Harry Potter and the Psychic Serpent

“Viktor!” Hermione exclaimed in surprise, trying to look pleased. She looked sideways at Bill and Harry as though begging them to save her.

“Herm-own-ninny, there you are! I came to see you off...”

“Oh, how nice...” she stammered. “Well, I was just about to go through the barrier. I suppose we could both do it.” Viktor Krum took her hand and they calmly walked toward the barrier, then vanished. Then Harry and Bill walked forward together, Harry hauling his trunk on a station trolley and carrying Hedwig’s cage in his other hand.

Then suddenly they were all on the platform, where the Hogwarts Express sat waiting, gleaming in the sunshine, beautiful and regal. The train platform was swarming with students in their robes, hauling trunks and owl cages and cat carriers, being hugged and kissed by their parents. Fred and George found their friend Lee Jordan, and disappeared into his compartment. Harry and Hermione claimed a compartment with Ron and Ginny, all of them dragging their own trunks except for Hermione, whose trunk was being handled by Viktor Krum. Then they all went back out onto the platform again to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and Bill and Charlie. Mrs. Weasley hugged and kissed Fred and George, who slipped away from her as soon as possible (this was embarrassing when you were seventeen) and then Ron, who had to stoop quite a bit for his small mother to reach his cheek, then Ginny, who didn’t have to stoop as much as Ron. She gave Hermione a hug and kiss, too, and finally turned to Harry.

“You look so much like your father--” she started to say, and Harry saw there were tears in her eyes. “If only your parents could see you, prefect and all--” Harry leaned over and hugged and kissed her quickly, to prevent her saying any more. He felt tears prickling behind his eyelids himself. He often thought of his parents at times like this, but didn’t like to talk about it. When she had released him, Bill shook his hand and Charlie slapped his back.

“Be safe,” Bill told him, suddenly looking very serious. Harry nodded at him.

Charlie smiled at him. “Would have been nice if one of my brothers had become Gryffindor Quidditch captain, followed in my footsteps, but--I can’t very well complain if it’s Harry Potter instead, can I?”

Harry laughed. “I’ll try to do a good job.”

“No you won’t. You’ll get the damn Quidditch Cup!”

“No pressure, though,” Bill said, elbowing Harry in the ribs. Harry smiled at them, then turned to get back on the train. Hermione was still further down the platform, talking to Viktor Krum. Harry stepped onto the train and stood in the corridor, looking out the window at the Weasleys and waving.

“Potter!”

He turned; Draco Malfoy was striding down the corridor toward him, wearing robes even nicer than the nicest ones in Madam Malkin’s shop, which Harry and the twins had bought. Must be custom tailored, he thought. Figures. Pinned to Malfoy’s robes was a silver badge with a P on it for prefect; Harry’s was still in his trunk with his new robes. Harry folded his arms across his chest and glared at Malfoy. For once, Crabbe and Goyle weren’t with him.

“What’re you doing here? The prefects are up front, four private compartments. Get with the program! You’re a disgrace to the other prefects!”

“What, because I’m not snooty enough? I’m fine where I am.”

Then he felt Malfoy’s eyes on his arms; Harry was wearing yet another black sleeveless T-shirt, Sandy curled around his left upper arm. “What have you been doing, lifting weights or something?”

“Just honest work.”

“Hmm. Manual labor. How Muggle!” Then he pointed to Sandy. “What’s that?”

“Ever heard of a snake, Malfoy? It’s only the symbol of your house.”

“I mean, is it a pet?”

“No. Sandy is my friend. You don’t make a pet of someone you can have conversations with.” He let this sink in.

“Oh, right,” Malfoy finally said. “Parselmouth. Hmm. You-Know-Who has his own snake, I’ve heard. Bit bigger than that puny thing, of course...” Suddenly he stopped and looked out the window onto the platform. Ron and Ginny had come out into the corridor, too, and they also looked out the window.

“Blimey,” was all Ron said. They all stared. Hermione had started to leave the platform to board the train again, but Viktor Krum had caught her hand and pulled her to him. He put his arms around her and leaned over her, tilting her head up and then joining his mouth to hers. She seemed like she was trying to get away at first, but then she appeared to relax into the kiss, putting her arms around his neck, clearly opening her mouth as Viktor held her face up to his, kissing her deeply. Harry’s mouth went dry, and Ron’s and Malfoy’s mouths were hanging open stupidly. Only Ginny looked unsurprised.

Then the train started to move, and Hermione broke the kiss, running to hop on. Viktor Krum stood, holding his hand up in a goodbye wave, looking very much stricken at the sight of her leaving. When Hermione stumbled into the corridor, she froze, meeting the gaze of perhaps a dozen students who had beheld the dramatic goodbye kiss between her and the star of the most recent Quidditch World Cup. Her mouth worked soundlessly and she reddened. Finally, it was Malfoy who spoke.

“It’s a definite improvement, Granger,” he drawled, looking her pointedly up and down. Ron started to pull out his wand, but Harry decided that something else would be faster than magic, and he turned to Malfoy and pushed him down onto the floor of the corridor, kneeling on his chest and putting his right arm across Malfoy’s neck. Malfoy gasped.

“You’re cutting off my air,” he wheezed, trying to reach his wand, but giving up and then just trying to remove Harry’s arm from his throat and failing. The other students in the corridor pressed against the wall to let someone pass. It was Alicia Spinnet, wearing her Head Girl badge on new robes, looking very stern.

“Potter! Malfoy! Break it up!” Harry removed his arm from Malfoy’s throat and rose, generously extending a hand to help Malfoy up. He ignored it at first, but then after struggling unsuccessfully to rise, took it reluctantly and let go of Harry’s hand as quickly as possible once he was on his feet. He clutched at his throat. Alicia stepped closer to them so she could speak more quietly; but it was a scary sort of quiet. “You are both prefects!” she whispered fiercely. “You are supposed to set an example!” She sounded frighteningly like Professor McGonagall. “Malfoy!” she barked. “Get back to your compartment!” She stepped aside so he could go past; he looked over his shoulder at Harry, resentment smoldering in his eyes, still with his hand to his throat. Alicia saw. “Go!” she said again, and Malfoy picked up speed this time, rudely pushing aside other gawkers still in the corridor and not looking back again (between the platform kiss and the brawl, many of them seemed to have become planted where they stood).

Alicia looked a little less stern now, but only a little. “Harry, do I already have to take points from my own house?”

Harry had the good grace to look abashed. “No, Alicia.”

“Right, then. Are you and Hermione coming? We have private compartments up front for prefects. One for each house.”

Harry turned and looked at Hermione, who was still standing in the corridor. “Um, no, I don’t think so. We’re fine back here.”

“Oh. Well, maybe it’s just as well. Keeping you away from Malfoy, I mean. Our first meeting is Sunday night at eight-thirty in the anteroom just off the Great Hall. Don’t be late!” She was standing very close to him; Harry looked down into her face; she seemed to be trying to talk with her eyes, they looked--pleading somehow. Then she shook herself, as though waking from a dream, and turned and swept down the corridor toward the front of the train, again looking every bit Head Girl. What was that? Harry wondered. The remaining gawkers moved out of her way, then turned to stare at Hermione again. Hermione colored once more and ducked into their compartment. Ron, Ginny and Harry followed.

Ginny and Hermione sat on one side of the compartment, Harry and Ron on the other. Hermione took Crookshanks from his carrier and settled him on her lap, stroking his orange fur and looking like she was trying to calm down.

“I wish he hadn’t done that,” she said quietly.

“Do you mean Viktor or Malfoy?” Ginny asked slyly.

“Well, both,” she replied, still petting Crookshanks, not looking up.

“I suppose,” said Harry looking at her shining brown curls and her tan limbs protruding from her close-fitting blouse and skirt, “coming from Malfoy, that was something of a compliment.”

Hermione grimaced. “Malfoy is the last person I want to be getting compliments from. And I still need to get rid of Viktor, remember?”

Ginny smiled slyly. “You didn’t look too eager to get rid of him just now on the platform-- and you did say in your letters what a good kisser he is...”

“Shut it, Ginny!” Hermione hissed at her, her face red. Ginny was stunned and hurt, her face crumpling, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Well, maybe you should sit up front with the prefects! You wouldn’t have to put up with me then!” And she turned from Hermione and looked out the window at the passing landscape without seeing it. Hermione immediately looked very sorry.

“Ginny, I’m sorry, I...” she trailed off, seeing that Ginny was having none of it. They’re not getting along too well lately, Harry thought. Hermione sighed.

“Maybe I’ll just take a little nap,” she said quietly, leaning back with her eyes closed and continuing to idly pet Crookshanks. Harry looked at Ron, who was gazing at Hermione with such an unmistakably vulnerable look in his eyes that Harry was shaken at seeing it. Maybe he’ll finally say something to her, he thought. How do I feel about that? He didn’t know. Then he looked at Ginny, and his heart turned over. Poor Ginny; how do I feel about her, now? He wasn’t sure.

It seemed like it was going to be a very confusing fifth year.

When they finally reached Hogsmeade Station, they had all calmed down considerably. They’d had a chance to visit with some other friends on the train--fellow Gryffindors Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and the Creevey brothers--as well as some students from Hufflepuff they knew from Herbology class, and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But because he hadn’t gone up to the prefects’ compartments, Harry hadn’t run into Cho Chang, as they’d discussed the day before (she was a sixth-year prefect for Ravenclaw). They all bought way too many sweets and pumpkin pasties, but still left room for the feast that was waiting for them in the Great Hall at the castle.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry shared a horseless carriage up to the school. Harry entered Hogwarts castle for the fifth time feeling like he was indeed coming home. I’m more than half done school, he thought. After this year, it’s just two more, and then--And then what? he wondered. Become an Auror? Play Quidditch professionally? That’s if he lived long enough to finish school; now that Voldemort had come back...He tried not to think about all that. One thing at a time. This year I’ve got the O.W.L.s. That’s enough to think about for now.

They entered the Great Hall and settled down at their house tables. Harry felt quite conspicuous in his new robes with his silver prefect badge. He had changed on the train, as had Hermione. Ginny and Ron wore their second-hand robes; Ron’s were fraying at the cuffs.

Hagrid brought in the first-years, stopping to discreetly wave at Harry, Ron and Hermione (well, not that discreetly; Hagrid was huge). After all of the students were seated except them, the sorting began. The sorting hat sang a new song yet again, which had once impressed Harry until it was pointed out to him that it had all year to think of a new one, and precious little else to do. One by one, rather small-looking boys and girls around eleven years old stepped forward when their names were called, placed the hat on their heads, and were proclaimed Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs or Slytherins. It seemed a very long time since his own sorting.

Crabbe evidently had a little sister--if little could be used to describe Wilhelmina Crabbe, who was the largest eleven-year-old girl Harry had ever seen. She was put in Slytherin; no surprise there. A rather small thin boy with curly blond hair had the unusual name of Flitwick; Harry wondered if he was related to the Charms teacher. Flitwick became a Gryffindor, causing the table to cheer as it had for the previous new members of their house.

In the end, there were eight new Gryffindors, four girls and four boys. In addition to Will Flitwick, they now had Andy Donegal and his twin sister Amy (Muggle-born), Dean Thomas’ younger sister Jamaica; Barry Bagshot, Peggy Patrick and Jules Quinn, from old wizarding families; and Gillian Lockley, another Muggle-born. The newly-sorted students joined their house tables and squeezed in at the benches, looking up at the head table, where Dumbledore now stood.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts, everyone! I hope all third-year students have turned in their permission slips, or no visits to Hogsmeade! Now, I don’t know what your parents have told you, but--” and here, Harry caught his eye and tried to keep his breathing even. “Hogwarts is one of the safest places you can possibly be. We are here to train you to be the finest witches and wizards anywhere, and we are not in the habit of losing students. That said, I must admit that we did lose a student last year who was competing in the Triwizard Tournament, but his death was not directly connected to the tasks he was required to perform for the competition. He was killed by Lord Voldemort.”

The first year students who were from wizarding families erupted with a loud gasp as though uttered by one throat; the Muggle-born first-years looked quizzical. “As I said, Hogwarts is one of the safest places on earth. We ask that you be especially careful, however, when visiting Hogsmeade, and I reserve the right to cancel Hogsmeade visits with no notice whatsoever and no explanation. If this occurs, please just assume that it is for everyone’s safety and don’t go trying to get around it,” he said, staring at Fred and George, who looked down at their feet. “Also, the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden, hence the name. Don’t forget it!”

“Now! Let’s sing the school song and then eat!” he finished. Everyone stood and prepared to sing. Harry had been practicing to “Londonderry Air” with his new tenor voice, having abandoned “Loch Lomond;” Ron used his quavering baritone for the tune to the national anthem, Hermione was doing “Candle in the Wind,” of all things, and George and Fred were loudly singing in unison to the tune of “Waltzing Mathilda,” so that theirs was the theme that came through the polyglot of noise most prominently; a lucky thing, since it turned out to work with the words surprisingly well.

When the last few singers had finished (there were always some who had to choose a slow ballad) the food appeared on the tables and they all fell to with gusto, despite the sweets many of them had consumed on the train. Young Will Flitwick was seated across from Harry and Ron, and between Hermione and Ginny. “Are you Harry Potter?” he asked, awestruck, looking at the scar on Harry’s forehead. “Are you a prefect?”

Harry looked kindly at him. “Yes and yes. Are you related to Professor Flitwick?”

“He’s my uncle. Great uncle, actually. My granddad’s big brother. Don’t see him much, since most of the year he’s here teaching.” The idea of tiny Professor Flitwick being called “big” was making Harry’s mouth curl up at the edges. He tried to suppress this.

“Bet you’ll do well in Charms.”

“Oh, I doubt it. It’s just not my bailiwick. I’m much more interested in Transfiguration; perhaps I’ll become an Animagus one day.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other, trying not to smile; an eleven-year-old using words like “bailiwick.” Young Will Flitwick promised to be an interesting first-year.

After dessert, they rose to go. Harry wanted to talk to Ron about having a Quidditch practice the next day, which was Saturday; classes wouldn’t actually start until Monday, they had a free weekend right at the start of term. But, it turned out, now that he was a prefect, Harry had other responsibilities.

“Harry, Hermione,” said Alicia, striding over to them. “Please take the first years up to Gryffindor Tower and make sure they’re settled in their dormitories. Answer any questions they might have. McGonagall wants to see me.” She turned and walked off to the head table, where Professor McGonagall was still seated, talking to Professor Vector, Hagrid and Dumbledore. That’s when Harry noticed that Snape hadn’t been at the feast.

He didn’t have time to ponder this, though, as he had to herd a bunch of first-years upstairs. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady in the pink dress which obscured the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Harry suddenly realized that he didn’t know the password. He turned helplessly to Hermione. She sighed and gave the password to the Fat Lady.

“Crenellation.”

The portrait swung open and they all scrambled into the common room. It looked as cozy and inviting as Harry remembered it, with overstuffed armchairs scattered all around and a blazing fire in the hearth. He noticed for the first time the rampant Gryffindor lion on the keystone of the arch that formed the fireplace opening.

Hermione took the first-year girls up the spiral stairs leading to the girls’ dormitories, and Harry led the boys up the stairs to their dorm. Once they arrived in the room that had been vacated by the seventh-years who had finished school the previous year, there was a sudden frenzied rush to claim the four-poster beds. Harry had to break up a fight between Andy Donegal and Barry Bagshot, who both wanted the bed farthest from the door. He awarded it to Will Flitwick instead, unsure of whether he was really being fair, but he had been unable to figure out any other way to settle it. Then there was a fuss over Jules Quinn’s cat, because Andy was allergic and Jules would insist that it had to sleep with him. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a prefect, Harry thought. He didn’t realize it would involve what amounted to babysitting. He couldn’t remember being quite so immature as a first-year. He told Andy to go to the hospital wing in the morning for a magical analgesic to prevent him having an adverse reaction to the cat.

When it seemed that they’d finally settled down, Harry left them, pointing his wand at the candles to extinguish them one by one, looking at the exhausted boys lying tucked up in their beds by the light of the last candle. Then Harry heard Will say softly, “Harry? Could you--just leave that one lit?” Harry nodded and quietly closed the door.

When he returned to the common room, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were sitting in three of four armchairs gathered near the fire; they’d saved him a seat.

“What took you so long? The first-year girls were good as gold for me.”

“Well, I had first-year boys, so there you go. There was a fight over who got which bed, over Quinn’s cat...you name it. Plus, I’ve just felt out of sorts all day--can’t put my finger on it.”

They sat silently for a minute, staring at the fire in exhaustion. “I know,” Hermione said suddenly.

Harry had his eyes closed. “What do you know?” he asked lazily, thinking that she was probably going to propose an O.W.L. revision session.

“Why you’re feeling out of sorts. You didn’t go running today.”

Harry opened his eyes and thought for a moment. “You know, I think you’re right. It’s a bit late now, of course, but I can get up before breakfast tomorrow and do it.”

“All right, then. I’ll meet you here in the common room at seven for stretching exercises.”

“Oh--” Harry began, surprised that she still wanted to do it, but remembering how she looked in the running bra and bicycle shorts, he didn’t object. “I suppose,” he said, “we could use that sandy path around the Quidditch pitch. Probably be easier on our joints than the pavement back home.”

Ron made a face. “Seven in the morning! On a Saturday! You’re mad!”

“Just be glad I’m not holding Quidditch practice at that hour! That won’t be until after breakfast. You and Ginny’ll both come, right?” He looked hopefully at them both. They nodded. “Good, because Fred and George are free--I talked to them on the train--and they said they’ll get Alicia, Katie and Angelina there. We’ll meet down at the pitch.” Suddenly he had to stop talking and gave a tremendous yawn. “Oh! Those first years were tiring. I think I need bed. Good night.”

“Me too,” said Ron. “’Night, Ginny, Hermione.”

The girls said goodnight and then headed toward their own staircase. Harry and Ron went up to their room at the top of the tower, which now had a sign on the door saying “Fifth Years.” Neville was already in his bed, snoring, and Seamus and Dean were sitting on Dean’s bed looking at Seamus’ vacation photos from Australia. Ron glanced at them for a moment, then changed into his pajamas and climbed under the covers. “Seamus got to go to Australia,” he said softly, but with an edge to his voice.

Harry had changed into pajama pants, but above the waist wore only his basilisk amulet and Sandy wrapped around his left arm. He glanced at Ron as he got into his own four-poster, muttering, “Sorry.” Ron shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t matter to him--but clearly it did. He closed the curtains of his bed. Harry closed his own curtains and lay back with his hands behind his head, feeling guilty because Ron was trapped in his house all summer just because he was Harry’s friend. And Hermione had almost been kidnapped. When would it end? Harry wondered. But he knew the answer: when Voldemort is dead, or--when I am.

Harry and Hermione staggered up the steps to the Entrance Hall at eight o’clock the next morning, having spent forty minutes running and ten minutes stretching before and after. Harry had left Sandy under a rose bush in the gardens while they were running, and had collected her again, wearing her wrapped around his arm once more. They dragged themselves up to the third-floor hall and Hermione waved exhaustedly at him, heading toward a portrait of a girl in a very large skirt who had a shepherd’s crook and a flock of sheep around her.

“Lemon fresh,” she said to the shepherdess, gaining entrance to the prefects’ bathroom for girls.

Harry trudged up two more flights to the fifth floor, where he headed for the statue of Boris the Bewildered (hopeless during the Goblin rebellion of 1510, Hermione had informed him) and counted four doors to the left of Boris. At that door he said, “Pine fresh,” and the door swung open.

As he remembered it, the bathroom was as opulent as a Roman bath, with marble everywhere. Unfortunately, it was not as empty as he remembered it; Draco Malfoy was in the large pool-sized sunken tub, swimming in celadon-green bubbles, his pale hair clinging wetly to his scalp.

“Malfoy! What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? I’m a prefect too, remember. What’re you looking so grungy and sweaty for? Was it that hard to get here? Lost your way in the castle after four years of school? You’ll be really helpful to the first-years, won’t you? They’ll be giving you directions, probably.”

“I was out running, for your information. With Hermione,” he added; he was unsure why.

Malfoy smiled lasciviously. “Granger? What, are you thinking of trying to steal her from Viktor Krum? That was quite a show yesterday.” He looked at Harry, who was still panting from running; Harry felt adrenaline running through him from the exercise and felt he could actually squeeze the life out of Malfoy today with his bare hands, if he wanted to. “What’s the matter; don’t I get threatened with bodily harm today? Too tired after running around like a Muggle?”

“Wanting a shower too much, more like,” he panted, heading toward the marble partition that separated the showers from the tub area. “And you’re just boring me, anyway. Can’t you think of an insult worse than ‘running around like a Muggle?’”

“It’s early. I just woke up. Let me get breakfast, first.” He laughed. Harry placed Sandy carefully in a corner, then stripped and got into the shower. The warm spray was like a blessing, and he lifted his face to it gratefully, as if in prayer. He wondered how Malfoy would have reacted if he could have seen Hermione in her bikini, and then that thought made him see Hermione in her bikini, in his mind, and soon he felt like he might need to turn off the hot water and have just a cold shower.

When he was done, he dried off, put Sandy back on his arm, and walked with the towel around his waist to the large wardrobe near the tub. He felt Malfoy’s eyes on him again, and wondered if he’d make any more annoying comments about manual labor. At least I’m not a pale, skinny git--anymore. In the wardrobe there were green, blue, yellow and red robes. He removed a fluffy red robe with the Gryffindor lion embroidered over the heart and then put on a pair of the standard-issue black shower shoes kept on the bottom of the wardrobe. He felt like new; all pink and humid, his hair curling on his neck. Haircut, he thought again, must get a haircut. He carried his clothes to the door of the bathroom with him; Malfoy still hadn’t gotten out of the tub.

“Careful, Malfoy,” he said before leaving, “you’ll never be able to unshrivel your skin. Not that anyone would notice the difference.” Malfoy made a face and moved to pick up his wand, at the side of the tub, but Harry laughed and ran out the door. He walked back up to Gryffindor Tower, smiling and shaking his head. At least Malfoy being a prefect meant that he was with Crabbe and Goyle less often; on his own, he was really quite manageable, Harry thought.

He gave the password to the Fat Lady and climbed into the common room. Only Parvati and Lavender were there; since it was Saturday, they were in jeans and T-shirts, rather than black Hogwarts robes.

They looked up at him and stared. Parvati in particular looked flabbergasted.

“Harry,” she said. “You look like you had a good summer.” He realized after a second that she was looking down at his legs (the robe only came down to his knees), which had been strengthened by the running, and were now quite muscular. Then he noticed that Lavender was staring at what was visible of his chest where the robe opened.

He tried to be casual. “Yeah, I guess. Wish I’d had time for a haircut, though. I feel like I need a different look...”

“Oh!” Lavender suddenly said. “Parvati can cut your hair! She’s really good! Does her own dad’s hair!”

Parvati was looking at him as she had when he’d picked her up for the Yule Ball the previous Christmas--before he trod on her feet during the dancing and ignored her, spending the rest of the ball watching Cho Chang with Cedric Diggory.

“Yes,” she said slowly now, squinting her eyes at him, as if trying to see a vision of him with his new haircut. “And it’s a good thing your hair’s already wet. Sit down here,” she said, pulling a wooden chair out from one of the tables they used for schoolwork. He sat down obediently, clutching his sweaty running clothes. He tried to explain what he wanted, and she nodded and said, “That’s exactly what I was thinking. I always thought that would be a much better look on you...” making Harry wonder how many girls at Hogwarts had been expending mental energy thinking about giving him a makeover.

“Incisio!” she said, holding up her wand, which suddenly sprouted scissors at the tip. As she worked, Harry watched his hair fall to the floor around him, remembering the times during his childhood when the Dursleys had tried to cut his hair, and how he had magically willed it to look the same again (not yet knowing he was a wizard). He had been as surprised as the Dursleys that this happened, and had been baffled by receiving punishments for it, as though he’d done it intentionally.

When she was done, she waved her wand again, saying, “Finite Incantatem!” The scissors disappeared. “Imago!” she said next, and now a mirror sprouted from the wand tip. She handed it to Harry so he could inspect himself. It was exactly as he’d described it to her; short on the sides, but that was okay because he didn’t have big ears; oddly small ones, really, with lobes that went straight into his head, instead of hanging down pendulously; shorter on top, too, pushed back and up, so that his forehead was bare, the scar no longer partly hidden. It was front and center now, for all the world to see, and his vivid green eyes seemed more in evidence too, somehow. He put his glasses back on, running his hand through his hair, making it stand up even more.

“Thanks, Parvati! It looks just like I wanted!” He stood and smiled at her, confused by her reaction, which was to blush furiously. She usually giggled--but not now. He suddenly felt that he needed to say something else--something long overdue. “Listen, Parvati, I’m sorry about the way I behaved at the Yule Ball. I was a total prat, and you didn’t deserve it.” She really had looked beautiful that night, he thought. She smiled and looked at him now with her large dark eyes shining in her flawless coffee-with-cream face.

“That’s all right, Harry. I got to go to the Yule Ball with Harry Potter, one of the Hogwarts champions and winner of the Triwizard Tournament. It’s something I can tell my grandchildren...”

He looked down at the floor, abashed by her response, then noticed his hair all over it. “Oh, what a mess! Is there a broom?”

“You are so funny sometimes, Harry. But then, you spend each summer with Muggles, so--Nonhirsutum!” and with that, she waved her wand and the hair clippings disappeared from the floor, chair and from Harry’s shoulders and the running clothes he was holding. He smiled at her again, wondering how he had not noticed before how enormous her eyes were, and then climbed the stairs to his dorm, remembering Cho Chang asking him out and Alicia standing very close to him in the train corridor the day before, and wondering whether the girls at Hogwarts had now decided that it was open season on Harry Potter. It certainly seemed that way.

Harry threw on a sleeveless black T-shirt and black jeans, put on the basilisk amulet and Sandy and went down to breakfast carrying his Quidditch robes and Firebolt. Everyone else was already gone, and when he reentered the common room, even Parvati and Lavender had left. He virtually skipped down to the Great Hall; going running in the morning made him feel normal again.

But when he arrived in the Great Hall, he felt anything but normal; as he started to stride over to the Gryffindor table, he felt rather than heard (the vibrations seemed to come through the floor) the murmur of what seemed to be mostly higher-pitched voices--female voices--saying, “Look at Harry Potter--what’s Harry Potter done--doesn’t he look--oh, my god, do you see Harry Potter--” and he furrowed his brow, sitting down between Ron and Hermione and finding himself facing an amazed-looking Ginny. Next to her George laughed and stuck a piece of bacon in her open mouth, making her sputter and spit it out onto her plate.

“George!”

He laughed. “Sorry, Ginny. But you should have seen your face! And your mouth was hanging open, so--”

“I don’t get it,” Harry said, looking around the room at the girls craning their necks, even at the Slytherin table. “Hasn’t anyone ever heard of a person getting a haircut?”

“Oh,” said George casually. “Have you cut your hair, Harry?”

Harry threw a muffin at George, who laughed and ducked. “Actually, Parvati did it. She did a pretty good job, I think.”

Ginny nodded dumbly, blindly taking a bite of toast. Harry thought her large brown eyes looked slightly unfocussed. Next to him, Hermione said, “She did a fantastic job...” looking at him and reaching out to touch his hair dreamily.

“Hermione!” Ron yelled, irritated. She jumped, as if waking up.

George laughed, until Angelina, next to him, agreed with Hermione, saying emphatically, “That is an understatement.”

“Hey!” George responded, making Angelina laugh now.

Harry felt himself redden as he reached for some toast. “Man, did it look that bad before?” He glanced at Hermione, who looked away, coloring, then at Ginny, who was staring at her plate.

“Well, it’s not hard to see your scar now,” Ron said in a flat voice.

“And it’s not hard to see your muscles, with that shirt...” Angelina added helpfully. George turned and glared at her, then Harry, but she smiled and leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Oh, you’re just too easy, George. And you’re terribly cute when you’re jealous...”

Breakfast was somewhat uncomfortable for Harry because of the stir he was causing--was it that bad before? he wondered. Hermione mumbled something about the library before running off, looking at him over her shoulder for a second. Ginny avoided meeting his eyes during the rest of the meal, and Harry avoided looking at any other house tables, including while he was leaving the hall, pretending to be rather fascinated with his feet on the way out.

After breakfast, the Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered in the changing rooms next to the field, and officially elected Harry to be their new captain, whereupon, Harry introduced Ron as new Keeper and reserve Chaser and Beater (“What do you think’s gonna happen to us?” Fred and George wanted to know), and Ginny as reserve Seeker. “And I’ll be reserve Keeper, when necessary,” Harry told them. He wanted to put breakfast behind him and be as businesslike as possible. Angelina was treating him normally again (he assumed that a lot of her comments at breakfast had been to needle George), but Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet looked a little distracted. “All right, we all need to practice--and some of us need to practice more than one position. Since there’s eight of us, we’ll divide up into two teams. The Chasers will have to take turns playing other positions, since we only need one on a team. You’ll be one of the Seekers first, Katie, while I play Keeper, Alicia will be your Chaser and Fred will be Beater. Ron, you and Ginny will be the Keeper and Seeker on the other team with Angelina and George. Let’s go!”

Once they were playing, having to concentrate on not falling off broomsticks or getting hit by Bludgers, everyone seemed more normal again. Ginny caught the Snitch before Katie, then she caught it before Angelina and then Alicia. Alicia, Katie and Angelina were a bit surprised, but obviously putting it down to the fact that Ginny wasn’t competing against Harry. Then he had each of the Chasers take a turn at playing Keeper for the sake of the practice, and now Ron could practice being a Chaser while Harry played Seeker. Still, Ginny caught the Snitch first every time.

After some more practice games with Ron as Beater and Fred and George taking turns as Keeper and Seeker (Harry seriously wondered whether George might need glasses; the Snitch had hovered about a foot in front of him, whereupon Ginny swooped down and grabbed it), Harry ended the practice. As they all left the field, Alicia and Katie looked strangely at Ginny, as though she were an intruder. Angelina put her arm around her and said, “Don’t you mind them. George tipped me off how good you are; now I know he wasn’t exaggerating! In fact, I think he underplayed it.” Ginny smiled gratefully at her, then watched as Angelina and George joined hands and left the rest of the group, walking down toward the greenhouses, smiling at each other and swinging their hands vigorously.

“Where are they going?” Harry asked Ginny as they all continued toward the castle. Ron looked like he wondered too. Fred was up ahead with Alicia and Katie, trying to get them to laugh with very bad puns.

“Where do you think?” Ginny said, frowning.

Harry and Ron simultaneously let out an “Ooohhhhh,” as it dawned on them, causing her to shake her head.

“Honestly,” she muttered, picking up speed and passing them.

Harry looked at Ron; when had Ginny become so worldly-wise? he wondered. Ron wouldn’t look at him. She almost sounded jaded, Harry thought. He remembered how she had giggled about catching Percy kissing his girlfriend Penelope when Harry was in second year and Ginny was in first; but then, she was only eleven at the time. Three years have made quite a difference, Harry thought, watching her walk ahead of him and Ron toward the castle. Quite a difference.

After lunch, Harry, Ron and Hermione went down to Hagrid’s cabin to see how he was doing. “Maybe we can find out what he did in Ukraine,” Harry said on the way.

“How do you know that’s where he was?” Hermione wanted to know. “That was supposed to be a secret.”

“He told me--in not so many words,” Harry answered.

“I just hope the giants don’t take You-Know-Who’s side,” Ron intoned with an air of doom.

“Well, I think Hagrid was the perfect ambassador to send to them--and didn’t he also take Madame Maxime? I mean, she’s headmistress of a very well-regarded school of witchcraft and wizardry. She’s got clout,” Hermione stated with authority.

Harry looked grim. “I hope you’re right.”

Hagrid was pleased to see them when they knocked on his door, but all through tea, he managed to deflect any questions about the giants, or even what they’d be studying in Care of Magical Creatures. They came away feeling somewhat flat, but when they’d reached the castle again, Hermione reminded the two of them that they hadn’t gone to see Hagrid just to pump him for information--they’d gone to see him because he was their friend.

“And anyway,” she went on, “nothing could be any worse than Blast-Ended Skrewts. Right?”

“Right,” said Harry and Ron feebly; that’s what they’d thought about the baby dragon, too. They just hoped she was right.

“So,” Roger Davies said unctuously, standing at the desk where he and Alicia were presiding over the prefects’ meeting, “does everyone understand where all of the steps are that need to be skipped and how to extract the feet of students who forget to skip them?” The prefects all groaned assent, dying for the meeting to be over. Even gung-ho Hermione looked like she was flagging after the two-hour meeting. Two hours? Harry thought. We’ve been discussing trick steps and how to change passwords to restricted areas and how to take points from houses based on certain infringements of the rules for two hours? Actually, they’d discussed more than that, but it was all starting to blur for Harry now. Personally, he thought Roger was just a bit power hungry, and in particular, enjoying the power he had over the prefects to bore them silly for as long as he wanted to. Even Alicia and his own brother, Evan, looked like they wanted to put a hex on him.

“Good,” Alicia said quickly. “Do we have a motion to table any further business until the next meeting?”

“So moved!” came the swift reply from Ernie MacMillan, of Hufflepuff.

“Second?”

“Second!” responded a sixth-year Slytherin prefect.

“All in favor?”

“AYE!” replied twenty-two exhausted voices.

“Opposed?”

“But I--” Roger began. Alicia cut him off.

“The ayes have it. I move to adjourn the meeting.”

“Second!” came the unexpected voice of Draco Malfoy.

“All in favor?”

“AYE!”

“All right. The meeting is adjourned.” She tried to pry the gavel out of Roger’s hand to pound it on the desk, and wound up having to put her hand around his and pound it that way. Roger looked deeply offended. Alicia collected the notes from Hermione, who had volunteered to be the recording secretary; Alicia had offered to get her a Quick-Quotes quill for the purpose, but Harry suggested that they weren’t very accurate or reliable and tended to embellish a great deal (remembering a particularly disastrous interview with Rita Skeeter), so Hermione opted to do it the old-fashioned way.

As the prefects prepared to leave, Harry noticed Mandy Brocklehurst gazing fixedly at him, and he realized that she played Chaser on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She had wavy chestnut hair, a sprinkling of freckles over a small nose, and large dark blue eyes which regarded him closely. He looked away, into the gaze of Alicia Spinnet. He was vaguely aware of Hermione and Cho Chang looking at him, too. Okay, he thought, this is getting creepy. He had spent much of the previous day (after returning from Hagrid’s) and all of the earlier part of Sunday, except for mealtimes, holed up in his room; at times, even closing the curtains of his four-poster and reading his O.W.L. book by wandlight. Well, he thought, if I have to spend this much time avoiding leering girls, maybe I’ll at least get top marks on my O.W.L.s.

“Harry,” Alicia said. “Could you stay for a moment after the meeting?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, in case what came out was, “Could you all please stop staring at me?”

Hermione said casually, “I’ll meet you in the entrance hall,” and left. Cho Chang and Mandy Brocklehurst also left, somewhat slowly. Alicia sat down in the chair next to him that Hermione had been using. They were the only ones left in the room.

“So, Harry,” she said, smiling, sitting, Harry thought, entirely too close. “How’s it going so far?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, so that it was on the back two legs, trying to be casual. It helped put distance between him and Alicia. “Oh, you know, first year boys are still pretty youn--” and he was forced to stop as the chair tilted too far back, skidded on the smooth stone floor, and sent Harry crashing in a heap, his feet narrowly missing kicking Alicia in the jaw on the way down. She jumped up with a cry, trying to help him up, but he brushed her off, although it became worse in a moment when Hermione, Cho and Mandy came running back into the room, all trying to help him up at the same time. This was more hindrance than help, and he finally had to yelp, “Geroff!” They stepped back somewhat alarmed; he got to his feet, set the chair right and brushed off his robes, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. Then he nodded at them all and said, “Good night, ladies.” He turned to leave, his new robes billowing out behind him as he took the largest strides he could to escape them.

Hermione caught up with him in the entrance hall. She fell into step beside him as he ascended the stairs, two at a time (she had to move quickly to keep up). He thought, I’m probably going to put a foot right through a trick stair tread. He wasn’t paying attention at all. He didn’t look at Hermione or speak to her. When they reached the portrait, Harry didn’t say the password, instead he turned to her and said abruptly, “Why are all of the girls in this ruddy place suddenly acting so strangely?”

Hermione smiled at him, but looked as though she hadn’t really heard what he’d said, reaching up to touch his jaw. “You’re going to have to shave soon, Harry,” she said softly. She traced his jawline with her finger, saying, “You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?” She was practically whispering now. Harry felt his heart beating very loudly, it seemed; he shivered involuntarily at the feel of her finger brushing the new growth along his chin. Suddenly she said very loudly, “Crenellation!” and the portrait swung open. She entered the common room with more dignity than he felt he’d mustered after falling to the floor after the prefects’ meeting. She went up to the girls’ dormitories without looking back.