Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 16 - Appropriate Behaviour for Witches and Wizards

Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Ch. 23

* * *

For a few moments, they all stared dumbly at the envelope in Harry´s hand. Voldemort was in Staffordshire? A few images of Wedgwood china and bull terriers flashed through Harry´s mind; it didn´t seem an appropriate milieu for the Dark Lord, somehow.

"I´ve heard of Gifford Hall -- that´s a National Trust house," said Hermione. "I didn´t think anyone lived there."

Professor Dumbledore was standing still, apparently thinking furiously. Professor McGonagall was staring at the Headmaster. Harry answered Hermione, since apparently no one else would.

"Err - it´s a Muggle place, right?" Hermione nodded. "He must be using Memory Charms, or something. Or Muggle Repellent Charms, like the stadium for the World Cup."

Dumbledore made a move as though to dash out of the door, and then controlled himself. His eyes were bright. "Ware riot," he murmured, "Mustn´t overrun the hounds."

"Albus," said McGonagall impatiently, "you´re speaking in riddles."

"Riddles? -- no," said Dumbledore, looking up, "I was talking aloud to myself - a bad habit of the old. I beg your pardon."

"Can we ask it where Wormtail is?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked at Professor McGonagall for permission, and then spoke. "Peter Pettigrew."

The Direction-Writer wrote with no hesitation this time:

Mr. P. Pettigrew

Butler´s Pantry

Gifford Hall

Staffordshire

"I´ll bet he´s stuffing his face," Ron muttered. Harry´s lips twitched. Scabbers the rat had been constantly hungry.

"Pettigrew is still serving him, then," said Dumbledore. Harry nodded, wondering if that big snake was there too.

"This is all very well," said Ron impatiently, "but it doesn´t help us find out who did Hermione´s house."

McGonagall bent a severe look on Ron. "Mr. Weasley, I can assure you that I had nothing to do with it. And, as I said before, no one can use the Direction-Writer besides the Headmaster, myself, and the prefects."

"Why the prefects?" said Ron.

"It was invented by a prefect," McGonagall answered. "It used to be one of their duties to address envelopes for all school correspondence. In the late eighteenth century, the Head Girl created this device to make her job easier. We have had it ever since."

"What was her name?" asked Harry.

"Was there a prototype?" asked Ron at the same time.

Professor McGonagall looked startled. "I don´t remember her name," she said slowly, "but I know where I can find it. There was indeed a prototype. But I always assumed it had been confiscated by the Ministry of Magic, after the scandal."

"Scandal?" said Hermione. "It didn´t say anything about a scandal in Hogwarts, a History."

"Oh, no," said Professor McGonagall absently, walking over to her bookshelves. "Hogwarts, a History is an excellent book, of course, but it contains a rather expurgated version of the school´s history." Harry saw Ron arch his eyebrows at Hermione, before McGonagall continued. "Ahhh, yes - this should have it." She pulled a volume of Prefects who Gained Power from a shelf. Harry recognized it as a book they had once seen Percy reading in a shop.

"What does it say, Minerva?"

"Yes, here she is - Maureen McDougal. After she left Hogwarts, she used her prototype of the Direction-Writer to create mass direct-owl advertisements. She did quite well, but unfortunately... I´m afraid she began blackmailing people whom she found in locations where they shouldn´t have been. Her device was eventually declared illegal, and the Ministry seized it. After that, only Hogwarts was allowed the use of a Direction-Writer."

"Then we must assume," said Dumbledore, "that Voldemort, or one of his supporters, has access to Miss McDougal´s confiscated Direction-Writer -- or else someone has duplicated her research and created another. We will have to assume that the opposition will know our location at all times, just as, from now on, we will know theirs."

"My dad could find out if the Ministry one´s been taken," offered Ron. "He´s always going into the vaults with confiscated Muggle stuff."

Dumbledore inclined his head to Ron. "An excellent suggestion," he said. "I will contact your father. And now, I believe that you three have a lesson to attend. Do you have any more questions before you go?"

McGonagall´s comment about Hogwarts, a History had reminded Harry of something.

"There´s a book called The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts," he said. Dumbledore tilted his head encouragingly. "I think the bloke who wrote it - Winchell B. Waterhouse - might be a secret Death Eater." He explained that Voldemort had used the same words - "further than anybody along the path to immortality" - that Waterhouse had used in his book. "I thought he must have heard Voldemort say it."

Dumbledore looked serious. "Harry, you are not the first to suspect Mr. Waterhouse of Death Eater sympathies. But I happen to know that he has been investigated, and no evidence has been found that he was ever an active follower of Voldemort." He shrugged. "Every movement has its apologists, you know."

"But how would he use the same words, then?" asked Harry.

"It may be as you suspect," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Waterhouse may have heard Voldemort speak at a Death Eater gathering, and copied his words. But there might be a simpler explanation." The Headmaster´s eyes crinkled in amusement.

"It may simply be that Lord Voldemort reads his own press."

*

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried to Herbology with their heads together, whispering frantically.

"What did Dumbledore want to see you about originally?" This was Ron.

"Nothing," said Harry impatiently. "Something about the Dursleys - that´s not important now. But listen -" Harry managed to tell them everything Dumbledore had said about Hagrid and Voldemort by the time they slipped into the Herbology greenhouse, close enough to on time to get no more than raised eyebrows from Professor Sprout. They continued the conversation in whispered snatches and notes throughout the morning.

"I can´t believe there are thirty-seven methods of achieving immortality," Hermione mused as they walked from Charms to History of Magic. "The Philosopher´s Stone is the only one I´ve ever heard of, really. If I could get one of the Dark Arts books from the Restricted Section... there´s one called Imitations of Immortality that...."

"Didn´t you hear Harry?" Ron broke in. "The one that worked wasn´t a Dark Art at all. Who cares about the ones that didn´t work?"

"Well, but it is interesting..." Hermione broke off, knitting her brows. "What exactly did Professor Dumbledore say, Harry? About the method that worked?"

Harry strained to remember. " `A simple and ancient trick´," he said, " `with no Dark Magic at all.´"

"A trick?" Hermione echoed. "A trick..."

"Maybe a `ploy´," Harry said uneasily. Hermione fell into a thoughtful trance, and Ron jogged Harry´s elbow.

"So You-Know-Who´s living in a Stately Home of England in Staffordshire, eh? What d´you think Dumbledore´s going to do, now that he knows where he is? He looked like he was itching to get going..."

"Probably send Sirius and Remus to keep watch on him, for starters," said Harry, frowning uneasily. "I didn´t like what he said about `hounds´." The thought of the danger the two men might face was almost enough to make him wish he hadn´t thought of asking the Direction-Writer about Tom Riddle.

"I wonder if Dad will find out anything," mused Ron. "I´ll bet he´d tell us... Oi, Harry, did you tell Dumbledore about Malfoy and the Revealall?" Harry shook his head.

"Why not?" demanded Ron. "If Malfoy knew about last night, who knows what else he may be hearing? What if he can hear us right now..." Ron trailed off as Hermione´s attention suddenly snapped onto him.

"Last night?" she said sharply. "What about last night?"

Ron and Harry were saved from answering by their arrival at Professor Binns´s classroom, and Hermione had to limit herself to glaring at them throughout the lesson. For once, Harry wished the ghost professor would drone on for longer, but, all too soon, the class was over and Hermione pounced.

"I knew you were up to something last night - you both looked half-dead this morning."

It didn´t take her long to get the entire story out of them, and she was furious. "I can´t believe you did that, I can´t believe you didn´t tell me, and do you realize how close you were to getting caught? If you had just waited one more day... I told you we should ask Professor McGonagall!"

Ron - unwisely, in Harry´s opinion - attempted a defence. "Hermione, the whole point was that McGonagall might be working for You-Know-Who, remember? What do you think - she´d just admit it if we asked her?"

"At least it was a better plan than getting caught breaking into her office!" Hermione hissed.

By the time they finished lunch and returned to the common room, Hermione wasn´t speaking to Ron, but she seemed to have forgotten that Harry had been involved as well. This was fine with Harry. He followed Hermione´s example and concentrated on homework. Ron, however, prowled all around their table, casting `Occulte Patefacio´ over and over, until even Harry was annoyed, and Hermione was visibly struggling not to snap his head off.

When Ron crawled under the table on his hands and knees, Hermione´s resolve broke.

"And just what do you think you´re doing?" she hissed, gathering her skirts tightly around her knees and bending over to look under the table. Curious, Harry put his head down as well.

The table was of heavy dark wood, with a carved edge and four curving, claw-footed legs. Ron lit his wand and peered at its underside.

"I´m telling you," he said, "he heard us talking last night. It´s gotta be... here, look at this - there´s room for it here." Ron held his wand up to the join between one of the table legs and the top. Harry crawled under for a better look. There was a space behind the top of the thick leg where a Revealall could be concealed. He exchanged a glance with Ron and pulled out his wand. Simultaneously, he and Ron pointed their wands and said the spell. Hermione gasped. In the furthest corner, a shadowy ball glowed with a familiar purplish light.

*

"I knew it!" Ron said triumphantly. "That slimy snaky bugger didn´t need to see us - he just needed to hear us." They were huddled together in armchairs in the opposite corner of the common room from their usual table.

Harry nodded and drew the Marauder´s Map out from his robe pocket.

"The question is," he whispered, "was Malfoy watching just now, when we found it? If not, we can..." Ron and Hermione leaned over eagerly to look. Harry´s pulse leaped. Malfoy wasn´t in his dormitory room - the place Harry had seen him watching the Map before. He wasn´t in the Slytherin common room either - he was... there he was, walking down the stairs to the dungeons, with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, apparently just returning from lunch. "Yes!"

"Now we can feed him false leads!" said Ron.

"Like what?" said Hermione caustically. "That we´ll be invading France at Calais?" She was still angry.

"All sorts of things!" said Ron, his enthusiasm undiminished. "For one, we can talk a lot about what a manky little git he is and how we´d like to shove a..."

"Ron!" Hermione glared at Ron, who grinned unrepentantly. "If you really want to do that, we´d better go back to our table and pretend we don´t know anything." Harry and Ron nodded. Hermione narrowed her eyes resolutely. "And we´d all better remember never to say anything we don´t want him to hear."

*

The next day was Hermione´s birthday. Harry and Ron gave her presents to her at the breakfast table.

"Here - this is from Ron and me." Harry pulled a rectangular box, hastily wrapped that morning, from his bookbag and handed it to Hermione. She tore the brown paper off, and flushed.

"Oh - chessmen!"

"They´re people from Merlin´s time," pointed out Ron eagerly. "See, the king is supposed to be King Arthur, and the Queen´s name is Guinevere..."

"I´ve heard of her," said Hermione, taking out the queen and examining it closely. She looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"They´re all Muggles, except the bishops," said Ron. "One of the bishops is Merlin, and the other one is Morgause - see, they really look like them. This knight is Sir Lancelot, and this one is" - he squinted at the label - "Sir Gawaine." And the two castles are called Camelot and Tintagel, and all the pawns are knights of the circular table."

"I think you mean `round´ table," grinned Hermione, putting the queen back in the box. "Thank you both - they´re lovely!" Harry could tell she meant it because she touched each of the chess pieces with a gentle finger.

"The important thing is they´re well-trained!" said Ron. "You won´t have to play with Harry´s rotten pieces anymore - these men belonged to a lady my grandfather used to play against, and she was good." He grinned. "With these, maybe you can actually beat me one of these years."

"Maybe," Hermione smiled. She still seemed to be enjoying a private joke.

"Oh, yeah, here..." Ron handed her his other present - obviously books. Hermione unwrapped it.

"Oh Ron!" She was holding Hogwarts, A History, looking misty-eyed. Ron shifted his feet nervously.

"Ginny told me yours got burned."

"Yes, it did. Oh, thank you! And The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, too!"

"I found a used one," said Ron. "But Hermione, that book is really evil - how can you like it so much?"

"Well, of course it´s terribly slanted," said Hermione, "but it´s the most complete account of You-Know-Who´s doings that I´ve found. And it´s very well organized." Ron scowled.

"I don´t like the way it talks about Harry - calls him `the Potter boy´."

"You need to be able to deal with biased sources," said Hermione, "if you´re going to..." She stopped to turn to Ginny, who had just rushed into the Great Hall with a present. "Hi, Ginny."

"Happy birthday, Hermione!"

Hermione opened the gift - a battered leather copy of the book Pride and Prejudice.

"How´d you find that one?" demanded Ron, scowling.

"Penelope got it for me at a Muggle bookshop," said Ginny.

"Oh, I´ll have to thank her," said Hermione. "And thank you, Ginny!" She beamed at Ron and Harry. "Thank all of you, for everything."

Hermione´s birthday celebration was cut short by a general announcement from Professor McGonagall. Directly after dinner, all fifth-year girls were to proceed to the Transfiguration classroom, and all fifth-year boys to the Charms classroom. A buzz of comments followed the announcement.

"The fifth-year assembly."

"Sex education," Parvati giggled.

"No," said Lavender, smirking, "Appropriate behaviour for witches and wizards... `do absolutely NOTHING!´"

"Nothing fun, anyway," said Parvati.

Harry looked from Lavender to Parvati in wonderment. Sometimes, girls could be so... bold! Ron and Seamus were both blushing red under their freckles. It was harder to tell with Dean, but he, too, looked embarrassed. Harry was pleased to see that Hermione, at least, looked a little pink as well. She stood up.

"Come on, everybody - Professor Grubbly-Plank will set us to shovelling manure if we´re late."

*

That evening, Harry and Ron filed into the Charms classroom and looked nervously around. Most of the fifth-year boys had arrived early, and their reason was obvious. They were all crowded toward the back of the classroom - the only remaining empty chairs were the ones closest to the front. Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books as usual, beaming as the boys sat down. Professor Snape stood beside him, surrounded by an almost visible black cloud of anger and irritation. Harry couldn´t help smirking just a bit. Something tells me that Snape doesn´t enjoy this too much.

Ron led the way to the last two seats on the side away from Snape. Terry Boot and Stephen Cornfoot, two Ravenclaws, dropped into the seats across from them. Boot fixed his eyes on Professor Flitwick, avoiding looking at Ron, who was doing the Weasley Terror Glare again. Harry elbowed Ron to make him stop.

"Well now, boys," Flitwick squeaked, rubbing his hands together and smiling around at all of them. "Professor Snape and I have a very important lesson for you tonight. All of you will be turning sixteen during this school year or next summer, and you need to know what kind of behaviour is appropriate for wizards at this school - and indeed, anywhere." Harry thought he could hear Seamus snicker in the back of the room.

"First of all," continued Flitwick, "there is the matter of your developing magical powers. You don´t want to do anything to... stunt your growth." Harry looked up in surprise. What was this? To his dismay, he saw that both Flitwick and Snape were looking directly at him. What?

"As you may have observed, your magical talent, your, err, power has been growing rapidly ever since you started adolescence. The development of your powers parallels your bodily growth. This rapid growth will continue until you are about seventeen, eighteen, or perhaps nineteen years of age, and then it will taper off considerably. That is... it will continue growing after that age, but extremely slowly. Until...."

The little professor paused, and took a deep breath. "Until you become sexually experienced. When you lose your virginity, your powers will stop growing at that point, whatever age you are." There was a stifled laugh from the back of the room. Professor Flitwick raised his white eyebrows. "Yes, Mr. Entwhistle? You have a question?" Kevin Entwhistle shook his head frantically. Snape stepped forward, his black eyes gleaming.

"Do not be under the comforting misapprehension that this phenomenon is a folk tale or a legend," he drawled. "Recent research in the United States of America has proved beyond a doubt what we have always known to be true." Harry couldn´t help wondering briefly what kind of experiments you would do to prove something like that.

Neville Longbottom raised a shaky hand. This was a true act of bravery, but his face looked terrified.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" said Flitwick.

"Wuh--well, what exactly does it take to lose your virginity?" Neville quavered. "Can you - can you -?" He closed his eyes and rushed through the next few words. "Can you do it... by yourself?"

A roar of laughter shook the classroom - the pent-up hilarity of embarrassment and nerves. Professor Flitwick tried to speak above it, but he couldn´t be heard until Snape´s ferocious glare had quieted things somewhat.

"Oh, no," Flitwick said earnestly, when he could be heard. "Oh, no, indeed. A second person is required."

Harry put all his concentration into keeping his face perfectly neutral and blank. Not for a thousand Galleons would he betray even a hint of relief - not in front of Snape and his contemptuous sneer.

"Err, Professor?" Ernie Macmillan, from Hufflepuff, had his hand barely raised a few inches from the table. His face was bright red.

"Yes?"

"What exactly does it take to - you know - lose it?" Harry, and every other boy in the class, swung around to stare at Ernie. He wasn´t being cheeky. He looked determined, and like he had a need to know. Ernie was constantly to be seen with his friend Hannah Abbott, who was, Harry thought, not that bad looking really...

Professor Flitwick paused for a moment, trying to frame his response.

"If you even have to ask, Macmillan, it´s grounds for expulsion from this school," snapped Snape. Ernie flushed redder, but persevered.

"Of course, sir, but we might need to know, errr, in the future, after we graduate, or, erm, summer..." He finally ground to a halt, but kept his gaze firmly on the two professors. Harry was unwillingly impressed. Ernie had been direct about accusing Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin in second year, as well. He didn´t back down easily.

Professor Flitwick finally had an answer. "Mr. Macmillan, I think you´ll find the traditional conception, errr, idea, is the correct one. If you need more information, I can suggest some books." Ernie nodded, satisfied. A buzz of whispering swept the room, to be silenced by Snape´s cold voice.

"The next item on the agenda is to inform you of the school rules as they relate to sexual behaviour." He had every eye in the room fixed upon him instantly.

"There is to be none," said Snape with apparent relish. "Any public display is strictly forbidden. Any private misbehaviour will result in immediate expulsion from Hogwarts. Any use of force, coercion, love potions, illusion charms, spying charms, or advanced attraction charms will result in a prison term in Azkhaban. You have been warned."

This didn´t seem clear at all to Harry. Did this mean that Cedric and Cho had broken school rules by going around holding hands? They hadn´t been trying to hide it. And what about Fleur and Roger Davies, at the Yule Ball? Snape had taken only ten points each from Sarah Fawcett and Jack Stebbins, and they had been... But he wasn´t about to ask Snape for clarification. Surely no one was mad enough to do that.

But someone was. Ernie Macmillan raised his hand to his nose, and then, tentatively, to his forehead.

"Macmillan?" Snape spat. Harry wanted to tell Ernie not to risk it, but Ernie went on.

"Sir? Could you be more specific? Is - kissing - against the rules?"

"Yes." Snape rapped.

"Oh, no - well, not always," Flitwick said at the same time. Snape glared at Flitwick, who looked back at him uneasily.

"I think you´ll find, Mr. Macmillan," said Flitwick, "that each professor has a great deal of latitude to use his or her judgement about what is or is not acceptable behaviour in each specific circumstance...."

"It very much depends on who happens to catch you, Macmillan," interrupted Snape, glaring coldly at Ernie. It was clear that Snape´s threshold would be very low indeed. Of course, if it was Harry, Snape would give him a detention and take fifty points from Gryffindor for kissing a girl´s hand. Not that Harry had ever kissed a girl, on the hand or anywhere else. Not that I´m likely to get a chance in the future.

"Yes, err, quite," said Flitwick, rubbing his hands together again. "We must move on. Professor Snape?"

Snape looked venomously around at the class. "If you are as pitifully ill-informed about the mechanics of human reproduction and the myriad byways of Eros as you are about everything else, I suggest that you educate yourselves. If reading books on the subject is beyond your meagre capabilities, no doubt your classmates will be pleased to enlighten your ignorance." He stepped back, clearly intending to say no more.

"Yes, yes," said Flitwick. "Err, yes. Talk to your Head of House, or Madam Pomfrey if you have any questions or worries. Now... Professor Snape mentioned love potions and attraction charms. I must emphasize that any infringement of another student´s free will is a most serious matter, and will be treated as such, up to and including criminal charges. We simply do not tolerate that kind of potion or amulet at Hogwarts." He surveyed them all keenly.

"Finally, throughout this school year, Professor Snape will be teaching you seven - no, I believe eight - potions, along with your regular work. Contraception, conception, and so on. You must learn them now, as this is the last year Potions is a required subject." Snape scowled heavily, and glared at Harry. Flitwick continued blithely on. "There are several charms as well, but I won´t be teaching them to you until your seventh year, because they require quite advanced self-magic."

Flitwick looked happily around. "That is all we have for you, gentlemen. Unless there are questions? I want to emphasize that if for some reason you are not comfortable going to your Head of House, Professor Snape or myself will be delighted to assist you." Harry almost snickered out loud. Err, Professor Snape - can I ask you a question? - it´s about my sex life. Yeah, I´m going to be doing that...

No one had any questions, so they were dismissed, free to snigger, snort, tease Ernie Macmillan, make crude remarks, and otherwise release the tension of an exquisitely embarrassing session. Harry and Ron were the last to leave the classroom, and they trailed behind the others. Harry was content to be silent, thinking about the cruel ironies of life. Less than a year ago, he had felt hideously embarrassed to be leading off the Yule Ball dancing with Parvati. They had all laughed at Seamus for asking Lavender to the ball - anything having to do with girls had been grounds for teasing. And now... Harry felt embarrassed about not having a girl. It seemed that all the other boys were getting ahead of him. Even Ron - with Hermione... well they had something. Harry had exactly zilch. Him and Neville. No, actually, Neville had asked Ginny to the ball, and danced with her all night. Stepped all over her feet, true, but it was a real date. Not like his with Parvati. And now Neville was hanging around Ginny all the time.

Harry glanced at Ron, wondering if he had noticed how Neville always seemed to be talking to his sister. And Colin Creevey, too. If they were bothering her....

It wasn´t like Ron to be this silent. He hadn´t said a word since the assembly had started - not a single sarcastic comment. Finally, Ron looked up from the ground and met Harry´s eyes.

"How `bout that Ernie, eh?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "It´s funny - I was thinking he and Hannah were just friends."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Friends." He was quiet for a few steps, and then he laughed. "At least we didn´t have to watch McGonagall going through that spiel - that would be something, eh?"

Harry snorted. "I´d rather have had her than Snape."

Ron nodded and fell silent again. Just before they reached the fifth floor, he spoke again.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"Do you think... am I supposed to be asking Hermione to go out with me, or something?"

Harry wondered what line of thought had brought Ron to ask this - and decided that he´d rather not know. But if Ron thought that Harry knew the answers to questions like this, he was barking.

"You´re asking me?"

"Who else am I gonna ask?" said Ron. "Do you think... she´d like it if I did?" Harry tried to imagine Hermione´s reaction to being asked out on a date. He remembered her all dressed up at the Yule Ball with Krum, her face pink and smiling. Yeah, she´d probably like it.

"I reckon." Ron flushed, and looked at the floor again.

"What are you supposed to... where could we go -?"

"I don´t know," said Harry, "Next Hogsmeade weekend, maybe. I could, you know, stay here or..."

"Don´t be daft," snorted Ron. "We´re meeting Remus, remember? For the refreshing lesson?"

"Oh... yeah - well..." Harry didn´t have any more ideas to offer. They walked in glum silence into the common room where, blessedly, the fifth-year girls had not yet returned. Harry didn´t know if he could stand hearing Lavender and Parvati giggle right now. He pondered what Professor Flitwick had said - that losing his virginity would stop his magical power from growing. He really ought to... as long as Voldemort was after him, he should... well, obviously, he was going to need all the power he could get.

Harry wondered exactly how much you could do without invoking the consequence. Not that he had any prospect of losing his virginity anyway, but if he ever got a girlfriend... in the future... it would be interesting to know what you could and couldn´t do. Cho´s face swam before his eyes, but the picture was fuzzy. Deep down, he didn´t really think Cho Chang would ever be interested in him. He sighed. There were so many girls at Hogwarts - surely there must be one somewhere that he could like, that would like him back. There was the curly-haired Hufflepuff who´d asked him to the Yule Ball - she´d been cute, really. Why had he been so quick to turn her down, without bothering to find out her name, or anything?

`I know! You should go out with lots of different girls.´ Unfortunately, Hermione´s suggestion didn´t feel any more possible now than it had in August. But maybe I could look around, and try to get some practice talking to girls.

Harry snorted with laughter as another memory suddenly came to him - of his Uncle Vernon this time. Which reminds me... I need to tell Ron and Hermione about them moving. Ron looked up inquiringly, but Harry shook his head. This wasn´t something he wanted to say where Malfoy might be listening. In fact, it was probably best not to say it at all.

Uncle Vernon had been right! His uncle had always railed against sex education in the schools, whenever it was mentioned in the newspaper or on the television. "They´ll just give the kids ideas!" he´d thundered. For possibly the first time in his entire life, it appeared that Vernon Dursley had known exactly what he was talking about.

* * *

Next Chapter: Myrmidon Potion

In which Harry has a middle-of-the-night visitor and more fanfiction clichés pop up. Sorry, I can´t help it.