Intersections

Chapter 3: Questions

Hermione sat in the back row of the form room, looking around anxiously as Mrs. Garbet took attendance.

"Potter, Harry."

Silence. Mrs. Garbet made a tutting noise and called the next name. Hermione bit her lip. Harry was nowhere in sight. Last night, he had seemed fine when he left the car, just a little pale and tired - nothing that a good night's sleep and some hot soup couldn't cure. Apparently, she was wrong.

Her worry turned into dread as she walked to maths, remembering that Polkiss was in the same lesson. Would he tell everyone about the white lights and the fight? Would he call her a freak? Would he gloat to everyone about how he had beaten Harry Potter and almost taken advantage of the new girl?

But when Hermione entered the classroom, Polkiss did none of those things. Instead, all color drained from his face. His small, beady eyes followed her as she sat down next to Katharine in the front row, and then he stood up and sat as far away from her as possible on the other side of the room. Hermione pretended not to notice, but Katharine already had.

"What was that about?" she asked suspiciously, nudging Hermione and jerking her head toward Polkiss.

Hermione put on an innocent look. "What was what all about?" she asked lightly.

"Polkiss just - ran from you," Katharine replied. "Where's Harry today?"

Hermione shrugged, avoiding Katharine's skeptical stare. Katharine let out a loud sigh and turned to face the front of the classroom, crossing her arms over her chest. She continued to shoot Hermione dirty looks throughout the lesson, but Hermione ignored them all, doing her best to concentrate. Her mind kept straying to Harry. She wondered if there was any way to find out if he was all right. She couldn't ring him up because she didn't have his telephone number, but she did know where he lived. Perhaps she could stop by his house after lessons to drop off his maths notes and notify him about the homework assignment. After all, he wouldn't want to get behind in the lessons, since there was only a week until the end of term. Plus, he didn't live too far from Stonewall. She could easily ask her parents to drive to his house and wait for a few minutes.

With a triumphant grin, she stood up with the rest of her classmates and walked to English with a pouting Katharine beside her. Sara took one look at the both of them and asked, "What's the matter, Katharine?"

Katharine shook her head and glared at Hermione. "Nothing," she said, and she flounced off to go sit at the other side of the room. Hermione's grin vanished, and she bit her lip apologetically, taking a seat next to Sara.

"What's the matter with her today?" Sara whispered, looking at Katharine with a confused glance.

Hermione shook her head, feeling her heart eat away at her as she lied. "Katharine thinks I know something about Harry's absence today, but I don't."

"Ah," said Sara, nodding in understanding. "Well, she can be a bit dramatic sometimes. We'll sort it out during break." She smiled at Hermione reassuringly, and Hermione gave her a grateful smile back. She didn't like lying to her new friends, but she also didn't want to tell them about what had happened the night before. She still hadn't come up with an explanation for the white light that had shielded her and Harry from Polkiss, even though she'd spent half the night thinking about it instead of revising for her lessons. There was no way that magic existed. Hermione simply didn't believe in that nonsense. Still...

Hermione shook the thoughts away quickly, raising her eyes to the front of the room. Mrs. Boyd was lecturing about Shakespeare's use of structure in his sonnets, and Hermione leaned in to listen, thankful for the temporary distraction. She'd have plenty of time later to figure out the bizarre light and to make up her friendship with Katharine. For now, she needed to focus.

-----------------------------------------------

Harry's eyes opened slowly. He was in a world full of blurry shapes and colors, and there was a loud beeping noise next to his right ear. Instinctively, he reached out and groped around for his glasses, but all he could feel was empty air. He gradually realized left and right wrists were attached to some wires, and there was a bandage on his left arm, underneath which lay a needle piercing his skin. Harry blinked in confusion as he finally recognized where he was: a hospital.

Somebody was coming toward him. Harry squinted and made out the sharp, familiar features of Aunt Petunia. What was she doing here? He wondered if this was an illusion. He tried to sit up so that he could see her more clearly, but his body wouldn't allow it.

"Lie down," she ordered, thought not sharply, and Harry flopped back onto the crisp white sheets, his unfocused eyes staring at the ceiling.

"What happened?" he asked. "What am I doing here?"

She sniffed haughtily somewhere above his head. Even without his glasses, he could see her pressing her lips together tightly, as she always did when he asked questions. "Open your mouth," she said, placing a cup to his cracked lips. Harry obeyed, and she tipped some cold water down his throat. It was very soothing. He vaguely remembered someone doing that earlier, but he doubted it'd been Aunt Petunia. She never cared about Harry's health.

"I don't know what you did to yourself, you foolish boy," she finally said, as soon as Harry thought she had had enough of him and was going to leave. "But you came home and passed out, dropping ice all over my kitchen floor."

"Oh," Harry said, and the incident at Stonewall's front steps came rushing back into his memory. He reached a hand up to his face. His cheek was still tender, but less so.

"Yes, well, I had to clean all of it up as soon as we got back from this wretched hospital. The whole place was flooded," said Aunt Petunia. Harry could see her venomous glare in his mind. He felt that she should probably be more concerned about his health than her kitchen, but then, taking him to the hospital was unusually generous. When he was ill as a child, she'd simply stuck him in the cupboard for a week and made him starve off the illness, saving herself the trouble of cooking an extra meal.

"You should take care of yourself," Aunt Petunia continued. "I don't want the neighbors asking questions."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," he murmured, hoping to stop her diatribe as soon as possible. He was beginning to get a headache from the blurriness surrounded him, and he wondered inanely if his broken glasses were still on the steps of his school.

A moment later, he heard a chair scrape backward against the floor and a slight clinking sound as his aunt grabbed her bag. "I will pick you up when you are released," she said stiffly, and she walked away. Harry heard a door close in the distance, and he closed his eyes, thankful for the darkness that flooded his vision. Soon his thoughts turned to the fight with Polkiss at Stonewall. In his mind, Harry could see the brilliant flash of light between Hermione and Polkiss, as well as the white light emanating from his own body, the way Polkiss' body bounced off of it and fell downward, as Harry stood, paralyzed, his arms outstretched to catch the boy but his legs frozen to the ground. Harry remembered wishing for a shield to protect him from Polkiss and to protect Polkiss from smashing into the stone steps. That wish had been granted, somehow, because neither he nor Polkiss was dead, and as far as Harry knew, Polkiss hadn't sustained any lasting injuries. As grateful as he was that Polkiss hadn't been killed, Harry still felt a slight curl of resentment. Why was he the one who had landed in the hospital? Polkiss was the one who deserved to be here.

Harry sighed. He had accepted the injustices of the world long ago, when his aunt turned a blind eye to Dudley's childhood bullying of Harry. His mind turned back to the white shield-like light that had surrounded his body. Had it really been magic? Was he really a wizard, as the strange parchment letters had claimed? Or had he imagined it all? Harry frowned at the confusing thoughts racing through his mind. There was only one way to answer his questions. He would have to contact the headmaster of this supposed school of magic, as his aunt had requested so bizarrely of him. The headmaster would know how to explain things, wouldn't he?

Satisfied with his decision, Harry relaxed and fell into a blissful sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione walked into the dining hall for lunch, aware of her new friends' eyes following her entrance. She had gone back to the form room during morning break in order to make an extra copy of her maths notes, so she had not been able to sort things out between her and Katharine as Sara had suggested. Hermione suspected that Katharine had told the whole group about her suspicious behavior in maths this morning, and now they were all waiting for an explanation.

Chewing her lip nervously, Hermione approached the table.

"Hi, everybody," she said, glancing at each of them carefully. Katharine was still pouting, Arianne had her head in a book as usual, and the rest looked alternately inquisitive and suspicious. Hermione sighed, remembering why she had never had many girl friends at Witsford in London and wondering how on Earth Will had dealt with this lot for so long. "I don't know anything about Harry," she lied, pulling out her food to hide her nervousness.

"I think you do," Katharine said angrily, staring hard at her.

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "I don't," she insisted, more loudly than she had intended. She felt like she was about to be attacked by a pack of vultures.

"You went to the form room for morning break instead of facing up to us," Katharine accused.

Hermione shrugged. "I wanted to study," she said quickly, flushing red at the weakness of her lie.

"Did something happen between you, Harry, and Polkiss last night?" Sara asked, shooting Katharine a warning look.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, feeling her face burn.

"It's okay, Hermione, you can tell us," Will encouraged.

Even Arianne was looking up from her book now.

"We're your friends," Lina implored, her brown eyes widening. Her curls bounced as she nodded her head vigorously. "You can trust us."

Hermione bit her lip. "Nothing happened," she repeated, trying to keep her voice calm.

Katharine raised her eyebrows, while Lina looked doubtful. They exchanged glances, and Lina shook her head in a disappointed manner.

"Tell us what really happened," Katharine insisted. "We're your friends! You shouldn't be keeping secrets from us!"

Hermione felt angry tears suddenly come to her eyes. "Why do you want to know?!" she cried, feeling utterly humiliated and drawing the attention of over half of the students in the dining hall. "Y-you didn't even care if Harry lived or died a week ago! You told me he was a fr-freak!" Her voice cracked on the last word. "You've been in school with him for four and half years and y-you didn't even t-talk to him till now!" She blinked hard to keep back her tears and stood up abruptly, grabbing her lunch and her bag. "Y-you're not real friends at all!" And with that hurtful statement, she ran out of the now silent dining hall, her bushy hair flying behind her.

Hermione ran to the nearest lavatory. After checking to see that it was empty, she locked herself into a stall, crying as she remembered her old, uncomplicated London life, the explosion that had destroyed it, the friends she'd left behind, and the inexplicable events from the previous night. She hated lying to her friends and to her parents about what had happened. She'd never had a reason to lie to anybody until she came to Stonewall.

The lavatory door creaked open. Hermione wiped away her tears and stood up, grabbing her bag tightly. "Hermione?" she heard Sara ask softly. "Hermione, I know you're in here."

A wave of guilt passed over Hermione as she thought of what she'd said in the dining hall. "Please go away, Sara," she sniffed.

"Hermione, please come out. I'm sorry. We're sorry."

Hermione took a deep breath and stepped out of the stall. Sara looked at her with equal parts guilt and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," Sara repeated. "Come on, everyone's waiting outside to apologize."

Hermione nodded, walking over to one of the sinks. "I'll be out in just a minute. I need some time alone," she said. Sara gave her a small smile of understanding and left. Hermione heard conversation outside as the door opened and closed.

Hermione stared into the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her bushy hair stood up in different directions around her face as if she'd been electrified. Sighing in frustration, she reached up and tied her hair back with an elastic band on her wrist, making it look slightly better. She splashed some cold water on her face to rid it of redness, blew her nose, and then she opened the door of the lavatory apprehensively.

Lina, Sara, Arianne, Katharine, and Will all stood outside, looking very apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Katharine, "I should've left it alone." The others nodded, saying "sorry" sincerely one by one.

Hermione smiled shakily. "I'm sorry too," she said, "for yelling at you in the dining hall. It's been so difficult moving here from London -"

Will cut her off. "There's no need to apologize," he said firmly. "We should've trusted what you said in the first place."

"What you said about us and Harry - you were right," added Sara, "and - we should have talked to him earlier -"

Hermione shook her head. "It's all right, Sara," she said. Sara stopped and nodded gratefully.

"So do you forgive us?" Lina asked hopefully.

Hermione nodded. "You're forgiven," she said, looking around at all of them, and she meant it. Her friends' faces relaxed. Lina grinned, pulling Hermione by the arm. "Come on," she chirped cheerfully, "we're going to be late for physics."

Hermione followed, feeling strangely content.

----------------------------------------------------

After lessons ended, Hermione asked her parents to drive to Harry's house again so that she could drop off maths notes for Harry. She walked cheerfully up to the front door of number 4 and knocked on the door, eager to see Harry. A tall equine woman looked down at Hermione distrustfully. There were shadows under her eyes.

"Yes?" the woman snapped.

"Does Harry Potter live here?" Hermione asked, straightening her shoulders at the rude welcome. The woman looked left and right several times, eyes stopping on the Grangers' car, and then she nodded tightly. Hermione extended her hand, but the woman did not shake it. "You must be Harry's aunt," Hermione said. "I'm Hermione Granger, one of his classmates, and I wanted to drop off maths notes. I noticed that he wasn't in class today, and I wanted to see if he was all right."

Harry's aunt pressed her lips together tightly. "He's in the hospital," she said shortly. "I'm afraid I can't say any more than that."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed in alarm, causing Harry's aunt to hiss "Shh!" Hermione lowered her voice. "Do you know when he'll be released?" she asked.

The woman narrowed her eyes at Hermione, looked her up and down with a disapproving look, and gave the tiniest shake of her head. "If you'd hand me those maths notes," she said tightly, "I'll make sure that Harry receives them." Hermione nodded, fumbling around in her bag, and barely had time to hand the notes to Harry's aunt before the door slammed shut in her face. Frowning, she walked back to her parents' car and got into the backseat. Harry had mentioned that his aunt had been acting erratically lately, but she didn't think that erratic translated to rude.

"Hermione, you need to finish unpacking tonight," her mother said. "I'm getting tired of all of those boxes in your room."

"All right, Mum," Hermione answered distractedly, puzzling over what Harry's aunt had said. She hadn't realized that Harry was so ill. He'd looked completely exhausted when they'd dropped him off at his house yesterday, but Hermione had thought he'd be fine with a good night's sleep and a couple of bowls of hot soup. She hadn't thought that he would need to go to the hospital at all, much less for more than one day. Worried, Hermione chewed her lip, hoping that Harry wasn't suffering from anything serious. She realized with dismay that his aunt hadn't told her which hospital he was in, and she still didn't have their number. In fact, it had almost seemed that Harry's aunt didn't want anyone knowing about Harry at all.

Hermione knitted her brow, still puzzled, and began to walk up the stairs to her new bedroom. She made a face at the towers of sealed boxes filling up space in her room. Sighing at the daunting task ahead of her, she began to work her way through them, opening, unpacking, and sorting their contents one by one.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ah! You're awake, I see!" someone chirped next to Harry's ear. Harry looked in the direction of the voice. He saw blurrily that a nurse dressed in white was standing at the side of his bed, checking something off on a clipboard. "Let's get you to sit up, shall we?" Harry blinked rapidly and nodded. She propped him up gently against the bed and began to prod at the wires and needle on his arm. "Good...good..." she muttered.

"How long have I been here?" Harry asked. Aunt Petunia's visit had been the day after the Polkiss fight, as Harry had termed it.

"Since yesterday night," the nurse said brightly. "You're to be released after your eye exam with Dr. Oculens - and after your aunt brings you your clothes, of course."

Harry looked down, an embarrassed blush creeping up his face as he realized he was wearing nothing more than underwear and a hospital gown.

"Don't worry, dear, I've seen worse. Now, your aunt said she would be back soon...poor dear, she was here the whole night taking care of you....I told her to catch a wink of sleep before coming back..." The nurse looked down at her clipboard and continued to check things off. Harry stared at her, baffled. Aunt Petunia, here the whole night? Taking care of him, more than she had ever done in the entirety of Harry's lifetime? Hadn't she said that she'd gone back to the house to clean up the kitchen after taking him to the hospital?

The nurse chattered on, "Yes, she came back after lunch...barely slept a wink, as far as I could tell...said she was going to buy you some new clothing, but like I said, she'll be back..."

Harry's eyes widened. Now he was even more confused. It was unlike Aunt Petunia to take him to the hospital when he was ill; it was even more unlike Aunt Petunia to stay at the hospital to watch over him; and it was definitely unlike Aunt Petunia to spend money to buy Harry new clothing. Harry felt like the world had tipped upside down while he'd slept. He shook his head and pinched himself a couple of times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The pinches hurt. He wasn't.

There was a knock at the door, and the nurse went to answer it. "Yes!" Harry heard. "He's awake, please come in." Aunt Petunia's figure became clearer as she approached him. She appeared to be carrying two small bags. Harry looked at them warily, in the distance, the nurse exited the room quietly.

"I've bought you some new clothing," said Aunt Petunia, handing him the bags. "Put it on so that we can finish the eye exam and leave this wretched place."

Harry nodded, swinging his legs off the bed. His toes brushed the ground lightly, and he pulled out a pair of jeans, a dark green jumper, wool socks, and even underwear from the first bag. The second bag contained a shoebox, which upon opening revealed a pair of very clean, very new trainers. Shocked, Harry looked askance at his aunt, who seemed to be avoiding looking in his direction. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia," he said.

"You're welcome," she barely murmured. She turned her back to him, and Harry quickly changed into the clothes and shoes, admiring the soft feel of the material for an instant. They fit well.

"I'm ready," he announced.

"Good," she said, turning around. She paused and stared at him for a moment, then led him out the door. They followed the nurse down several different hallways. Harry tried not to get dizzy at the many blurry shapes and noises around him, thankful when she finally stopped in front of a door and rapped on it sharply.

A doctor opened the door, blinking owlishly over his spectacles. "Yes?" he asked.

"Harry Potter is ready for his eye exam, sir," said the nurse.

"Very well, go on into the next room," he said, closing the door behind him and ushering them to the adjacent room. "Sit in that chair, young man." He pointed to a large cushioned chair against the far wall, positioned next to several frightening machines. Harry jumped up into it, trying to make himself comfortable. The nurse nodded respectfully at the doctor and left, while Aunt Petunia watched Harry intently.

"Let's begin then, shall we?" said the doctor. Harry sat through the exam patiently. He hadn't had an eye examination since he was twelve years old, and it felt very strange to have lights shone into his eyes and lenses of different magnifications placed over them. The doctor finally finished, writing Harry a rather strong prescription.

"Aunt Petunia," said Harry, as they left the hospital and went to the car park, "My frames are broken. I'm going to need new ones."

"I know that, boy," she snapped, starting up the car as Harry climbed into passenger seat, prescription in hand. "We are going to get you new spectacles on the way home."

Harry was starting to become less surprised by her generosity, but he still said, "Thank you, Aunt Petunia." Her hands tightened on the steering wheel in response, and she nervously navigated through a narrow street full of parked cars. Harry squinted and realized that they were in London.

"Out of the car, quick," she barked, parking abruptly in front of a small shop displaying spectacle frames in its window. Harry complied, pushing the shop door open. Chimes twinkled above his head.

"Welcome, welcome!" An old man greeted them joyfully, looking up from the counter where he was fiddling with a pair of brown spectacles. "How can I help you?"

"We need to fill this prescription," Aunt Petunia snapped, snatching it out of Harry's hand and handing it to the man. "As soon as possible, please. Choose some frames, if you will," she ordered Harry. "Be quick about it."

Harry had been rather fond of his old, round black frames, and he didn't have time to pick and choose another kind. As soon as he found a frame similar to his old one, he handed it to the old man, who examined them carefully before nodding his head. "Very good!" he said genially. "They should be finished within an hour. There's a lovely bookshop next door that my wife runs. How about you browse over there for a while?"

Aunt Petunia did not look pleased at the prospect of waiting for an hour, but she nodded tightly and dragged Harry next door. It was a used bookshop with a musty smell, and Harry wandered through the book aisles, trailing his fingers along the old texts, occasionally catching one that met his eye. The pages of the books were old and thick, like the parchment of the letters from the magic school.

"Why, it can't be...Harry Potter?"

Harry looked up sharply from the book he had been squinting at, reading about historical inventions. An old woman with wispy white hair was staring at him curiously at the edge of the aisle, and she approached him with unusual rapidity.

"Sorry, do I know you?" Harry asked, as she caught him by the shoulder with a pincer-like grip. Her eyes strayed to the top of his forehead, and her wrinkled fingers parted his hair in the middle of his forehead, looking intently at his scar.

"It is," she said, looking awed, and she smiled at him with sharp yellow teeth. Harry's mind flashed to the story of Little Red Riding Hood, and he broke out of her grip nervously, his heart pounding furiously. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," he said, backing away quickly, and he fled out the door, passing Aunt Petunia along the way. Aunt Petunia, looking alarmed, followed him back into the spectacles shop.

"Ah! Just in time," the old man exclaimed as the chimes twinkled. "They're all ready for you, young man." He handed Harry the newly made spectacles, and Harry put them on, relieved as the world suddenly became much clearer. Aunt Petunia handed the man some pound notes, and they went back to the car. Harry glanced behind him; the old woman from the bookshop was nowhere in sight. He wondered if it had been the old man's wife.

Aunt Petunia was silent on the way home. As soon as they arrived at the house, Harry made his way to his bedroom. He had never been so relieved to see his own room before. Remembering the decision he had made in the hospital, he unfolded one of the crumpled up balls of parchment under his bed and reread the letter, running his finger over the name "Albus Dumbledore," and he went downstairs to ask his aunt some questions.

-----------------------------------------------------

Hermione yawned and stretched, checking the time. It was 8:20 PM, and she was ready to unpack her last box and study quickly before going to bed. Taking out a massive stack of notes from lessons at her old school, she shoved them into a desk drawer just in case she needed them to revise, and reached back into the box, sure that there was nothing left in it. After pulling out a few of her parents' old telephone bills, her fingers brushed something at the bottom, and she pulled out a thick envelope with a broken wax seal on the back. Hermione examined the seal carefully. There was a large H surrounded by what appeared to be a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle. Brimming with curiosity, she pulled out a letter written on thick parchment.

Hermione's eyes scanned the letter, widening more and more each time she reread it. Did this school really exist? Did magic really exist? Could this explain what had happened last night at Stonewall? She remembered, suddenly, what Harry had said that night, looking up at her with confused and pleading eyes: "Magic. Magic isn't real." Hermione bit her lip, realizing the implications of that statement. Harry had known about it, or at least suspected - but he hadn't really believed it. Had Harry received the same letter once upon a time? Suspiciously, she recalled the conversation at lunch, and Harry's mention of the letters his aunt had given him regarding "magpies." He must have been talking about magic, Hermione decided. She'd have to talk to him about it when he returned to school.

Frowning, Hermione skimmed the letter, and her eyes caught onto one sentence that she hadn't noticed before.

Please reply by July 31, 1991.

Realization dawned upon her as she looked at the envelope again. Her parents had opened the letter before. She recalled the summer before she started attending secondary school, the way her parents had watched her more closely, the whispered arguments they had when they thought she wasn't listening. Hermione had thought that they'd been fighting over the price of her school, but it was more likely that they'd been arguing over this. Hurt suddenly rushed through her as questions ran through her mind. How could her parents have omitted telling her about something so important? If she was indeed a witch, why would they not want her to learn how to control her intrinsic magic? Perhaps they had thought it was all a joke, but if that were the case, why would they hide the letter and not throw it away? Hermione felt a twisting feeling at the pit of her stomach. She'd always believed that her parents told her the truth. What other important things had they hidden from her?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to calm the anger and hurt welling up inside of her. A confrontation with her parents would probably lead to nothing; they had hidden the truth for four years and would probably try to continue doing so. She'd just have to solve the mystery by herself - or with help from Harry, as soon as he returned to school. In the meantime, she could research Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Comforted, Hermione let out a small smile as she realized that she needed to go to the one place she'd always loved: the library.

-----------------------------------------

Aunt Petunia was washing the dishes when Harry finally found the chance to talk to her. Uncle Vernon had gone to the living room to watch the news on the telly. Dinner had been an awkward, quiet affair, with his aunt and uncle clearing their throats frequently, shoveling food on to his plate every so often and a concerned glance at him. Harry, unused to such care from his relatives, had carefully concentrated on cutting up his food into very small pieces, a funny feeling in his stomach as he wondered when this play of niceties would end.

"Aunt Petunia," he said. She looked lost in thought as she ran her hands under the water.

"What?" she snapped, fixing a glare on him.

"I - I was hoping you could tell me how to contact this headmaster," Harry replied, adding, "Dumbledore."

Aunt Petunia dropped the dish she was holding with a loud clang; fortunately, it didn't break. Wiping her hands nervously on her dress, her eyes darted around the room before she hissed one word, "Owl."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

She glared at him, and repeated more loudly, "Owl." She turned back to the sink and continued washing as if Harry weren't there. Harry frowned in confusion, knowing that was the only answer he was going to get, and went back to his room to puzzle over his thoughts.

Owl. What did she mean, owl? Was that some kind of acronym for a magical communications system? How did she expect him to contact the headmaster when all she said was "owl"? Harry scowled, kicking one of the crumpled parchment balls. He started to think again that his aunt was playing an elaborate prank on him, but then he remembered his white shield on the steps of Stonewall High and he shook his head. Magic had to be real. His aunt wouldn't be acting so strangely otherwise.

Unable to figure out any more about magic, Harry resigned himself to catching up on his studies. Picking up papers from his desk, he read Hermione's attached note about the maths lesson and looked over her neat, precise handwriting. Touched, he vowed to thank her tomorrow morning and to repay the favor somehow. He was just about to start working on his homework when the door slammed open. Harry whipped around. Aunt Petunia was standing there glowering at him. "Get into bed at once," she snapped.

Harry dropped his pencil, but he didn't comply immediately. "Why?" he asked.

"The doctor said that you were to rest when you returned home," she said.

"I need to do my homework," he protested, though his eyes were beginning to feel heavy.

Aunt Petunia's whole face tightened this time, not just her mouth. She looked as if she were about to explode with the strain of keeping herself together. Harry, who had never seen her like this before, quickly scooted onto his bed and took off his glasses, laying his head down on the pillow and muttering "Yes, Aunt Petunia" under his breath. He started as Aunt Petunia came over to his bed, pulling up the covers and tucking him in as if he were a child, and then she turned off the light and closed the door softly. Harry had little time to be confused before he drifted off into his dreams.