Harry Potter and the Sisters Three

        Chapter 5: New Teachers, New Players

    Harry beat Ron and Hermione into Defense Against the Dark Arts by a few lengths, tossing his books and parchment down

on his desk with frustration, his insides still in turmoil over the invasion of his senses only moments before. How was it

possible that Malfoy could affect his mind? It was a terror he could not contemplate here in this

place, surrounded by all the mundane chatter and people who hadn't a care in the world. Harry was absolutely certain that a

change had come over Draco during the summer, a change that had made him much more than a more thorn in Harry's side, but a

silent enemy that he could see no way of combating. Harry set his face in a grim expression as the other students began to

file into the classroom. If there was one class that he needed to teach applicable abilities this year, Defense Against the

Dark Arts was it.

    Ron and Hermione entered behind a stream of snide-faced Slytherins, and cautiously took their seats next to Harry.

Ron was still looking at him with a touch of worry, but Hermione seemed to be calmly observing him as though he were a bug

specimen pinned behind glass.

    "Are you feeling quite all right, Harry?" she asked, with the air of one inquiring about the weather. Harry nodded

tersely, hoping that his face would convey the message that he did not want to talk about his behavior in the Potions

classroom.

    "Fine."

    His two friends shared a look around his determinedly focused eyes, and set to ignoring him at once. Harry paid no

attention to the other students filing in, including Draco Malfoy who was again trailed by the bewitching blonde girl, who

flitted after him like some sort of precocious butterfly. Ron, however, did notice her arrival, and reddened slightly when

she turned to give him a bright smile. He did not notice, however, the way her eyes lingered a little on Harry, with what

might have been called a look of concern. Or perhaps it was just contemplation.

    "All right, all right, into your seats!!" The class was shocked to hear a blatantly female voice emerge from behind

the curtain in the front of the room. Neville Longbottom flinched and slid as low as he could in his seat. A moment later

the curtain was pulled aside, and a very tall woman stepped into the dim light of the torches. It was the woman Harry had

seen talking to Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore during the feast in the Great Hall. Her visage was more no-nonsense

than ever, her hair pulled back into a severely tight bun. Pince-nez spectacles clung to the tip of her Roman nose, and her

hazel eyes sternly surveyed her new charges. When they passed over the group of Slytherins snickering in the rear, one

eyebrow raised as she tilted her head to peer at them over the top of her glasses. Their laughter stopped immediately.

    "My name is Isabella Longbottom!" she declared proudly in a voice like that of a football referee. Befitting her

tall stature, it boomed off the rafters and bounced around the room, penetrating the auditory cavities of all present. Harry

knew in an instant that there would be no possibility of dozing off during this class. Professor Longbottom raised her chin

and began pacing the room to continue. "As you may have guessed, I am little Neville's aunt, but I must warn you that I play

no favorites," she looked pointedly at Neville, who slunk even lower in his seat, "and I run a very tight ship. In fact, I

was a captain in the British Navy before I was sent for to teach here, at Hogwarts." She looked around the room with a smile

of superiority at the crowd of students sitting motionlessly agape before her. Her smile melted again into a strict frown as

she spoke again. "I was a plant for the Ministry of Magic on the Navy ships, to thwart the plans of Dark witches or wizards

unknown that might have tried to gain an asset among the British military. I had to fight all sorts of evils, Hurricane

Charms, Leak-Springing Hexes, and the like; and once I even had to stop a full-force Cruciatus curse that was being performed

on a crewmember. I have had quite a bit of experience in the field, and THAT is why I have been called to teach you this

year. Any questions?"

    "Muggle lover."

    The curse had been under someone's breath, flying mouthlessly from the dark corner where the Slytherins sat. They

all began to laugh again, amused by the nerve of the unknown rebel in their midst. Professor Longbottom, it seemed, was not

fooled. Her face darkened, and she flipped her wand under her arm, walking briskly to the rear corner. She stopped lightly

in front of Draco, who looked at her with mocked innocence.

    "Get up, Mr. Malfoy," she said with quiet steel. Still preserving his look of cocky disinterest, Draco stood --

slowly. She regarded him with eyes full of disgust and loathing. When she spoke, her voice was deadly quiet, but full of

needles and ice.

    "I did not tolerate such instigatory tactics for seven years on a ship. And I refuse to tolerate them now, coming

from a spoiled little snot-nosed brat--no matter who his father is." Draco's face was emotionless, he had turned himself

off. As for the rest of the class, they were all sitting in silent shock. In spite of how awful he was, no teacher had ever

dared to say something like that to Draco's face.

    "Now get out of my classroom." Her tone brooked no argument. Draco's surly expression returned. He brushed past

the Professor, pausing just beyond her to throw a slight sneer over his shoulder. Then he quietly walked out the door.

    It seemed to get ten degrees warmer with his departure.

    The class remained deadly silent for a time, in utter shock at what had just taken place. They all watched Professor

Longbottom as she walked purposefully to the front of the room, and she turned briskly on her heel to view them all, mouths

agape. She smiled rather sardonically.

    "Shall we begin?" she asked rhetorically, for everyone knew that she only wanted one answer. Slowly, the class began

to stir, pulling their textbooks out of bags and their minds from the foggy recesses of disbelief. Professor Longbottom

stood casually at the front, assessing their readiness. When she judged they had made the proper amount of progress, she

began.

    "Turn to pages two hundred and two hundred- and -one, if you please. I understand that very little has been taught

to you over the years due to lack of, er, permanency in this position. That aside, I feel it vital that we begin where most

sixth years would be expected to be at this time, instead of picking up where you left off. Since the confirmed return of

You-Know-Who, I feel that it would be to your detriment to send you out into the world this year without even a faint idea of

what might be laying in wait." The class rustled pages, trying to locate two hundred. It was considerably further in the

book than they had even been obliged to go before, even when Professor Snape had forced them to complete a lesson on

werewolves. Hermione let out an audible gasp. Ron and Harry turned to her.

    "What?" the Weasley asked, straining his neck over Harry to catch a glimpse of her book. Harry, too, turned his

head to see what lurked on her pages. It was a large color drawing of a pretty girl, drawing one finger under the chin of a

man who looked rather happily drugged.

    "Veela!! That's very advanced magic!" Hermione explained, her eyes wide. "Does she really think that we will be

able to handle this?"

    "I know most of you think this sort of thing is a little out of your league," Professor Longbottom confessed, winking

at Hermione, "but I have great faith in your abilities. Now, the lesson today will be twofold. As you probably know, the

charms of a Veela have no effect on girls. As this is so, girls are the only ones who can reveal a veela."

    "Isn't that a little worthless?" Pansy Parkinson asked sourly. "I mean, can't you just look and see whether all the

boys around are drooling like this oaf in the picture?" The Slytherins laughed, and even Professor Longbottom smiled.

    "Some might think so. But there are some normal women who are capable of turning all the heads in the room without

any spells or charms." All the girls in the room tittered and the boys looked embarrassed. "And more importantly, it is an

inevitable part of their existence that through their ensnarement of men, the veela will end up breeding with them and

producing mixed children. Unfortunately, their powers don't decrease as rapidly through hybridization as one might expect,

even though their looks might be significantly changed. There do exist some brown-haired veela." She smiled again as the

class giggled.

    "Hey Harry," Ron whispered, "she said 'breeding'." The two boys laughed quietly under Hermione's disdainful stare.

    "How immature," she muttered, but her own face was a little pink as she cast looks at the two boys. She raised her

hand.

    "Professor," she asked, "what is the smallest fraction of veela blood one can have and still be considered a veela?"

    "Interesting question, Miss Granger," Professor Longbottom applauded. "The answer is one-sixteenth. For instance,

if my Great-Great Grandmother had been a full-blooded veela, I would be considered a veela as well. My powers would be quite

mild, as it were, but potent enough to captivate any male in the vicinity." She smiled. "But even more interesting is this:

Veelas are only capable of producing one child, and that child will always be a girl. Their descendants will carry on in

this manner until the one-sixteenth blood mark is reached, then the veela can only have boy children, and still only one.

    "So after five generations of mixing blood with humans, the veela line is spent," she concluded. Now Millicent

Bulstrode raised a brawny hand.

    "But don't the boys have any veela powers?" she asked in a voice as thick as pea soup.

    "Not really. They cannot bewitch anyone they choose, but they are most of the time very debonair and charming." The

Slytherin girls all laughed. Harry caught a fragment of a whisper spreading among them.

    "So THAT'S why Draco's so devastatingly handsome. He's got a veela mother!" All the girls in the rear corner

giggled. Harry noticed that the Unfamiliar Girl was quiet, a cold sort of smile on her lips and her eyes very far away in

thought. Harry turned his head back to Professor Longbottom quickly.

    "But back to our lesson," she said sternly, "it will be twofold. First, the girls will learn how to distinguish

between a real veela and a very pretty lady (more giggles), and the boys will learn how to avert the charms of the veela with

a spell I think must be a little familiar to you. You have fought a boggart, have you not?" All the boys nodded. "The

spell you will use will resemble very much the 'Riddikulus!' charm used to confuse a boggart."

    "Hey Neville," Dean Thomas cried out, "Are you going to dress her in your grandmother's clothes like you did Snape?"

The entire class laughed, including Neville. Professor Longbottom rapped on the desk with her wand.

    "Quiet, quiet. No more teasing my nephew, Mr. Thomas, that is my responsibility." The class tittered again. "Now

ladies, you will go first. Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to retire to the rear of the room for a moment." All the

boys rose from their seats and moved to the back of the room, while the girls stood and approached Professor Longbottom.

    "Now, we won't begin on a full-blooded veela quite yet, but I have procured several one-eighth veela that should

provide quite a demonstration. Now, this spell is called 'Revelarum', and it will work in some fashion on anything you might

believe to be disguised as something else, whether it be someone who has taken Polyjuice Potion or an object under a

Dissembulus charm. Today, we will tailor it to tell us whether or not a girl is a veela. Observe."

    Professor Longbottom waved her wand a bit in the air, and a cloud of colored smoke shot from the tip of it. It began

to arrange itself into a sort of screen. With a flash of light, an image appeared upon it. Two girls were standing in a

line, one blonde and one brunette. Another person, an image of Professor Longbottom, came into view and approached the two

girls. She pointed her wand at the blonde girl and Harry could hear the smoky image say, "Revelarum Veela!" A miniature

flash went off in the smoke, and everyone pressed close to look. The boys strained over one another to see what was

happening. But it was nothing. No change whatsoever had come over the blonde girl.

    "There," Professor Longbottom said. "Nothing happened to the girl, so she isn't a veela. Now watch this one." The

Professor Longbottom in the smoke had approached the brunette girl and repeated the spell. This time, the flash came and a

large purple handprint had appeared on the chest of the girl, who was now looking quite flustered. The real Professor

Longbottom snapped her wand briskly, and the Smoke Screen disappeared.

    "Do you understand?" she asked the group of assembled girls. "You wave your wand, say the spell, and one of two

things will happen: If the person you are testing is not a veela, no change will occur. If they are, then a purple handprint

will appear on their front. It's not hard to discriminate." She strode to a small door in the side of the room, preparing

to open it. But before she did, she turned her focus to the rear. "I almost forgot!! Gentlemen, the real thing is about to

come out, so I ask you to remain behind this curtain. Accio curtain!" A huge black velvet drape was loosed from the

ceiling, separating the two parts of the room quite well. The boys sighed resignedly and sat down, hearing the tinkling

laughter from the entering veela on the other side.

    "Now beware," they heard Professor Longbottom advising the girls. "When they find that there are no men to seduce,

they tend to get a little nasty. So try to do your spells as quickly as possible." Harry could hear the nervous shuffles

of more than a few pairs of feet join the high, light giggles of the veela. He closed his eyes and he could picture them,

floating easily into the room the same way that they had walked onto the pitch at the Quidditch World Cup.

He shivered, thinking of the hard, beaklike faces they had developed when angry. As the sounds on the other side of the

curtain moved from flirtatious laughter to confused and irritated murmurs, he could see the pretty faces melting into

ugliness.

    "Now, ladies! Pair up with a veela and try the spell! No use hesitating just because your knees are knocking,

they're just like ordinary girls! Now go!" Professor Longbottom was prodding the girls into action. Harry listened

intently, hearing the mumbling of a few half-hearted "Revelarum" spells and the accompanying flashes of smoke as the veela

were revealed. Hermione's voice rang out clear above the rest, full of confidence just as he knew it would be. Ron poked

him in the ribs.

    "Doesn't sound like she's too put out by a lot of pretty girls, does it?" he whispered, grinning. Harry looked at

him with an inquiring smile.

    "Ron, you almost sound as though you were proud of her or something!" Ron blushed a little, and sat back on the

table most of the boys had crowded around, arms crossed. They all waited, hearing the noise of the Veela's angry chatter

grow fainter as Professor Longbottom pushed them back to wherever they had emerged from. The girls themselves now began to

chatter in relief, and the curtain separating the boys from the rest of the room rose slowly up again. Everyone meandered

back to their regular seats as Professor Longbottom mounted the platform at the front of the room again.

    "Not bad, ladies. You seemed to be a little intimidated, but that was my expectation." Despite this, many of the

girls twisted shamefacedly in their seats. "Today's purpose was just to give you a little exposure. We're going to try it

again now, but just on each other so you get a little more familiar with the spell itself. Once you've come to the point

where you could do it in your sleep, we can try it again on my little pets," she gestured to the cupboard door again with a

little grimace that brought giggles from her class, "and I'm sure you will have no fears whatsoever. Gentlemen, this will be

your only class to relax, as I doubt I will be able to teach you your defense today, but kindly read pages two-hundred

through two-hundred and twenty-two while I continue work with the ladies."

    The boys groaned, but turned their heads to literature as Professor Longbottom began pairing up the girls so they

could practice their spell. Harry gradually tuned out the poofs and cracks produced by the spell, as well as Professor

Longbottom's murmured comments as she strolled through the lines, observing. He read through the pages, all about the

history of veela, their origins, and their behaviors. He was not at all surprised to find that they also found their source

in the dark forests of the East, the same dark terrain that had spawned vampires and werewolves. He wondered to himself

whether all evil things originated from places like Transylvania, where every picture showed it stormy and dark and filled

with glinting yellow eyes. He was snapped from his reverie by a strangled scream, followed by loud gasping and a wave of

talk. He looked up, dazed, to see what all the fuss was about.

    The mysterious blonde Slytherin girl was standing in the arc of girls, who were keeping their distance. She was much

paler than usual, her long hair hanging lank. She held her arms out from her body, and her face was a mask of fear. Harry

thought that she looked alright except for her fright, until he locked eyes with Hermione -- straight through her.

    The girl's whole body had turned to smoke.

    She shimmered and swirled, like the colors on the surface of a soap bubble, and the tips of her fingers and ends of

her hair passed out of sight altogether at some times. Harry was put in mind of the shimmering, insubstantial appearance of

thoughts floating around a Pensieve. No one was moving, they were all completely entranced by the column of living vapor

before them. Professor Longbottom was the first person to find words. She raised her wand.

    "Finite Incantatem." With a slight hissing sound, the girl became solid again, her shape thickening until Harry

could no longer see Hermione on her other side. She took a little step back, her chest heaving and her eyes still

proclaiming her fear. She stumbled to a chair and sat down, her head in her hands. Another Slytherin girl rushed forward in

tears.

    "Oh, Aracelis!" she moaned, "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to!" The girl was wailing now, and the one called

Aracelis raised her head to take her hand and give her a comforting smile.

    "It's alright. No harm done," she said with fatigue. Her voice was rich, and sounded like a chorus of bells to

Harry's ears. But his mind recoiled at the sight of her. 'How could something so lovely be so terrible?' he wondered to

himself, only half aware of Ron pushing forward a little beside him.

    "What happened?" Professor Longbottom asked sternly, her hands on her hips. She was looking from one girl to the

other, appearing as the picture of solidity. Harry looked down and noticed the hem of her robe trembling just slightly,

belying her fractured composure.

    "I- I didn't do the spell right!" the Slytherin blubbered. "I forgot to say the 'veela' part, but I said the

Revelarum!! I don't know what happened!" She had broken out in full tears now, and the other girls had fallen back to

whispering behind their hands and staring at Aracelis. They were all stilled by the sound of voices in the hallway. Class

had ended. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

    "Alright, class. With care something like this won't happen again," Professor Longbottom looked pointedly at the

still-sobbing Slytherin. "Be prepared for next time, gentlemen." The class filed out of the room. Hermione came rushing

over to Ron and Harry.

    "Did you see that? She was revealed!! She's definitely not human, and I'm willing to bet that the same thing would

happen to Aedain and Muirgen too, if we tried it!" Hermione was bubbling with excitement. Ron, however, was looking at her

as though she had dropped in from outer space.

    "Hermione!" he gasped, shocked. "You can't mean to tell me that you'd want to do that to someone else! Didn't you

see how frightened she was?" his eyes softened as he turned to look for Aracelis. And he found her.

    Draco had been waiting outside the door, and they were talking together. The look of concern across the pointed face

was as human as Harry had ever seen him look. She was smiling flirtatiously, apparently reassuring him that she was fine.

Ron stiffened, seeing them together. Harry sighed and turned away, smiling inwardly at his friend's sudden show of hormones.

But he was stopped by the look on Hermione's face. Her eyes were trained on Ron, and she wasn't smiling. She seemed to be

waiting for him to turn to her again with a sort of sadness about her. Harry shrugged uncomfortably, and pulled on Ron's

shoulder.

    "Come on," he said, stirring his two friends out of their strange pose. "Let's go."

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    "You could have ruined everything, you know."

    The dungeon seemed danker than usual, the torches guttering low along the buckling rock walls, their flames impeded

by the viscous whitish fluid leaking thickly down the cavern walls. Every once in awhile a drop of the stuff would fall off

a little overhang and into the torchlight, vanishing with a poof of foul-smelling smoke.

    "It wasn't my fault." Aracelis's violet eyes flashed angrily at her sister, she tossed her hair haphazardly over her

shoulder. "How could I have known that a relatively intelligent sixth-year girl can't string two words together?" She was

angry, but only because the anger covered the fear that still held her -- she was terrified.

    Muirgen turned her eyes away, not wishing to observe the glare passing between Aedain and Aracelis. The former was

staring accusatorily at the latter, her thin hands clenched on the laborious tome in her lap. The three girls were sitting

in a stiff sort of triangle around a white circle chalked onto the ground, the spaces between them occupied by squat candles

in glass jars.

    "You were revealed, my dear. And there are those among these...students...that will have noticed." The voice which

uttered these words had grown so much older in sound. It would have been more at home in the throat of a bent old woman than

that of a pretty young girl, but Aedain seemed not to notice.

    "That Hermione? She may be smart, but she certainly isn't strong enough to do anything about it. And who is she

going to tell? A teacher?" A smile played on Aracelis's lips. Her own voice, which had started her speech with the same

youthful sound of bells had digressed into a noise reminiscent of rocks clicking together and rolling over one another in a

dry streambed. "After all, they already know..."

    This statement was stifled by the wave of Aedain's hand. Aracelis's mouth snapped shut. She looked rather miffed,

and Muirgen turned her eyes upon each of her sisters in turn with an all-suffering look.

    "Can't we just chant and end it?" she asked with a peevish note entering the voice that, like her sisters', had

taken on the tonal quality of one very much older than she appeared to be. Aedain nodded curtly, and Aracelis shrugged in

concordance.

    With that, the three sisters joined hands around the chalk ring, the sleeves of their robes swinging low into the

flames of the dwarf candles. But they did not catch fire. The white fluid ran faster down the cavern walls and the

torchlight sputtered and died as they began to chant, three young maidens with hag's voices, murmuring harsh syllables in an

unknown tongue.

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    Care of Magical Creatures proved, for once, to be much less eventful than the rest of the classes that day. The switching around that had accompanied the introduction of N.E.W.T. classes had also jostled the normal order of things. Instead of sharing Hagrid with the sour-faced Slytherins, Ravenclaw had joined Gryffindor at the squat hut near the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had no time to spare for the trio, but winked at them as he passed out what initially appeared to be tiny wilted flower petals.

    "Jes' cup 'em close in yer hands, and wait," Hagrid instructed. Slowly, the petals began to glow and swell, and finally swept around to reveal tiny fairies swaddled within them.

    "Rose fairies," explained Hagrid as the girls cooed. They're naught but simple creatures, but delicate. Just watch them for a bit, and make sure you can identify 'em." They watched the fairies dance prettily across the grass, flashing like fireflies as they neared the Forbidden Forest. It seemed the class was over fairly soon, and the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws marched back up to the castle for supper.    

    "Harry, what on earth is the matter with you?" Hermione gave her friend a withering look as he spilled his second

goblet of pumpkin juice.

    "Dunno," he replied, an expression of sheepish bewonderment on his face as he mopped up the mess with the tail of

Ron's robe. "I just feel as though I've too much energy, all of a sudden."

    "Good thing, that," Dean shot down from his usual place between Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom. "We've got

first practice out on the Quidditch pitch after dinner!" Ron looked at Dean as though he had Apparated out of thin air.

    "Aren't they going to hold any sort of trial, or anything? I mean, the only remaining members on this team are me and Harry!"

Ron clapped his friend, who was now fidgeting with the frayed edge of his napkin, on the back.

    "Yeh, Madam Hooch said she's going to look us all over at once. "Everyone who wants to play should report to the

pitch after dinner", she said." Dean was resting on his knees on the bench, his torso looming over the table

like some sort of over-friendly gargoyle.

    "Who else is going to try out?" Ron asked, looking somewhat anxiously down the ranks of the table.

    "I'm not too sure, actually. I've heard quite a bit of talk, but who really knows, right?" Dean left them with a

wide grin as he proceeded down the table to share the news. Ron paled, and swallowed hard as he reached for the pumpkin

juice.

    "You're not nervous, are you, Ron?" Hermione was regarding him with a look of smug satisfaction. "I mean, you're

already on the team! Afraid that all your talent from last year has mysteriously left you?" Ron shot her a dark look.

    "It's not that I'm nervous. I'm just trying to conserve all my courage and energy for the tryout. Right, Harry?"

    "Right," Harry affirmed, as he dragged the sleeve of his robe through the bowl of bread pudding.

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    "Longbottom, can't you fly any straighter?" Madam Hooch shouted between cupped hands from the ground as she watched

Neville desperately try to steady his careening broomstick. She shook her head in resignation as he crashed into an

unwitting fourth-year, who nearly lost his grip on his own broom. Harry was flying lazy circles over the group of Chasers

below him. Thus far, the tryout had been very boring for him. Madam Hooch hadn't let the Snitch out, citing her wish to

practice Chasers and Beaters first and foremost.

    "You don't need much work, Potter," she had said affably, ruffling his hair. He hadn't really minded, his vantage

point offered him ample opportunity to observe the skills (or lack thereof) of his potential teammates. He turned a yawning

curve and headed towards the triad of hoops that Ron was currently guarding.

    Harry swerved quickly to the side, narrowly missing a whizzing Bludger that had escaped from Seamus and Colin Creevey,

who had been cast as Beaters in this travesty of a match. Colin flew haphazardly up to regain control of the Bludger, waving

breathlessly as he passed.

    "Alright, Harry?" he said with a jaunty smile as he made to hit the Bludger back among the tight knot of players

below. He swung mightily, and missed. The Bludger skirted off, and Colin shot Harry a sheepish smile before streaking after

it. He sighed. His hopes for the Quidditch Cup this year were all but nonexistent.

    "To earth!" The shout roused Harry from his lofty wanderings, and he drifted lazily towards the throng of sweaty

boys and handful of sweaty girls that surrounded Madam Hooch. She was surveying them all with a mix of pride and severity.

    "It is a great honor to play for one's House Quidditch team, which is why only the best are chosen to do so. Now,

Harry and I have been watching you all carefully as you've played, and now we shall make our selections." She raised her

eyebrows as she looked at Harry. He nodded in response. "Line up!" Madam Hooch barked. As captain, it was partly Harry's

job to evaluate new recruits. He squirmed uncomfortably in his Quidditch robes. He was not looking forward to turning

anyone down.

    All the hopefuls had assembled themselves in straggly single-file fashion, and now Madam Hooch was pacing in front of

them, staring up and down the ranks. She did this a few times before pausing in front of particular people and looking to

Harry, again with eyebrows raised. She came to a halt before a confident-looking third year. She

looked at Harry. He remembered the boy's skill with the Quaffle, and nodded, mouthing "Chaser."

    "What's your name, lad?" she asked him.

    "Hargrove Spinnet," he answered.

    "Your talent must run in the family. Congratulations, you shall be a Gryffindor Chaser!" Madam Hooch resumed her pacing, coming to rest in front of Ginny Weasley, who was flushed and breathing heavily but looking nonetheless proud of her performance. Harry was inclined to agree. He remembered her words from the year before, assuring him that she'd much rather play Chaser than Seeker. He raised his eyes to those of Madam Hooch, nodded, and mouthed "Chaser" yet again.

    "Congratulations," she said to Ginny.

    They continued on in this manner, Harry either shaking his head or nodding at each potential candidate. Finally, the

five empty spaces on the Gryffindor Quidditch team were filled, thus: Hargrove Spinnet,

Third-year Chaser, Dean Thomas, Sixth-year Chaser, Ginny Weasley, Fifth-year Chaser, Seamus Finnegan, Sixth-year Beater, and

Katherine Kane, Fifth-year Beater.

    "Congratulations to you all," Madam Hooch said to the new team members. "You shall meet again tomorrow night for

your first official practice. To the rest of you, keep practicing and better luck next season!" Without another shred of

ceremony, she set to packing up the Quidditch balls. All the Gryffindors turned to amble back to their rooms, breaking into

little groups to talk. Ron caught up with Harry, who was making huge strides in an attempt to avoid any conversation.

    "Why so fast, eh? Trying to run away?" Ron joked, poking his taciturn friend in the ribs.

    "No, I just don't want to talk to Colin, or Neville. I hope they're not too upset." He cast an uneasy look back

over his shoulder at the trudging figures of the unchosen.

    "Neville? Impossible! He probably would have died of shock on the spot if he HAD been chosen. And Colin, well,

he'll be alright." Ron fell silent for a moment before continuing. "I hope I've gotten better at Keeper. Last year was a

bit of a wreck, all except the game for the Cup."

    "You'll do fine. Just sing a little of 'Weasley is Our King' to yourself and imagine Malfoy's head on a stick.

No trouble at all!" Harry reassured him. Both smiling, the friends walked on in silence until they reached the portrait of

the Fat Lady.

    "Password?" she intoned coolly.

    "Cold all better, is it?" Ron asked cheekily. The Fat Lady blushed.

    "Much better thank you," she replied coyly. Harry shook his head in mock disgust.

    "Haberdashery," he said. The Fat Lady nodded, and the portrait hole swung open, allowing the noise and laughter of

the Gryffindor common room to be heard in the hallway. The two boys made their way in, weaving through the groups of people

either horsing around or attempting to study to find Hermione in her usual place at the table nearest the fire. They slid

into the other open seats at the table. Hermione, who was immersed in some moldy tome procured from the library, took no

notice of them until Ron cleared his throat very loudly and obviously.

    "Oh. You're back." She touched her wand to the book, enlarging the page she'd left off with and turning it bright

red.

    "Nifty charm, that," Harry smiled.

    "Only if you do a lot of reading," Hermione said pointedly, "or studying," she continued.

    "Oh, have off, Hermione," Ron broke in on the sentence that would have soon become a lecture. "Aren't you even

going to ask how the tryout went?"

    "Why should I?" She asked mockingly. "I can tell from the way you walked in that you're winning the cup again this

year." At Ron's stricken look, she rolled her eyes. "All right, who got what position, then?" she conceded.

    "Bully," he announced, beaming. He ticked off the other new members on his fingers. Hermione listened with half

interest, and Harry let his eyes wander about the room. As usual, the common room was a blur of color, talk, and laughter.

After the first day of classes, only the most studious would have homework. This was the only night off anyone could expect

for awhile. He searched the crowded little clumps around the room for Aedain, but he could not find her. He shrugged the

chill off his shoulders, reminding himself ruefully that he wouldn't have to see her to feel her presence. But his scar was

not hurting. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over it as Hermione's voice brought him back into focus.

    "Katherine Kane?" she was saying, eyebrows and voice raised. "It's no wonder the girl made Beater, she's a year

younger than us and already a rival to Millicent Bulstrode in size! And I'm glad that Ginny made it," she added, casting a look at the youngest Weasley who was conversing animatedly with her friends in the corner. "She'll do well." Harry smiled.

    "So what have you been reading?" he asked her, shifting the spine of the laborious book toward himself. Hermione's

eyes sparked.

    "I've been reading up about our three new students," she said pointedly. "It's a book about entities and spirits and

such, and I think I've got them figured out." She flipped hurriedly through the thick ridged pages, coming to rest on an

engraving of a smoky-looking apparition holding on to a man who looked to be in a trance. "Here!' she exclaimed, stabbing

her finger down on the proper paragraph. She began to read.

    'An entity is a spirit of unknown origin, most typically conjured by a witch or wizard for a specific purpose or

action. They possess no soul or true body, but can be configured under a Dissembulus charm to appear human and take on human

attributes of speech and activity, including humor and personality traits. Jorge the Jubilant conjured an entity so

convincing that even his own family continued to believe it to be him a hundred and fifty years after his death. However, no

matter how cleverly their true identity is veiled, an entity can always be discovered through use of a Revelarum charm. In

addition, and entity cannot perform any spell for which is has not been configured (cannot learn) and is not susceptible to

such physical human trials as fatigue or hunger or vulnerability to potions or curses.'

    "See?" she said excitedly, slamming the book shut.

    "Not particularly," Ron answered, yawning widely as the clock in the common room chimed eleven.

    "Aedain and her sisters are entities that have been conjured to look like students!! We just have to find out what

they're here for!" A chill made its way up Harry's spine.

    "But Aracelis was performing charms today!" Ron protested.

    "The Revelarum is simple, she was probably conjured to know it!" Hermione explained, her color rising. "Not to

mention the fact that she wasn't affected at all by the Giggle Elixir we made in Potions today, and Muirgen wasn't

rendered unconscious by the cry of that mandrake even though she didn't cover her ears!"

    "But when the Revelarum went wrong in class today, she still looked human! If she was an entity, wouldn't she have

just disappeared?" Ron answered back.

    "She went TRANSPARENT, Ron, how much more proof do you need?" With a huff, Hermione gathered up her book and fled to

the stairs that led to the girls' dorms.

    "I think she seemed a little more upset than necessary, don't you?" Ron asked with a thundercloud of an expression.

Harry said nothing. He rose from the table and followed Ron up the stairs to bed, leaving the bustle and talk of the common

room to carry on without them.