Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 2

Quidditch Captain

Hagrid was not there in the morning, though, and neither did Dumbledore offer any more details concerning Malfoy's death. In fact, Dumbledore wasn't even there at breakfast when Harry and Ron sat down.

"We've got Transfiguration first," announced Hermione, passing them their timetables.

"Oh, good, no Potions, finally," said Ron, a satisfied expression on his face. "Tell you a secret-" he leaned towards them conspiratorially. "I almost decided to do badly in the O.W.L. exam on purpose." He smirked, fingering his timetable appreciatively.

"And, voila, I didn't even need to."

"Oh, Ron, you wouldn't!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked. "Potions is really important."

"Yeah, but with Snape criticizing everything you do is it really worth it?" Harry asked. "I'm perfectly happy not to be taking it-" He stopped and his eyes widened as he stared at his timetable. Transfiguration: Gryffindor; Double Potions: Gryffindor & Slytherin . . .

"I don't believe this!" Harry spluttered angrily, pointing at his schedule with a shaking finger.

"What?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Harry, I thought you got an 'Exceeds Expectations' on your Potions O. W. L.," said Ron, thunderstruck.

"I did. I mean, I know," replied Harry, still staring in disbelief at his timetable.

"But Snape said he only took 'Outstanding' grades into his O. W. L. class," continued Ron.

"I know," repeated Harry. He looked up at the teachers' table. Was it his imagination or was Snape glaring in his general direction?

"I'm in Potions, too," said Hermione brightly.

"What?" yelped Ron, knocking over his bowl of porridge. For the first time Harry noticed Ron looked truly upset.

"That means you'll be doing it without me," he said slowly. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"It'll be ok, Ron," comforted Hermione awkwardly. "What did you get in the exam?"

" 'Acceptable'." Ron pouted for a moment. "If I'd known he was taking 'E's I would've tried harder."

"Trade with you any day, mate," said Harry heavily. "Who wants to be cooped up in the dungeons with Snape?"

"I do," said Hermione, looking hurt. "Knowing about Potions is really valuable. It could heal you, hurt you, save your life-"

"We get it," said Ron loudly, causing several Gryffindors to stare.

"Don't feel bad, Ron," said Hermione sympathetically. "You know you wouldn't want to be in it unless Harry was."

"Or you," interjected Harry.

"Or me," Hermione acceded. "But you'll be having fun. What's on your schedule?"

"Nothing," said Ron glumly. "I don't have any classes besides Transfiguration 'till after lunch."

"Well," said Hermione uncertainly. "At least you'll have more time to do your homework." Ron just snorted.

Harry felt horrible; his eggs had turned into gluey lumps as they slid down his throat. Potions, which wasn't exactly a treat to begin with, would be horrible without Ron. Having Hermione there was the only thing that kept him from dropping out. Even so, she wasn't Ron and definitely wouldn't fool around under tables and make fun of Snape with him like Ron would.

"And just when Malfoy's gone, too," complained Ron, a bit too loudly. A seventh year Ravenclaw glared at him and a Hufflepuff girl exclaimed, "Oh, really." Ron, his face going red, hunched down so his nose was approximately an inch from the table.

"Potions is the only thing I don't have this year," said Ron, popping back up, his former demeanor returned. He peered more closely at his schedule. "No, wait a minute," he said delightedly. "History of Magic is gone, too!" Examining his timetable more closely, Harry was pleased to discover he wouldn't have to take that class either.

"I don't see why you're so happy about that," said Hermione indignantly. "History of Magic teaches us about our past and lots of other cultures beside-"

"Oh, stuff it, Hermione," said Harry and Ron together. They laughed at her furious expression and suddenly Potions didn't seem so terrible.

"I see you've still got Binns," said Ron in disgust, staring at Hermione's timetable.

"Of course," she said loftily, buttering a piece of toast.

"Ron wrinkled his nose. "If it were me I'd've done badly on purpose."

"I'm sure you wouldn't have needed to try that hard," said Hermione snidely.

"Don't start fighting, you two," warned Harry. "Ron, if you want, we can ask Snape to let you take Potions-"

"Fat chance that'll happen," grumbled Ron.

"Or I could try and drop it!" suggested Harry.

"Don't!" cried Hermione instantly. "Then I'll be all alone. Besides, I thought you wanted to be an Auror!" Harry was silent, not even daring to look at Ron, who had also thought about pursuing that job. Hermione, realizing what she'd said, clapped a hand to her mouth and turned red. For a few minutes they ate in silence, none of them able to think of the right words to say.

"Look, it's not a big deal," said Ron eventually. "Maybe I can be an Auror without Potions. I'll talk to McGonagall. Actually free time wouldn't be that bad," he mused, staring at his schedule thoughtfully. "Not as much homework at least."

"I don't see what you three are so upset about," said Ginny crossly. "We haven't even had out O. W. L.'s yet, and we've got enough work to do as it is." She scowled heavily.

"That's the way the ball bounces," said Ron heartily.

"Least we don't have N.E.W.T.'s next year," said Ginny, smiling sweetly at her brother. Ron opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, unable to find a comeback.

"Stupid tests," grumbled Ron as they left the Great Hall. "Why are they so annoying?"

"That's what I've been asking about you for the last few years," said Hermione under her breath. Harry smiled; luckily, Ron didn't hear her.

"This year we will progress to transfiguring fellow classmates into animals," announced Professor McGonagall ten minutes into class that morning. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione and raised his eyebrows. That could be fun, he mused, writing the heading on his parchment. Depending on the animal of course. And it would help later in life when he'd decided what kind of Animagus he wanted to become. Harry had given it a lot of thought over the summer and had finally become convinced that with Hermione's help, he would be able to do it. Harry gave his friends a sideways glance; Ron was doodling hearts on his paper and Hermione was listening in rapt attention to Professor McGonagall. Harry was pretty sure that they would want to become Animagus,' too. The question was, what would his animal be?

For a few days during the summer Harry had thought about being a stag, like his father James had been. He had never paid any particular attention to stags, though, and knew little about them. He had then thought about a dog, like Sirius-

"Mr Potter, did you hear me ask you to start copying the notes on the board?" Harry jumped, bumping his inkwell so it rolled dangerously. Hermione righted it quickly, indicating the board by jerking her head frantically.

"I, yeah, sorry, Professor," Harry muttered, feverishly beginning to scribble notes. Professor McGonagall stared at him suspiciously for a moment and then walked to the other side of the room.

"Mr Thomas, kindly put away that Fainting Fancy, yes, Mr Thomas, do not look so shocked, I know what it is. Now, either put it away or I'll confiscate it. And don't think about ever eating one of those- Snackboxes in one of my classes, Mr Thomas, because I know what it is and believe me I won't send you to the hospital wing. You can just lie on the floor until you're blue in the face . . ."

Hermione smothered giggles as Dean turned bright red, muttering something about not knowing what she was talking about.

"Pretty cool, don't you think?" asked Ron, glancing up at the board as more notes appeared. "Transfiguring each other this year. Reckon I could turn Hermione into a bat?" he asked hopefully, lowering his voice.

Harry rolled his eyes. "After she teaches you how, maybe."

"I heard that," said Hermione indignantly. "And, Ron, if you even try to turn me into a bat I'll change you into a- a mouse!"

"We won't be doing that for a while, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, looking slightly amused. "Transfiguring other people is very complicated and dangerous if done wrong. One of our students from years ago once turned his girlfriend into half a lobster by accident . . ." She went onto to explain about the hideous transformation until everyone, including Ron and Hermione, was quite green in the face.

"You know, Hermione, forget the bat," said Ron weakly as they were packing up their bags forty minutes later. "I don't think I could do that."

"Well, that's ok because I didn't really think you could either," laughed Hermione. Ron growled and was about to insult her back when Professor McGonagall spoke to the class once more.

"By the way, class, I just want to say how proud I am of all of you. Only 'Exceeds Expectations' and higher are allowed in this class; all of you did very well on your O.W.L.'s." Professor McGonagall beamed at them, and several sixth years blushed. From such a strict teacher as Minerva McGonagall, that was a great compliment.

"Well, see you at lunch, I guess. . ." said Hermione quietly.

"Yeah, see you then," replied Ron, his voice hoarse.

"Ron," said Harry, wondering what Snape would do if Ron turned up to class and asked to take it.

"Forget it, Harry, I've got better things to do than go to stupid Potions," said Ron bitterly. He pushed past them roughly, not turning back. Hermione bit her lip, shrugged, and turned away. Sighing, Harry followed her down several flights of stairs to the dungeons. With each step his mood worsened. It felt like Snape had already taken twenty points from Gryffindor and given him detention besides.

"Cheer up, Harry," said Hermione tentatively. "Malfoy won't provoke you- us, at least. It'll be easier to work, won't it?" Harry nodded, not really paying attention.

When they entered Snape's dungeon, Snape was already calling names off the roster.

"Goyle, Gregory." Both Harry and Hermione turned to stare at Goyle, one of Malfoy's cronies, as they took their seats.

"How did he manage to get in this class?" Harry whispered, disgusted. "He couldn't get an 'Acceptable' is he tried!"

"Mr Potter, do not talk while I am calling role. It would be a pity to have to take points from Gryffindor before the lesson has even started." The Slytherins laughed heartily and Snape smirked, clearly not believing it a pity at all. Harry flushed; he had barely been in the dungeon for a minute and already Snape was taunting him.

"Don't let him aggravate you," whispered Hermione.

"Miss Granger? I believe I called your name?"

"No you did-" Harry said furiously, but stopped when Hermione stepped on his foot. Snape's smirk faded a little.

"Sorry, Professor," said Hermione clearly. The only sign that she was the least bit upset were the red marks in her cheeks. "I didn't hear you the first time." She smiled cheerfully and Snape returned to his list.

"Harry," said Hermione in a low voice. "Snape will look for any excuse to throw you out of Potions. It's obvious he doesn't want you here. Probably doesn't want me either-"

"No, you think?" demanded Harry, his voice rising above a whisper.

"Shh! Harry, I've been thinking. Probably the only reason you're in this class is because-"

"Potter?" snapped Snape, not even bothering to say 'Harry.'

"Here," called Harry firmly, determined not to give Snape any reason to deduct points from Gryffindor. Snape rolled up his list with a snap and placed it on his desk where it vanished.

"Potter, Miss Granger, I would appreciate it if you refrained from talking in my class. A point from Gryffindor." Harry opened his mouth to protest at how unfair this was, especially since Snape had only been calling role and other Slytherins had been chatting without reprimand, but he closed it at a look from Hermione. He stared resentfully at their tabletop, wishing he could carve the wood into little pieces.

"Potter, this is my first and last warning to you: the Headmaster may have given you leeway in the past but now you are in my O. W. L. class, and I have the right to throw you out at any moment if I feel your behavior deems it." He smiled nastily. "I assure you, I will be watching you very, very carefully. If it weren't for Professor Dumble . . ." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. For a moment Snape and Harry glared at each other, each of them equally angry.

"Everyone get out parchment and ink," snapped Snape, his eyes still fixed on Harry's. "Copy the syllabus." With a wave of his wand, their list of topics for the year appeared on the board.

"As many of you should have noticed by now, we will be studying love potions for the next two weeks. Loves Potions were banned at Hogwarts years ago but I feel it would be . . . useful to know what is in them and how to recognize them." He smiled craftily. "Just in case one should ever come your way. After all, they're not prohibited outside of this school."

"Professor," called out Pansy Parkinson. "Will we be making Love Potions at all?" She giggled nervously, but suddenly her face fell. Her lip trembled and she slouched in her chair, her eyes watery.

"Doubtful, Miss Parkinson. They are, after all, banned." Snape looked as if it didn't make any difference in the least."

"After that, we will proceed to making several different potions, some poisonous, some antidotes." Harry shivered as Snape's cold, calculating eyes combed the classroom. He could just imagine Snape picking him out of everyone else to test a poison on.

"The less dim of you might also have noticed that this year, all four houses will be taking Potions together. Very few students had the option to take my O.W.L. class. As you can see we have eleven Slytherins, four Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs, and-" Snape leered at Harry and Hermione, "only two Gryffindors." He tutted. "Must try harder next time, shouldn't they, class?" He directed his question at the Slytherin half of the room and on queue they all laughed uproariously.

"Harry, I am glad you're here," whispered Hermione nervously. "Even without Malfoy they're scaring me." The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs didn't look pleased either. Of course, they had never had Potions with the Slytherins before.

"Copy down these notes," ordered Snape after the laughter had subsided. He flicked his wand again and the syllabus erased itself to be replaced by a dozen lines of neat cursive. Harry sighed silently and took out his quill. It took forever to copy down the notes and when they were done Snape quizzed them all one by one.

"What is the key ingredient in a short-term Love Potion?" he snapped at Hermione.

"Lilac leaves," she answered obediently. "Because they promote love and desire, as well as pleasant feelings." Snape glared at her as if he wished she'd answered incorrectly and turned to Harry.

"Potter, in what year was the making of a Love Potion banned at Hogwarts?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to think back to the lines of notes he'd scribbled down hastily earlier. There had been a line about the date; it had been . . .

"We're waiting, Potter."

"1803?" he guessed, and the horrible feeling in his stomach increased.

"No, Potter." Snape's lips curled. "It was in 1903. A stupid mistake, but since you got the first digit correct . . ." He sighed as if this were regrettable and then moved onto the next student.

By the time class was over an hour later, Snape's mood had only gotten worse.

"I want an essay on Love Potions and their antidotes. Two rolls of parchment, due Thursday at the beginning of class." Most of the class groaned, but Snape only glared.

"You know why he's so mad," commented Hermione as she and Harry were heading towards the Great Hall for lunch. "It's because he couldn't give you detention. You didn't give him any reason to." She gave him a one-armed hug. "Thanks. You kept your temper."

"Yeah," said Harry ruefully. "Only 'cause you were kicking me so much. I swear, I'll have bruises for weeks." Grinning back at Hermione he bumped into someone.

"Hey!" cried a small, brown-haired boy.

"Sorry," exclaimed Harry, rubbing his shoulder where he'd hit the boy. To his dismay, he realized it was Conrad Johnson, the rude Gryffindor first-year from the night before.

"Watch it!" he said angrily and shoved past Harry in the direction of the dungeons.

"What's with him?" demanded Harry once Conrad was out of hearing.

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know. I thought last night it was just first-night jitters, but maybe I was wrong."

"Ooh, Hermione Granger just admitted she was wrong! Let's alert the Daily Prophet!" teased Harry.

Hermione blushed, hurrying ahead to sit beside Ginny.

"Hey, Ron," called Harry, sitting down next to him at Gryffindor table. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," said Ron vaguely, staring determinedly at his plate.

"What'd you do for an hour and a half?" asked Harry, taking a bun.

"Oh, I played Wizards' Chess with Seamus and Dean; won three times." Was it his imagination or was Ron mad about something? wondered Harry. He didn't mention it and began to complain about Potions, hoping this might make Ron friendlier.

"We're doing Love Potions. We have to write an essay by Thursday." If Harry had thought this would cheer Ron up he was very wrong.

"Love Potions, eh? We never did anything interesting like that," said Ron, his voice strained. Harry stared at him and then looked at Hermione. She shrugged helplessly and motioned for him to be quiet.

Ron didn't say much on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts after lunch. He walked between Harry and Hermione, who kept on glancing at each other behind his back.

"So," ventured Hermione as they passed a chattering throng of Hufflepuffs. "Do you think Professor Evans will be any good?"

"Must be," Ron grunted. "You said last night he would be." Hermione blushed and when they walked into the classroom she sat on the other side of Harry, two feet from Ron. Harry examined the classroom with interest. It had seen various styles over the years; when Lockhart was teaching, portraits of his smiling face had hung in every available space. In Lupin's era, tanks and cages filled with exotic and interesting creatures filled the room, and in fourth year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had been arranged with sneakoscopes and other dark magic detectors. Professor Evans' classroom resembled none of these, however. His décor was modest and along the walls hung portraits of famous wizards and witches, himself not included. There were a few short bookcases and on his desk was a single inkwell and pen. The blackboard was empty of writing and indeed, Harry thought the room looked quite plain.

Professor Evans himself sat sitting quietly behind his desk, surveying the students as they filed into the room and took their seats. He wore robes of grey that seemed to meld with his white beard. When everyone was quiet and seated he spoke, and Harry was surprised to find his voice, despite his old appearance, was young and alert.

"Welcome to your sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As my dear cousin introduced me last night, I am Professor Evans. It is a pleasure to be working here at Hogwarts again." He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled, not unlike Harry had often seen Dumbledore's do. He glanced around the room and the happy expression on his face faded slightly.

"I haven't been here for fifteen years," he said softly to himself, almost as if he were unaware of the students. Harry and the other Gryffindors waited for a moment before someone in the back of the room cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, there's no time to dwell on things in the past, now is there? What's done is gone and what's gone is gone . . ." Once again Professor Evans' face clouded and he looked older and more weary.

"Um, Professor," said Hermione timidly. "Are you ok?" Professor Evans looked at her as if surprised to see her there. He blinked and any trace of tiredness vanished.

"Yes, my dear, I am," he said thoughtfully. "Now, let me call role and learn all your names." He picked up a piece of parchment on his desk.

"I don't consider myself an exceptionally strict teacher, but I won't put up with funny business and I would appreciate it if you would all try to get your homework in on time," he said in between calling out names. For a few seconds Professor Evans stared at them solemnly, but then he smiled and looked back down at his parchment.

"Harry Potter?"

"Here!" Harry called. There was absolute silence in the classroom. Professor Evans was staring at Harry with- what was it- sadness? He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. With a small chuckle he rearranged his glasses and peered at his list.

"Forgive me, Harry. I was- an Auror, years ago and to see the boy who is destined to defeat the Dark Lord . . ." Harry stared at his teacher. Professor Evans was unlike any adult he'd ever known and- how had he known about the prophecy? Harry had still not told anyone, not even Ron or Hermione. Did Dumbledore tell him? They were cousins after all. Harry couldn't help notice that Professor Evans' hands were shaking when he sat back down at his desk.

"What's with him?" hissed Ron, who seemed to have forgotten he was giving Harry the cold shoulder. Harry shrugged, his attention still focused fully on Professor Evans, who had begun speaking again.

"You are well advanced in the Dark Arts," he said, springing up from his chair again. He didn't even glance at Harry as he spoke and turned instead to the chalkboard.

"Professor Lupin taught you about a lot of the harmful creatures you are likely to meet in your adult life, or even, in some cases," he added apologetically, glancing at Harry's table, "ones you will meet at school. As for Professor Moody." He frowned, his bushy white eyebrows drawn together. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Crouch, showed you the Unforgivable Curses and taught you to arm yourself against them." He didn't even mention any of their other three teachers, and Harry was just as glad that he hadn't. None of them had been particularly useful except for maybe Professor Lockhart who had accompanied Harry and Ron into the Chamber of Secrets.

"This year we will be studying Patronus' and many other useful spells to protect you from Dark Wizards." Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged amused glances, as did most of the other students in the class. During fifth year, Harry had taught a good number of students how to conjure a corporeal Patronus. He himself had learned it and mastered it in his third year with Professor Lupin.

"Professor!" called Lavender, waving her hand in the air. "We know how to-"

"Yes, Miss Brown, Professor Dumbledore informed me that a number of you have already succeeded in mastering the Patronus Charm. However, we will brush up on them. After all, what with the Dementors in the open and under the Dark Lord's power, we must be prepared." His eyes twinkled and he looked for the second time at Harry.

"Now, most of your Patronuses probably already have a corporeal figure of some sort. Most represent the animal that is most special to a person or correlates to them in some way. It could even by something as simple as their favorite animal. Would anyone like to tell me what kind of Patronus they have?" Professor Evans looked around the room and selected Parvati.

"Can you tell me what your Patronus is, dear?" he asked kindly.

She giggled nervously. "Mine's a cat. Because it's my favorite animal," she added hastily. Professor Evans raised his eyebrows, and she giggled again.

"Well, that's nice, Parvati. Harry, I believe you've got a symbolic Patronus?" He left the question hanging in the air. Harry took a deep breath. His Patronus was a stag, the animal that James had chosen as his Animagus. But no one was supposed to know that his father had been an illegal Animagus. Did Professor Evans . . .?

"A stag," Harry mumbled. "My father tried to, er, become an Animagus and- he failed. But that's what he would've been." Professor Evans stared at him for a moment as if he knew this was false and then said briskly, "yes, that is a symbolic Patronus, isn't it?" No one answered. Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry but he motioned for them to be quiet.

For the rest of the class Professor Evans dictated notes to them, preferring not to write them on the board. He ended by assigning them the task of deciding what their Patronus' form would be and explain why. Their essay did not have to have great detail if it was a simple reason, and he let them five minutes early.

"Weird," was Ron's first comment when they were out the door on their way to Gryffindor Tower to get their dragon hide gloves for Herbology. "Why did he keep on looking at you like that, Harry?"

"You think I know?" Harry asked. He seemed strangely distant from Ron and Hermione, as if he shared a secret that they didn't. Professor Evans had known something about him, but what was it?

* * *

"No homework," announced Ron, a satisfied grin on his face. He leaned back in his armchair, hands behind his head. Harry groaned, shuffling through his notes on Love Potions.

"You know, there are advantages to only getting 'Acceptable' on O. W. L.'s," continued Ron. "For one thing, it means less homework."

"Don't let your mum hear you sat that," warned Hermione. "You told us she was furious you didn't get an 'Outstanding' on your Potions O.W.L. Besides, you could always work on our Transfiguration essay," she added irritably, squinting at her tiny, neat lines of notes.

"Nah," said Ron dismissively. "I think I'll leave that for another day." Hermione scowled but didn't say anything.

Tuesday, it seemed to Harry, was most definitely more interesting that Monday had been. For one thing, when they showed up to Care of Magical Creatures first thing in the morning, Hagrid was back.

"Hagrid!" exclaimed Hermione delightedly, dropping her bag onto the grass and rushing over to give him a hug.

"Hagrid! Where were you?" demanded Ron. "We thought maybe Graw-" He choked; Harry had elbowed him in the stomach to keep him from mentioning Hagrid's younger brother.

"We thought- er, your friend in the forest had done something to you," explained Hermione, glaring at Ron and indicating the other approaching Gryffindors.

"Hagrid, are you ok?" asked Harry, voicing all their worries.

Hagrid smiled and chuckled. He looked quite different than they had seen him last time. Last year he had been almost constantly bruised and bloodied by his giant brother, Grawp, whom he'd taken to live in the forest. Now, his face, though some might've argued it would've been hard to tell because of his tangled black beard, was clear of bruises except for one thin pale line across his eyebrow.

"I'm fine, Harry. What've you three bin up to, eh?" he asked, smiling at them. Harry exchanged confused glances with Ron and Hermione

"Well, school just started yesterday, Hagrid," said Hermione uncertainly. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, well," said Hagrid evasively, looking behind her at the group of students milling about. "Tell ye what," he said quietly, bending down so they had to strain to hear him. "Come to me hut later- after yer lessons, mind, and I'll tell ye where I've been. Nothin' bad," he added hastily. "Jus' don't want it spread 'round school." Hagrid straightened up and addressed the Gryffindors and Slytherins assembled.

"All yeh have a good summer? Right, well, let's get down to business," he said, not giving anyone the chance to answer. "Are we all here?" He looked around expectantly as if waiting for whomever was not there to tell him so. Hagrid frowned, counting the students.

"Wait a minute," he growled. "Where's Malfoy? If he's skippin' second day o' school . . ."

"Hagrid!" cried Lavender, looking shocked.

Pansy Parkinson glared at him venomously. "How dare you say that about Draco!" she shrieked hysterically, her face red and puffy. "You horrible man!" she screamed and then burst into sobs. The other Slytherins all glared at Hagrid as Millicent Bulstrode put her arm around Pansy comfortingly, going, "there, there."

"What'd I say?" asked Hagrid helplessly, looking to Harry for explanation.

"Er," said Hermione, glancing over at the Slytherins nervously. "Didn't- didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you?" she asked in disbelief.

"He said somethin' 'bout Malfoy, but I might not'a bin listenin' properly," said Hagrid, abashed.

"He's dead," said Harry harshly, glancing at the Slytherins as he said it. They weren't paying any attention to him, though, still trying to calm down Pansy.

"Dumbledore told us at the opening feast," put in Dean anxiously.

"What?" Hagrid stared at them. "You're pullin' me leg," he said at last, stroking his beard.

Ron shook his head. "Nah. The git died during the summer somehow. Dumbledore wouldn't say," he added, looking slightly indignant.

"Ron!" snapped Hermione. The Gryffindors stared in apprehension at Hagrid, who was silent, obviously shocked at what they'd just told him.

"Go to the Hospital Wing," he told Pansy, his eyes big and blank. He waved his hand in the general hand of the castle. "I didn't know. Go calm yourself down. One of your friends will help you get caught up," he said kindly. Pansy just glared at him and then turned on her heel with a swish of her skirts. Making a face at Hagrid, Millicent Bulstrode followed her.

"Blimey," said Hagrid at last, when they had gone. "Draco Malfoy?" he asked suddenly, as if hopeful there could be two Malfoys. "Lucius' son?"

"There's only one," said Harry grimly.

"Thank God," muttered Ron under his breath.

"And now there's none," quipped Dean and Seamus together. They fell over laughing, joined by Ron, and received a reproving glance not only from Hermione but from Hagrid as well.

"It's not somethin' to laugh at," he said gruffly, picking up a wooden cage and setting it on a table in front of him. "Malfoy might've been a bad apple but he's still dead."

"Might've?" asked Ron is disbelief. "Hagrid, Malfoy was as bad as they come-"

"And we'll discuss this later," said Hagrid firmly, raising his eyebrows. "Now, the rest of you," he said in louder tones, "we'll be studyin' pixies for the next few weeks." He patted the wooden cage on the table, and it shook violently. "I've got 'bout twenty in here," Hagrid said proudly. Harry and Ron looked at each other and then at the box. Memories of pixies throwing books around, ripping their cloaks and hanging Neville on the chandelier, stayed prominently in their minds. The last time they had seen pixies in a class had been in second year when Professor Lockhart had 'innocently' released them to cause havoc. It appeared they were not the only ones to remember the incident because instantly Neville stepped back a few feet, shuddering nervously, and Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"Hagrid?" she asked timidly, jumping slightly as the box wobbled once more. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Oh, sure. Don't worry, Hermione. I'm only letting out a few today. I've got special permission to use a wand for these lessons," he said, winking at her, and holding up a long wand. "Just in case." Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances. They both knew very well that Hagrid kept the pieces of his broken wand in his pink umbrella and used them illegally every now and then.

"Now, when I open the crate I'll take two out. These are Devonshire pixies and tend to be more relaxed. They're also curious, mind, and might fly close t'you to get a better look. Don't make any sudden moves- pixies can be dreadfully shy and are frightened easily."

"Are you sure he's talking about pixies?" whispered Ron. Harry didn't answer; he had wondered that himself. Perhaps Hagrid, who had been expelled in his third year, was thinking of a different magical creature? The only pixies he had ever seen had seen violent and tricky, almost like Peeves, Hogwarts resident poltergeist.

"Why are they shaking the cage if they're so shy?" demanded Seamus, looking more than a little panicked.

"Don't like being shut up in small, dark spaces," said Hagrid offhand, glancing down at the box. "Scares them. Which is all the more reason to let them out and start the lesson!" he said, grinning as if he thought this would cheer up the Slytherins. With a little clack followed by a snap, the lid to the box swung open and three or four pixies darted out. Instantly Hagrid grabbed two of them and stuffed them back into the box, slamming it shut. They could hear angry squeaks coming from it but they were quickly drowned out in the noise from the students.

"Aren't they adorable?" squealed Lavender, jumping up and down with Parvati. They were indeed nothing like the Cornish pixies Lockhart had brought in. Instead of a menacing personality, the two pixies in front of them looked like they would like nothing more than to just look back at the students. Their big black eyes blinked as they stared around; their gossamer, transparent wings fluttered behind them. One of them gave a little squeak and began zooming around the students, its small green body a blur.

"Oh!" gasped Hermione as it stopped in front of her quickly, a lock of her brown hair in its tiny hands.

"Aw," chorused Lavender and Parvati together, throwing jealous glances at Hermione. The pixie, who was only about five inches high, chattered ceaselessly, still grasping her hair. Hermione laughed and cupped it gently in her hands. The other pixie, which was a darker green with a few mottled brown spots, flew more slowly around the circle of students, examining each one. Even the Slytherins, who were still throwing angry looks at Hagrid, couldn't help themselves from stepping closer to peer at the pixie.

"That's it," said Hagrid proudly. "Yer doing fine, Hermione. Just let it look at you. They like things they haven't seen before. And shiny things!" he added, as the second pixie made a grab for Neville's watch. Neville yelped and stumbled backward into a large Slytherin who laughed meanly and pushed him back.

They spent the rest of class listening to Hagrid as he explained about pixies and their habits. Eventually he let five more out of the cage and grouped them together so they could look at them more closely.

They were packing up at the end of class when Hagrid shouted, startling them all.

"Oy! Who're you?" he asked sharply. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned as one to see Conrad Johnson scowling, standing about five yards away.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me down here to make sure you got back ok!" he called.

"Well, tell him I'm here," Hagrid yelled back. When Conrad had nodded and started trotting back to the castle he frowned and began rubbing his beard again.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"This pesky first year," informed Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Slytherin?"

"Gryffindor," said Harry and Ron together. Hagrid raised his eyebrows and looked thoughtfully at Conrad's quickly retreating back.

"He's an obnoxious twerp that should be in Slytherin but is unfortunately not," Ron clarified, grimacing.

"Ron!" said Hermione indignantly. "Maybe Conrad's in Gryffindor for a reason! We just don't know it yet."

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," protested Ron. "That prat? He's a little snot who got too big for his britches and thinks he's our age!"

"Guys?" said Harry, cutting Hermione off as she opened her mouth angrily. "We're going to be late for Charms." Ron and Hermione murmured assent, still glaring at each other.

"Come see me after yer lessons," called Hagrid. "And stop fighting, you two!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron grouchily.

"Ron, you have got to stop judging people! It's like Nick said-" began Hermione.

"Don't start," interrupted Harry. Ron and Hermione didn't speak all through Charms (where they practiced Popping Charms- "That would've been useful on Aunt Marge," grumbled Harry) and were still giving each other the silent treatment at lunch. Harry, after trying unsuccessfully to get them to speak to each other had finally given up and was eating his meal in silence.

"Potter!" Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall striding toward him.

"What'd I do?" he asked tiredly, dimly aware that both Ron and Hermione were watching.

"Nothing yet," she replied dryly, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I need to speak to you for a minute, Potter." Harry rose and followed her just outside the Great Hall. It was then that he noticed she was holding something behind her back.

"Potter, as you probably remember. Dolores Umbridge took away your Quidditch privileges last year and confiscated your broomstick." Professor McGonagall stopped, staring at him sternly behind her glasses. Harry remembered all too well how Umbridge had stripped him of not only his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team but also his prized Firebolt, the fastest racing broom in the world. Bile rose in his throat as he thought of it, the memory still painful.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore has written to Prime Minister Cornelius Fudge and he has repealed this, er, punishment." From behind her back Professor McGonagall drew Harry's Firebolt. He reached for it hesitatingly, unsure if he were awake or dreaming for a moment. The second he had it in his hands, though, Harry felt excitement rise in him and he knew he wasn't dreaming. His Firebolt looked as good as it had the day he'd gotten it. Each twig was still bent perfectly in shape and the handle gleamed as if it'd never been out of Harry's trunk. For a split second, Harry felt as thought Sirius were standing behind him, beaming. He had turned halfway around to greet his godfather when he remembered Sirius would never be there, that he couldn't be there.

"Thank you," he managed at last, his excitement at receiving his Firebolt overshadowed by his sudden grief. "Does this mean I'm back on the team?"

"If Ginny Weasley doesn't mind giving up her position as Seeker," smiled Professor McGonagall. "Gryffindor team is in need of two new Chasers. Perhaps she can take over for one of those spots." Harry's heart sunk. He had forgotten that two of the Gryffindor Chasers, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, had left Hogwarts.

"So, who's the new captain?" he asked, his voice dull. "Katie?" Even without their Seeker, Slytherin would have an easy time beating Gryffindor if they had only one chaser and no captain, not to mention how Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would flatten them.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall, and the hint of a smile had returned. "So far, the only good choice is you." She waited a moment while Harry stared at her in shocked silence.

"But- but what about Katie? She's in seventh year!"

"She's decided to take more classes this year for her chosen career and she doesn't think she'll have enough time or energy to be Quidditch Captain as well," she said lightly, as though she were announcing the weather. "Weasley has only been on the team for a year and is- rather inexperienced. The Weasley twins have left, leaving you the most reliable and experienced player."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. "Can I decline?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to arouse Professor McGonagall's wrath.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but I don't see why you would. Gryffindor team will not be much of a team without a Captain, now will it?" When she next spoke her manner was brisk and sharp. "I expect your answer by tomorrow in class, Potter." Professor McGonagall inclined her head sharply and turned, leaving Harry stunned and shaky. Looking at his Firebolt, he stumbled dazily back into the Great Hall. Quidditch Captain. He shivered. Not even with the fastest broom in the world did he feel confident enough to lead Gryffindor's team. What if he failed miserably and they were knocked out of the running for the Quidditch Cup in their first game? But that was impossible, he reminded himself.

Harry sat back down in his seat between Ron and Hermione who glanced furtively at each other and then both started talking at once.

"What did she say?" Ron demanded eagerly.

"Harry, that's your Firebolt!" gasped Hermione, seeing what Ron had not noticed. Ron gaped and then touched it almost reverently. All along the table Gryffindors were craning their heads to see what people were gawking at.

"You got it back, Harry?" asked Neville excitedly.

"Yep," replied Harry, still unable to believe what Professor McGonagall had just told him. "I'm back on the team. If you don't mind giving up Seeker," he said apologetically to Ginny. "You can be a Chaser if you want. We need two new ones."

"Of course!" exclaimed Ginny automatically. "Who's the new captain? Katie?"

Harry shook his head dumbly. "Me. If I want to be." He was suddenly aware that the entire table was silent. Ron and Hermione were staring at him.

"Congratulations," said Hermione at last and gave him a hug, which Harry appreciated because it was a well-known fact that Hermione did not distinctly care for Quidditch.

"Yeah," said Ron in a slightly strangled voice. "Con- congratulations."

"Thanks," said Harry, relieved that they were taking it pretty well. "Both of you. And thanks for not fighting anymore."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "We agreed not to argue."

"Try not to argue at least," amended Ron.

"That's all I ask," said Harry gratefully. "Want to come up with me to put my Firebolt away?" he asked Ron, who readily agreed. Gulping down the last of their food, Harry wiped his hands on his napkin so as not to stain the wood of his broom and they ran up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"Fizzy butterbeer," panted Harry and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open.

"So are you going to be Captain?" asked Ron.

"Dunno," said Harry, the sinking feeling in his stomach again. "I can't do pep talks or make up fancy moves like Oliver could. I need to- need to think about it." When the Firebolt had been replaced in the trunk and they had begun ascending the stairs to Divination, Harry was still running the possibility through his mind. Harry Potter, Quidditch Captain, he thought, picturing the title on his scarlet Quidditch robes. Why not, he shrugged. It was definitely something to think about.