Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 9:  Back to School

They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Ch. 5

*  *  *

The Hogwarts Express came into the Hogsmeade platform just as the last light of day faded.  As he stepped off the train, Harry gratefully sniffed the cool, tree-scented air.  He could smell the water of the lake, too.  It reminded him of their first year, when Hagrid had taken them across on boats.  Hagrid.  Immediately, Harry’s good mood ended.  Hagrid’s not here.

“First years!  First years over here, please.”

Harry’s head whipped around, looking for the source of the voice.  It was certainly not Hagrid.  It was a woman’s voice – and it sounded familiar, too.  Finally, he saw her – Penelope Clearwater?

“Ron.”  Harry nudged Ron and indicated Penelope Clearwater.  Ron, who was waving at Dean Thomas at the other end of the platform, turned his head and looked very surprised.

“What’s she doing here?  Hey, Gin!”  Ron beckoned to his sister, who was a little ahead of them queuing for the carriages with Colin Creevey and Neville Longbottom.  Ginny’s eyes followed Ron’s pointing finger and she immediately darted after Penelope Clearwater, who was already leading the first-years down the path to the lake.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as Ginny caught the older girl’s arm, hugged her, and exchanged a few words with her.  Ginny came back to them as Penelope continued down the path.

“She’s replacing Hagrid!” said Ginny excitedly.  “Not teaching Care of Magical Creatures, but taking care of the grounds, and she’s living in his cabin – just until he comes back, of course.”  Harry was dumbfounded.  If he’d been asked to name someone to take Hagrid’s place, Penelope Clearwater – always quiet, tidy, and studious – was practically the last person he would have thought of.  She really didn’t seem the type to be patrolling the Forbidden Forest.  Hermione, however, nodded as if it made sense.

“Taking care of her roses,” she said to Ginny, and Ginny nodded.

“Listen,” she said, “I’ve got to get back before Colin and Neville leave without me.  I’ll ask Penelope if we can visit her soon.”

Harry watched idly as Ginny pushed through the crowds to get back to her friends, who were already climbing into a carriage.  She was delayed by a brown-haired boy in Slytherin robes, who put a hand on her shoulder and said something to her.  Harry frowned, and felt for his wand, but Ginny only smiled at the boy, spoke briefly, and ran on through the crowd.  The carriage was leaving as she came up to it, but Colin Creevey stretched out his hand and Ginny jumped up and in, laughing.  Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, but neither of them seemed to have been watching Ginny.

In their own carriage, they sat in their usual positions, Ron and Harry in the rear-facing seats, with Hermione in the middle across from them.  Harry immediately put his feet up on the bench across from him and relaxed, but Ron was sitting up straight, looking uneasy.  Oh no, thought Harry, dismayed, not more Krum stuff?  But apparently not.

“Hermione?” said Ron after a few moments, “Remember when you told us Malfoy is second in our class standings after you?”  Hermione gave him an encouraging nod.  “How do you know?”

Hermione forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.  “Well, from the standings list that’s sent out after every term with our marks.  Your parents must get one, and the Dursleys too.  They always list the top ten students in each year.”

Harry looked at Ron.  Harry wasn’t surprised that the Dursleys had never mentioned anything to him, but Ron should have known this.

“Don’t your parents say anything about your marks?” Hermione continued.  Ron shrugged.

“Mum’s always giving Fred and George merry hell about their marks but she never says anything about mine.  I reckon they’re all right.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled as she looked from Ron to Harry.  She had the look she always did when she knew something they didn’t – a smug, delighted look.

“Don’t you want to know if your names are on the list?” she asked.

Harry nodded, but Ron made a face.

“Who cares about that?” he asked.  He was silent for about thirty seconds.  “Err, are we?”

Hermione laughed.  “I can’t believe you don’t know.  Both of you have been on the list every year.”

“Cool.”  Ron wiggled his shoulders and straightened his tie.  “Top ten in our class – that’s not too bad, is it, Harry?”  Harry smiled and shook his head, but Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Top ten out of forty – it’s not so wonderful either.  You were ninth and tenth last year – I think you should be higher.  I’m sure you both could if you wanted to.”

The carriage arrived at the front steps of Hogwarts, and they jumped out and started up the steps.  Ron had another question.

“So, Hermione – which of us was ninth, Harry or me?”  Hermione tossed her head.

“Well, really, does it matter?” she replied tartly.  Harry had to laugh.  Okay, so Ron was ahead of me.  Hermione glanced at him, and then glared at Ron.  “Harry fell a couple of places because he didn’t get to take exams last year.  Both of you are much better on exams than you are in class work.”

Ron nudged Harry.  “Too bad you didn’t ‘get’ to take exams, Harry.  Bet you didn’t know you were sacrificing so much to be a Triwizard Champion.”  Harry grinned.

They were halted now in the press of people waiting to pass through the doors of the Great Hall and take their seats for the Sorting Feast.  Harry lowered his voice and leaned close to Hermione.

“So, who is ahead of us, then – besides you and Malfoy?”  Hermione frowned for a moment in concentration, and then dug inside her book bag, which she was carrying on her shoulder as usual.  After a few moments, she pulled out a piece of parchment in triumph, and handed it to Harry.

“Here, you can see for yourself.”  Ron looked over Harry’s shoulder as he opened the green-inked list.  He found the listing for ‘Fourth-Year Students:’ ‘Miss Hermione Granger (G), Mr. Draco Malfoy (S), Miss Mandy Brocklehurst (R), Miss Li Su (R), Mr. Terrence Boot (R), Miss Susan Bones (H), Miss Tracey Davis (S), Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley (H), Mr. Ronald Weasley (G), Mr. Harry Potter (G).’

“Ha!”  Ron snorted.  He looked around carefully to see that no one could overhear, and then whispered, “Justin Finch-Fletchley!  He’s an idiot.”

“Well, he may be an idiot, but he knows how to work,” Hermione hissed.  “Why do you think I’m always after you two to study?  You should think about the honour of Gryffindor, if nothing else.”

Harry looked over the rest of the page while Ron argued that Hermione did enough to uphold the honour of Gryffindor all by herself.  There was Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.  And Ginny, fifth in her year!  Harry nudged Ron, and pointed to Ginny’s name.

Harry was frowning a little as he took his seat at the long Gryffindor table.  He didn’t know much about the three Ravenclaw students ahead of them on the list.  Everyone knew Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart, anyway.  But there was nothing special about Susan Bones or Tracey Davis.  Or, definitely, about Justin Finch-Fletchley.  Come to think of it, Malfoy’s not exactly a genius, either.  Maybe he and Ron could try a bit harder on their marks – if it didn’t interfere too much with Quidditch.  And if Voldemort didn’t get in the way…

Harry eagerly scanned the head table as Professor Dumbledore stood up to welcome the students back.  Hagrid wasn’t there, of course, and Penelope Clearwater sat demurely in his place, her long curls showing no signs of her having just ridden a boat across the windswept lake.  Toward the other end of the table, Harry’s eye froze on the sallow, hook-nosed face of Professor Snape, who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully and staring at his own Slytherin students.  Well, he looks healthy enough now, thought Harry, rather resentfully.  Beside Snape, Professor Weasley suddenly blushed and stood up, and Harry belatedly processed what Dumbledore was saying.

“… new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Anne Weasley!”

The four Weasleys led a thunderous round of applause, loyally supported by the rest of the Gryffindor students.  Harry saw Snape’s thin mouth twist with dislike.  Someone new for Snape to hate, thought Harry, sourly.  At least Professor Weasley seemed tough enough to handle it.

“And our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Rubeus Hagrid, is on an extended summer leave,” Dumbledore continued.  “Until he returns, Professor Grubbly-Plank, who is not here tonight, will take his classes, and Miss Penelope Clearwater – whom I’m sure you all remember from last year – will take over his grounds keeping duties.”  More thunderous applause, this time led by the Ravenclaw table.  Miss Clearwater blushed and ducked her head, but remained seated.

Looking back at the clapping Ravenclaws, Harry caught a glimpse of smooth black hair and a curved cheek – Cho Chang.  It was the first time Harry had seen her since he’d watched her crying for Cedric Diggory at last year’s Leaving Feast.  Harry examined the state of his own insides carefully – they felt pretty normal.  He must be over Cho now.  Harry craned his neck for a better view of her, but Cho was hidden now behind a taller housemate.

“And now, here are our new first year students.”  Dumbledore extended his hand with a flourish and sat down.  Professor McGonagall entered at the head of a long line of very young children.  Were we that small? thought Harry in amazement.  Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione beside the empty seats in front of the head table.  Usually, the older students sat further back in the Hall, but Hermione had to be here to take charge of the new students, and he and Ron had automatically followed her.  Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were sitting across from them.  This was immediately explained by Seamus, who pointed a finger at a skinny first year in the crowd.

“My brother, Patrick,” he said proudly.  “I’m worried that he’ll be getting himself into Ravenclaw, but we’re here to welcome him if he makes it into Gryffindor.”

Harry clapped loudly for all the newly sorted Gryffindors, including Patrick Finnegan.  Seen close up, Patrick was thinner and darker-haired than the sturdy, sandy-haired Seamus, but he had the same fair skin and freckles.  He stuck out his tongue at Seamus as he dropped onto the bench beside him.  Hermione, naturally, was taking her prefect duties seriously, speaking to each new Gryffindor as they sat down.  As they ate, she introduced them to Nearly-Headless Nick, warned them about Peeves the Poltergeist, and recommended that they all read Hogwarts, A History as soon as possible.  On his other side, Harry could feel Ron almost split a gut holding back his laughter as their little heads nodded dutifully.

“She’s got herself some helpless victims at last,” he said under his breath to Harry.  Harry smirked, feeling Hermione stiffen beside him.  She retaliated by treading heavily on Ron’s foot as she led her first years off to the dormitory.

“Way to go, Ron,” said Harry, shaking his head reproachfully.  “Now we’ll have to get the new password from Lee.”

*

The Gryffindor common room, when they finally got back to it, was like a party.  Everyone talked eagerly to everyone else about their summers and their plans for the upcoming year.  Harry was relieved to see that people treated him normally, without the stiffness they had shown after the Third Task and Cedric’s death.  However, the uproar, cheerful though it was, was a little subdued compared to previous years.  Everyone here in Hogwarts knew that Lord Voldemort was back, and most seemed to know about the attack on Hermione’s house. 

Fred and George Weasley were at the centre of the thickest crowd, as usual.  “Here, try this one,” said George, handing out samples of one of the new Weasley Wizard Wheezes the twins had come up with over the summer.  Katie Bell took the purple blob with a quizzical expression, obviously debating whether or not she wanted to put it into her mouth.

“Come on, I dare you,” said Fred, winking at his brother.

“No, Katie, don’t do it!” said Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor seventh-year prefect and Fred Weasley’s Yule Ball date.  “Remember the Canary Creams!”

A crowd of laughing students joined in the debate, some urging Katie to eat, most telling her not to take the risk.  But George had picked his victim well.  Katie Bell was the most fearless person Harry had ever met, on or off the Quidditch field.  Even among Gryffindors she was famous for her inability to turn down a dare.  Staring challengingly into George’s eyes, she popped the large sweet into her mouth and chewed, only to squeal with delighted laughter as her feet left the ground and she floated gently three feet above the common room floor, slowly turning upside down in the air.  Fred Weasley gave her a little push and she flipped top over tail over the sofa and toward the fireplace, laughing helplessly.

“Oy, George, let me have one!”

“Here, I’ll take one of those.” 

George was surrounded by eager grasping hands, and soon a dozen of their housemates were tumbling and laughing hysterically.  Fred grinned across the room at Harry, who grinned back.  It looked like the Tasty Tumblers were going to be another successful Weasley product.  Harry was completely satisfied with what he’d done with his prize money.  Besides the Tasty Tumblers and the Bat Blasters, they’d developed a generous selection of crackers, sparklers, torches, and thunderclaps.  They were all superb.  The art of Fred and George improved with age.

Ron walked over and flopped down between Harry and Hermione where they were sitting at their usual table, a small square one by the window furthest from the fireplace. 

“Those two gits,” he said, shaking his head, “don’t they know they’re supposed to sell them, not give them all away?”

“Oh, Ron,” said Hermione, not even looking up from the papers she had spread out on the table, “haven’t you ever heard of marketing?”

Ron exchanged a look with Harry that said clearly, “of course I’ve heard of marketing, but what does bringing food home from a shop have to do with giving away free sweets?”  Harry shrugged.  He didn’t know either. 

Ron changed the subject.  “What’s this?” he asked, twitching away the paper Hermione was writing on, despite her hasty attempt to close her fingers around it.  “Oh, your class timetable.  Can’t wait to get started, huh?  You know, they’ll give us our timetables Monday at breakfast anyway.”

“Yes, I wanted to get organized,” said Hermione serenely.  She was calm now, in great contrast to her behaviour at the Burrow the previous night.  “Don’t you want to know what classes you’ll be going to on Monday morning?”

Ron was studying the parchment with frowning attention.  Harry craned his neck to see it too.

“It looks like we’ll be having Herbology first,” said Harry, “if you are.”

Ron frowned even more heavily.  “Hermione, I thought you got a clue after Third Year.  You’ve got eleven classes on here.  That’s barmy.”

Hermione looked a little embarrassed.  “Well, we do have OWLs this year.  I would like to get as many as I can.  But don’t worry – look – none of the classes are at the same time.  Professor McGonagall gave me a copy of the teachers’ timetables last year, and I’ve worked it all out.”

Harry smiled, remembering how bollixed up Hermione had got with the Time Turner in their third year, and how they’d used it at the end of the year to rescue Sirius and the Hippogriff Buckbeak. 

Ron, however, was still scowling.  “You’ll still have to do all the ruddy work,” he groused.  “Don’t you ever want to have any fun?”

“Don’t worry about me,” flashed Hermione, “worry about yourself!  Have you finished your Herbology essay from the summer?  What about your reading?”

“YES,” said Ron heatedly, “I have!  And I don’t know why you always have to think I’m incapable of doing a little normal schoolwork, it’s not as if – WHAT?”  Following Ron’s gaze, Harry looked around to see Ginny, who had come up behind him.  “What’re you making faces at Hermione for?” Ron snapped at his sister.

“Umm...” Ginny looked down at her feet, and then looked pleadingly at Hermione.  Harry had never seen her bothered by Ron’s temper, so he supposed that her blush had a different cause.  For once, it didn’t seem to be about Harry, either.  Actually, it’s a long time since she’s done anything like that, Harry thought.  That’s good.  Much better for her to be over that silly crush.  More comfortable for everyone.  “Nothing – I mean I wondered if Hermione was ready to go up to her room…” 

Hermione immediately gathered up all her books and papers and snatched her timetable back from Ron’s hands.  “I was just going,” she said, and the two girls quickly walked off together.  Harry spun around in his seat to watch them.  They had their heads together whispering before they were halfway up the stairs to the girls’ dorms.  Ginny seemed to be telling Hermione something, with much gesturing of her hands. 

Harry turned back to Ron, shaking his head.  “Girl stuff!” he said with disgust.

Ron was still staring up the staircase with his mouth hanging open.  “Huh!” he said, but seemed disinclined to say anything more.  After a few seconds of silence, Ron took out his wand.  “Accio Herbology book,” he said, pointing the wand up the boys’ staircase.  After a few seconds, a textbook landed on their table, with curls of rolled-up parchment sticking out of the top and bottom.  Ron took out the parchment and unrolled it to the bottom.

Harry smirked.  “Thought you were finished with that.”

Ron shrugged.  “Oh, I might just add another paragraph or two, maybe clean it up a bit.”  The tip of his tongue protruded as he bent over the essay with his quill.  Harry thought back over the work he’d done at the Dursleys’ over the summer.  His essay was fine, but…  he might have skimped on the reading a little. 

“Here, let me see that book for a minute.” 

Harry quickly glanced over the first chapter.  Good.  Most of this looks familiar.  Should be all right.  He snapped the book closed just as Ron threw down his quill and carefully blew on the wet ink.  Ron looked around the common room, which was now almost empty as more and more students went up to bed, still chattering in groups.  He leaned closer to Harry and lowered his voice.

“Harry… did you hear Dumbledore say that tryouts for Quidditch would be next week?” 

Harry nodded.  He was longing to get back to Quidditch, after missing it for a whole school year.  Their team was already strong, but they needed the tryouts to find a new Keeper to replace Oliver Wood, and find some good reserve players… 

“Well, I reckon I’ll try out for Keeper,” Ron said.  Harry snapped to attention.

“Ron!  That’s great!  I think you’ll be a great Keeper,” Harry whispered back. 

Ron’s long arms would come in very handy at that position, and he was a good enough flyer – more importantly, he had the same kind of ferocious determination that Oliver Wood had always shown. 

“I’m sure you’ll make the team.  This is brilliant!” 

Harry was delighted at the prospect of playing with Ron, of having his best friend with him through the long hours of practicing, and letting Ron share the unique joy that could only be found on the Quidditch field.  He grinned broadly.

“Killer idea, Ron!”

“Shh!”  Ron frowned over at his two older brothers who were still at the centre of a laughing group by the fireplace.  “I haven’t decided for sure.  I practiced a lot the last two summers, but – you know how rubbishy my broom is.”

“Use mine,” Harry urged eagerly.  “At least for the tryout!”  Harry’s Firebolt was one of the best broom models available in the world, and Ron had ridden it many times.

Ron raised his chin and looked stubborn.  Harry grasped his arm urgently. 

“Ron!  Don’t be a prat!  There’s no reason why you shouldn’t use it.  I won’t need it.  Even if I am flying during the tryout I can use some other broom – yours or whatever.  You have to show what you can really do!”

Ron was flushed and stiff, embarrassed as always by any reference to his family’s lack of money.  He could never stand to accept charity from Harry.  Usually Harry held himself back from offering anything, but this was the Gryffindor Quidditch Team!  This was too important for Ron’s stiff-necked pride!  Harry couldn’t believe Ron was still arguing.

“What, you think I’m not good enough to make the team on my own broom?”

“Of course I don’t think that,” Harry gritted out, “but why take a chance…”

Ron interrupted, “Yeah, right, make the team on a great broom, and then show up for games with my rotten one – they’ll be real glad they picked me then!  No thank you, I’d rather only promise what I can actually deliver.”

“Ron –” Harry was hissing now, right in Ron’s face.  “Don’t you think if you make the Quidditch team, your parents will buy you a broom?  They did for Fred and George, didn’t they, and there are two of them.  Or maybe Charlie would buy you one.  Hell – I’ll buy you one if nobody else does.  Why shouldn’t I?”

“Harry!  There is no bloody way you’re buying me a br…”

“Why not?  I’ve never had to buy myself one, have I?  Remember?  McGonagall gave me the first one, and, um, well, you know how I got the Firebolt.  And think of Malfoy’s dad buying the whole Slytherin team those Nimbus 2001’s!  This is for the TEAM!”  Harry shook Ron’s arm, glaring fiercely at him, desperate to make his friend see reason.

Slowly, Ron’s expression changed from bull-headed to amused, and he snickered.  “Uhh, Harry?  Did anyone ever tell you you’re a little bit irrational about Quidditch?  Maybe just a touch deranged?”

Harry frowned uncertainly.  “What?”  He let go of Ron’s arm and sat up straight in his chair.  “It’s important!”

“I totally understand,” said Ron solemnly.  “I promise to you on my word of honour that I’ll use your Firebolt for my tryout.”

“Well, all right, then.  OK.”

“OK.”

Harry and Ron picked up their things in unspoken accord and began climbing the stairs to go to bed. 

 *

A little later, they were both brushing their teeth at the dorm room sink, staring into the mirror, each lost in his own thoughts.  Harry heard Seamus and Dean coming up the stairs and into the room. 

“Okay,” Dean was saying, “it’s definitely official.  Lisa Turpin is the most stacked of all the fifth-year girls.  Got it.”  He paused in the doorway, scribbling on a page of his notebook.

Harry snorted and met Ron’s eyes in the mirror.  He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.  You think so?  Ron pursed his mouth and nodded judiciously.  Yeah, we can both agree with that one.

“So who do I put second?” Dean continued.  “How about Hannah Abbot?”

“No way!” said Seamus, coming into the room.  “Got to be Granger.  Have you seen…” Seamus broke off as he encountered Harry’s glare in the mirror.  Dean and Seamus both came to a sudden stop, and then sidled lightly around Ron, who had whirled around with his fists clenched.

“Forgot what I was saying,” said Seamus hastily.  He and Dean quickly picked up their dressing gowns and scurried out of the room towards the bathroom.  As soon as they were out of sight, gales of laughter drifted back toward Ron and Harry.

Before either boy could say anything, Neville came briskly through the door.  He froze with apparent terror and looked from Ron to Harry.

“What?  What’d I do?” asked Neville, bewildered.

Ron turned back to the sink, coughing.  Harry cleared his throat and resumed brushing his teeth. 

“Nothing, Neville, forget it,” said Harry around his toothbrush.

Harry and Ron finished getting ready and climbed into bed without talking or looking at each other.  Finally, just as Harry was drifting off to sleep, Ron spoke.

“Harry?”

“Hmmn?”

“I’ll use your Firebolt to try out, but there’s no way I’m letting you buy me a sodding broom!” 

Harry just smiled and went to sleep.