy nodded. Minerva wasn’t a bad judge of this game either. She laughed and rounded off the conversation, “Depends on how long Xeno has Luna out of the country chasing Snorkacks that summer.”

“Please, by that time I’ll guarantee Harry will be roped into joining them on their expeditions.”

The two witches snickered at each other, then turned back to their breakfasts. There might be a deadly Basilisk and a possessed student in the castle, but the gossip about student romances (even far-off potential ones) was never too far away amongst the staff who were forced to live amongst adolescents for ten months of the year. That sort of thing inevitably rubbed off on the professors, after working at Hogwarts for a few years. It was harmless, and there needed to be something to brighten up those long cold Scottish winters, after all.

 

---