Heroic Perversions

Chapter 4

A Bond that Soars & A Bond that Sours

"I had a dream," said Harry.

"I reckon," said Ron dryly. "Another nightmare, you mean?"

"What was this one about?" asked Hermione as she walked alongside them towards the Great Hall.

"No it was definitely a dream. About Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" said Hermione, her frown deepening.

"You had a dream about Malfoy?" enquired Ron. "Mate, is there something you wanna tell me? Just do it now while I'm in a good mood--"

"Only because it's breakfast," Hermione interjected.

"--Otherwise I can't be responsible for my actions after I literary held you in my arms last night while you were moaning and dreaming about just Malfoy. I thought it was another scary nightmare!"

"No. Not that. That was a nightmare. And I never asked you to hold me or do whatever with me in any way, shape or form. Let's get that clear."

"Are you saying I should start ignoring your noises for here on out?" Ron asked.

"Just--Can I finish what I was about to say?" Harry snapped.

"All right," said Ron coolly. "I'm leaving your arse to thrash around next time in the depths of your hell."

"I saw Malfoy on the fourth floor last night was what I was trying to say," Harry said, ignoring Ron's poor attempt at poetry, as did Hermione. What he was about to say next did not sound nearly as amusing as it did before Ron opened his mouth. "He was singing."

Ron and Hermione kept silent and seemed to be waiting for the actual punch line, which Harry thought he had just deployed. On any other day Ron would have burst out laughing before he had even attained the details.

"Yeah," Harry said matter-of-factly with a straight face as though he had never intended to make a joke. "He was totally out of it. What was it again? Something like, 'Frolic in the gardens and laughing. You'll gift me something something and I'll match you with a kiss.'"

Finally Ron howled, and so loudly Hermione's hair fluttered and made the occupants of the portraits around them hiss furiously.

"You're lying, mate!" Ron bleated. "You've got to be lying! I can't believe this! You'll gift me and kiss me what? I wish I could've seen it!"

"That's--that's very sweet," said Hermione, fighting hard to straighten her face.

Ron was holding onto Harry's shoulder for balance before he could double over. "What was he--who was he singing for? Did he have a break-up or something?"

Harry shrugged.

"Wow... Oh, Merlin. That woke me up," Ron sniffed as he straightened and gathered himself.

"But why were you out in the middle of the night, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Never mind whatever Malfoy gets up to late at night."

"Another dream?" Ron offered as casually as though they were talking about Quidditch over lunch.

"Yeah," said Harry as it struck him how perfunctory the conversations about his dreams were. "Got out my Invisibility Cloak and went about the castle. I found him on the four floor singing--"

"Don't, Harry," warned Ron, who was trying to school his cheeks from bulging and his spent stomach muscles from contracting.

"Then he was, like, you known, someone's going to kill my family and whatnot. I think I'd tuned him out before then. Whatever... The day Malfoy gets offed I'd make it a holiday."

"He actually said someone would kill his family?" asked Hermione, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," answered Harry. "But you know what he does, his tactics. Always screaming for attention and being dramatic. Earned him a week off school in third year, didn't it? What would this give him? A month?"

"I'd protest," said Ron. "I'd stop doing my homework."

"I'm glad you're both finding this wildly amusing," said Hermione with a touch of asperity in her voice. "What was he like when he said that?"

"He--aai--I--He was just, you know..." The funny aspect of his encounter with Malfoy vanished unexpectedly. Harry blinked a few times at the sudden gravity that replaced it. "...Like I said, he wasn't really in his right mind - he was drunk, Hermione."

Hermione thought for several moments. She then said shortly, "Hm. Well that's what alcohol'll do for you - hysteria."

Ron fell into another painful fit of laugher.

They entered the Great Hall and made their way to the Gryffindor table. Between glances at the Ravenclaw table Seamus was half-heartedly trying to strike a conversation with Neville, who, however, appeared too nervous to even open his mouth. Dean looked bored at the Ravenclaw table sitting next to Ginny and Lavender, who were both talking. Evidently Ginny had found Dean less interesting than Crumpled-Nosed Snorkacks.

When Neville caught sight of Hermione he shot to his feet, alarming her.

"Oh, Neville! Your homework! Took me all night to do it before I started with my own, hence I came down here with these two." Hermione rummaged in her bag until she pulled out a bunch of pages of parchment and handed them to Neville, who seemed to resume breathing.

"Thanks a million, Hermione!" he gasped. "I could pay you if I could, though. Still got those leprechaun Galleons from the World Cup if you want them."

"No it's fine, Neville, you don't have to pay me."

Before Ron could begin with his breakfast Parvati and Lavender bloomed from thin air.

"Morning all," sang Lavender giddily. Harry had seen this kind of expression before on another girl. It had preceded S. P. E. W.

"Morning," greeted Hermione a little cautiously as she loaded her plate.

Nearly stepping on Hermione's words, Parvati rushed on, "So we were thinking, we had this great idea for a school newspaper--"

"Tabloid, you mean," muttered Ron. Harry's lips twitched.

"I mean, the school needs it," Lavender said, and no one could have convinced her otherwise. "I bet there's a huge demand for an in-school paper. We could post, like, announcements and - you know - academic issues and stuff..."

Lavender's vagueness only further betrayed the real content of the newspaper they were dreaming up. Harry thought Ron's take on it was quite accurate.

"So what are you going to call it then?" asked Hermione.

Parvati and Lavender squealed in unison and chorused, "The Hogwarts Howler!"

"A bit predictable. And a little bit droll, don't you think?" said Hermione.

Parvati's and Lavender's faces dove into a deep shade of red. "Then what do you suggest we call it then?" Parvati spat, folding her arms haughtily.

"I don't know... something better, catchier... maybe... The Scholar's Scribbler."

Ron hastily filled the silence that followed by complimenting Hermione on the name she had suggested. Harry jabbed him with an elbow, in so doing telling him that he need not convince anyone, as he was fairly certain what Parvati and Lavender would call their newspaper had been decided long before the pair had announced its name.

Parvati and Lavender were blinking at Hermione as though she had suggested to them they adopt a Blast-Ended Skrewt or recommend Snape some shampoo. Either option, they were clearly thinking, spelled disaster. They speedily recovered themselves and threw their heads back and cackled. Without bothering to explain their amusement they gave Hermione dismissive gestures and strolled away.

"Argh. Forgot what was a stuck-up little swotty smart alec she can be sometimes!" spat Lavender.

"Why ever did we even tell her about it?" Parvati said. "Like, who's actually gonna buy something like The Scholar's Scribbler? Oh please! We weren't exactly aiming for a Ravenclaw target market; they always think their better than everybody else, don't they?"

"The faces of ignorance," sighed Hermione at the pair's backs as she shook her head. "It's tragic, really. They can't even see it for themselves how...Who's gonna read something called The Hogwarts Howler?" Hermione rolled her eyes and promptly dove into a textbook she had taken out from her bag.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Which would be more popular between The Hogwarts Howler and The Scholar's Scribbler was obvious to them. Harry was certain Ron was experiencing the same allergic reaction to the latter title as he was.

"With your name they could probably get the whole of Ravenclaw to buy it," said Harry, nodding sagely.

"My thinking exactly!" agreed Hermione, who had not caught the sarcasm. "You know that you can bank on a full House - or at least most of it. Then you can try your luck at the other Houses, seducing them along the way. Their circulation can only grow!"

"Yeah but I wouldn't buy something the Ravenclaws read," Ron sneered. "They're so high and mighty."

"You wouldn't buy anything that you had to read, period," Hermione retorted. "And I don't know the Ravenclaws you hang out with but the ones I know are very down to earth and very smart - at least most of them. What more does a person need be?"

"Okay, we need to stop talking about Ravenclaws before you chase away my appetite," Ron warned.

"Agreed," said Harry.

"Look at it like this, Harry," Ron murmured through the corner of his lips when Hermione returned to her book. "Those two are gonna get some serious bank on this tabloid thing; don't reckon they'll do all that work for just a knock-and-drop."

Ron was right, Harry thought. His eyes immediately found Dean, who had shown interest in Parvati and Lavender - the entire school population of girls for that matter. But the dark-skinned teen's eyes were not fixed on the pair rapping away secretively and making notes on that same parchment but rather on Ginny. Harry could have sworn he heard himself growl. Embarrassed, he dived eagerly back into whatever Ron was saying about seducing Parvati and Lavender to swindle them out of their prospective cash flow. Judging by Hermione's revolted looks at Ron, despite talking through the side of his lips, she was hearing every word.

Some minutes later they finished their breakfast and trooped down to the greenhouses.

"Good morning, everyone!" Professor Sprout cheered. "Let's quieten down, shall we? And get on with it. Now, I have something new for today. On your benches you'll see them."

Standing before the class were tall, green, cylindrical creatures which looked like overturned octopuses. They had several long swaying tentacles and instead of suckers had ridges along them. And in the middle was a red-black whole with a ring of small teeth like bits of broken china.

"Can anyone tell me what we're looking at?" asked Professor Sprout, beaming invitingly at the class. When she saw Hermione's hand shoot up, she said, almost beseechingly, "Come on. Anybody?" When no one else volunteered Professor Sprout sighed shortly and gave a perfunctory nod at Hermione. "Yes, Ms Granger. What do you have?"

"They're called Montakeltjies," answered Hermione. "And when they're fully matured they're called Montakels." Harry and Ron watched her enjoy a slight shiver as though there was no higher pleasure for her than answering a question correctly.

"Correct. Ten points to--What's that? No, I think they're called Montantakels and Montantakeletjies," Professor Sprout corrected after she had automatically began to hand Hermione her obligatory House points.

"They were contracted in the fifteenth century to Montakels and Montakeltjies, I believe, Professor," Hermione countered, looking hugely apologetic in correcting her teacher. "Typical lazy Dutch behaviour!"

Ron snorted and then stared at Hermione with a mixture of pride and astonishment; she was not the first person to make generalizations.

"Oh really? They come from the Netherlands?" said Professor Sprout gamely. "That makes a huge amount of sense then... All right. Now, can anyone else tell me--" She placed a heavy emphasis on the word. "--what these plants eat?"

Every face automatically turned to Hermione, who did not answer, however. She gave a brief glance at the class and sniffed a little haughtily, "It wasn't in the textbook."

The greenhouse filled with laughter.

"Correct," said Professor Sprout, her round, massive chin wobbling in amusement. "And there's a good reason for it as well. Montakels feed on Dagga."

While the rest of the class did not look any further illuminated, Hermione made a choked noise of surprise and looked on incredulously at Professor Sprout, who smiled at her nervously.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself, my dear," she said tightly, a hint of pleading in her voice.

They got to work shortly. Professor Sprout used two helpers to hand out what looked like ice cube trays filled with sage-brownish-coloured thatches of wool. Harry took one from one of the Slytherin helpers and cautiously brought it under his nose: it was a smell that would linger on a man of advanced age or on their funny hats.

"So what is this stuff?" asked Ron as he took the tray and studied the wool-like substance filled into the cubicles.

"It's nothing," snapped Hermione. She was looking down her nose at tray with a mixture of disapproval and fear.

When Ron took a block of it and dangled it above his mouth Hermione squeaked and slapped his hand away. "Don't do that! They're for the animals!"

Harry chuckled at Ron. "Okay. So... I guess that's the mouth."

"Yeah," replied Ron, looking as equally reluctant as Harry.

"Right," said Harry. He broke off a bit of the Dagga and tried to time the random swaying of the Montakeltjie's tentacles around the dark pulsing hole in the centre. When he neared the piece of Dagga to the plant it purred and cooed and its tentacles languidly chased after his hand, which Harry quickly withdrew. "Those... tentacle things might be dangerous," he said reasonably.

"Oh yes, a creature that can fit into the palm of your hand is mightily dangerous," Hermione said.

"Shut up. Ron, you do it - I'm a Seeker, I need my hand. The least I could do is to lose it to an occupational hazard if I have to."

"Wow, Harry," drawled Ron, sounding deeply wounded. "Thanks. Yeah, I'm just Ron - a non-Quidditch-playing, expendable piece of arse. Move away... You better not electrocute me, you... Oh hell no, it wants to take my arm with it!"

"Let's see, Mr Weasley," panted Professor Sprout as she peered over their shoulders at their work table. "Well you've done nothing to it, have you? Go on, just give it a taste. It's only ticklish, not like a jellyfish."

"If you say so, ma'am," muttered Ron, very unconvinced. When Professor Sprout did not move away so he could put off a few more seconds before he had to risk a limb, he swallowed and put his hand forward. The tentacles slid around it and pulled it closer - Ron mewled miserably - until he could release the Dagga into his mouth. He dragged his hand away and held it as though it would fall off. A bulge ran down the Montakeltjie's cylindrical body as the mouth pulsated again. The tentacles' undulating and waving motions gradually slowed until they began swaying even more lethargically and even euphorically. When smoke started issuing out of the round mouth Harry stepped back and Hermione's look of disapproval deepened.

"There you go. Nothing to it, see," praised Professor Sprout before she moved away.

"That's it?" said Ron. He, Harry and Hermione looked around at the rest of the class to see if there was anything remarkable happening. Harry's eyes found Dean and Seamus' work table. They were sniggering and looking very mischievous.

"Where're your Explosive Éclairs? Give me one!" Dean was urging Seamus quietly.

Seamus snickered more evilly and opened his rucksack furtively, throwing a cautious glance in Professor Sprout's direction and mapping her position so he could calculate the amount of time he and Dean had to do what they wanted to do. He produced a piece of candy which he unwrapped and handed Dean. "You do it!"

Dean's shoulders heaved as he chuckled in anticipation. He cast a look at Professor Sprout to make sure she was not paying attention before he stuck his hand forward and slipped the candy into the mouth of the Montakeltjie. The creature bulged before there was a sudden explosion of green goo. Dean and Seamus fell into ecstasy. They covered their dripping work station from prying eyes.

Knowing what he did, Harry might have seen what he had wanted to see. But Seamus seemed excessively happy at that moment. He seemed to pour his soul out through his grin at Dean.

"What's happening there, Mr Thomas?" asked Professor Sprout as she wobbled down the greenhouse assessing the others' work. "Easy does it, as I say."

"Nothing, Professor!" Dean managed to squeeze out.

"Nothing?--No, dear, you ease it into its mouth, see. You don't want to stone it dead now, do you? - What do you mean nothing? The both of you should be nearly done round about now! Get one with it, gentlemen!"

When Harry, Ron and Hermione turned back to their work bench their tray of Dagga was standing full tilt in the air and the creature below it was upending the cubes of Dagga into his greedy, pulsating hole.

"Ah! This thing ate all our Daggas!" Hermione gasped. "Hold on, I'm getting more. Bad Montakeltjie!" she berated it with a wagging finger. But the Montakeltjie was too adrift to have heard any of it; its tentacles swayed even more slowly and more dreamily as much more smoke rose out from its mouth.

Parvati and Lavender turned fully to their work table, showing Hermione their backs as she walked past them. Resting their arms on the table, they dipped their voices even lower and their eyes grew rounder and even more gossipy as they darted around the room, hardly noticing that their project for the day was wrapping its tentacles around their hair.

"Look out, girls," Hermione tossed at them as she strutted past again with a fresh slab of Dagga. A second later there were shrieks.

Towards the end of the lesson, after the class had returned their trays to the front, Professor Sprout instructed them to tickle their Montakeltjies. Within a few seconds of the instruction there came several screams and yells scattered across the greenhouse. Ron, Harry and Hermione had recoiled at what had landed on their work table after it had been spat out from their Montakeltjie's mouth: a slimy wad of dark-brown substance akin to a chewed Chummy Chock.

"Now, that there's very useful to calming the nerves during exam time," advised Professor Sprout proudly. "You might want to drop a piece or two in your tea and have a stress-free sitting with your books."

There were squeaks of "What?" at the suggestion that the class ingest the regurgitated mass. After a moment of hesitation the students clapped. It could not have been clearer that no one thought they would be desperate enough to try out the soppy blobs of regurgitated Dagga.

Having stationed herself at the door Professor Sprout kept a wary eye on every student passing out of the greenhouse. At times Harry was certain she looked ready to search some of the students. He along with Ron and Hermione smiled at her went as they passed her.

"I trust you're relieved about discovering the uses of Montakeltjies, Ms Granger? It's OWLs this, yes? You'll surely need it."

"Er--very much, Professor," mumbled Hermione to the accompaniment of Ron's and Harry's chuckles as they hurried to Potions.

"I daren't enquire how the assignment is coming along," said Snape quietly, rolling his eyes across the classroom. "By now you should be more than halfway through completing it. I should advise you against hastening to pepper your assignment with facts at the eleventh hour, as is the prevailing habit. It will undoubtedly show... Mr Malfoy, is there a problem?" For Malfoy had made a funny little noise.

"Er--no, Professor," replied Malfoy, smirking down at his folded arms. "Just, three weeks is hardly enough time to write an assignment so large." Far from anxious, Malfoy sounded supercilious, which was not unusual in and of itself but quite so when his attitude was directed his favourite teacher.

"Then you'll have to direct every ounce of effort and attention towards it, Mr Malfoy. It's not impossible - only just possible. This is to prepare you for your OWLs, which you will find very demanding indeed. If you falter at the beginning of the year, Merlin knows where you'll be halfway through. Now today--Mr Malfoy, you'd do well to keep your harrumphs to a minimum while I'm speaking. If you wish to raise a point, raise your hand. As I was saying, today we'll be looking at the neutralization of poisons..."

It was a most astonishing lesson for the Gryffindors. By the time it had ended Malfoy had thrown a number of looks at Snape that were at best irreverent and at worst mocking and murmured things that had his sycophants bawling on the floor before quickly righting themselves when Snape turned around.

"Thinks he knows any better. The Dark Lord should just chuck his arse out and get it over with. He's useless now, isn't he? Ha. And then he thinks he can try and feel in control by being nasty at school kids! Ha! Fail! What a failure in life!"

These words, hard as it was to believe them Malfoy's, of course left those who had heard them with their eyes popping out of their heads.

"What was into Malfoy today?" breathed Ron incredulously, glancing at his cohorts walking the opposite way down the corridor. "Blimey. Never thought I'd see the day Malfoy and Snape go at each other..."

"I know," said Harry hollowly as he walked backwards staring at Malfoy and company. "His head's getting a little too big for him; he won't be able to get it through the door by tomorrow. But it's almost worth it seeing that vein on Snape's forehead pop! And Malfoy just talked about Voldemort--" Ron and Hermione shivered. "--and Death Eaters like he sees them every day!"

Harry could not believe Malfoy. The Malfoy he had seen in Potions was a far cry from the one he had encountered mere hours ago four floors above him. While that one had appeared miserable, meek, a little mad and even desperate, this one was more condescending than any human was allowed to be, never mind to a teacher.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming last night about Malfoy and you actually didn't meet him in real life yesterday?" asked Ron, understandably confused.

Harry was not quite so certain about his story anymore. He had sincerely thought he had seen and talked with Malfoy. He must have.

By the time lunch rolled by, the three of them as well as the other Gryffindors who had been in their Potions class had talked around in circles about the lesson in the Great Hall. Some Gryffindors prophesied an all-new Draco Malfoy in leather jackets, a cigarette in his mouth and a brand broom that spat fire. Others attributed the unusual behaviour to a new drug making the rounds in the Slytherin dungeon. And still others entertained the possibility that Malfoy had discovered who his real father was and was so hurt and embarrassed he began ridiculing him in front of the class.

The news spread across the Gryffindor table and soon the Housemates were swivelling their heads between Snape at the High Table, looking as gloomy and unsociable as ever, and the other end of the Hall at the Slytherin table where Malfoy was holding court. This was nothing new of course, but never before had Malfoy commanded the attention of his entire House table. In fact, some Slytherins had abandoned their lunches and had surrounded him for his words. Occasionally someone spoke up only to be handled by one of the members of Malfoy's entourage as though the enquirer had not earned the right to address Malfoy directly.

"But what on earth happened between the two of them?" asked Parvati, frowning between Snape and Malfoy. "When? How? Where does the attribution go to?"

Parvati suddenly had the bearing of a particularly ruthless version of Rita Skeeter. Harry made a note to live strictly and chastely thence.

"It goes to Harry," replied Lavender. "He's our best source."

"Harry," Parvati said instantly, whipping around to him, "what do you think happened between Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape? Do you think it has something to do Malfoy's sudden popularity this year? Do you think it's because he's growing more and more big-hea--er, egotistic?"

"Er..." said Harry, shaking his head cluelessly while Parvati breathed in his face expectantly.

"All of the above," said Ron.

"All of the above basically, yeah," answered Harry. Parvati stared at him intensely for a moment before whipping out a notepad from behind her back and jotting something down.

"Oh that was on the record, by the way," she tossed at him casually, something as a good journalist she should have told him before asking questions.

"Oh!" said Lavender in the way one would react upon spotting an interesting curio. "You two have practically been at each other's throats since first year, so you probably know Malfoy better than any of us! Can you give us some insight into his drastic change in behaviour?"

"Come, Harry," said Hermione. She grabbed his arm and shouldered past Parvati and Lavender, who clucked their tongues furiously.

Apart from graciously saving Harry - "You're a star, Hermione. Really." - Hermione wanted to visit the library to continue working on her Potions assignment. Harry was quite not in the mood to suffer dusty tomes and small spaces; he and Ron chose to see off their last minutes of lunch waiting outside the library, much to Hermione's chagrin.

"The library is not the enemy here! It's your friend!" she told them passionately as she flashed out of sight through the door.

Harry and Ron sniggered with each other.

"I am, like, so going to the library right now, it's like long overdue," Ron mocked. "I should've been there, like, minus ten minutes go, or even better, before I was born. Mothers should think about growing bookstands in their wombs." Harry laughed. "Hang on. Speaking of making babies, nature calls! Make way!" Ron left his bag and strode down the corridor.

"Enjoy yourself," Harry called after him. Ron spun around and made a rude gesture at him.

"I don't like rushing it, mate - ten minutes isn't enough."

The redhead left Harry's eyebrows high on his forehead.

Lunch was not over yet and the corridor was quite empty. Harry put down his bag and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. Corridors were not the ideal places in which to relax; he had grown used to doing so outside on the grass, reclining against the beech tree that hung over the banks of the Great Lake. That was a wonderful place to relax.

He looked away from the ceiling and squinted at the other end of the corridor. He just caught a glimpse of the Wheelock boy flashing out of sight again. Really, Harry thought, shaking his head. He really did not have anything against him for dating Ginny. Although he did find it weird and intrusive in a strange way that Ginny had dated someone who looked remarkably like him, almost his doppelganger.

Then, most fortuitously, he caught a second glimpse, of midnight blue robes peppered with stars and moon crescents: Professor Dumbledore was striding up the corridor. Harry's heart gave a strange leap against his ribs. An emotion seized him.

It was not a peculiar sight per se, but Harry seldom saw Professor Dumbledore out of his office. It was remarkable that Dumbledore looked as large and venerable as ever in a long and tall corridor as he did in his office, sitting behind a magnificent desk. As he came closer his waist-length beard shivered and shone more brightly with the sun. He was carrying a big smile on his face and his blue eyes twinkled.

"Ah. Good afternoon, Harry."

Harry recovered himself and began scrambling to his feet. "Professor."

"Oh, no worries, my boy. You can tell by my traipsing the castle I haven't much to do today in that stuffy office of mine. Why don't I join your surveillance of the ceiling?" And unbelievably to Harry Dumbledore gathered his robes and lowered himself to the floor, stretching his long legs out in front of him and folding up his long beard on top of his lap.

"Hm. I see why you'd choose this vantage point: the view is nice from here. Fresh."

Harry did not know how to respond to this. He beamed awkwardly at Dumbledore. He let himself relax and loosened his body, also stretching his legs out. He felt a little uncomfortable; Dumbledore sitting on the floor beside him suggested that they were equals - something he thought could not have been farther from the truth.

"How is the day progressing, if I may ask?" enquired Dumbledore kindly.

Dumbledore on the floor: inconceivable. Harry took some time to respond. "Well, sir. I just finished Potions and Herbology. Learned about poisons and--and--Montakeltjies."

He knew he sounded boring and academic, and he was embarrassed for it. But Dumbledore had raised his silver eyebrows.

"Are you certain that wasn't a slight at my dead mother?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry's mouth fell open and he stared into the crinkled blue eyes of his headmaster. "I--I--Professor! No, I wasn't!"

Dumbledore broke out into a fit of chuckles. "I'm only pulling your leg, Harry. That rather sounds to me like Dutch."

"Oh," said Harry as he resumed his position after rising up in incredulity and indignation. "Hermione said something about the Dutch, yeah."

Dumbledore nodded deferentially at Harry's voice as though listening to a beautiful symphony.

"Speaking of whom, is Miss Granger and Mr Weasley around?"

"Ron's gone to the bathroom, and Hermione... well..."

"The library," finished Dumbledore shortly.

"Yes," laughed Harry.

They talked for some time. It naturally progressed that Dumbledore was asking many questions of Harry, who obliged superfluously, exceedingly adverse to long pauses in their conversation; they were unbearably awkward. And a constant thought that harassed him was how privileged another person would have felt to have Albus Dumbledore with all his titles and accolades speaking to them like an equal on the floor. They would have taken more advantage of the opportunity. They would have seemed more curious than he was. They would have been more intelligent than he was. They would have entertained Dumbledore better than he could have. They would have been so much better a converser than he was.

The bell rang. Several times Harry had been on the verge of telling Dumbledore, in the little awkward pauses, when he was so pliant and ready to listen, about his nightmares during the summer and about the one he had involving Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort. When he finally stiffened his resolve enough to do so the bell rang. Slowly a flood of students developed, noisily moving past them. Dumbledore dissuaded Harry from rising and simply smiled up at the students passing by. They ogled at the sight of them, at the sight of Headmaster Dumbledore sitting on a filthy floor next to Harry Potter, nothing more than a fifth-year student.

"Is that Professor Dumbledore on the floor? Hasn't he, like, got a meeting to go to or something?"

"More like braid his beard and hum stupid words like 'pip pip' to himself in his office all day."

"He's sitting with Harry Potter! Why on earth is he so special? Wow, B, can you imagine just striking a conversation with your bloody headmaster? That boy's got some awesome powers of persuasion! I told you, didn't I? You should've drugged him with a Love Potion and be set for life - no need to study anymore... I'm sure he's going to make a huge fortune if he doesn't already have one..."

"I knew it! Dumbledore's hitting that Potter pussy every night! They've always been this close! Haven't you found it strange?"

Hermione stepped out of the library, stopped short of the seated pair and blushed when she looked at Dumbledore. Ron, who had the air of someone who had been lurking behind rather than just coming from the toilet, crept closer. He exchanged a look with Hermione.

"Sir, I've got to get to class," muttered Harry nervously.

"In a moment, Harry," replied Dumbledore kindly. "Good afternoon, Mr Weasley, Ms Granger."

"Afternoon, Professor," mumbled Ron and Hermione, equally flushed. They undoubtedly felt they were intruding.

Eventually the corridors emptied and Dumbledore ran out of questions to ask the three Gryffindors and then decided to rather impart some advice to Harry.

"But, Harry, if there's one thing you could do for me is this..." Harry's heart suddenly leapt with adrenaline. "Never ever in your life make someone a fool or take them for a fool."

The moment was rather remarkably bathetic.

"Respect a person," Dumbledore went on, "for the mere fact that he is human, that he is of flesh, that he possesses a free will. Never underestimate the hidden danger of free will, Harry, the ability to act for oneself. Never. Fear the free person. Always be cautious of him."

Dumbledore smiled, stood up, dusted himself, said his goodbyes, and strode off.

"That was brilliant," breathed Hermione as they headed for Transfiguration.

"Absolutely brilliant," agreed Ron with a shake his head.

Harry agreed with these assessments wholeheartedly, but for him the encounter, and the advice, was different. It might have been because it was more personal for him. Or it simply was because he was more used to Dumbledore and therefore not as easily impressionable as Ron and Hermione were. Nevertheless, though it had been a conversation of accident, and though the advice had rung initially frivolously, it turned out to be the most enlightening lunch he had ever had.

How many more surprises could this day throw at him, Harry did not know. It was just another normal day at Hogwarts.

As the days went Malfoy grew increasingly overconfident and more conceited. And it turned out Harry and Dumbledore's little chat in front of the library had been just the beginning. Mysteriously this year Dumbledore was rather more visible in the school, making him seem more hands-on than ever before. It was because, Dumbledore explained, there were even greater forces against them.

"Undoubtedly Lord Voldemort will and is doing all he can to attain the same heights he had reached before he was vanquished," Dumbledore was saying as they rounded a corner during another lunch the next day. "His desire to reclaim his stature, coupled with his deadly skill and his followers' desperation to prove themselves to him once more, poses a stupendous danger to us all. I would like to advise you, Harry - and I hope you carry this to your fellow schoolmates - that though such dark forces have always attempted to penetrate the walls of this castle, now more than ever, at the end of the day their greatest weapon is you..."

Harry felt chills run down his spine for some reason. His heart seemed to strangle itself in trying to contain its fear.

"But always hold in mind that in the face of adversity we're stronger together than we are apart," continued Dumbledore. "Now more than ever we need the confidence to rely on and look after each other. With the brewing storm you will find those for your well-being and those for your downfall in equal abundance. Without turning distrustful of everyone and everything, always keep an eye out for danger, Harry. Remember: be wary of the free one."

They turned another corner and came face-to-face with Malfoy.

Colour rushed out of Malfoy's face like a bygone vogue: Malfoy looked as though he were seeing a ghost as he stared at Dumbledore, his eyes fixed and stunned at the tall figure. He had not even noticed Harry.

It was the only time Harry was seeing Malfoy without a bevy of sycophants surrounding him; he looked so much smaller, so much more graspable.

"Mr Malfoy, good afternoon," greeted Dumbledore with a small bow.

Malfoy did not answer but took a step towards the wall and leant on it, and he breathed in deeply and steadily; his body appeared to have shifted into emergency mode. His eyes moved onto Harry.

"It would be polite if you returned the courtesy, Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore gently.

Malfoy's white eyelashes fluttered before he pushed himself off the wall, recovered himself and stiffly marched down the hall, perhaps heading for the restroom.

Again Malfoy, after the encounter, seemed anything but the Malfoy Harry was around the Slytherins. Harry's confusion spiralled even further but it was eclipsed by his anger that Malfoy had dared to openly disrespect Dumbledore as he just had. It was one thing to disrespect someone while one was surrounded by one's friends, but it was entirely another when one did it without anyone around, while experiencing no influence from any peers. It seemed to give Malfoy's impertinence a harsh and unforgivable authenticity.

As the days went by, while surrounded by his desperately beaming group of Housemates, Malfoy could give neither Blaise Zabini nor Pansy Parkinson, his two closest friends, the time of day. Crabbe and Goyle had fallen completely off his map. Moreover, Malfoy deepened even further the cleavage between him and Snape until such a time they neither talked nor looked at each other. Unfathomably it was the first time ever Malfoy and Snape were not joined at the hip. And as Malfoy enjoyed the control of what seemed the whole of Slytherin House, its relationship with Snape grew cold and faltering.

Those events had elevated Dumbledore's words about unity into greater prominence in Harry's mind. However, it took two weekends for his resolve to stiffen enough for him to propose a plan in front of the fireplace at their cushy armchairs in the common room on Saturday, two days before their Potions assignments were due. He had been so preoccupied with putting the plan together that he had missed much of the nuances of Malfoy's change in behaviour: though he was still somewhat as obnoxious as usual, Malfoy had grown quieter and quieter, especially during the third week of school.

"So, guys, Dumbledore had me thinking," Harry began, "with Voldemort back and all, I think we need to start having extra DADA lessons. Don't get me wrong, Moody's great, but we need more lessons."

"Okay," said Hermione, putting her quill to her lip. "Like an extra class after school."

"Something like that, yeah," said Harry, thinking Hermione was getting closer.

"Like a duelling club?" suggested Ron.

"Precisely!" enthused Harry. He had been rather nervous of sharing his idea to them, as he had been developing it for about nine days since he had that talk with Dumbledore. "So what do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea, Harry!" praised Hermione.

Harry nodded and said, while she still seemed very receptive, "I thought we'd call it Dumbledore's Army!"

Harry did not expect the soppy little expression that grew on Hermione's face. Her head tilted to the side affectionately, her eyes brimmed with tears and her eyebrows arched just as they had done when Neville had touched her.

"Oh, Harry..."

"What?" said Harry.

"That's so sweet!"

"What's sweet about it?" asked Harry indignantly.

Hermione did not answer but simply went over and hugged him, returning to her seat without another word and wiping away a tear. "You and Dumbledore have gotten really close, haven't you?" she finally said, sniffing proudly at Harry, who flushed.

"Something like that," Harry muttered and then said quickly at Ron, "Right, so it's settled?" Before Hermione could open her mouth, perhaps to say more on him and Dumbledore, Harry rushed on to point out, "We can't do it outside of school because I'm thinking the Ministry - or at least Fudge - will be watching me closely after that whole episode in the Infirmary last year. He's probably still in denial about Voldemort returning. So we'll have to find, like, and unused classroom somewhere in the castle to use."

"I'll try and get members," said Ron.

"I'll try to organize a way we can coordinate ourselves, like where to meet and when," said Hermione. She had thankfully lost her soppy expression.

"And I'll find the classroom," said Harry.

The willingness with which his friends met the challenge overwhelmed him; he could only but nod gratefully. He felt much lighter thereafter; there was a certain comfort a plan brought. He had been confident that his fading stress would calm his mind and allow him to sleep well. But he was not exempted from his nightmares yet, and he woke up the next day feeling as though the world were resting its enormous laurels on his shoulders. He was so tired of being tired...

Knowing how infuriating it was to be woken up before it was absolutely necessary, he left Ron snoring lightly, went over to the showers and performed his ablutions, descending down the stairs some twenty minutes later. He found Hermione with tomes scattered across her round table pouring through one of them while jotting down something on a page of parchment.

"Morning," greeted Harry.

"Morning, Harry."

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he was most surprised to see Parvati and Lavender already up and as ever gossiping in hushed tones. On their table was a copy of the Sunday Prophet.

He and Hermione waited until Ron joined them. Then the three of them split: Ron went over to Parvati and Lavender to try to strike a deal that involved the girls using their mouths - which Ron took to great pains to assure the girls were as an asset rather than a nuisance - and their seemingly inevitable tabloid-newspaper to spread the word about the new duelling club named Dumbledore's Army; Hermione went to the library to research possible ways of spreading news of an upcoming meeting to members only; and Harry took off to search for an unused classroom for their meetings in the furthest and thus least-explored recesses of the castle: the seventh and highest floor.