Inquiring Minds

Title: Inquiring Minds

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

I love pissing you off, it gets me off.

Eminem (Marshall Mathers)

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

Chapter 4: Hostile

"Sir, I'm sorry but I can't allow you to go-"

"Sir. I said you cannot go -!"

"SIR!"

"Stupefy."

The soft thud of a nurse's head hitting the floor echoed through the otherwise silent reception area of on the Spell Damage Floor of St Mungo's and the werewolf, Remus Lupin, slowly tucked his wand safely back into its holster.

As he looked down at the nurse, whose head was most certainly going to ache when she finally awoke, Remus's brow furrowed a bit.

If she hadn't been so difficult she wouldn't have had to have her head slammed into the floor like that.

Sure, the nurse had been accommodating toward Blaise, who was being checked into the hospital as a patient- a very late night patient at that. And sure, she was even nice to Draco, Neville, and Luna who were each given a spare bed to rest in until the morning, but the witch's patience seemed to end abruptly when it came to him visiting Harry after hours.

"Visiting hours have been over for quite some time," she had said to the fretting man with the air of a high and mighty queen looking at a peasant who dared to ask her for a morsel of bread.

"Surely you can wait until tomorrow morning to see him," the nurse had stated with a firm authority that seemed completely unfitting given the paper hat perched precariously upon her head.

But the truth was, no, Remus could not wait until tomorrow to see Harry. He needed to see with his own eyes and feel with his own hands that Harry was at least alive and not withering away by the minute.

'And anyway,' Remus thought to himself as he stepped over the nurse's body to search for Harry's room, 'who would possibly take that woman seriously? She was falling asleep on her feet, and her hat was green! Lime green!'

The werewolf's pace increased as he forgave himself for stunning the nurse. That was in the past, and she probably needed the sleep anyway. Harry was his concern now.

Harry, and Harry alone.

Remus's eyes wandered over the occupants of each of the rooms he poked his head into, each time holding his breath as he prayed for a glimpse of some messy black hair or a set of perfectly round glasses resting on a bedside table, and each time letting that breath rush out of his lungs in disappointment.

'Where could that boy be?' Remus wondered and inwardly cursed himself for not checking the nurse's directory before he had left her.

Finally Remus reached the end of the hallway and came to a small room separated from all the others. Unlike those that he had passed, this area had a large door with a round, silver door knob and given the feelings he was getting, the werewolf was willing to bet that the door was warded.

It reeked of magic residue.

Sighing in resignation to at the task before him Remus whispered a few of the more complex counter-charms he knew for wards. To his surprise nothing happened.

Bewildered, the werewolf cast a rather unknown spell identification charm on the door and found that it was covered with spells to keep magic contained. There were no wards whatsoever.

As the werewolf put his hand on the doorknob and easily opened the door he muttered to himself, "I'm always making things so bloody complicated."

Slowly the man poked his head around the door. Surprisingly, the secluded area was lit only by a few candles which cast eerie shadows across the walls.

He lit his wand with a quick "Lumos" and stepped into the medium sized, yet sparsely furnished room.

As soon as both of the werewolf's feet were planted squarely on the carpeted floor of what appeared to be the only room left for Harry to be staying in, he felt a great pressure settle over him.

It was as though a Giant was sitting on his chest, preventing him from breathing. Panicked, the wizard took several gasping breaths, his face turning bright red dangerously quickly. A minute later, after several frantic attempts to breathe properly, the werewolf fell to his knees, his wand clattering on the floor.

The instant the wand fell from his hand the lit tip went out, and just as quickly the pressure that had been suffocating him was gone.

Remus started at the sudden relief and wondered exactly what had just happened. He stared at his wand for a long moment before he was distracted by the bed leg the piece of wood rested next to.

His eyes rose slowly up the bed to the figure resting upon it and his heart give a sudden lurch.

Harry!

Just like that, the situation had suddenly gotten so much more real for Remus.

And so much worse.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

"Well, now that that's settled, let's get on with it!" Mad-Eye Moody exclaimed mere seconds after the tail of Remus' cloak had disappeared in the blazing emerald flames.

The ex-Auror had obviously developed an intense dislike of Blaise and now that she was gone, he was eager to jump right into her memories not only to gain information on Harry's condition, but also to find out more about the girl he had already classified into the "Irritating and Quite Possible Insane" category of his overly-analytical mind.

Before he could rush over to the Perlustrare and activate it himself however, a man who was also a member of the aforementioned category of Moody's mind stopped him.

"Now, Alastor," Hogwarts' Headmaster chided gently, "I do believe we have a bit to discuss first. Let's wait a moment and think before we 'get on with it' as you so kindly put it."

The assembled members of the Order shifted testily in their seats a bit as Dumbledore assessed them. The usually talkative and rambunctious group seemed to be settling themselves into a light murmur of conversation and the Headmaster smiled slightly.

"You all may think I had forgotten both the hour and the daily tasks and responsibilities each of you have, but I am pleased to say that old age has not yet taken its toll on my mind."

Moody snorted loudly at this and the Headmaster smiled brightly, "Or at least not on my memory," he amended.

"I brought you all here tonight, or perhaps I should say last night," the old man said with a glance out the window at the lightening navy blue sky, "To update you on Mr. Potter's situation. As he is a member of this Order and a key player in this war it is indeed a priority to ensure that we are each doing as much as we can to restore him to his former magical and... mental health.

"And though I by no means am asking you to relinquish your jobs, familial responsibilities, or previously delegated Order duties, I do wish that you each would think on what we have learned here today." The Headmaster paced in front of the window of his office and finally stopped to place his gnarled fingers on the cool panes of glass- his back to the Order.

"Particularly focus, if you would, on Mr. Nott's words to Ms. Zabini, young Mr. Nott's relationship with his father, Voldemort, or anything else you may think of. Any sudden thoughts should be followed through. No thought, I believe, is truly and wholly unfounded.

"Though some of you will indeed be 'riffling' through Ms. Zabini's memories I think we could all agree that the entire Order could not possibly be expended for such a task."

Kingsley Shacklebolt blinked slowly at the Headmaster and after a moment's deliberation, the characteristically calm man wanted to scream.

It felt as though Dumbledore had psyched them up for a daring adventure, a stunning battle, and then as they were prepared to march toward the door he had turned around and slammed it shut.

No, the Auror did not have any particular inclination to sift through the memories of a sixteen year old girl, but despite his fatigue, he did not really feel like going home to bed either.

He felt extremely annoyed that he had been summoned to waste a night that could have been filled with well-deserved sleep with the entire thing. He felt annoyance and - dare he say it - hostility toward the Headmaster.

Until the old mage turned away from the window to face them.

His weathered face was stretched into a faint smile that nearly resembled a grimace of pain. Then suddenly Kingsley remembered just what the name 'Harry Potter' meant to this man... and it had come to mean to himself as well.

Harry, during his months in the Order had established himself as a daring, skillful and extremely, dangerously, powerful wizard.

A force to be reckoned with.

And yet, 'Harry is... just Harry,' the man thought with a smile.

He was a sixteen year old, considerate, funny, and sarcastic teenager who had somehow wormed his way into all of their hearts.

'Yours in particular, old man,' the Auror thought, looking at the frown lines marring the Headmaster's face while at the same time reaching a decision.

Yes, he would leave. As would several others, Shacklebolt was sure, after Dumbledore had assigned them a few things to listen for or prod around a bit to find, but he would not let his tasks in the next few days overwhelm him to the point that he forgot about the quirky little squirt lying in a hospital bead waiting for the Order - his friends, his aids - to find a way to bring him out of whatever funk he was in.

As he stood from his chair, leading the flurry of people off the resume their typical lives, he promised himself that he would not forget.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

Professor Severus Snape, esteemed Potion's master and "loyal" Death Eater stared hard at the Headmaster for a long moment.

He was somewhat aware of the fact that Moody was saying something to Professor Dumbledore about wasting time but he was beyond caring.

At that moment, the greasy-haired man wanted to berate the Headmaster with a series of questions on how he had managed to orchestrate this little scheme so perfectly.

Sighing internally, the man simply decided to mentally applaud the mage's success in ridding the room of all the unnecessary children and adults who now knew exactly the right amount of information and now had their own little tasks to occupy their minds.

Glancing around the much emptied room and spotting Minerva, that infernal young Auror - Tonks, Moody, and Emmaline Vance, the tall, spidery man saw that there was nothing else to do but listen to the blithering of Moody....

...Only to find that he had stopped talking.

The five pairs of eyes in the office were staring at him and calmly the Slytherin Head of House back-tracked and thought hard about what the Headmaster had said to Moody that made him shut up and stare at the Potions Master.

Finally, the man, based on what he knew of the Headmaster, responded with, "Far be it from me to put a damper on our Mr. Moody's enjoyment. Let us proceed, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled at Severus as though he knew the man had simply taken a lucky guess at what he should say, but before the Potion's Master could say another word the Headmaster had quickly turned to stand before the Perlustrare.

He raised his wrinkled hands over the bowl and proceeded to mutter a long string of Latin. The liquid in the bowl gained a shimmer at first and after a moment the memories gained a frothy appearance.

Finally the Headmaster lowered his hands, his long sleeves billowing like the sails of a boat, and pressed one of his fingers against an intricate rune on the side on the bowl.

A smoky steam began to spew from the surface of the foamy liquid and it seemed to rush directly toward the Headmaster's head.

"Albus!" McGonagall cried, frightened and concerned.

Her voice seemed to echo oddly, the only noise in silent room.

Minerva pressed her lips tightly together after the outburst, her eyes widening slowly. 'I had known,' she thought, 'that Perlustrares were impressive devices, but this...'

She found herself, along with the others, in the dank dungeons of Severus Snape's Potion's class. It was just about impossible to differentiate this simulation of the room from the actual dungeon which she knew was just a few floors below her.

The stone walls looked cold to the touch, but when she finally could not resist the temptation and tried to touch them, she found that she could not. It felt as though her hand was given a tiny shock; a little reminder that this was not real. That it was just a memory.

Not real.

She looked to the front of the class and found herself faced with the somewhat-younger version of Severus Snape. He sat quietly at his desk, pointing his wand every now and then at a long sheet of parchment watching some changes occur on the page with a small frown of his face.

The students' desks were empty and Minerva watched as Nymphadora prodded at one. Her fingers went right through it and when she yanked them back quickly Minerva knew she had been "zapped" by the magical energy creating the room just as she had.

With a start, Minerva remembered the billowing cloud that had engulfed Albus and her eyes shot over to the old mage. She found him in perfectly good health staring at the parchment the somewhat younger Professor Snape was still waving his wand over.

The Severus of the current time was staring at himself oddly. 'A mirror is one thing,' she thought, 'but seeing yourself like this must be a rather awkward experience.'

Professor Dumbledore opened his mouth, presumably to ask Severus something, but shut it immediately when Blaise Zabini walked through the door to the Potion's classroom.

Blaise's hair was curled tightly and pulled into a high and rather tight ponytail. Her face was expressionless as she walked slowly into the room, the first student to arrive.

"Professor," she said simply as she headed for a desk at the very back of the classroom, glancing very briefly in Snape's direction.

"Blaise," responded Severus automatically, without once removing his eyes from the parchment before him. Minerva glanced at the Severus Snape who was staring at this memory of himself in fascination and narrowed her eyes. She had never heard the dour professor address a student by anything other than a last name, usually preceded by a Mr. or Ms... unless it was Harry, in which case his name was the seventh or eighth word in a string of inappropriate adjectives.

Yet Blaise appeared to find it perfectly normal.

The girl sat down and watched the professor for a while. She made no moves to remove anything from the bag she had placed on the floor beside the desk.

Minerva found herself wondering what the girl was thinking.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

'He reeks of guilt,' Blaise thought, her face clear and calm as she stared at her Potion's Professor.

He had not even glanced at her when she walked in the classroom. Though her godfather was never one for long heartfelt conversation or cheerful smiles, he at the very least spared her a gaze every now and then, something that nearly everyone else at Hogwarts could not say.

Her eyes narrowed fractionally as she thought, 'The last time he didn't look at me when I walked into this classroom was when he had to give me an A on my Potions paper because Hermione "know-it-all" Granger had included a few facts in hers that I didn't have. Of course he couldn't give her an O, being a Gryffindor and all, and since she got an E, it would have been unfair to award the same score to me when our essays were not on par.'

'Of course,' Blaise continued to think, getting agitated at the mere memory, 'No one would have known that the potion's Master had given her an inflated grade. But, contrary to what just about every student outside of Slytherin liked to believe, Professor Snape was not a wholly unfair grader.'

'It was true that he always gave the worst Gryffindors in his classes much lower grades than the worst Slytherins. But when it came to the best students (Draco, Granger, and I), some inner impartiality seemed to appear from out of no where.'

'And it always shows up just in time to bite me in the arse.'

'But what is it this time, Sev?' Blaise thought as she scrutinized his face methodically, 'What form of cruel torture are you subjecting me to now?'

Students slowly began to trickle into the dungeon and Blaise's attention was distracted from the Professor to her classmates. Draco walked in accompanied, of course, by Pansy. Vincent and Gregory were noticeably absent but Blaise attributed it to the fact that even if Snape had given them the answers to the O.W.L. questions, those two morons still wouldn't have gotten Outstandings... 'Probably not even Acceptable,' she amended.

Pansy though, Blaise wondered about. She knew the girl was interested in Potions, but her grades had never really reflected that interest, if she recalled correctly.

Draco's eyes strayed to hers for a moment before she looked away. She could feel his eyes on her for a second or two before he finally led his simpering girlfriend to their usual seats.

'Don't make any changes to the status quo now, Draco,' she thought, 'Not now.'

Over the past summer, mainly due to the unfortunate incarceration of his father, Draco had slightly adjusted his priorities and scotched his family up a bit higher on his "List of Things Draco Malfoy has found to be worth his time."

'Yes. His Family. Now moved to a new and much higher position of #16. Right under his Hair Gel,' Blaise thought snidely, a smirk starting to develop on her creaseless face.

The beginnings of the expression soon faded, however, when she remembered the way Draco had behaved over the summer. It had actually seemed as though he truly missed his father and wanted to spend more time than usual with his mother and the others in his family.

'Even the 'second cousins by the marriage of some probably disowned relatives' such as myself. I suppose that says something.' she thought, but then after a moment the smirk that had faded before returned in all its glory.

'Yes, it says that he wanted to kiss all of our arses so that if he ever gets himself landed in Azkaban, he'll have some decently intelligent people to bail him the bloody hell out,"

Blaise thought sardonically, her mind wandering to Pansy, Vince, and Greg. 'Merlin knows none of those idiots will do him any good.'

A distinctly evil chuckle threatened to escape her lips when the scratching of the chair next to her caused her brown eyes to snap to the left and her face to adopt the expressionless mask she typically wore.

"No need to get all tight-lipped and stone-faced, Zabini, it's only me," a voice said quietly. Blaise watched quietly as a dirty-blonde haired, healthily tanned, and fairly petite girl sank quickly into the seat next to her.

Blaise blinked and responded with an eloquent, "Moon."

Lucille Moon smirked at her and said, "The one and only. So tell me, Blaise, what were you about to start - dare I say it - giggling like a first-year schoolgirl?"

Blaise dodged the question deftly and asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice, "I thought this was a Slytherin/ Gryffindork class. What are you doing here?"

"Blaise, Blaise, Blaise," the girl said slowly. "Wake up! This is a N.E.W.T. preparatory class. All of the houses attend. Particularly Potions, seeing as only enough people to fill one class are usually accepted."

Blaise's eyes narrowed; she should have thought of that herself. Her brown eyes held daggers as she looked at the Ravenclaw who was now removing her book from her bag. She loathed it when people talked down to her.

Her eyes strayed to the door and she almost started praying for someone, anyone to enter the room and sit in the seat on the other side of hers. Anyone to distract her attention from this Ravenclaw who often acted a great deal too much like a Slytherin for Blaise's liking.

'Right about now,' she thought, 'I need a savior.'

Her brown eyes zoomed in hopefully on the door and much to her dismay it was a head of horribly disorderly raven locks that she saw enter at that moment.

Harry bloody Potter.

'No savior there,' Blaise thought annoyed. 'Oh well, time to take matters into my own hands.'

"Listen," Blaise said in a harsh and very low voice to the girl whose hazel eyes immediately met her own. "Why don't you run along, little raven, and find some of your own kind to play with? Frankly, I don't want to put up with you and your shit anymore. I tolerated you before in the interest of improving my O.W.L. score in Transfiguration, but now your time has passed. Get out of my sight."

Blaise felt a rush as the words left her lips. Not as sarcastic as she had intended them, but they certainly served their purpose in the 'cold as ice' form they came out in. Tears of liquefied crystal sprouted in the corners of the girl's eyes.

Lucille Moon brushed them away quickly, and opened her mouth to speak, but the Slytherin witch cut her off.

"Save it. Just get the bloody away from my table. And perhaps I'll see you next year for N.E.W.T. revision."

Lucille made a few noises of surprised anger, but stormed from the table in a huff when she noticed that Blaise had turned away and was beginning to unpack her bag.

Blaise smirked widely as she placed her ink and quill perfectly on the table, twisting the bottle at the angle she liked it and quickly checking the sharp tip of her quill.

How dare that annoying little imp think that because Blaise had helped the girl in Potions the year before in exchange for a bit of assistance in Transfiguration that they were friends? That she could waltz right up to her table in Potions with a coy smile and go on about how she had almost caught her giggling?

Blaise snorted and muttered under her breath, "Preposterous! It would have been a chuckle. And an evil one at that! Not a giggle. I don't giggle."

"Of course you don't, Blaise," a voice answered from her left and for the second time in the past ten minutes, Blaise found her head snapping toward a person she had not seen approaching at all.

She was losing it.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but relaxed the instant she saw who it was, "Orion."

"The one and only," Orion Avery said in a high-pitched slightly grating voice as he twirled a slender finger around one of his own mid-ear length strands of chocolate brown hair. A perfect imitation of Lucille Moon.

Nearly identical malicious smirks graced the faces of Blaise and Orion. But Blaise's slipped away first when she was struck by a thought, "If you heard all that why didn't you come over and tell her to get the hell out of your seat?"

Orion answered with a smirk, sitting down in his seat as several students rushed into the dungeon classroom. "Bloody bastard, leaving me alone with the crazy bint for all that time, I could murder you," Blaise continued.

The Slytherin boy smirked, "I would hardly call two minutes 'all that time,' Blaise, and if I recall correctly you accepted her help in Transfiguration as opposed to my own last year. I thought you were developing a... fondness for the girl."

Blaise could taste the sarcasm dripping from his tone, but responded only with a muttered, "Hardly."

Her attention was now focused on the front of the room where her godfather was standing up to begin the class, though the bell would not ring for at least another two minutes.

Aside from the muttered whisperings of Slytherins scattered across the room, the classroom was silent. The Ravenclaws and Potter and Patil (who appeared to be the only Gryffindorks in the room) appeared to know better than to dare to speak. No Hufflepuffs.

Blaise sniffed, 'No surprises there.'

"Welcome," Snape said as he began to pace, his robes flurrying out behind him, "to N.E.W.T. Potions. Most of you seated before me have demonstrated an Outstanding capability in Potions and therefore have merited your presence in this class."

Here he paused and faced the students, "Others," his cold, charcoal eyes making their way to Potter's bright green orbs, "Have managed to whine and plead your way into a class that you are undoubtedly incapable of passing. I, naturally, wish you the best of luck."

Potter's left eye appeared to be twitching. He cocked an eyebrow at Snape's last statement though.

The Professor continued, "You will need this luck for your grades will not be altered or adjusted by anyone." Blaise took note of the emphasis he placed on that last word.

"Should you fail to maintain the high standards required of this class, I will not hesitate to throw you out," Snape continued. "Unlike the first five yours of Potions instruction, it is quite within my right as a professor to dismiss any of you from my class for any sort of disruption or indications of a lack of extreme effort and diligence."

Beside Blaise, Orion stifled a snicker. Potter looked about ready to explode.

Snape kept the Gryffindor's gaze for a while longer before facing the entire class again; he went on as though he had been addressing the entire class, though he obviously was talking only to Potter.

"Many have questioned my decision to only allow students who achieved an Outstanding on their O.W.L. into my N.E.W.T. class. The answer to this will become apparent to all of you soon enough.

"The level of difficulty of the Potions you will be making will drastically increase. You will find that all of you will have to be more meticulous in your brewing, more studious with your assignments, and much more dedicated to this subject than ever before."

"I expect you all to rise to the challenge," his soft voice hypnotized the students and Blaise noted that his eyes had strayed to Pansy as he had uttered that last sentence.

Suddenly it all made sense in Blaise's mind. Apparently the Headmaster and Snape had struck up a deal of sorts. If Severus wanted to let Pansy in though she had not achieved an O on her O.W.L. he would also have to allow Potter, who was notoriously horrid at Potions, to enter as well.

Blaise smirked, 'I can definitely use that information.' The Slytherin thought, her eyes wandering to Potter who was tilting his head quite frequently to look at the door.

Just as the bell finally sounded Hermione Granger rushed into the classroom, bushy hair flying madly, clutching her text to her chest. "I'm sorry, Professor, I was looking for Har-"

She stopped speaking immediately when her eyes landed on Potter.

'Hum, apparently Granger had thought Potter wasn't going to show... that she was going to have to drag him to the class,' Blaise thought, 'Interesting.'

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger, now take your seat," Snape said in the same silken tones he always used when taking points from Gryffindor. It was a quiet and deadly hiss overlain by a distinct hint of pleasure.

'Sick bastard,' Blaise thought fondly. 'She wasn't even late.'

"Now, if there are no more interruptions," The Potion's Master continued in his low voice giving Granger a hard stare, "I shall continue. As the complexity of the Potions you prepare in this class is great, you will be assigned partners, as has been done for years. This partner is the person with whom you shall brew Potions during class and typically the person you will eventually choose to study with outside of this class.

"Each pair will be assigned a Potion on which they are to conduct research over the course of this entire year. Each potion is fairly obscure and information on it is typically difficult to procure, which is why you are given the entire year, for those of you dunderheads who haven't managed to deduce that already. By the end of the year, it is expected that yourself and your partner know everything there is to know about this Potion, and it is also expected that you make a significant change to its ingredients to achieve a specific purpose.

"Whether this change is made to enhance the ability of the Potion or to change its purpose all together is up to you, though I must emphasize the fact that minor variations to the strength of the Potion will not earn you a satisfactory mark. At the end of the year each pair will give a detailed presentation on their Potion and everyone else will take notes. This is all the review I will do to prepare you for the questions typically asked on the Potions N.E.W.T. on extremely obscure Potions. Therefore if your classmates fail to do their work correctly, you will suffer as well.

Snape paused here and allowed a hushed muttering to spread throughout the room.

Blaise was nearly giddy. Experimentation with Potions was her passion. She had looked forward to this assignment for years and could only hope that she got a good Potion.

Orion, however, frowned deeply and got Blaise's attention by muttering, "Sounds like a lot of work if you ask me."

Blaise turned to him, her brown eyes alight with excitement, "But it will be so interesting. And it will be the perfect practice for the future. What Potion do you think we'll get?"

Orion smirked slightly, "They're obscure, Blaise, most likely we'll have never heard of it. And of course you think this will be great practice for your future. For the rest of us who don't want to become Potions Masters, it will be treacherous."

Blaise sneered, "Well that's just terrible for you, isn't it?"

Orion turned to her with a face of acceptance, "Well if we have to do it, fine. At least we won't be doing it with Gry-"

"Silence!" Snape said, and immediately the mutterings of the class ceased.

"Now, typically I allow you to choose your own partners in the interest of producing pairs that can cooperate with each other easily. However, this year at the Headmaster's request," Snape said this with a touch of bitterness in his tone, "pairs have been predetermined with the interest of furthering inter-house relations."

Blaise felt her heart clench in her chest. Breathing suddenly became much more difficult.

Surely he was not saying what she thought he was.

SURELY he was not about to ruin this project! This project she had waited years for!

Blaise stopped breathing all together when Professor Snape said, "Through a rather complex Potion, involving the use of the lock of hair you each were required to submit upon admittance to this class, the pairs have been predetermined with the prerequisite being that each contain members of differing houses."

NO!

Blaise wanted to shout. She wanted to scream! She wanted to rush up there and throttle him herself! How could he do this to her?! To her project!

The rest of the class seemed to share her sentiment. The mutters of angry students buzzed overly loud in Blaise's ears as she watched Snape walk to his desk and pick up the scroll he had been waving his wand over earlier.

"Twenty points from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!" Snape's voice hissed annoyed as he picked up the parchment and opened it slowly.

The chatter had stopped before he had even finished his sentence and all the Ravenclaws and the three Gryffindors were fuming silently at the injustice of the removal of points when members of all three houses had been talking.

Blaise did not care. Her eyes were focused on the parchment in Snape's hand. The paper which held the fate of her project.

"Avery, Orion," he began and Blaise felt Orion tense very slightly beside her, "Lucille Moon. The Cruditas Solution"

Lucille groaned in a distinctly unladylike fashion and Orion looked a bit nauseous under the mask of indifference plastered across his face.

"Bulstrode, Millicent. Brocklehurst, Mandy. The Sexus Adfectio Potion.

And on it went.

Blaise noticed that the name of the Slytherin always came first and she figured that there were just enough Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to cover each Slytherin. Thus, there wouldn't be any Gryffindor/ Ravenclaw pairings. This could only be the work of the Headmaster.

Only he could be so deliciously cruel, yet decidedly brilliant.

And it was due to this brilliance that Blaise felt as though the room was closing in on her.

Every now and then she would focus enough to hear something noteworthy, such as "Malfoy, Draco. Granger, Hermione. The Iocineris Potion." Or, "Nott, Theodore. Patil, Parvati. The Consternatio Solution." But her name was the last one. She knew it and she simply had to wait. Even if it killed her.

Finally at long last the words she had waited so long to hear. "Zabini, Blaise." Here Snape paused and looked up at her for an instant. Suddenly she had wished she had paid attention to who had been called already. She might have been able to figure out who the last person-

"Potter, Harry. The Chirurgia Serum."

And just like that, Blaise's world collapsed.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

As the scene faded slowly into a new one Moody took the chance to express his feelings on what he had seen. "You pushed them together!" Mad-Eye yelled in anger as he watched the scene, along with Blaise's look of utmost fury, fade away.

"As I explained to Blaise several times after her name and Potter's were read, the spell and potion which that list of names was subjected to were designed not only to randomly pair students, Moody. I also modified them choose the combinations most likely to produce outstanding results. Regardless of what the pairs may think of each other," Snape explain in clipped tones to the irate ex-Auror.

"I had wondered," Albus said slowly, "Why, Severus, you continued to charm the parchment repeatedly. Even after it had produced the pairs."

Snape looked a bit abashed by the question, but answered it nonetheless. "I was convinced that some of the pairs were incorrect. Therefore, I cast a charm to remove the requirement of pairs being students of different houses.

"Several of the pairs shifted and changed once I removed that specification of the charm, but the names Potter and Zabini stayed together regardless. When Blaise entered the room I was recasting the original charm with both requirements."

Emmaline Vance nodded a bit to herself before asking, "What were the exact requirements of the pairs?"

Snape looked at the official from the Ministry with annoyed obsidian eyes and said as though speaking to an invalid, "Requirement 1: Each pair must be comprised of two individuals from different houses. Requirement 2: Each pair must be comprised of two students who, when working together cooperatively, would produce better results than if they worked with another."

Emmaline nodded her head happily once more and said, "Notice that that second requirement never specified anything to do with Potions."

Severus's charcoal eyes widened comically, but before he could utter a word, Tonks had said, "Interesting, but how exactly is it that we are fading in and out of the memories like this? Obviously the class did not end that soon, why aren't we still there?"

Professor Dumbledore answered her question as he calmly ran his fingers down his beard. "Well, Nymphadora," he said ignoring her grimace, "The Perlustrare has certain properties and functions that have always been a bit vague. For instance, if one is using a Perlustrare to find one particular memory, it is often found that even if there are several others in the device this is the one which will be viewed first."

Tonks nodded as the headmaster continued.

"I also have a bit of control over what we are seeing and when the memory will fade into another as I cast the activating spell. For example, it was I who cut this memory short as Severus was in the room as well and I am sure that anything largely significant that occurred on that first day he would disclose."

Here the group gazed at Snape, who snarled at them as if insulted that they would even entertain the thought that he was hiding something about a fairly typical day of teaching.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, directing the inquiring eyes on himself yet again, "I have some ability to control what we see. I would not allow us to waste time viewing every chance encounter between Blaise and Harry in the hallway, however my abilities do not extend much beyond skipping certain short memories and 'fast forwarding' if you will."

Snape scowled at the Muggle reference.

"Sometimes," the Headmaster continued with a pondering frown, "I am unable to even do that much. The Perlustrare is more in control than one would think. One of the many differences between the Perlustrare and Pensieve is the fact that the Perlustrare can determine, by our own intent and thoughts, what we desperately need to see. If the device deems a memory extremely important, I may not be able to skip over it."

Minerva frowned deeply, "What would we do then?" she asked concerned.

"Stop the device of course!" Moody responded gruffly.

Professor Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "The Perlustrare may be in control to a significant degree but we can always stop the device."

Snape meanwhile was watching as a new scene slowly faded in the place of the old one, "Does it always take so long?" he muttered.

"No, not at all," the Headmaster replied happy to explain, "I was slowing it down in fact! The passage of time in the Perlustrare is much different. While we watch hours of memories you would be amazed at how little time is passing in our own reality outside this world of memories."

Tonks's eyes widened comically as the scene around them came into focus much faster, "We're back!" she exclaimed in a voice reminding those in the room of her young age, and thus, her ability to easily relate to Harry.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a small smile on his face, "Indeed we are."

The old mage began to tune out the mumblings of his colleagues from his hearing and focused a bit more.

Finally the scene before him began.

"Ah, the library!" Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile, seeming not to care that no one was really playing him any mind, "Wonderful place for the furthering of ideas, the conducting of research and-"

Dumbledore's light ramblings were interrupted by the long and loud groan of an irate Blaise Zabini who stormed into the library which had taken shape around them. She threw her books onto a long wooden table, sat down, and promptly buried her face in her arms.

She was mumbling something into her arms but the Headmaster could not hear it. Curiosity lighting his bright blue orbs, he inched closer and concentrated.

"Of course time bloody flies when you don't bloody want it to! Of course Potter had to be my partner!..."

Dumbledore smiled at the muttered words and finished his thought, "Ah, the library: the perfect place to vent one's frustrations."

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

"OF COURSE SNAPE WOULDN'T BLOODY CHANGE MY PARTNER!" finally came the exclamation that had been waiting to burst from Blaise's lips.

Some studious Ravenclaws jumped at the yell and a few first year Hufflepuffs grabbed their books and quickly moved to a table much further from the irate Slytherin.

Madam Pince hadn't been at her desk when Blaise had entered, but came storming in at her exclamation.

She shushed the girl from her desk leveling her with a fierce glare. Childishly, Blaise made a face at the woman and when she thought the librarian had looked away proceeded to give her a very clear and detailed view of her middle finger.

Unfortunately for Blaise the stern woman had only looked down for a moment. "Young lady," Pince began her ranting, standing up from behind her desk and making her way slowly toward Blaise's table, "Such behavior will not be tolerated in this library. You are to leave at once or risk-"

"Leave?" Blaise questioned immediately. "As in unable to remain in the library? You can do that? Ban me from the library?"

An almost eager excitement blossomed in her voice and Madam Pince was assuredly taken aback. "Well," the librarian began.

"Ah, ah, ah," a voice came from behind the library matron, "Don't think you'll be getting out of this that easily, Blaise. I refuse to let you fail Potions because you were banned from the library and Potter just gave up on finding you."

Orion appeared from behind Pince and Blaise slumped back into her seat glaring at the boy angrily.

The Slytherin boy visibly softened his eyes and looked at the librarian, "Please excuse my dear friend Blaise..." he began with a coy smile.

The impenetrable Pince stared at him a moment before returning the smile with a slight upturn of the lips.

Orion was hardly ever in the library but when he was he always demanded silence from any other in it; a fact that Pince obviously recalled.

Blaise watched slowly, shaking her head back and forth as Orion led Pince back toward her desk telling the woman Merlin knew what about her sanity as they went.

The Slytherin witch began to feel some irritation blooming within her. That bastard had just stolen an easy way out of at least one of these "sessions from Hell" and he would have to pay.

Orion walked smugly back toward the table and sat down near Blaise who had taken out her wand and was idly twirling it around in her right hand.

"Listen, Avery," Blaise said slowly and Orion immediately smirked at the use of his last name, "You and I are what I would call 'acquaintances who've spent too much time together'. Unless you want that to quickly change to 'enemies who cannot resist the sight of each other's blood spilled on stone floors,' I'd suggest you stop messing with my escape routes."

The words were course and harsh, but her delivery gave her away. Blaise said the words almost lazily, without an ounce of real anger in them and coupled with the slow twirling of her wand, Orion found himself resisting the urge to laugh.

Instead he snorted, and opened his mouth to retort, but Blaise responded by hitting him with a Silencing Charm.

'Filthy little wench,' Orion thought as he listened to Blaise chuckling beside him.

Yes, it was true they weren't really friends by any stretch but Orion was beginning to grow a bit fond of the overly dramatic, yet sometimes eerily quiet girl he'd struck up a conversation with a mere year ago.

Sometimes he wondered exactly who she had talked to before then. Other times he knew who she'd talked to- no one.

And she seemed to have liked it that way.

His thoughts were distracted by Blaise tensing beside him and his eyes immediately roamed over the library.

Bingo. 'Potter has entered the building.'

The Gryffindork walked in slowly as though trying to evade the inevitable by approaching it gradually. His raven hair was cut shorter this year and Orion could already see the tip of the lightning bolt scar only partially concealed under the dark locks.

Potter stopped walking once he reached Pince's desk. His eyes wandered slowly over the library and his brow furrowed a bit.

'This is bloody priceless,' Orion thought gleefully.

He nudged Blaise to get her attention away from Potter and raising his eyebrows a few times managed to get her to remove the silencing spell. Taking a deep breath he said quickly, "Ten galleons says he doesn't know who you are."

Blaise, who after removing the spell had begun to steadfastly remove her Potions book, parchment, inkwell, quill and journal from her bag, looked up quickly into the cobalt eyes of the boy beside her.

"You're kidding," Blaise whispered with an extremely malicious lilt to her voice.

"No my dear," Orion responded slowly and quietly, "Take a look."

Very slowly as to not attract attention to herself Blaise lifted her head and narrowed her brown eyes on Potter. He appeared irritated and his eyes darted around the library as he tried desperately to recall exactly who she was.

Blaise smirked, 'The wanker had been so happy to have not been paired with Malfoy that he really had cared less who his actual partner had been. He fled that classroom faster than a doxy out of the sunlight, eager to escape Snape's mocking.'

Now Tuesday had rolled around, the day in which all pairs were required to meet each other to discuss their projects and make plans for future study. Potter had sent her an owl requesting a meeting in the library at five o'clock and it was only now that the moron had realized he didn't know who she was.

Slowly sneaking a glance at Orion who was watching Potter with a smirk, Blaise slowly began to pack her things back into her bag. If Potter didn't know who she was there was no reason for her to bother staying was there?

Of course not.

She froze when she felt eyes on her. She looked toward Potter first only to find him still searching the library which was slowly filling with pairs of potions partners and gradually getting nosier.

So she then turned to Orion who was staring at her packing her things with a look she automatically did not like.

"Whatever you are contemplating," Blaise said slowly, "Is undoubtedly going to aggravate me to no end. I suggest that you disregard the thought immediately. For your own sake, don't do something I am going to have to force you to regret, Orion."

Much to her dismay Orion stood up. "This," he whispered with a hint of malice and a touch of glee, "Is for the silencing spell. Never, ever do that again."

And before Blaise could move a muscle Orion had shouted, "Oi! Potter, she's over here!" and proceeded to leave the library, returning the slight smile Potter gave him in thanks.

Blaise's jaw dropped and she had to forcibly stop herself from allowing her head to fall forward and slam into the wooden desk before her.

Just like that, escape route number two had been yanked from under her.

'Damn it all to sodding Hell.' She thought as Potter began to walk toward her, a frown marring his features, 'Damn it all.'

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

Tonks held her breath as Harry approached Blaise's table slowly and with a deep frown on his face.

This was the moment they had all, unknowingly, been waiting for. The moment when the Slytherin and Gryffindor would meet. As they were to become a couple a mere month or two from this moment, Tonks found herself expecting it to be something quite extraordinary.

Without realizing she was doing it Tonks found herself nibbling lightly on her aqua painted finger nails. It seemed as though Harry was deliberately walking slowly, prolonging the agonizing moment, and stretching her curiosity to its breaking point.

A quick glance revealed that Blaise had lifted her jaw from the floor and was starting to unpack her supplies for the second time; muttering phrases under her breath Tonks couldn't hear, but was sure were positively horrid about her very amusing housemate, Orion Avery.

Finally Harry reached the table. He did not sit down, but stared at Blaise intently for a full minute as she proceeded to remove her belongings from her bag.

The library was full of the whispered exchanges of several students and Tonks found herself wishing to silence all of them if only to hear even the slightest whisper from either Harry or Blaise.

She had always been a sucker for Muggle soap operas, watching them whenever she spent time with her Muggle-born friend Sophie over the summer holidays.

This exchange between Harry and Blaise had somehow had turned into the season finale of EastEnders and she felt that same rush of excitement and anticipation come over her that she had always felt sitting on Sophie's parents' couch clutching a pillow hoping that the right character was impregnated by the ex-husband of said character's neighbor's evil twin.

Blaise finally had unpacked her things lined them up neatly and opened her book. Harry still had not sat down.

He coughed lightly and Blaise looked up at him with annoyance, though she still did not say anything to him.

"Can we go somewhere else?" the Gryffindor asked in a tone layered with annoyance.

"No." Blaise responded immediately, "You said in your letter that we were meeting here. Consider yourself lucky that I even showed up. Though when you walked in here you didn't even know that I had showed up at all, did you?"

Harry flushed lightly, something Tonks had not seen him do in quite a long time, and sat down with a huff, "Well, if you spoke up in class once in a while I would have known who you were now, wouldn't I?"

"Oh I see," Blaise said scathingly, "I must speak up in class simply because then Lord Potter of the Ignorant and Moronic would be able to know who I was. Forgive me, Your Highness, I did not subject to your wishes. How dare I?"

Harry, who had been unpacking his things onto the table lifted an eyebrow and focused his green gaze on the girl. For a moment Tonks thought she was about to witness one of the Potter temper tantrums she had heard so much about the year before, but much to the surprise of both herself and Blaise, he laughed.

"Lord Potter of the Ignorant and Moronic, huh?" the raven haired teen said around his chuckles, "Congratulations, I've never heard that one before and believe me, I've had my name dragged through the mud so many times that I thought I'd heard them all."

Blaise made a face as she began to flip through her Potions book, "Hum, I'm sorry, is this the part where I pity you?"

"No," Harry responded, "By all means continue to slander and defame my name."

Blaise did not say a word she just flipped to the index of her text and scanned pages quickly. So Harry continued, "Unless of course, you would rather work on Potions. It would be a more... uninteresting, but decidedly more productive course of action. But far be it from me to offer a suggestion, Lord of the Ignorant that I am."

"Potter," Blaise said at last looking up from her book.

"Yes?" Harry responded with a mock condescending smile.

"Do you ever cease the mindless blithering you seem to view as conversing with me?" the Slytherin said as she stood up slowly, "Because the The Chirurgia Serum which, if you recall, is our assigned potion, is not in our text and I will not be able to find the book it is in if you continue to yammer in my ear."

Tonks noted that while those words directed at Orion may have come out in exactly the same order, they would most definitely have been said in a more lazy or casual tone of voice.

Harry was not going to have it easy with this girl.

Not in the least.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

'Great,' Harry thought as Blaise walked away from the table and over to Potions section of the library, her robe flaring out behind her as she went. 'Just when I thought I wasn't working with Malfoy I discover he's had a twin sister all this time. She spent her time hiding in the shadows, waiting for this opportunity to pick up her brother's noble work of pissing me the hell off.'

"Fan-bloody-tastic," Harry said aloud, taking the leather bound journal Hermione had given him over the past summer out of his bag.

He rested his palm against the sleek yet bumpy maroon leather as he remembered the letter Hermione had sent with the letter. Though neither Snape, nor any other teacher had requested that they buy a notebook for their classes, Hermione had insisted that he use the one she had given him as a birthday gift for Potions.

The Gryffindor girl claimed that he had no organizational skills when it came to his notes, and as the N.E.W.T. Potions class was sure to be challenging, he needed something to hold the papers together.

The result was a rather nice, leather bound notebook that Hermione would demand to see him writing in at least every now and then.

Idly, Harry rested the sharp edge of his quill against the paper and scratched the dry tip idly against the first page of clean paper.

He hardly saw the point of keeping a journal for a class if the professor wasn't even going to read it, but now that this project had been assigned, Harry figured that he may as well use the bloody thing to document all the meetings he had with his partner and take notes on their Potion.

Sighing, Harry finally dipped the quill into some maroon colored ink he had gotten from Ginny as a birthday gift, most likely in collaboration with Hermione. He figured that if he was the only one that was going to read the notes it didn't matter if he wrote them in a color typically not accepted.

10^th September

He wrote in his typical scrawl on the top left corner of the page. He used the feather on the quill to tickle his chin a bit before he continued to write.

The Chirurgia Serum

Info:

Typically used as a sedative before complex healing operations. Very seldom used, as for most wounds the patient can be sufficiently subdued with a simple stupefaction hex or sleeping potions.

Harry scratched at his head a bit searching for the right words and sighed as he wrote, 'More to come' after what he had written so far. He would have to go back to the Room of Requirement later and get the book he had been looking at before he came down to the library.

Of course he had wanted Zabini to come with him there, but...

'If she wants to search for books in here, like this, far be it from me to stop her,' he thought with a smirk.

He then proceeded to write.

Today:

Met with Blaise Zabini in library. Refused to relocate to the Room of Req.

Note to self: next time explain why I want to go there. For future reference: she is a girl. Rather unexpected considering the name. Slytherin, dark hair, brown eyes, friends with Avery boy. General nature...

Harry paused again and furrowed his brow. He looked toward where Blaise was scanning the shelves of books with rapidly shifting eyes. A small, blond, Ravenclaw girl approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder.

In an instant the Slytherin had her wand out and the Ravenclaw backed up in alarm. When she saw who it was the girl put her wand away and bent down a bit to look the much shorter girl in the eye.

Harry felt the outer edges of his lips quirk in the beginnings of a smile. 'So Slytherins have hearts too,' he thought, 'Ron will never believe me.'

But then Blaise said something to the girl, staring her straight in the eye. The tiny Ravenclaw backed up in alarm so fast her back hit the bookshelf behind her and in a flurry of movement she knocked a book off the shelf and ran back to her table of friends.

'Alright,' Harry thought as the blonde hair little girl ran past his table sniffling, 'nix the "Slytherins with hearts" theory.'

His eyes remained on Blaise. She bent further down, picked up the book that had fell, replaced it on the shelf and turned back to the books she had been looking at as though the entire thing had never happened.

With wide eyes Harry stared blankly for a moment and finally cast his emerald eyes back down to his journal.

'General nature' was where he had left off and without another thought he quickly filled it in with one word written in shining maroon ink.

Hostile.

Then, smirking as he listened to three other Ravenclaws comfort their sobbing friend he added, Proceed with caution.