Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last couple of weeks before the Christmas holidays passed very

quickly, probably in part because Harry wasn't looking forward to saying

goodbye to Ron and Hermione. The end-of-term exams didn't seem to slow

things down, either. Charms was particularly difficult, and even Care of

Magical Creatures was harder this year. Ever since Hagrid had got rid of

the Streeler, he had them studying Fawkes the Phoenix. Even though Harry

knew Fawkes, it turned out that Phoenixes had more magical properties

than even he was aware of.

The combined effect of studying constantly and anticipating missing

his friends was that, before Harry knew it, he was standing on the stone

steps of the castle, waving at Ron and Hermione as they walked to

Hogsmeade station in the snow with the rest of the students returning

home for the holidays.

Harry trudged back up to Gryffindor Tower and flopped onto his bed. No

Ron to play chess with, no Hermione to study with, no Neville to talk to.

Even Crookshanks was gone. Harry couldn't stay in his room all day, he

would go crazy. He decided to go looking for Sirius.

He walked down to Professor Green's office and knocked on the door.

No one answered. What if she was gone, but Sirius was still there? he

wondered.

He decided to call through the door. "It's me, Harry," he said

tentatively. "No one's with me." Suddenly the door creaked open. Sirius

was standing inside.

"Come in, Harry," Sirius greeted him. "I just came inside, but I think

Persephone's gone to take the students to the station. Hey, it's a bit cold

in here, could I borrow your wand?"

Harry pulled out his wand and handed it over. Sirius waved it at the

fireplace, producing a roaring fire. "That's better," he mused, handing

Harry his wand back. He looked pleased with himself. "Haven't had a wand

in twelve years, and I still remember that spell. Not too bad, eh?"

Harry and Sirius spent a very pleasant morning talking in front of the

fire. They discussed Harry's classes, the upcoming O.W.L.s, Quidditch--and

Harry told Sirius all about the night he and Neville had seen Professor

Green's memories of the Longbottoms. When he reached the part where

she hit Snape, Sirius laughed out loud. He was an even better audience

than Ron.

Outside the window, snow drifted lazily onto the grounds. They spent

the remainder of the morning and the entire afternoon in conversation.

When the shadows outside lengthened to envelop the grounds completely,

Professor Green still hadn't returned. Harry noticed Sirius glancing

alternately at a clock on the wall, and then outside, while they talked.

At a quarter to six, Professor Green opened the door without knocking

and walked inside, dusted from head to foot with snow. She took off her

cloak and shook it out before she noticed Sirius and Harry sitting in two

chairs before the fire.

"Oh, hello. Hi there, Harry."

"Hi, Professor Green."

"Persephone," said Sirius, "where have you been? It's late. I started

to worry."

"Why?" she asked. She looked at him blankly.

"Well, it's snowing pretty hard, it must be very cold. I just wondered,

that's all--"

"I had errands to run in town," she responded shortly.

"I didn't know. You should have told me, I wouldn't have

worried--"

"No one asked you to worry about me." She returned his gaze coldly.

There was an unmistakable note of resentment in her voice.

Sirius simply nodded and looked into the fire. Suddenly Harry felt very

uncomfortable; he tried to think of a good excuse to leave.

Professor Green rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I'm

sorry. Look, it's been a long day. I'm tired, I'm cold, and my feet hurt. I

guess I'm a little cranky." She smiled apologetically. "I had some last

minute Christmas shopping to do, that's all. Listen, why don't we all go

downstairs and have something to eat?"

Relieved, Harry stood up. Sirius smiled forgivingly. After he had taken

his canine form, they walked together down to the Great Hall and dinner.

It might have been the fact that the Yule Ball of the previous year had

kept many students from spending Christmas with their families, and they

were making up for it this year. Or it might have been that many families

feared, like the Weasleys, that dangerous times lay ahead, and they

wanted their children home as much as possible. Whatever the reason,

there were even fewer students at Hogwarts over the winter holiday than

usual. In fact, Harry found that he was the only Gryffindor. At Professor

Dumbledore's request, he sat at the Slytherin table, with the rest of the

staff and students. He looked around at the others. The only other

students seated at the table were a Hufflepuff second-year and three

Slytherins--Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

They had taken seats at the end of the table, as far as possible from

Dumbledore, Green, Hagrid, and Harry. Harry wondered why the Malfoys

hadn't brought Draco home for the holidays--the only other time Draco had

spent Christmas at school was at his own request, and he didn't appear to

be here willingly now. Harry chuckled at the expression of intense

displeasure on Malfoy's face.

All through the meal Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle alternately whispered

amongst themselves and shot Harry malevolent looks. After everyone had

eaten, Professor Green pulled out her guitar and played Christmas carols.

Dumbledore sang and clapped loudly, while the rest of the table grudgingly

mumbled along. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, however, abruptly left the

table right in the middle of the chorus of "Jingle Bells".

Secretly, Harry resolved to watch his back. Malfoy was unhappy and

accompanied by two of the biggest fifth-years in the school. He might be

tempted to entertain himself over the holiday by seeking out novel

methods of torture and trying them out on Harry.

***

Each day of the Christmas holiday passed much like the first. Harry

took a little time to study for O.W.L.s, but he mostly spent his days talking

with Sirius and Hagrid. He and Hagrid had even participated in a couple of

snowball fights against Sirius and Professor Green. These weren't quite

fair fights, though, as Professor Green knew how to bewitch the snowballs

to follow their targets, so that they were impossible to evade.

Harry realized guiltily that he had been so busy with schoolwork that

he hadn't yet been to see Dobby. He made up for this, however, by visiting

a few times before Christmas. Dobby still seemed to be enjoying life at

Hogwarts. He was continued to keep an eye out for Winky, who was

drinking less now, but still wore the same tattered blue blouse and skirt,

which were so dirty they were nearly indistinguishable from the other

House-Elves' old dishrags and pillowcases. Somehow, Harry suspected

that this was the exact look Winky was going for.

On Christmas morning Harry awoke to find a pile of presents heaped at

the foot of his bed. Excitedly, he leapt up and tore into it. He unwrapped a

set of three Practice Snitches from Ron ("For keeping top Seekers at the

top of their game!" screamed the package), an emerald-green knitted

sweater from Mrs. Weasley, fudge brownies from Hagrid, and a new

mokeskin wallet from Sirius. The Dursleys had also sent a present: a

half-used spool of orange thread.

At the bottom of the pile, Harry found a brand-new Transcription Quill

from Hermione. He fingered it suspiciously, remembering the Quick

Quotes Quill Rita Skeeter had used to twist his words into

unrecognizability last year. He reached into his bookbag and grabbed a

piece of parchment, which he set on his bed. Then he set the quill upon it.

Very tentatively, he said, "Merry Christmas".

In an untidy scrawl--just like Harry's own handwriting--the quill

wrote, Merry Christmas.

"Cool!" Harry exclaimed, forgetting that the quill was still

transcribing his speech. Cool!, it wrote. He snatched it up happily

and placed it in his pocket.

Harry thought he would go downstairs and find Sirius before breakfast.

He gathered up the tin of brownies and started down the staircase to the

Common Room. A pang of guilt struck him when he remembered the wallet

Sirius had given him. Aside from a handmade card, he didn't have any gifts

for Sirius; after all, what do you give someone who spends most of his

time as a dog? He wondered if Sirius might want to share the brownies

with him, but then suddenly remembered hearing that chocolate wasn't

good for dogs. He wondered if Animagi were different. Could Sirius eat

chocolate as a dog without any negative effects? If Sirius ate a brownie

in his human form, and then changed over, would the brownie hurt him if it

were still in his system?

Harry was lost in ruminations about the biology of Animagi as he

climbed out of the portrait hole. A cold voice called out from behind him,

pulling him out of his reverie.

"Merry Christmas, Potter."

Harry turned around. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall next to

the portrait hole, lazily passing his wand from hand to hand. Crabbe and

Goyle stood close by, but they looked tenser than Malfoy, as though they

expected something to happen.

This couldn't be good, Harry thought, but he decided to play along.

"Merry Christmas. I'm just going downstairs to breakfast." It wasn't

strictly true, but it was plausible. "See you later."

"Not so fast. What've you got there?" Malfoy drawled, pointing his

wand at the brownies. "Accio tin."

The little tin of brownies flew out of Harry's hands, and Malfoy caught

them with ease. He opened it, looked inside, and wrinkled his nose. "They

look like charcoal. Who made them, that half-witted idiot Hagrid?"

Crabbe and Goyle, however, looked very interested in the brownies.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and handed them the tin.

"Give it back, it's mine," Harry said, steeling himself for a fight. He

had been afraid of an ambush by these three, but now that they were face

to-face, all he felt was anger.

Malfoy laughed. "Make me."

Harry was furious. "You don't want to fight me," he heard himself

saying, "You were afraid to duel our first year, and you're afraid now."

Malfoy clenched his fists by his sides, an expression of rage reddening

his pale face. "I am not. I'll prove it!"

"Oh yeah?" Harry shouted. "You, Crabbe, and Goyle against me?" Harry

paused and appeared to consider this. "I guess that's fair. After all, you

could never beat me on your own."

If Malfoy had looked angry before, it was nothing to the pure loathing

Harry read on his face now. Harry nearly laughed out loud. Malfoy was so

easy to bait.

Upon hearing their names Crabbe and Goyle looked up from the

brownies. Their hands and mouths were already covered in crumbs.

Inwardly, Harry marveled at his good luck--neither he nor Sirius would

have to eat Hagrid's cooking now.

"You don't think so?" Malfoy said icily as he pointed his wand at Harry.

He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Go downstairs."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, bewildered. Goyle said, "But you

told us--"

"GO!" Malfoy shouted. Hurriedly, they shuffled off down the corridor,

taking the nearly empty brownie tin with them.

Malfoy turned back to Harry, who quickly drew his own wand. "It's just

you and me now, Potter." He snickered. "The great Harry Potter. Let's see

how great you really are. On three."

Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and mentally prepared a hex. "Three,"

he called.

"Two," Malfoy hissed.

"ONE!" Harry shouted, but Malfoy had already begun muttering a curse.

Harry had to abandon his own hex and managed to deflect the curse just in

time, sending a blue bolt screaming into the opposite wall. Chips of stone

flew off the wall in all directions.

"Arachnis!" Harry yelled, and a stream of spiders shot out of his

wand toward Malfoy. This time Malfoy was the one who deflected the hex,

sending the spiders tumbling harmlessly down the corridor.

While Harry was still trying to think of another curse, and before he

had a chance to say anything, Malfoy screamed, "Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew off down the corridor, in the same direction the spiders

had taken.

Malfoy's gray eyes glittered maliciously as he held his wand out

toward Harry. "The great Harry Potter! You don't look so great now, do

you, Wonder Boy?"

He chuckled, paused, and then articulated a curse slowly and

deliberately. "Deprivat--"

The distance between the two boys wasn't great, and Harry covered it

in the amount of time that Malfoy took to utter three of the curse's the

four syllables. Without thinking, he grabbed Malfoy's wand hand, placed

his right foot behind Malfoy's, and struck him open-handed in the chest. It

wasn't a hard blow, but the force of it was enough to knock the stunned

Malfoy onto his back on the cold stone.

"POTTER!" Professor McGonagall rushed up the corridor toward them.

She was followed closely by Hagrid, holding the empty tin in one hand, and

both Crabbe and Goyle by their collars in the other.

"What on earth is going on here?"

Harry tried to explain. "Professor, he threatened me. He wanted to

duel--"

"To DUEL?!" Professor McGonagall screeched, her eyes as wide as

Galleons. "As you are both well aware, dueling is explicitly forbidden by

the Hogwarts Code of Conduct! Twenty-five points each from Gryffindor

and Slytherin, and detention for both of you!"

Harry thought about protesting this, but the look in Professor

McGonagall's eye deterred him. After all, he reasoned, he had been

dueling. Harry was just glad that it was over, and by the look on Malfoy's

face, so was he.

Malfoy didn't attempt to argue either; he simply looked up at Professor

McGonagall and winced in pain.

"Professor, I think my back's hurt. It's really painful." He let out a

pitiful moan. Harry rolled his eyes.

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall found this display as convincing as

Harry did. She strode over to Malfoy, reached down, and yanked him up by

his arm. "That will do, Mr. Malfoy! If you feel that you are so grievously

injured, you may spend Christmas in the hospital wing and forego the

holiday feast later today."

Malfoy stopped moaning and returned her gaze sulkily.

"That's what I thought. Now, you four can either come downstairs for

breakfast or return to your respective dormitories. I won't have you

roaming the corridors fighting all day." She glanced witheringly at Harry.

Harry realized that he was missing his wand. He didn't want to anger

her further, but he had to say something. "Professor, my wand," he said

quietly, pointing to a spot several yards away where it lay on the stone

floor, surrounded by scuttling black spiders. Professor McGonagall

retrieved it and handed the wand to Harry indignantly.

Hagrid finally let go of Crabbe and Goyle, and led the group back toward

the Great Hall. Clearly attempting to preserve some semblance of dignity,

Malfoy lifted his head and strode down the corridor. Harry followed. When

they reached the entrance hall, he was relieved to see Malfoy turn in the

direction of the Slytherins' dungeon Common Room, followed reluctantly

by the still-hungry Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall proceeded into the Great Hall,

where Professors Green and Dumbledore were leading the mumbling staff

in a rousing chorus of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen".

***

The remainder of the day passed pleasantly. After breakfast, Harry and

the Hufflepuff boy accompanied Hagrid, Snuffles the dog, Professors

Green, McGonagall, and Dumbledore, and some of the other staff members

on a walk through Hogsmeade to admire the Christmas decorations. It was

very cold outside, but Hogsmeade was very pretty, and by the time

everyone gathered back at the castle for Christmas dinner, they were all

in a fine mood. Professor McGonagall had seemed to forget about the

morning's duel, and chatted amiably with Harry throughout the meal. Even

Malfoy forgot to send hostile glances Harry's way, and occupied himself

talking to Crabbe and Goyle instead.

Just when Harry had grown used to the winter vacation--the slow pace

of the days, having the Common Room to himself, being able to talk away

the day with Hagrid or Sirius--it was over. He missed having so much

time and space to himself, but seeing Ron and Hermione again made up for

that. Hermione had had a wonderful holiday ("I had a lot of time to study

for O.W.L.s!"), but Ron didn't seem to have enjoyed his much at all.

"Dad and Percy got into a big argument about You-Know-Who," Ron

informed them over breakfast on their first full day back at school. He

took a slice of toast from the platter Hermione was offering him, and set

the platter down on the table in front of Harry. "Then Mum and Penelope

got mad at THEM for fighting ... it was awful. Plus, now Mum's all worried

about Ginny playing Keeper on the Quidditch team. One broken collarbone,

and you'd have thought Ginny was crippled for life! I think Mum would have

forbidden Ginny to play at all if Dad and I hadn't taken up for her."

Hermione swallowed a bite of toast and smiled sideways at Ron. "You

took up for Ginny?"

"Yeah," Ron said, as though Ginny playing Keeper were his idea. "Well,

why shouldn't she play? Mum never had a problem with Charlie, Fred, or

George playing, and she doesn't mind me being the reserve. Plus, she's

always saying how Ginny's too shy and she needs to be involved in more

school activities." He shrugged and continued eating, oblivious to the

self-satisfied grin on Hermione's face.

A brown barn owl with black-flecked feathers suddenly landed on

Harry's right shoulder. It stuck out its left leg and hooted gruffly. Harry

carefully unrolled the small piece of parchment, and the owl took flight

again.

Harry glanced at the parchment and let out a groan. "Detention," he

mumbled. He had half-hoped that in the spirit of the season, Professor

McGonagall would have let it slide.

"What for?" asked Ron.

"Harry!" Hermione glared at him indignantly. "What did you do?"

He told them the story of his duel with Malfoy. Ron laughed, and

Hermione stifled a giggle.

"Well, as a prefect I'm supposed to disapprove of fighting. But all the

same--you say he was flat on his back?" She chuckled and shook her head.

"What's your detention?" asked Ron.

"Professor Green's office, five o'clock tonight," Harry read. He looked

up from the note. "Hey, that's not so bad."

Ron snorted. "No kidding. She'll probably have you sharpening

machetes or something." He stared at the far wall wistfully for a

moment. "Cool. Say, do you think I could come, too?"

"Most certainly not!" boomed the voice of Professor McGonagall, who

had been passing behind Ron at that moment. She stopped and stared down

at Harry sternly as she spoke to Ron. "Detention is not play time, Mister

Weasley. Potter will not be accompanied by friends, nor will he be

engaging in any activities that could be remotely considered--" she

paused as though unsure how to enunciate the next word "--cool."

They watched Professor McGonagall sweep out of the Great Hall and up

the staircase toward her office.

"I wonder what Green's having you do, then?" Hermione mused,

slinging her backpack over her shoulder and pushing back from the table.

"I don't know," Harry answered. He couldn't think of anything

unpleasant that Professor Green might force him to do, except perhaps

extra laps around the lake. And that wouldn't be so bad.

***

"Right on time. Come in." Professor Green opened the door to her

office and pointed to the chair in front of her desk. Harry walked in and

sat down. Sirius wasn't here; he must be running another errand for

Dumbledore. Professor Green took a seat behind her desk and regarded him

for a few seconds.

Harry began to shift awkwardly in his seat. Finally, he couldn't take

the silence anymore. "Um, Professor Green? Did you have some sort of

detention for me?"

She ignored the question. "Minerva told me what happened in the

corridor between you and Mister Malfoy."

"Oh." Harry thought he detected the slightest note of admiration in her

voice. He wasn't sure whether to expect a lecture or congratulations.

"Right."

Professor Green put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Would you care

to tell me what happened, in your own words? I'd like to hear it from you,

if you don't mind."

"Alright." Harry told her exactly what had happened--how Malfoy had

been waiting for him in the corridor, how they had dueled, how Malfoy had

unarmed and attempted to curse him, and how Harry had knocked him down

just in time.

When he had finished the story, Professor Green just stared at him in

silence again. He was beginning to become irritated with her reticence

when she spoke. "Interesting," was all she said, and that was more to

herself than to him. "What made you think to do that, Harry? I mean, we

haven't sparred at all in class yet."

He shrugged. "You did show us those things though--how to disarm an

opponent, and how to knock them down, I mean. I guess I just remembered

them. Is it really that unusual?"

"Yes. Actually, it is. You appear to have exceptionally good instincts."

Her tone was flat, as though she were trying not to compliment him, but

not quite succeeding.

"It was all over before I knew it. I didn't really think at all." He

shrugged again. He didn't know what else to say.

"Well, no. I should think not. That's why you're here, after all," she

responded briskly, snapping out of her reverie. She stood up, walked to a

spot beside her desk, and knelt down. "Harry, look here."

Harry craned his neck so that he could see around the edge of the desk.

Professor Green had grasped the end of a large black trunk and was pulling

it toward him. She set it down beside Harry's chair, so that he could see

seven differently-shaped locks spaced across the opening. She pulled a

large keyring out of her pocket.

"I daresay you've seen a trunk like this before," she said as she placed

a key in the first lock. "They're standard-issue for certain Ministry

personnel." Harry remembered the end of last term, and the trunk where

Dumbledore had found Mad-Eye Moody Stunned and cursed. He shivered.

Professor Green wasn't watching him, however, as she opened the

trunk's lid to reveal a pile of parchment rolls--hundreds of them. Still

kneeling, she turned around to face him.

"Trial notes, depositions, case files," she explained, "this is all the

paperwork I've amassed over the last, oh, I'd say five years or so." She

turned back to the trunk, which threatened to overflow with parchment.

Harry wondered how many animals had donated their skins to produce the

documents he saw before him just now.

Professor Green grabbed a parchment roll at random and stood up. "As

you may have guessed, I did not become an Auror to file paperwork." She

wrinkled her nose in disdain. "But teachers have the privilege of forcing

errant students to do those types of menial tasks for them." She grinned.

"Harry, let me show you what I want you to do." She selected another key

from the ring and placed it in the seventh lock. This time when she pulled

back the lid, it was as though Harry were looking down into a large room.

Torches in brackets lit its brown walls, and the floor was made from the

same type of warm-hued, smooth stone as the walls were. The color of it

made this room a little more cheerful than the pit-like chamber where

Moody had been imprisoned--just a little.

Professor Green placed one foot inside the trunk and climbed down a

ladder placed against the nearest wall. "Come on," she called from inside.

Harry followed. As he reached the bottom of the ladder, he stepped off

and looked around. The room was very plain--besides the torches, its only

remarkable feature was a network of cubby holes that covered the lower

six feet of each wall.

"What I want you to do is file, Harry." She pulled the first and seventh

keys off the keyring, handed them to him, and pocketed the keyring. "All

those documents you saw are public records--the Ministry has copies, but

they still won't let me throw anything away." She sighed. "Anyway,

they're very boring, so don't bother trying to read them. Just match the

case number on each piece of parchment with the correct cubby hole.

See?"

Professor McGonagall had been right: there was nothing cool about this

detention. It would be tedious and boring; on the other hand, it could have

been much worse.

For the next ten minutes, Professor Green showed him how to file

parchment rolls. Finally, she glanced at her watch. "Oh, it's nearly six.

I've got to meet the third-years out by the lake," she said, handing him an

armful of parchment rolls that she had been filing and heading for the

ladder.

"You're leaving?"

"Well, yes. You can handle this, can't you? I'll be back in couple of

hours to see how you're doing."

Harry didn't fancy spending two hours alone in the spooky torchlit

room, but he tried to look nonchalant. "Sure."

Professor Green climbed up the ladder. "Oh, and Harry," she called

down to him, "remember, only the first and last locks. Other than that--"

"I know, I know," Harry mumbled, "don't touch anything."

She winked and disappeared from view.

Two hours later, Harry was stiff, tired, sweaty, and hungry. His

muscles were sore from climbing up and down the ladder carrying the

awkward bundles of parchment. To make matters worse, he had barely

made a dent in the heap of parchment rolls in the first compartment of the

trunk.

He glanced at his watch: it was a quarter to eight. In fifteen minutes

Professor Green would come back and, hopefully, take him to the Great

Hall for a late dinner with the third-years. He took the last parchment

roll of the bundle he'd been filing and placed it in a cubby hole near the

floor. Slowly, he sat down on the brown stone. He stretched his arms and

yawned. As he did so, a stray piece of parchment laying on the floor near

the ladder caught his eye. Figuring he must have dropped it during one of

his trips down the ladder, Harry got up and moved toward the corner where

the parchment sat. He knelt and grabbed it, but when he tried to pick it up,

it wouldn't budge--one corner was lodged in a crack in the stone where

the wall met the floor. But that spot was obscured by shadow, so Harry

had to feel the edges of the parchment and try to work it out. Having made

no progress after a minute of this, he nearly gave up. Suddenly, he looked

up and saw a torch sitting in a bracket on the wall nearby.

Cursing his stupidity, he stood up and pulled the torch away. The

bracket came with it.

"Great," he muttered to himself. The bracket had broken away from the

wall completely. He supposed he would have to fix this somehow--a

charm might do it. He was preparing to blow the torch out and set it down

on the floor when he unexpectedly caught sight of something inside the

crack in the wall where the torch bracket had been. He lifted the torch to

illuminate the crack.

Inside sat a small, very old-looking scroll. It wasn't off-white, or

even slightly yellowed, like the rolls of parchment he'd been filing all

night. Instead, it was a deep golden-brown; it looked as though it might

turn to dust if Harry touched it.

But his curiosity got the better of him. Carefully, Harry reached in and

pulled out the scroll. It was tougher than it looked, he noted with relief.

He held it up to the torchlight.

The visible portion of the scroll was covered in very tiny writing in a

language that Harry didn't recognize; it might have been runes, or possibly

a foreign alphabet. He remembered that Hermione was taking Ancient

Runes and wondered if she could read it. After puzzling over the scroll for

a moment, he placed it gingerly in his pocket. When Professor Green got

back, he would ask her what it was and how it had gotten there. In the

meantime, he would use a simple Fastening Charm to fix the torch

bracket--that, at least, was one charm he'd been able to master last term.

She returned later than either of them had expected, apologizing for

her tardiness.

"The fighting between the Houses, you know. It's getting really bad. A

Ravenclaw boy tried to trip a Slytherin." She made her way down the

ladder, panting. Her face was flushed from being out in the cold. "I had to

take the Ravenclaw up to Professor Flitwick. Well," she remarked

pleasantly as she looked around at the newly-filled holes in the walls, "I

must say, you've made a great deal more progress than I expected! You

must be hungry. Come down and have a bite."

Harry thought for a moment. Earlier he'd been hungry, but now he was

just sleepy and sore. "Actually, Professor, I think I'd rather go to bed."

"Suit yourself," she answered, and motioned to him to climb the ladder.

When they got back up to her office, she found her keyring on the floor

near the trunk. "Thanks, Harry. With any luck, I can get that Ravenclaw to

finish what you've started. Goodnight."

Yawning, he mumbled a faint goodnight and left Professor Green's

office for Gryffindor Tower.

It wasn't until he changed for bed that he realized the old scroll was

still in his pocket.