Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 3

Mudbloods in Gryffindor

When Harry and Ron raced up the stairs to Divination a few hours later, the rest of the class was already standing around the trapdoor, obviously waiting.

"Can't be very hard to get into this O.W.L. class, now can it?" said Ron sarcastically, noting the number of students still in Divination. "And to think I was happy to find out I got an 'A'!"

"Why couldn't it have been a 'P'?" mocked Harry, grinning. Just then the trapdoor swung open with a loud bang. Lavender Brown, who was standing nearest to the ladder with Parvati Patil, jumped back with a loud shriek.

"Please do not be alarmed, my dears," came the ethereal voce of Professor Trelawny. "I'm afraid that I had a calling from my crystal ball that I couldn't ignore . . ." Ron sniggered as one by one the students climbed the ladder and emerged into the hot, stuffy classroom. Harry glanced quickly at the room; it had not changed much since they had last been in there, months ago. There were still the same old small, round tables with lacy tablecloths, the same roaring fireplace that never seemed to go out, and the endless rows of pink and blue teacups on the shelves along the wall. He found himself looking around expectantly for Firenze, the centaur who had taken over Divination for the last few months of the previous year after Trelawney had been sacked by Umbridge.

"Professor Trelawny!" squealed Lavender, rushing forward with Parvati and giving their teacher a hug. "You're teaching again!"

"What, like we'd be studying with Firenze in this puff palace?" said Ron, rather loudly.

"Yes, my dears," said Professor Trelawny, choosing to ignore Ron's comment. "I am indeed back. Our kind Headmaster does not need Seeing abilities to know that you students are in need of a real . . ." she sniffed, her nose wrinkling, "-Divination teacher."

"But where's Firenze?" asked Parvati, not comprehending Professor Trelawny's words. "Is he teaching, too?" She and Lavender giggled nervously.

"Oh, come off it," protested Ron, looking furiously at them. "He's only half human. Just because you want to stare at his bare chest-"

"The centaur and I will be taking turns teaching you," interrupted Professor Trelawny, her normal vague tone a bit higher than normal. "While we will progress to higher levels of the true art of Divination." She sniffed again. "He will be showing you the stars and heavens and teaching you how they correlate to our lives. If they indeed do at all," she muttered under her breath.

"Miserable coot," muttered Ron. "She's just mad 'cause Firenze was teaching it. I suppose all those birth charts we had to do were a load of tosh, too . . ."

"Oh, no, Professor!" said Lavender, sounding shocked. "Firenze is a great teacher. He was explaining all about centaurs and how they interpret the universe."

"And the room is ever so beautiful," sighed Parvati, a dreamy expression on her face.

"The room or the teacher?" whispered Ron irritably.

"Yes, but surely you do not think that you see what fate has in store for the wizarding world by looking at a bunch of stars," said Professor Trelawny contemptuously, her voice cold.

"Yes, but-" began Lavender, but she was quickly silenced by a kick from Parvati.

"Now, if you would all take your seats," said Professor Trelawny. Slowly they did so. Lavender was in a hurried conversation with Parvati and kept shooting angry glances near the front of the room.

"Shame, isn't it," said Ron brightly as he and Harry took out their copies of The Art of Seeing, by Emeliah Henslick. "The old bat's lost her pets." Indeed, both Lavender and Parvati were looking at Trelawny with mixed looks of shock and indignation.

"Since I have no idea how much damage that centaur did to your divining abilities last semester, we will be reviewing the basics for the next few classes." Harry and Ron were not the only ones to groan.

"Once was bad enough," moaned Ron.

Trelawny glared at the class. "By now you should have seen that there are crystal balls on each of the tables- see what you can in the mystical fog of the crystal and record it." She flounced huffily to her large armchair near the fire and sat down, surveying the class.

Harry sighed and pulled the glass ball towards him. The white fog inside swirled into meaningless wisps that faded away.

"If you concentrate really hard you can almost imagine the ball's full of snowflakes," said Ron several minutes later, twisting his body at all different angles as he peered into his crystal. Harry smothered chuckles as Ron pretended scoop his crystal ball into a snowball and throw at Trelawny.

"This is cool stuff, mate! It's freezing cold and hurts like heck when it hits you! Hey, if you try hard, you can even see your future when it's speeding right at you."

"And what strange and mysterious events occur in your future?" asked Harry.

"I- I don't believe it!" exclaimed Ron in mock horror. "Harry! My snowball is telling me you're going to die an early death- from an avalanche! And then you'll die again when you're twenty! And, cripes, when you're thirty, too!" Ron laughed loudly and received a reproachful glare from Professor Trelawny, but Harry only managed a weak chuckle. Harry had thought about death a lot over the summer, and suddenly Trelawny's insistent predictions that Harry would not live throughout his schooling seemed much more possible.

With a chill, Harry remembered the prophecy Dumbledore had told him last year, the one saying either he would die at the hand of Voldemort- or Voldemort would die at his. Harry had always been sure he could never intentionally hurt someone (well, except for maybe Draco Malfoy) but if he didn't kill Voldemort, he himself would be murdered. Harry studied Ron, only half-aware that his best friend was saying something. So far Harry hadn't told anyone about the prophecy, not even Ron or Hermione. A small part of him was afraid that neither of them would want to be friends with him anymore, knowing that he might eventually kill someone.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" Ron's worried voice sliced through Harry's thoughts like a knife.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Harry stared into his crystal ball to avoid looking at Ron's concerned face. It was the first time in a while that Trelawny hadn't firmly insisted Harry wouldn't live throughout the year. Though he had never exactly taken Divination seriously, Harry couldn't help but wonder if this were a bad omen.

When they reached Hagrid's hut after lessons had ended for the day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still discussing the possible reasons he hadn't been there for the start of term.

"Perhaps Dumbledore sent him off to the giants again," suggested Ron.

"I'm sure he wouldn't!" argued Hermione, sounding shocked. "Dumbledore would have gone himself probably."

"But he wouldn't have left Hogwarts! Not with- not with You-Know-Who back," said Ron nervously.

"You mean Voldemort?" asked Hermione frostily. Ron jumped and then glanced around wildly, as if afraid that one of his Death Eaters would pop up at the sound of their master's name.

"Don't say that name!" hissed Ron angrily.

"Honestly," said Hermione scornfully. "You don't have to use it, but you could at least stop badgering me about it!"

Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, ignoring his two friends' bickering voices. They could hear scratching on the other side of the door and a loud barking.

"Fang, off!" they heard Hagrid shout, and suddenly the door swung open.

"Hey, Hagrid," said Harry cheerfully, giving Fang a pat on the head as he edged in the door.

"Hullo, you three," said Hagrid brightly, still struggling to keep a hold on Fang. Ron and Hermione murmured their hellos and followed Harry into Hagrid's hut.

"Was wonderin'' when you'd get here. Would anyone like a sandwich?" He held up a platter of lumpy mounds of bread that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had long ago learned to avoid.

"No thanks, Hagrid," said Hermione politely. She grimaced as a strand of Fang's drool landed on her knee.

"So where were you?" asked Harry urgently. In unison the three leaned forward as if there were a dozen eaves-droppers around the table waiting to hear the answer.

"Well . . . " said Hagrid slowly, turning red. "If you must know, I had a hearing."

"At the Ministry?" demanded Hermione, shocked. "But- but why?" she demanded, voicing aloud Harry's thoughts.

Hagrid looked sheepish. "You remember last year when that Umbridge lady tried to have me removed?"

"How could we forget?" demanded Hermione indignantly. "We saw it all from the Astronomy Tower during our O.W.L.'s! But you came back when Dumbledore did!"

"Hagrid, what were you tried for?" asked Harry urgently.

"You weren't convicted or anything, were you?" Hermione's worried words were followed by a short silence broken only by a snort from Ron.

"Yeah, Hermione, if he were convicted he'd be back here teaching instead of sitting in dear old Azkaban," said Ron snidely. He and Hermione glared at each other.

Hagrid chuckled. "Hold yer horses, you two, and let me talk. I got off alright. Dumbledore was my witness and Professor McGonagall sent a statement sayin' how the Ministry had started attackin' me without reason."

"But what were you tried for?" repeated Harry angrily. "Because you fought Umbridge's men? Because they were treating you like scum that needed to be dragged to prison?"

"I'm sorry, did someone just say 'Lucius Malfoy'?" asked Ron sarcastically.

"Yeah, they accused me of fleeing the law and running from the Ministry officials. Not to mention I put a few o' 'em in the hospital." He looked almost proud.

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Hermione. "Because you refused to leave Hogwarts when you hadn't done anything? They didn't even have authority to use magic against you, did they?"

"Hermione," said Hagrid kindly, as if she were a little girl that did not understand the ways of the world. "The Ministry can do what it wants. Jus' because it's not fair doesn't mean they won't do it."

"But that's wrong!" said Hermione furiously.

"Yeah, well, that's basically what Dumbledore told them," said Hagrid easily, as if it didn't bother him in the least.

"When was the hearing?" asked Harry quietly. Vivid memories of his own hearing from the summer before last came rushing, unbidden, into his head. He could remember the confident, sneering smirks of Fudge and all his cronies, convinced that at last they would be able to lock the delirious, mad Harry Potter away for good. If Dumbledore hadn't been there on his behalf he would probably be at Privet Drive with the Dursleys.

"First day o' school," said Hagrid, and for the first time he sounded irritated. "Doin' it then so Dumbledore wouldn't come. Great man, though," he muttered half to himself. "Came even though it meant leaving Hogwarts."

"Of course he came!" said Hermione indignantly.

"Hope Dumbledore gave Fudge a piece of his mind," said Ron viciously.

Hagrid chucked again. "Oh, he did. Looked downright ashamed in the end, Fudge did."

"Serves him right," said Hermione severely, prompting surprised looks from Harry and Ron. "Putting that horrible woman at our school for the year!" A tea kettle whistle blew in the background, and Hagrid got up to pour them all cups of tea.

"So tell me about Malfoy," he said gruffly, sitting down again and looking up expectantly. "What happened to 'im?" There was an awkward silence while Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other.

"Erm, Dumbledore didn't exactly tell us," said Ron finally. "Git died during the summer, that's all he would say."

"Odd," commented Hagrid. "I would've thought Dumbledore would tell us teachers what happened."

"Hagrid," said Hermione disapprovingly. "You said before you weren't really listening when Dumbledore told you about Malfoy." Hagrid blushed and mumbled something under his breath.

"So, Hagrid," said Ron, glancing towards the windows nervously . "Where is your little friend?"

"Oh, Grawpy's still in the forest. He's learned loads more English and has started to calm down." Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. What Hagrid considered calm was probably what other people would consider terrifying.

"Hasn't anyone found out about him, yet?" asked Ron cautiously. "It's not like he's a quiet giant, or anything . . ."

"Tuh tell the truth, I think maybe Dumbledore knows. Think the centaurs might've told him when he rescued that- that- your professor. Hasn't said anything, though. Great man, Dumbledore," he repeated to himself.

"And the centaurs?" demanded Ron. "What happened to them?"

Hagrid shrugged. "Nothin'. They're still there. A Ministry official went to talk to 'em but they all but kicked 'im out o' the forest. Said 'twas the wizards' fault that You-Know-Who was back. Fed up with humans. Don' reckon they'd join You-Know-Who either if he asked 'em. Don't even talk to me anymore." He frowned moodily, staring at the fireplace.

"Hagrid, has anything else happened with the giants?" asked Harry after a moment's silence, wondering if they would get an answer. Hagrid surveyed them a moment, as if trying to figure out an inner motive. At last he sighed.

"Well, suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell yeh. The Ministry sent an official letter of apology to the giants. Not really a letter to tell the truth- giants can't read o' course. More like- like an envoy. Anyways, the giants started attacking them. There only 'peared to be one Death Eater there, though, which is good news. The whole lot's been shoved into Azkaban where they belong." Hagrid growled the last bit, and for a moment he looked as if he would like to break something. He sighed deeply before continuing.

"Anyways, the Ministry was badly outnumbered by all the giants and they left. Not before one of them officials lost an arm, though."

"The Ministry went to the giants?" demanded Hermione, appalled. "After trying to kill them off and everything?"

"Oh, sure, Hermione, let's start S.P.B.G.," snapped Ron impatiently.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Spubug?" she inquired coolly.

"Society for the Promotion of Brutal Giants," said Ron grimly. "Our main goals are to improve wizard relations, teach them to read and write, and then we'll introduce them to the Muggles as friendly non-harmful folk." Harry snorted into his tea and even Hagrid couldn't help giving a small smile. Hermione, however, was not amused.

"You don't need to be so condescending," she hissed. "It's not like you could ever accomplish any of those monumental tasks anyway!"

"Why not?" demanded Ron sharply, and Harry could tell Hermione had struck a nerve. "You think I wouldn't be able to teach them how to be civil?"

"Of course you couldn't teach politeness and courtesy," responded Hermione loftily. "After all, you have yet to learn yourself . . ." Ron was extremely red in the face, his cheeks the color of his hair. Hermione smirked and took a sip of tea.

"However, I am glad you remembered what the first two letters stand for," said Hermione sweetly. "You're learning." For a split second Harry was afraid that Ron was reaching for his wand but then he saw that his best friend was only clenching his fist which, it struck Harry, probably wasn't a good sign in and of itself.

"That's enough, you two," said Hagrid loudly. He looked at Harry for support but all Harry could do was shrug.

"It's probably best you head back off to the castle anyway. Getting' late." Hagrid indicated the black sky outside the window. Harry slowly stood up. After a few seconds of glaring, Ron and Hermione did as well.

"See you soon, Hagrid," chirped Hermione with forced cheerfulness. On the way back to the castle Ron and Hermione ignored each other, consequentially ignoring Harry as well.

"So, Harry, what are you going to tell Professor McGonagall tomorrow?" asked Hermione once in the Gryffindor common room. She didn't even glance at Ron as she spoke.

"Er, I don't know," said Harry, confused for a moment. "What am I going to say?" Hermione sighed exasperatedly and she and Ron both started speaking at once.

"About the Quidditch Captaincy-"

"Are you going to be Captain?" demanded Ron. Hermione and Ron glared at each other.

"I- I guess so," said Harry, momentarily struck dumb as the idea entered his head. He hadn't thought about it in hours, not since Divination. He had even forgotten to tell Hagrid about it. What would he say?" Harry wondered, finding himself back at Hagrid's hut.

"Go fer it, Harry," he would chuckle. "Quidditch Captain! You'd win ev'ry game fer sure!"

Harry smiled, distantly aware that Ron and Hermione were still watching him. Yes, that was probably would Hagrid would say. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. But it wouldn't be true. They'd probably lose every game-

"Harry, I'm going to go do some homework," said Hermione gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and yanking him out of his thoughts. "Tell me in the morning." She smiled and then, still ignoring Ron, went to join Ginny at a table in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, mate, it's late," said Ron, not bothering to stifle a yawn. "No time for homework tonight."

"I think I'll stay down here for a bit," said Harry. "Go work with Hermione, I think." For a moment it looked as if Ron wanted to protest but he only bit his lip and shrugged.

"Night, then," and he began to ascend the circular steps leading to the dormitories. Harry sat down next to Hermione, who was in the middle of explaining Popping Charms to Neville. Ginny was twirling a strand of copper red hair around her finger, chewing on her bottom lip. In the corner Seamus was eyeing a pretty group of Gryffindor seventh years while Dean looked on, his eyes unfocused. Harry smiled, remembering that Ginny had been planning to ask him out. From the way Dean kept on missing Seamus' question and looking at their table, Harry was pretty sure she already had.

Sighing, Harry pulled out the beginnings of his Potions essay. He groaned, noticing that Hermione had already filled three scrolls with neat, tiny writing all about Love Potions.

"Where do you get it all?" he demanded when she had turned away from Neville. She smiled, amused. "Researching helps."

Harry chuckled, dipping his quill into his ink. The tension that had been between Ron and Hermione all afternoon had evaporated, and Harry felt much the better for it.

"So what are you going to do about Quidditch?" asked Hermione quietly, glancing at him as she started separating her Transfiguration notes from her Charms notes.

"What about Quidditch?" asked Neville, looking up from his homework. Harry and Ginny suppressed smiles at the trail of black trail of ink on his cheek. Hermione leaned over and wiped it off with her handkerchief, rolling her eyes at them.

"He's been asked to be Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," responded Ginny immediately. There was a sudden hush over the common room as various heads turned towards their table.

"Oh, wow, Harry, that's really great!" said Neville excitedly, his face glowing. "Are you going to do it?" Instantly Seamus and Dean had pulled chairs over to their table and were all clamoring the same question.

"Thanks, Ginny," mumbled Harry under his breath. She giggled, blushing as Dean slipped a tentative arm around her shoulders.

"Ron's not here, is he?" Dean whispered, glancing around frantically.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's upstairs." Dean smiled and relaxed while Harry and Hermione exchanged amused glances.

"Poor Ron," said Hermione sympathetically, looking as if she were almost ready to forgive him. "The things his little sister does when he's not watching . . ." There were some chuckles around the table while Dean blushed and Ginny looked on, unabashed.

"So, are you going to take it?" asked Seamus urgently. "You'd be a great Captain!" Other students, including some Harry only knew by sight, murmured appreciatively. From the corner of his eye Harry could see a group of Gryffindor first years looking at the older students enviously. The only ones he could recognize by name were Conrad Johnson and a girl named Anna.

"I don't know if I could," said Harry slowly but instantly a round of protests went up from the Gryffindors.

"C'mon, you're a great Seeker!" bellowed Seamus. "Gryffindor needs you!"

"It's not like I'm quitting the team," said Harry irritably.

"But you're the best one they have," exclaimed Lavender and she and Parvati giggled. "I mean, there's Ron, but . . ."

"What about Ron?" demanded Ginny, her usually calm face red. Lavender rolled her eyes and Parvati pretended to study her fingernails.

"We'll all help you, Harry," said Dean.

"Well, he's not playing futbol, is he?" demanded a voice sarcastically. As one, the group clustered around Harry's table turned to see Ron standing at the foot of the stairs, his red hair rumpled. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dean's arm snake from around Ginny's waist quicker than he could say 'Parseltoungue.'

"Honestly, you're all loud enough to wake Snape in his dungeon," continued Ron. "And Snape in his pajamas is probably not a pretty sight . . ." Harry groaned along with the rest of the Gryffindor boys while the girls wrinkled their noses and rolled their eyes.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" snapped Ginny, obviously annoyed that Dean wasn't willing to hug her with her jealous older brother around.

"Keeping you from waking the dead," said Ron vaguely, coming to the table. He grinned. "Namely Malfoy." More groans circulated the table.

"Oy, Harry!" exclaimed Seaumus excitedly. "Can you imagine the git's face if he knew you were a Quidditch Captain?" He roared with laughter, and then did several comical sneers at them.

"I'm not sure that I-" began Harry but he was cut off.

"Oh, how could they let Potter be Captain?" moaned Seamus, really getting into his act. He staggered around the table as if bleeding. "You'd think as one last, final tribute to me, Slytherin's greatest prat, they'd kick him off the team completely!"

"Which they did," Ginny pointed out. "And then they put him back on."

"You guys," said Hermione quietly, shooting glances at the still watching first years. "We have to set an example!" One of the new girl's mouth was open, her eyes wide in shock. Anna was glaring at them angrily and Conrad Johnson was shooting venomous looks at them.

"Ah, right," said Seamus loudly. "Can't contaminate the ears of Gryffindor's young and innocent!"

"Not that we were ever that way ourselves," grinned Ron, prompting another series of roars of approval.

"Some of us are trying to do homework," said Hermione, gritting her teeth. "Seamus, if you want to insult Malfoy, do it in your dormitory. That way when his ghost comes back to haunt you it won't have to pass through us to reach you!" She was glaring so fiercely that no one contradicted her, not even Ron, who looked as though he was ready for another argument. Seamus nodded, red, and went back to his corner, exchanging glances with Dean. Slowly, the crowd around Harry's table left and he was once more able to see his homework.

"Hermione, why did you have to go and do that?" demanded Ron angrily. "We were having fun!"

"Ron, we're the Gryffindor prefects!" hissed Hermione, equally mad. "We shouldn't be making fun of Slytherin, not in front of the first years!"

"Ok, fine, be perfect and nice and forget everything Malfoy ever said to you," snapped Ron. "I thought you were saying at dinner on Sunday how you were happy he would never call you a 'mudblood' again!" His voice had risen so that they were now attracting stares from around the room.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to be perfectly beastly about his death!" cried Hermione, standing up and shoving her chair away with a bang. "It's exactly what he would do!"

"Um, guys," said Harry cautiously. Neville scooted his chair six inches further back from the table. Even Ginny looked scared at their livid faces, the paleness of her face contrasting with her red hair.

"What?" they snapped together.

"If you were trying to set a good example for the younger kids, you're not doing a very good job," said Harry quietly. Hermione stared at him and then shook her head, her anger gone.

"You're right," she said wearily and gave Ron a small smile. "Let's not talk about him anymore, ok? Our fighting would've made him happy."

"Yeah," agreed Ron gruffly. "Sorry." Hermione nodded and smiled nervously. They sat down at the table on either side of Harry. Neville, sighing loudly in relief, moved his chair back to the table.

"So, what are we working on?" asked Ron brightly, his gaze squarely on the table. Harry smothered chuckles and Hermione smiled for real.

"Ron," she said gently, as if speaking to a toddler. "You're in your pajamas. Go to bed." Ron stared at her, looked down at his orange, Chudley Cannon tee shirt, and blushed.

"Er, right," he said, clearing his throat and standing up. "I'll be going now. Good night." Hermione laughed as soon as he had disappeared.

"I'm going to bed, too," she announced, biting back a smile as Ginny beckoned Dean over again.

"Night," said Harry vaguely. He stared at his Potions essay for a minute and then sighed. What with the Quidditch conversation, making fun of Malfoy, and Ron and Hermione's fight, he had gotten zilch done. Harry rolled up his parchment and headed up the stairs, wondering if he should tell Ron that his younger sister was currently sharing a seat with one of his fellow sixth year and whispering things in his ear. Better not, Harry decided, glancing at Ron's closed curtains. It had only been their second day back in classes. Better let Dean live the rest of the week at least.

"So, Harry, what are you going to do?"

"Do about what?" asked Harry, staring happily into the face of his godfather.

Sirius laughed, but it sounded to Harry more like a dog's bark. "Quidditch of course! Are you going to be Captain?" Harry stared at him for a moment, his mouth open but no sound coming out. He took the moment to look around at their surroundings. They were sitting in the attic of Grimmauld Place, the Black family home. Except now there were no Blacks to live in it. They were all dead or married. But here was Sirius, sitting right in front of him feeding Buckbeak.

"I'm proud of you, Harry. James would have been proud, too," said Siruis, looking at Harry as if he were his own son. "He was Quidditch Captain, too, for three years! They never lost a game." Harry felt a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if Gryffindor did terribly this year and it was all his fault?

"People will help you, Harry," said Siruis quietly, as if guessing his thoughts. "Katie's still on the team, isn't she? And Ron- he'll help you. You'll do fine on your own. I believe in you." Harry's heart sunk. It was a true sign of a dream that Sirius was speaking of Katie Bell, Gryffindor's only remaining Chaser.

"Sirius . . ." said Harry slowly, feeling the lump in his throat grow bigger. Why was he talking about Quidditch with Siruis? Why weren't they talking about the day he had died? Why wasn't Harry asking him all the questions he'd thought of over the summer? He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Sirius looked at him quietly and then sighed.

"Harry, I'm gone," he said gently. "You have to accept that."

"No!" Harry cried, finding his voice at last. "You're not gone. You're behind the veil! In the Department of Mysteries-" They were interrupted by the approaching sounds of shuffling footsteps. A minute later Kreacher, the treacherous house-elf who had lied to Harry and sent him off to the Department of Mysteries in the first place, appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, no, Master isn't here!" he chuckled to himself, his eyes rolling madly. "Master is at the Department of Mysteries where he belongs! Where he'll never come back!"

"You!" yelled Harry angrily, standing up from the floor. He was going to strangle Kreacher and then he was going to run downstairs and tell his head in the fire that Sirius was safe at Grimmauld Place. First he had to throttle Kreacher, though.

"Harry, no!" cried Sirius, leaping up. Harry fought his godfather, yelling things at the crouched, terrified house-elf. "You have to let me go."

"No!" Harry yelled, struggling against the person he had risked his life for to save last summer. The person who had died because he'd been foolish enough to believe Voldemort's lies, foolish enough to believe Kreacher!

"Yes, Harry," said Sirius firmly. "Yes." He had stopped trying to restrain his godson but Harry was still fighting.

"No! No! Sirius!"

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" yelled Ron, tugging at Harry's sheets. With a grunt and a thump, Harry fell out of his bed and onto the floor.

"Is Harry all right?" he heard Neville ask worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah, just a nightmare," Ron was answering, hoisting Harry to his feet. Harry looked around the room, peering for Sirius.

"Where is he?" he choked out, the room fuzzy without his glasses. "Where'd he go?"

"He's dead, mate," said Ron gently, his voice lowered so the others wouldn't hear.

"Dead," said Harry hollowly. He sat on his bed weakly. Sirius was dead and he wasn't coming back. Ron was back on his own bed, yawning.

"You ok, or do I need to get McGonagall?"

"I'm fine," said Harry, waving away Ron's offer. "Thanks for waking me." Ron stared at him sadly for a moment, as if he wanted to ask him what the dream had been about. Harry had always found a reason not to discuss the night at the Department of Mysteries with him or Hermione. It was too painful to recall Sirius' death . . .

"Sleep well, mate. He- he wouldn't want you worrying."

"Yeah," said Harry, his voice distant, as if unconnected with his body. Ron's only reply was a soft snore. Harry slowly picked up his bed sheets from the ground and crawled under them. A tear squeezed out of his eye. If he had just hung onto the dream for another few minutes he would've been able to warn Siruis, to tell him what would happen when Snape informed the Order's headquarters about Harry's vision.

"No," he said softly. He wouldn't have been able to stop Siruis because it was only a dream. That was the only place he could see Sirius now.

***

Harry didn't mention his dream to Hermione the next morning and, following his example, Ron didn't either. Harry was glad that Hermione didn't know because it meant she wouldn't ask questions. For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts his scar was hurting. It was just a dull ache but Harry was sure it meant something. Over the summer his scar had hurt off and on, normally after dreams of the night at the Department of Mysteries. He hadn't mentioned it in his letters to Ron and Hermione and he didn't see why he should now.

"So what are you going to do about Quidditch?" asked Ron as he buttered a slice of toast.

Harry stared down at his empty plate, an odd feeling in his throat. He remembered what Sirius had told him in his dream. "I'm proud of you, Harry. James would have been proud, too." What would his father had thought if he'd known his son was given the chance to follow in his footsteps? "You'll do fine on your own. I believe in you." Sirius believed in Harry's abilities to lead a Quidditch Team. Or was he referring to Harry being able to survive without him? Harry felt the emptiness in his stomach grow bigger. I believe in you." A sudden burst of strength surged through him, as if Sirius were there coaching him on.

"Yeah," he heard himself saying. "I'm gonna' do it. You'll help me, right?"

"Of course, mate," said Ron easily. "And you'll do fine on your own, too! You must've read Quidditch Through The Ages what- a thousand times already?" He grinned, casting a glance at Hermione. "Almost as many times as she's read Hogwarts A Hissy Fit."

"Hogwarts A History, Ron," came Hermione's bored voice. When they glanced at her, she had gone back to reading her book, (The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6) giving no indication that she'd spoken at all.

Ron winced. "Dang, I was hoping she wouldn't notice."

All through Double Transfiguration Harry had butterflies in his stomach. One moment he was excited, wishing the class were over so he could tell McGonagall his decision. The next he was asking himself how he could do such a crazy thing, wondering if maybe he'd be able to sneak out unnoticed at the end of class. Professor McGonagall had to ask him a question three times ("What is the wand movement needed to transfigure a vertebrae?") and Ron had to kick him in the shin before Harry realized what was happening.

"Go for it," whispered Ron at the end of class and he and Hermione gave Harry encouraging nods towards the front of the classroom where Professor McGonagall was sorting through papers.

"Well, Potter, do you have an answer?" asked Professor McGonagall as he neared her desk. She looked up at him expectantly, not seeming the least bit surprised at his queezy expression.

"Er, yeah, Professor. I accept the- the nomination," Harry said lamely.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, much like Hermione had the day before at Hagrid's. "In other words you'll be Captain?" Harry nodded and the butterflies in his stomach flapped more rapidly.

"Good. That's settled, then," announced Professor McGonagall briskly, straightening her glasses as if she'd never thought Harry would say otherwise. "By the way, Potter, I forgot to mention it to you yesterday when I gave you your Firebolt- Angelina Johnson has stayed on at Hogwarts to train with Madame Hooch. She will be replacing her in two years at the Flying teacher and official Quidditch Referee. Angelina has also requested to be present at your Quidditch practices whenever she can to provide pointers, seeing as how she cannot be on the team now that she's graduated . . ."

Professor McGonagall allowed a small smile to cross her lips as Harry stared at her aghast. Angelina would be helping? The butterflies disappeared at once. If only McGonagall had told him yesterday he would have accepted instantly! Harry could have laughed in relief.

"Bye, Professor," Harry called gratefully, aware that Ron and Hermione were watching curiously from the door.

"Potter, please tell Weasley and Miss Granger I wish to speak to them for a moment." Harry stared for a second, then nodded and beckoned Ron and Hermione in. Looking at him curiously, they entered the classroom to stand beside Harry, who made no move to leave.

Professor McGonagall eyed Harry for a moment and then sighed. "Very well, I suppose you can stay, Potter," she said, showing signs of her normal, irritable self.

"Have either of you met a Gryffindor first year named Johnson?" she asked, directing the question at Ron and Hermione. They exchanged looks with Harry.

"Conrad Johnson?" asked Hermione uncertainly. "Not Angelina Johnson, right?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Yes, Conrad. Do either of you know him?"

"Er, we've met," said Ron, not looking pleased at all.

"On Monday in class he asked if he could switch houses out of Gryffindor. According to Professor Sprout and Hagrid, he was not in their first classes of the year. In my class he asked to be excused to the Hospital Wing but Madame Pomfrey said he never came. Apparently Johnson is skipping class."

"What?" exclaimed Hermione, horrified. "Why?"

Professor McGonagall gave a small shrug of bewilderment, something Harry guessed she was not accustomed to doing. "I don't know, Miss Granger. He got very upset when I said that switching houses was out of the question. If you have time tonight, please try to talk with him and find out what's wrong. I don't like having unhappy students in my house, nor do I want him missing his lessons. Professor Sprout has already assigned him detention; I would not like a Gryffindor, especially a new one, to get more."

"Why us?" blurted Ron, suddenly looking extremely nervous.

Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow, frowning. "You two are the Gryffindor prefects are you not?" It was not a question. "Part of your job is to make sure that the younger students have someone to look up to, someone who's example they can follow." Hermione nodded slowly and then Ron grudgingly followed suit.

"You can try, too, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, remembering he was there. Harry nodded, wishing he'd waited for Ron and Hermione in the hall.

"That'll be all."

Harry quickly turned and left the classroom, Ron and Hermione following.

"Why on earth would he want to change houses?" demanded Hermione the instant they were out of earshot and on their way to Herbology. "Gryffindor's a wonderful house to be in!"

"Gee, Hermione, you think?" said Ron sarcastically. "Who knows what goes on in the little bugger's head."

"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "You're not acting like a very good prefect!" They glared at each other for a few seconds and then simultaneously turned to Harry.

"So? Did you say yes?" asked Ron with forced enthusiasm. "Are you officially Captain?"

"Yeah, guess I've got to start planning a training schedule."

"I'll help you with that, mate," said Ron enthusiastically and started rattling off times and dates, seemingly having forgotten his argument with Hermione. Harry smiled, remembering that Angelina would be there, too.

"Harry, what is it?" asked Hermione, immediately, noticing his grin.

"Angelina's still at Hogwarts and is going to be, er, helping me."

"Oh, is that all?" asked Hermione, looking surprised. "I knew that, I saw her on my way back from Ancient Runes. She was telling me how excited she was to be staying at Hogwarts."

Ron turned to her, obviously trying to keep his voice at a low level. "You knew and you didn't think to tell Harry?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment as if the concept were ridiculous and then sniffed. "I don't see what the fuss is. Harry doesn't need Angelina to be a good Captain."

"Well, of course he doesn't," Ron responded through gritted teeth. "It would have been a lot more comforting to know, though."

"Oh. Sorry, Harry," said Hermione earnestly. Harry nodded, suppressing laughter at Ron's frustrated choke. It was sometimes amusing how little Hermione understood Quidditch and how he and Ron felt about it.

"And McGonagall didn't tell you about Angelina because . . . ?" asked Ron, leaving the question hanging in the air.

"Said she forgot."

Ron snorted contemptuously. "Forgot my a-"

"Ron!" said Hermione sharply.

"What?" protested Ron. "You know just as well as I do that McGonagall didn't forget." He laughed jovially. "She's slyer than she looks!"

"Well, of course," said Hermione snippily. "She was trying to encourage Harry to think for himself so he knew that he could do it. If she just told him Angelina would be there he'd have said yes in an instant and never bothered trying to make a good Captain!" Harry, though he thought the last part was a bit unfair, was more than a bit shocked at how much sense Hermione's words made.

"Do you have an inner connection, or something?" Ron demanded, swinging open the door to Greenhouse 3 and revealing a large group of chattering students. "You could be her daughter!" Hermione just smiled.

In the common room that evening, Harry found that once more he was being besieged by crowds of admiring Gryffindors congratulating him on his newly appointed captaincy. In fact, he was starting to become just the slightest bit worried considering he had still done only half of his Potions essay. When Seamus and Dean asked Harry is he'd like them to go nick some food from the kitchens, Harry was forced to decline.

"Ah, well, we can have the party tomorrow," said Seamus easily. "Or after you win your first game. Doesn't matter."

Harry bent his head closer to his parchment, frantically running through the different Love Potions in his head.

"Ron, are you doing anything?" asked Hermione innocently, putting away her Transfiguration homework.

Ron grunted, deeply involved in a game of Wizard's Chess with Ginny. "What does it look like I'm doing, Hermione?" he asked as his knight took Ginny's bishop.

"Well it's certainly not your Herbology essay," said Hermione sharply. "Ron, you have got to start doing your homework. Don't you have to keep track of the stars or something for Divination?"

Ron waved this detail away. "I can do homework any time. Right now, I'm enjoying myself."

"Fine, fail," snapped Hermione. "But I do need you to come talk to Conrad with me."

"Why?" protested Ron, his brow furrowed. He swore loudly as Ginny's castle swung at one of his pieces.

"Honestly, Ron," said Ginny, disgusted. "It's just a pawn."

"Can't you do it by yourself?" Ron whined. "Or go with Harry."

"I'm doing homework," said Harry angrily, shifting through his Potions notes again. "Unlike some people!"

"Ron!"

"All right, all right, keep your hair on," he grumbled, getting out of his chair with a groan. "Don't touch my pieces, Ginny!" Harry couldn't help himself from watching them as they walked over to a plush red armchair in the back of the room.

"Harry, you want to go and listen, so go," said Ginny patiently, as if she were telling a three year-old to chew on its rattle. Harry grinned gratefully and edged his way over so that he was a few feet away from Ron and Hermione.

"Can we talk to you?" he heard her ask.

Conrad glared at them for a moment, and then put down his book. Harry caught a glimpse of f Quidditch players over Ron's shoulders.

"What?"

"Professor McGonagall told us that you were . . . unhappy in Gryffindor. Is there anything we can do to help?" she asked kindly.

Conrad stared at them sullenly and then laughed bitterly. "You can go away and leave me alone." Hermione, stunned, was unable to say anything.

"Look, kid, we don't want to be talking to you either," said Ron rudely, and Harry knew from experience that he was trying to control his temper. "But there's no reason that you should want to switch houses."

"Which house do you want to be in, anyway?" Harry heard himself ask.

"None of your business, Potter," snapped Conrad.

Hermione tried again. "Professor McGonagall also told us that you were skipping classes by saying you were going to the Hospital Wing."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, we don't do that at Hogwarts," declared Ron impatiently, his ears red.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be at Hogwarts!"

"Fine, then leave!" stormed Ron. "It'll make my life easier!" Without waiting for Hermione he began striding away back towards Ginny. Harry took a few steps in the direction of his homework and then paused, waiting for Hermione.

"Stop trying to help me, Granger," ordered Conrad. "I don't need advice or help from mudbloods!" Hermione took a step back in shock, tripping over Conrad's bookbag. Harry caught her as she fell and they stumbled back.

"What was that for?" Harry demanded furiously. "Ron was right, you don't belong in Gryffindor! You shouldn't even be at Hogwarts!"

Conrad opened his mouth, looking slightly ashamed, but Harry was already leading Hermione away from him.

"Harry? What happened to Hermione?" Ron leapt up from the chess table, knocking over the board.

"He called her a- a you-know-what!"

Ron gaped, dumbfounded. Suddenly his anger had returned. "He didn't! How dare he? I'm going to go teach that guy a lesson!"

"Ron, don't!" exclaimed Hermione, finally speaking. She took his arm, pulling him firmly back to the table.

"But, Hermione!" argued Ron. "He called you a mudblood!" There was a sudden hush around the common room. Gryffindors looked at each other nervously and then after a minute's silence started talking again.

Hermione blinked a few times before speaking, as if she were trying to find the right words. "I know that, Ron, but- but maybe it's our fault-"

"Our fault!" cried Ron, outraged.

"You guys were going on about Malfoy last night and then you mentioned 'mudblood'- I bet that's where he heard it! Conrad probably doesn't even know what it means!" insisted Hermione desperately.

"And Snape's gonna' hand out chocolates on Valentine's Day!" Ron snorted, attempting to shake Hermione off.

"You can't beat up first years!" Hermione's grip on him tightened.

Ron stared at her for a moment and then dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, almost inaudibly. Hermione sighed in relief and let him go.

Ron rubbed his arms and winced. "Hermione, you know my arms are going to be black and blue for weeks because of you."

"You should see where she kicked me," said Harry, relieved that Conrad wasn't about to have his nose broken, even though he privately felt the first year deserved it. Ron began picking up the chess pieces he'd knocked over and Harry returned to his homework. Hermione, in the meantime, had gotten out a new sheaf of parchment and had begun to trace neat columns.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron, after he was sure that she'd forgotten their argument.

"Writing," replied Hermione vaguely.

Ron rolled his eyes. "We can see that!"

"You're not really starting Spubug?" asked Harry worriedly, noticing the 'S.P' she was now writing at the top.

"No, of course not! This is for S.P.E.W."

Ron bit back a choke. "What are you doing now?"

"Well, the hats and socks and things didn't work out last year so I decided I'll write a newsletter telling them about all the wonderful things freedom can give them."

"Er, Hermione," said Harry kindly, after a moment of shocked silence. Ron was looking as if he'd like to strangle her again. "Don't you think it's about time you stopped with S.P.E.W.? You've been doing it for two years now and nothing's happened."

"Do you think Dobby can write?" asked Hermione, ignoring Harry's comment.
"I think it would be good for him to write a story on the benefits he's gotten. And maybe Winky, too."

"You mean if she's finally stopped drowning herself in butterbeer?" asked Ron loudly, finally finding his voice. Hermione ignored him, dipping her quill in ink and beginning to write.

Ron waited around for a few more minutes to see if she would respond and then headed off to the boys' dormitory. One by one students left the common room until only Harry, Hermione, and a couple of seventh years were left. Exhausted, Harry finally put his finished Potions essay away.

"Night," he called to Hermione, yawning. On the way up he saw a book upended on its side, lying on the stairs. Frowning, Harry bent down to pick it up, instantly recognizing the familiar title: Quidditch Through The Ages. Harry put it down next to the first year boys' dormitory. Conrad would find it there in the morning, and hopefully Harry would never have anything to do with him again.