Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 3

Turn To Fall

Who so regardeth dreams is like him that catcheth at a shadow, and followeth after the wind. [Ecclesiasticus 34:2]

***

The remaining month of summer almost literally flew by. Harry spent all the time he possibly could on his broom, reacquainting himself with Quidditch and the heady pleasure of flying after a year's absence. During the rest of his time, when the sun was out and Quidditch was too visible, he studied, roamed the castle, or simply enjoyed the lack of the Dursleys. He spent many a pleasant afternoon down in the kitchens with the house elves, chatting, and occasionally helping out with food preparation...until one of them spotted him and shooed him off with horrified looks and shocked noises.

Dumbledore had sent for his school books, and all his supplies, including new robes (last year's were several inches too short), had been owled to him by a small fleet of exhausted birds.

The only blot on his pleasant holiday was the growing frequency of some unpleasant queasy feelings. He had noticed them way back in the beginning of July, but they seemed to be getting progressively worse. He'd originally chalked them up to the admittedly poor food he got at the Dursleys, and had simply ignored them. However, after he'd settled in at Hogwarts and the summer began to speed by in an easy-going whirl of lazy afternoons keeping a lonely Fang company in Hagrid's absence and enthusiastic one person pre-dawn Quidditch matches, Harry began to notice a slowly increasing severity in the problem. He'd usually wake up feeling slightly unsettled, and if he ate too much at breakfast--a real possibility at a Hogwarts meal--he'd pay for it the entire day with agonizing cramps and relentless nausea. He took to skipping a few meals a week, and that seemed to help, so he decided just to let it be. No need writing Sirius and worrying him for nothing, or even worse bothering the Headmaster, who on the rare occasions Harry saw him, seemed increasingly occupied with hundreds of important things Harry didn't even want to think about. It was probably just growing pains, anyway, Harry figured, though he also thought that that might be entirely wishful thinking.

September first was upon him quite suddenly. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, almost bouncing in excitement. The summer had been great, but he had really missed Ron and Hermione. It had been consummately strange to be the only person living in the Gryffindor tower, and the Hogwarts castle seemed that much more enormous without crowds of students to occupy it. Harry wouldn't at all call his holiday lonely--he'd long ago learned the art of self-entertainment--but neither could it compare to the warmth and cheer of an evening spent in the common room surrounded by friends and housemates.

As the great doors opened, Harry stood up and craned his neck, searching for the tell-tale flash of red-orange in the swirling mass of incoming students.

It was actually Hermione whom he spotted first. She had gained a few inches over the summer and had also let her hair grow out. As she approached, nearly running to him, Harry caught a glimpse of a shining letter P pinned to her robes.

"So, you're the girls' prefect," he said, laughing as she hugged him. "Hold on while I remember to act surprised."

"Oh, be quiet, you," she snapped playfully, socking him in the shoulder. "I was surprised."

"Well, you're the only one." Ron had come up behind them without either noticing. "Good to see you again, Harry. The train ride was absolutely intolerable without you. Hermione just read and did prefect stuff. It was beastly."

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

The three turned and collectively sighed as the two Creevey brothers approached. "Hullo, Colin, Dennis," Harry said, nodding to them.

"We heard you got attacked, Harry."

"Was it exciting?"

"Did you fight them off yourself?"

"Er, I--"

"Say, we got attacked too!"

Harry stopped cold. "You what?" Dumbledore had told him there had been no other Death Eater activity since the attack on Privet Drive, but if this was really recent...

"Oh, not by Death Eaters," Colin waved an irritated hand at his little brother, "Just by robbers." He looked momentarily sad about this fact, but brightened as his brother took up the tale.

"It was great! All our things were all thrown around and Colin's room looked like a disaster area."

"Really?" Hermione looked interested now. "Aren't there wizard security charms?"

"Well, sure. But our dad's a muggle and we live in a muggle city. We never bothered," Colin put in.

"So you think it was a muggle?" Harry asked.

"Nope, they broke in with magic. And you wanna know the weird part? We can't figure out what they took."

"That is weird." Ron joined the conversation for the first time. "When was this?"

"Oh, end of June, right after we got home. It was a great summer!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks as the Creeveys headed off down the Gryffindor table.

"Nutters, it's sure now," Ron said with clinical solemnity.

"Oh, be nice," a new voice joined them. They all turned, and Ginny Weasley flushed a lovely shade of pink as Harry spotted her standing behind them. "Er, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I uh--"

"It's fine." Hermione smiled at her, "The boys are mean sometimes."

"Mean?" Ron huffed, looking offended. But before an argument could break out, the hall fell silent as Professor McGonagall led the line of first years out and set up the Sorting Hat. Harry sat forward with interest. He had only heard two sorting songs, and the novelty had yet to wear off for him.

"I can hardly remember, for all the time,

Nearly a thousand years,

when the Four founded this school fine,

For their children and their peers.

While they did live,

They chose their own,

students especially to give,

them help to learn the traits they'd shown.

Rowena Ravenclaw,

in her great learning,

knowledge and wit only saw,

those of mind discerning.

Sweet Hufflepuff,

differently she chose,

steady, hardworking, and tough,

were those.

Gryffindor, he of great renown,

picked those he knew were brave,

who would protect school and town,

those to his house admission he gave.

Lastly Slytherin it was,

a man who valued great ambition,

he swore that slyness does,

grant one sure admission.

And now that the Four,

are dead and gone,

I am your,

hat to rely on.

I'll take a look,

inside your mind,

and tell you the best nook,

the best house, your kind."

After the sorting, Dumbledore rose to give his customary speech. He outlined the normal restrictions, including seventeen new additions to Mr. Filch's list of forbidden items.

"And, as I'm sure you've all been hoping, Quidditch has returned this year." There was an almighty uproar and Dumbledore waited patiently for everybody to settle back down. "And, as the observant among you have probably noticed, we have two new members of staff this year."

Two? Harry craned his neck, and indeed there were two new faces. Or rather one new face and one familiar one.

"As the information was held in strict confidentiality, I'm sure you all knew last year that the man who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts was not, in fact, Alastor Moody." Dumbledore paused, and his eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, sliding over Neville and very briefly meeting Harry's gaze. "I apologize," he said into the silence of the hall, "for any discomfort or worry this may have caused any of you. It was unforgiveable that I allowed a deception of that sort in this school. I can only assure you that steps have been taken to ensure that nothing of the sort ever happens again. Professor Moody, the real Professor Moody, will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year." There was somewhat nervous applause. "And Professor McKinnon will be teaching Care Of Magical Creatures for the first term while our own Hagrid is away on business."

Harry blinked at the woman. She was in her sixties, perhaps a little older. It was sometimes hard to tell with wizards. She rose and bowed politely to them all as they applauded, her smile distant but kind. She nodded politely to the hall in general and retook her seat.

"And now," Dumbledore continued, "Since I can see how famished you all are, dig in!"

The plates and bowls filled with food and the sounds of hundreds of hungry children and teenagers chowing down filled the hall. Harry half turned to address Ron and Hermione, to tell them about his summer, when he saw that the two were already deeply involved in one of their seemingly endless debates. Harry had little desire to even know what it was about, let alone involve himself. So he turned to his other side and smiled down at Ginny.

"Hullo, Ginny. How're you?"

"Er, good."

Harry sighed. Talking to Ginny was something of an exercise in futility, something he'd found on the few occasions when they'd actually spoken for more than a minute or two. In the past he'd actually gone out of his way to avoid her sometimes, simply not wanting to deal with her wistful glances and heated blushes. He felt a little guilty about that now, though, especially since he figured he'd sort of been in her position last year with Cho. The thought of someone having a crush on him still made Harry more nervous and uncomfortable than anything, but he figured the least he could do was speak civilly with Ginny. If she would cooperate, anyway.

"Uh, you glad to have Quidditch back on?" he asked, not expecting much of a reaction. He was, however, quite pleasantly surprised by the brilliant smile Ginny gave him.

"Oh, definitely." She hesitated a moment, then leaned close as if confiding a secret. "I'm actually considering trying out for Keeper, you know. I've been practicing a lot at home. The boys always want to play, you know, and Ron always insists on being Seeker so I'm usually left to play Chaser or Keeper."

"Really? That's great. We really need a good Keeper this year. It'll be hard to fill Wood's shoes." Harry sighed. "Need a new captain, too. I reckon one of the girls will do it."

"Maybe not," Ginny said, casting him a sideways glance. "But anyway, I only said I was thinking about trying out. I probably won't."

"Why ever not?" Harry was aghast. Not trying out would be like...like...he couldn't even come up with an appropriate comparison for how silly it was.

"Well, I, you know, I'm nervous." She avoided his eyes, studying her goblet intently.

"Oh, don't worry about that. My first game, you know, I was absolutely shaking," Harry comforted, smiling at the memory.

"Really? You were?" Ginny looked at him as if she couldn't imagine him afraid of anything. "But, I mean to say, that's not the only reason. I'm worried about Ron."

Harry blinked, completely befuddled for a moment before he began to understand. "Is he planning on trying out?" he asked carefully. "He hasn't mentioned it."

"I think so. And, I think you know better than most of us how he can get if he feels like someone is trying to outdo him."

"Yeah." Harry paused, remembering the bleakness of Ron's anger at him. "But Ginny, to be honest, that's not a good enough reason not to try out. I mean, if you're the best person for the team, then you're the best person. Ron will see that. He loves Quidditch and I know he'd rather see the team win with you than lose with him. There's no harm in trying out. Ron may get it, he really is a good player."

"Yeah," Ginny perked up a little, "You're right. I guess I've been a little egotistical, just assuming I'd get it. Thanks, Harry, I needed that."

"No problem. And, you know, Ginny, it's okay to talk to me about these things. I'm glad to help." Harry felt a little odd saying something like that, but he really had enjoyed his first real conversation with her.

"Of course you are," she blushed again and turned quickly away to speak to the girl on her other side.

Steeling himself against the onslaught, Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione.

"Oh, like you can talk about that! You were the one who spent the whole summer off gallivanting about with 'Vicky'"

"Viktor," Hermione enunciated carefully, "is a very nice person. I don't see why you have such a problem with my dating him, or just being friends with him for that matter."

Ron flinched at the word 'dating.' "He's from Durmstrang!" Ron made it sound like Viktor was a Slytherin. "They turn out dark wizards all the time. You never know, ole 'Vicky' might be just waiting to strike."

"Ron!" Hermione's lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. Harry leaned back, recognizing the danger signs. "First of all, making stereotypical statements like that is part of the reason why there are dark wizards in the first place. Secondly, you're exaggerating. Durmstrang has turned out thousands of students, only a few of whom have been dark. And thirdly, Viktor and I had a discussion about that very stereotype. He told me how hard he's always worked to try to show people that Durmstrang students can be good wizards, working for the light side. He said he would never work for You Know Who, and he is in fact dedicated to You Know Who's downfall. He was very upset over being placed under the Imperius curse last year. He said he knows what evil is, now, because he's lived it, and he'd do anything to never feel like that again." Hermione deflated, the speech obviously taking a lot out of her.

Ron simply sat, blinking, obviously still stuck back at her first point, before just throwing up his hands and turning to Harry.

"So, how 'bout those Hogsmeade Hippogriffs, eh? Think they'll have a chance for the national title this year?"

"Er," said Harry, not quite sure where to go with that.

Hermione's lips thinned and her eyes snapped. "Oh yes," she said icily to Ron's back. "Just ignore me when you can't think of a reasonable answer. That's mature."

The rest of the meal and the trek up to the tower were rather strained. Ron went on ahead while Hermione and Harry led the first years and explained the password system, before shooing the yawning pack of eleven-year-olds off to bed.

"Were we that little?" Harry muttered to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"Well, you were. Not too sure about the rest of us."

"Hey!" Harry tugged playfully at her long hair, "I've grown this summer."

"Probably because you actually had the chance to eat decent meals," Hermione said, and Harry was eerily reminded of Dumbledore when he'd spoken about Harry's lack of school books. He wondered a little worriedly just how much they all knew about the Dursleys and his life with them.

"Anyway," he said, changing the subject quickly, "I like your hair longer. It's less...fluffy."

"Thanks, I think." She said, grinning at him, then yawning. "I'm completely knackered. Night, Harry."

"Night, Hermione."

Harry jogged up the stairs to his dorm, now labeled "5th years," and flung himself down on his bed. Ron's curtains were already closed, and Harry suppressed a groan. The Ron-Hermione cold front had already come in and it looked like it would last a while.

He pulled off his glasses and sat up, intending to go change. He got only partway to his feet before he nearly doubled over with the pain in his stomach. He bolted to the bathroom and was dismayed to see the feast again so soon.

"Wonderful," he muttered, flushing the toilet and rinsing out his mouth.

He slipped back into the dorm, moving very carefully as not to jar his still roiling innards. He considered just going to bed, but decided instead to get a book and go sit by the fire. The heat sounded really inviting, and so did just sitting and relaxing.

He settled down in a huge armchair before the fire, Defense book open on his lap. He'd read nearly twenty pages and was just thinking of going back up to bed when he heard a creak. Looking up, he spotted somebody coming down the girls' stairs. As she stepped out into the common room proper, he got a better look.

"Hermione? Everything alright?" he asked, closing his book.

"I could ask you the same thing." She came and perched on the arm of his chair.

"I asked first." Harry frowned. Now that she was close he could see the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the lines of fatigue creasing her face. "Trouble sleeping?"

She nodded and gazed into the fire. "Weird dreams."

"Nightmares?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"No, not scary. Just...strange. They're unsettling." She shifted, twisting her hands in her lap.

"Do you want to tell me about them?" Harry asked carefully. If there was one thing he understood, it was unsettling dreams.

"Yeah. There's really not much to tell, though. There's just this flash of sitting by the fire. I think I know the room but I don't see enough to recognize it. Then there's this sense of being startled, and I see this glimpse of a man with a mask. Not a Death Eater mask," she added swiftly, seeing the question forming. "Just a regular old costume mask, like the person just didn't want to be recognized and didn't really care how they looked. Then there's a flash of this woman...she looks sorta familiar but not exactly."

"Is that it?" Harry asked, frowning. It was weird, but he didn't really see how it could be so upsetting that she'd be losing sleep.

"I told you there isn't much. I just...get this feeling. It's like something in my head is all muzzy, slow, it feels like something doesn't belong..." She looked over at Harry and grimaced. "Now that I say it out loud, it sounds really stupid."

"No, I think I understand. And it's obviously not stupid if it's bothering you so much. How long has this been happening?"

"Oh, maybe three weeks. Since a few days before I left Bulgaria, I think." She was looking at the fire again, and the smudges beneath her eyes were even more apparent.

"Look, why don't you go back to bed. Sitting down here won't help, believe me." Harry stood, tucking his book under his arm.

"I see you tried my usual solution," she said, smiling slightly and gesturing at it.

"Yeah." He smiled back and then made shooing motions. "Go on, you'll need your rest. Got lessons tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah...lessons."

There was something odd in the way she said that, almost as if she weren't looking forward to classes. But that was just too absurd, so Harry dismissed it and simply wished Hermione a good night. He decided to follow his own advice and went upstairs to the boys' dorm and bed.

***

Harry moaned silently as the trio entered the Charms classroom the next morning. Ron and Hermione were still not being civil, and he was rapidly getting tired of it. In past years when they fought, he'd always sat between them and endured the, "Harry, please tell Ron that he's..." and the, "Harry, please tell Hermione that she needs to..." But this year he found he had little patience for it.

Glancing about the room, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find that this year they had Charms with the Ravenclaws. They'd had few classes with the Ravenclaws in past years, and he really didn't know most of them too well.

Maybe he could escape Ron and Hermione, if just for the class session. He looked around the room again and then broke into a genuine smile.

"Hi, Padma. Mind if I sit here?"

She glanced up from her Charms book (good lord, why wasn't Hermione put in Ravenclaw if they were all like that?) and smiled shyly at him. "Of course. Good to see you again."

"Yeah," he said, sitting down in the only available seat next to her. Ron and Hermione both glared, but he ignored them, turning to talk to Padma. "How was the rest of your summer?"

"Alright. I did a lot of studying. We have O.W.L.s this year, you know. And we spent two weeks in Wales, but that's about it. What about you? You stayed here, right?" She raised a questioning eyebrow, and Harry suddenly realized how strange it would seem to the other students that he'd stayed at Hogwarts for part of the summer. He wondered just how effective Dumbledore's measures to keep his presence hidden had been, particularly with his birthday party and Colin's knowledge of the attack. Harry wouldn't be surprised if half the school knew about that by now, no daytime flying or not. He trusted his friends implicitly, but there had been a lot more people at his birthday party than he would have anticipated, and he wondered if that had surprised Dumbledore, too.

"Yeah," he answered, pulling out his book, wand, and parchment. "Was rather boring, honestly. Just did homework. At least I got a chance to fly a lot."

"That's right, you play Quidditch." She leaned back in her chair, and Harry's eyes were caught by the elegant arch of her shoulders and neck visible through her robes.

Shaking off those sorts of thoughts, he just nodded. "You like Quidditch?"

"It's alright. I'm not much of a flyer, myself. I just can't seem to handle a broom. They always go shooting off without me."

Harry grinned. "I could, you know, help you. If you wanted to learn, that is." His brain began clamoring objections and protests as soon as he'd said it. He reminded himself rather brutally about what had happened the last time he'd shown interest in a girl. He could just picture Padma, her face twisted in grief as Cho's had been last year at the feast. But it was too late, and Padma's eyes had already lit up with surprised pleasure.

"I'd like that. I've always been really interested, not so much in Quidditch as just in flying itself. It would be great if you could help me."

Harry was desperately trying to think of a polite way to retract his offer when Professor Flitwick stood up on his desk chair and waved for attention. Harry turned to the front, mind churning with his own stupidity, and the lovely, exotic slant of Padma's eyes.

"Welcome back, students," the tiny Professor squeaked energetically. "As I'm sure you all know, your O.W.L.s are this year. Because of this, your studies are more important than they ever have been before. We will be covering a variety of charms this year, many of them very difficult." Harry could see Padma sit up, her eyes alight with excitement. He could tell without turning around to look that Hermione wore the exact same expression. "Now then," the Professor continued, "we're beginning today with the Abscondo charm. This is a very versatile charm because it can be modified to affect a whole variety of different items. It is a sort of concealment charm, but it is unlike the invisibility charms you will be learning in your seventh year. This charm disguises an object by turning it into something else. It works best if you keep the disguise similar to the original object. This is not a particularly powerful charm, and it cannot cover large areas. It also has the added disadvantage of Caster Dependence. We discussed that phenomenon last year when we learned straightening charms, but I'll remind you that it means if the caster of the charm is not within sufficient proximity of the object, in this case that means physical contact, the charm lapses. Now, because of its limited range in fooling the senses, it is not used by Aurors and the like in most situations. But I'm sure you can all see its usefulness in other applications. Many young ladies use it to hide blemishes and the like." There was a flurry of interest from the corner where Parvati and Lavender had set up camp, and Padma rolled her eyes.

"Like she needs to cover up blemishes," she muttered.

Harry was tempted to point out that Padma really had no need for the charm either, but he restrained himself.

"Right, then. The basic form of the charm is Abscondo." Flitwick dramatically demonstrated the necessary wand movement. "As I said, it's very versatile. You can alter it to apply to almost any noun of sufficiently small size. For now, we'll stick with the old standby..." he disappeared behind the desk and came up looking like an imploded pillow with a mass of feathers in his arms and covering his face. "Feathers! Or, as the spell requires, 'Penna'."

He passed out the feathers and then showed them how to modify the spell. By the end of the lesson, with Padma's help, Harry was saying "Abscondo Penna!" and making his feather appear as a quill.

"Does the quill actually work?" he asked Padma.

"No." She flicked her wand and her feather became a quill to match his. "You'd have to transfigure it for that. This is just an illusion."

"Well, it's a really convincing one," Harry commented, poking at his quill. "It even feels right."

"That's what makes it so interesting." Both Harry and Padma jumped. Professor Flitwick was a bit below the average person's sight line and he had an eerie talent for sneaking up on his students. "Magic that can alter the senses is thought by some to be the most powerful. After all, what is the Cruciatus Curse but fooling your neurons into thinking you're in excruciating pain."

"I've never thought of that," Harry said, his face twisting in the remembered agony. "All that...just an illusion..."

"Which is not to belittle it, not at all," Flitwick put in. "I'm sure the experience feels more than real."

"Yes, it certainly does." Harry's fingers released their hold on the charmed quill. As it left his hand it reverted back to a feather, drifting lightly and coming to rest on the desk.

"You sound like you've felt it," Padma commented, shooting him a slightly unnerved glance.

"Uh," Harry floundered, looking quickly away. He had the feeling that blurting out that he had, in fact, felt the Unforgivable would be a really bad idea.

"Er, quite, quite." Flitwick backed away, his expression uneasy. Harry wondered just how many of the staff knew the true story of the Third Task. All of them, he suspected.

Oh, fabulous, Harry thought. That's two teachers I've disturbed so far this year.

"Right then, class." Flitwick lept up onto his stool and clapped his hands briskly. "Your homework is simply to practice that charm. Dismissed!"

Nodding a farewell to Padma and ignoring Hermione's attempt to draw him into a conversation, Harry rose with everyone else. He simply dug out his schedule, squinted at the parchment and set off for History of Magic. He really didn't feel like talking to anybody right then.

Luckily, History was an easy place to avoid Ron and Hermione's bickering. Even their fiery irritation was reduced to simple somnolence in that class. Harry sat between them, knowing full well that he and Ron would soon be dozing comfortably. Hermione would make it about halfway through the period, taking her usual meticulous notes, before she began staring vaguely off into space, her face slack and her eyes vacant. Of course, if either Ron or Harry ever brought this up to her, she would vehemently deny ever sleeping in any class.

Harry hadn't seen Professor Binns since that awkward conversation in the library over a month before. To the entire class's surprise, the ghost teacher did not immediately settle at the podium with his endless sheaf of notes. Instead he stood in front of his desk, studying them with his usual detached expression.

"This year," he began, "You have your O.W.L.s." There was a collective rolling of eyes. "In History of Magic, the OWL is administered in a slightly different manner than in most of your other classes. Half of the credit may be earned in a written exam given in June. This exam will encompass all material covered in your five years here." This time there was an all out groan. "However," Binns continued, completely ignoring, or possibly unaware of, the class's reactions, "the other half is somewhat different. Today you will be assigned the name of a great figure in magical history. Your job is to fully research, document, and construct a report detailing this person's life, role in the history of magic, impact on the magical community both in their particular part of the world and at large, and all such relevant information."

Harry sighed in relief. That didn't sound too bad. They'd done similar projects in past years. A few hours in the library, another pestering Hermione for ideas and he could come up with a decent three rolls of parchment.

"This report will be a minimum of twenty-five rolls of parchment," Binns finished, turning and retreating to his desk.

Harry sputtered.

Ron goggled.

Hermione looked ecstatic.

"Twenty---did he just--I think there's been some sort of--Harry, please pinch me!"

Harry leaned over and gave Ron a good wallop upside the head. "That help?"

"No." Ron looked miserable as he rubbed his sore head. "And I said pinch, not bludgeon."

"Well, it made me feel better," Harry remarked, leaning back in his chair and surveying the range of expressions his Gryffindor friends wore. Lavender and Parvati looked like they were recovering nicely and Harry could already see the seeds of their normal "well, it's not due for another two hours, it can wait a bit" philosophy. Not that he could really talk. Dean and Seamus looked in about the same shape as Ron. Neville just looked like he was about to cry. And Hermione...Hermione was grinning like a maniac.

"Stop that," Harry muttered, poking her as Binns returned to the front of the class with a stack of cards in his hands. "It's starting to freak me out."

"Sorry," she mouthed back, looking anything but.

"Now, I will pass out your assignments. I have chosen a subject for your report based on your particular interests or talents. Please do not ask to switch subjects unless you have a valid complaint."

"That's odd," Ron said, "We've always gotten to choose in the past."

"Yeah." Hermione looked somewhat upset as Binns began passing out the cards, "I had already picked somebody out."

Ron's retort was cut off as his card landed on his desk. Harry took his from Binns, his chest heavy with dread. It would be just typical if he got Voldemort, or some other dark wizard like Grindelwald. That was just what he wanted, to spend a year reading about murder and destruction.

He flipped the card over with a resigned sigh...

And let out a delighted whoop.

The entire class jumped and Harry blushed as they all turned to stare at him.

"Er, sorry 'bout that. Just, er, a little excited. Great project, y'know," he stammered, shrinking down in his chair.

Most of the class shrugged and turned back to the contemplation of their own cards with varying expressions. Harry just grinned at his.

"Well?" Hermione asked impatiently, "That had to be for something exciting. Who'd you get?"

Harry showed her his card and her eyes widened. "Wow! That's great, Harry. I wish I had one like that. I already know all about mine. She was a scholar in ancient Rome--"

"That's great, Herm," Ron cut in, but Harry was glad to hear the lack of real bite in his tone. "Who is it, Harry?"

Harry sat back with a satisfied smile. "Godric Gryffindor."