Harry Potter and the Michaelmas Term

"My study at Hogwarts," he told the two boys. They nodded, and Dumbledore stepped into the fire, followed by Dean and then Harry. Harry stumbled out at the other end, cursing Floo powder. Somehow Dumbledore managed to travel without getting a mark on his clothes.

"Please sit down," said Dumbledore, conjuring up two chairs. He sat behind his desk and surveyed the two of them. "I shall say: well done. I shall say: extremely stupid of you both." Dean and Harry exchanged glances. "But," Dumbledore went on, "what's done is done. But please - and you, Harry, should know a lot better than this - no more adventures on your own. No more gallivanting off. Will you both give me your word?"

"Yes, sir," they each said. Faced with their Headmaster, there was little else they could say.

"Very well. And - very well done. You were both lucky and resourceful, Master Thomas."

"Thank you, sir."

"But enough of that. Now, Dean, I gather most of this centres round you. So tell me the full story - and with no omissions."

As Dean began, Harry's attention once again began to wander - to Fawkes, sitting quietly on his perch; to the portraits, craning forward to listen; to the silver machines on the table, which touched him once again with that pang of guilt.

He tuned Dean's voice out. He had no desire to relive the past twenty four hours. Another encounter with Tom Riddle. An escape. He'd got out alive. Voldemort was still alive. Still stalemate.

Eventually Dean wound down to a halt, obviously exhausted by now.

"Thank you for your time. An interesting story indeed." said Dumbledore. "Now. There is obviously more -" Dean looked awkward "- but I still have a lot to do this evening, and I imagine you two are tired out. Go back to Gryffindor Tower and get some sleep. And don't let the others keep you awake. You can tell them your story in the morning. All right?"

"Yes, thank you, sir," Dean replied.

Dumbledore looked across to Harry, who gave him a faint smile. "We will need to talk, but later. Get some rest."

The two boys stood up. "Professor Dumbledore - can I say ... I'm sorry for having gone off like that," said Harry awkwardly.

Dumbledore waved a hand. "At least you are not in the hospital wing. Or worse," he added grimly.

Harry swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Off you go. Oh - and since it's so late, I think you have earned a lie in tomorrow morning. You are excused the morning's lessons."

They grinned. "Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore waved a hand at them. "Off with you."

The two boys clattered down the stone steps. At the bottom, Dean took out the wand that had belonged to Voldemort.

"I don't believe I've got this," he said softly to Harry.

Harry smiled. "You earned it."

"Basilisk tooth. Never met one of those before." He looked up at Harry. "That was the one you killed, yeah?"

"That's right. With Godric Gryffindor's sword." He smiled slightly. "The one I used to cut my birthday cake."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Just as well I didn't know that then. Come on, I'm knackered."

They made their way back to the tower in silence.

"Do your homework now," said Harry to the Fat Lady.

It didn't take much to realise that Hermione was in charge of passwords at the moment.

Inevitably, there were still some people waiting up for them. Ron, looking very white. Hermione, who put her hand to her mouth when she saw the two boys come in. Behind them were Neville, Ginny and Seamus.

Before anyone could say anything, Harry raised his hand. "The story in the morning, okay? And Dean's the hero of this one, so ask him."

"You're both okay?" asked Hermione.

"Fine. Sorry about the Quidditch practice, Ron."

"Yeah, well, we coped without you."

"I was relying on the resourceful captain. Look, Dean and I are knackered. We're off to bed. Dean gives the story in the morning. Okay?"

Everyone was bursting to hear what had happened, but accepted that they'd have to wait. Harry went up the dormitory, pulled his clothes off and dropped them into a heap on the floor. He was vaguely aware of Ron picking them up before falling into a very deep sleep.

And he slept well past his normal waking time the next morning. When he woke, the dorm was empty except for Dean coming back from a shower. He groaned and reached for his specs. Dean sat on his bed drying his hair.

"Did all that happen yesterday?" he asked Harry.

"Probably."

"I often used to wonder what You Know Who would be like to meet - and now I've found out."

"Well?"

Dean shuddered. "Never again, thank you."

"You saved the day."

"It's like you said - it's luck as much as anything. I mean, suppose he'd used his wand for something quite harmless. It's not the sort of trick you can pull twice."

"I'm beginning to wonder when my luck will run out," said Harry. "Each time he comes looking for me, I get away. But he's still out there, still looking for me."

"There were times, years ago," said Dean, "when I wished I was you. Being famous and all that. Well, you can keep it."

"Thanks. You can give the press conference this time."

Dean gave a grin. "You think that if I asked to, they'd let me?"

"Oh, yeah. From the Ministry's point of view, you'd be really good news. Hogwarts Student Escapes You Know Who. What a headline."

"Yeah, well, I still reckon you can keep it."

They were both starving, and Harry took Dean along to the secret entrance to the kitchen, where the house elves plied them with bacon, eggs and anything else they wanted.

"Not bad, this, Harry."

"You're not to tell anyone else," warned Harry, "or they'll all be wanting to come down here."

"Promise."

They ate their fill before making their way back. As they approached the main school, they heard people moving between lessons, and instinctively Harry took Dean's arm, holding him back. He didn't want to have to talk to people just yet.

"By the way," he said to Dean as they stood in the corridor, "you're in charge of the next Defence Group meeting. And you know what you're going to talk about."

"Me?" asked Dean.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's your turn to tell people what meeting Voldemort is like. It's either that, or I'll twist Arbuthnot's arm to get you to give a press conference."

"I'll take the Defence Group," said Dean hastily.

"Fair enough."

They were going into the Entrance Hall past the statue of Wicca the Wandless when Harry again halted abruptly. Snape had come sweeping down the corridor to their right. He saw them and stopped, his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer.

"Potter. Thomas. Out of lessons?" His voice was smooth and low, and yet with that menace never far below the surface.

"With the permission of the Headmaster, Professor," said Harry.

Snape approached them. His eyes were black and glittering, unfathomable, unreadable. "Indeed." His voice was lower than ever.

Harry never knew whether Snape tried to intimidate everyone on principle, or just him. But suddenly he felt a wave of anger. Who was Snape to talk to him like that? All right, Harry was still a student, but he didn't feel that any student should be treated the way Snape treated him. He remembered a tip he'd been given by one of the trainee Aurors in the summer: when someone's trying to intimidate you, or stare you out, don't look them in the eye. Instead look at the bridge of their nose. Harry focussed on the point where Snape's eyebrows met. It was not a pretty sight.

"Indeed," he replied.

Snape stiffened. "And why did you see fit to go gallivanting off yesterday, Potter?"

Harry concentrated his gaze between Snape's eyes. "We explained that to Professor Dumbledore."

"Really, Potter. Perhaps you would care to explain it to me too?"

"Not really, Professor."

Dean gave a sharp intake of breath at that. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Snape's fists curling and uncurling.

"Arrogance ill becomes you, Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

Snape stood in front of him, his eyes trying to bore into Harry's. Harry resolutely ignored them. He remembered Snape's powers of legilimency.

"The Headmaster requires to see both of you," he snapped suddenly.

"Yes, Professor."

"Is that all you can say? Not really, Professor. Yes, Professor." Snape mimicked.

"No, Professor."

Harry did think then that Snape was going to strike him. But just when he was about to duck, Snape whirled on his heel and stalked away down the corridor, his gown billowing out after him.

Dean let out that intake of breath. "Phew, Harry. What were you trying to do? Get yourself killed?"

Harry turned to him. "Yesterday you faced down Voldemort. Why should you be afraid of Snape?"

Dean thought about this for a moment or two, then said: "You could be right. I dunno. As for me, Snape's another reason why I'd be happy to leave at the end of the year."

"You've got a job to go to."

"Yeah. That's why I'm itching to be off."

"Fair enough. Well, we'd better go and see what Dumbledore wants."

They hurried down the corridor. Outside the entrance to Dumbledore's study Harry stopped and said: "Haribo!"

As the doors began opening, Dean asked incredulously: "You know Dumbledore's password?"

"No. This is one just for me. It only works if Dumbledore's in there."

Dumbledore had asked him for the name of his favourite Muggle sweet when giving him access. Harry had a problem there - the Dursleys had never given him sweets, or any money with which to buy any. But he did remember stealing some from a bag of Dudley's once on a long car journey. They were among the few sweets he'd ever tasted up to then.

Harry and Dean were taken up the revolving staircase, and Dumbledore's study door was ajar. Harry tapped, and heard "Come in."

Dumbledore was standing by a window, looking over the grounds, and turned as they entered. Harry was immediately struck by how sad and weary Dumbledore was looking. He brightened, though, at the sight of the two students.

"Harry. Dean. Come in. Have a seat," waving at the chairs in front of his desk.

"Thank you, Professor."

But Dumbledore remained by the window, silhouetted by the light. Finally he sighed and moved towards his own chair.

"A sad business, this." Neither of the two boys said anything. "I have just been speaking to Professor Snape."

Harry thought it best not to mention his encounter in the hall.

"Theo Nott is no longer with us. He has been taken away to the Ministry." Dumbledore paused. "He has assured me that no one else was involved, and there is no evidence that they were. On the other hand ..." Dumbledore's voice trailed away. "I did not entirely believe him. Some others have gone to the Ministry too. Whether any evidence will be found, I do not know."

There was a long pause. Finally Harry leant forward. "Could I ask who the other students are, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry, you may. You will find out soon enough even if I don't tell you. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle."

Harry's heart gave a sudden leap, although he was careful not to show it on his face. Theo Nott couldn't have done all that by himself. But would they find any evidence of Malfoy's involvement? Knowing that slimy ferret, probably not.

"I had hoped," Dumbledore went on, "that we at Hogwarts might not be touched by such matters, but apparently not. Perhaps it is too much to hope for among a school of so many. Perhaps there will always be those tempted by the Dark Arts."

Harry felt he had to say something. "It's not you or Hogwarts that's to blame, Professor - I think they were inclined that way a long time before they came here."

"That's kind of you, Harry - although I would have hoped that we here would have had some influence on them." Not with Snape as your Head of House, thought Harry. "But still. To change the subject. Dean - that trick of yours with a wand - is it a trade secret?"

Dean squirmed slightly. "Well, up to a point. But I'm sure Mr Ollivander wouldn't mind you and Harry knowing."

"Excellent. Then if you wouldn't mind ...?"

Dean demonstrated the charm, and they each practiced it in turn.

"So simple, yet so effective," murmured Dumbledore. "I can still learn from my pupils." He paused and looked at them intently.

"Now, then you two. It is possible that the Ministry may want to talk to you again. In the meantime, you can tell the outline of your story to your friends, but please - do not go about gloating about the removal of your fellow pupils. We do not want to spread the rancour further. Is that understood?"

They each nodded.

"Well, in that case, Mr Thomas, thank you for your time, and for showing us that rather neat little trick. Harry ... if you could stay for a word ...?"

Dean stood up to go, and after he left, Dumbledore leant back in his chair and looked at Harry.

"The trouble with this business," he said slowly, "is that I am reminded of Professor Dippett and Tom Riddle. Being too old and feeble to see what was going on under his nose, so to speak."

Harry smiled. "I'd never describe you as feeble, sir."

"Old, maybe?"

Harry shrugged. "Age can bring wisdom, as you've told me often enough."

"Touché. I do want to see justice done on this one, Harry. I do not want the others locked away simply on guilt by association. If there is no evidence, I may allow them to come back to Hogwarts, but under very restrictive conditions. Would you be happy with that?"

"Would that include Nott, sir?"

"I am afraid to say that I think Mr Nott is looking at quite a long prison sentence. The evidence seems incontrovertible, and I can see the Ministry wanting to make an example."

"Well, sir, you'd have difficulty persuading me that the others weren't part of it. I mean, Nott found out about Dean and Olive from coming to the Defence Group meetings, and there's no way the others would have able to do that. I think he was used by the others as a way in."

"My thoughts too, Harry. But proving that is going to be another matter."

"You said restrictions, sir?"

"They would find themselves gated. Effectively, confined to their House out of lesson time. Probably for meals too."

Harry thought about that. "Seems reasonable," he said cautiously.

"Well, it may not come to that. We'll see. In the meantime ..."

Harry took his cue and stood up. "Thank you, Professor."

"Well, thanks are due to you, Harry. For rescuing Dean's family like that."

"Dean did all the work."

"Could he have done it by himself?"

"Well, I suppose not."

"There you are then. Even if you did make us all extremely worried."

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said awkwardly.

"It's done. But, please, not again."

"No, Professor."

Glad to escape, Harry made his way down the stone stairs. To his surprise, Susan Bones was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall.

"How did you know I'd be here?" he asked.

"Dean came in to lunch, and I managed to hear you were still with Professor Dumbledore. So I waited on the off chance."

"Thanks. You didn't have to."

"No, I didn't. But I wanted to."

"Fair enough. Did you get some lunch yourself?"

"Enough. What about you?"

"I've just had an enormous breakfast."

Susan stood looking at him while he thought what he should do next. Eventually: "Do you want to go for a walk outside?"

"Okay."

Although it was now very late in the year, the weather was mild enough, albeit with quite a stiff breeze. They walked down to the lake in silence, and sat in the shelter of a small hollow. Susan leaned against him, and Harry was grateful for the touch of another person. She seemed content to sit quietly with him, whilst he slowly relaxed.

They sat without a word for nearly half an hour, before she stirred and said practically: "Time for the afternoon's lessons."

"Yeah." Harry smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For sitting here with me. For the company."

She gave a faint smile. "No problem."

They walked back slowly to the castle. Susan had to go to Hufflepuff to get her books, and Harry headed off to the tower to fetch his. The other seventh year Gryffindors were already there, and he was thankful they didn't press him for his story. No doubt Dean had answered most of their questions.

"Sorry for missing the practice," he said to Ron, as they sorted their things out.

"No problem. For once, I'll agree you had something more important."

"Did the practice go well?"

"Not bad. We had to spend a lot of time on the Chasers - passing the ball and so on, so we didn't miss you that much."

"How are the juniors coming on?"

"They're good. We're having another session tonight."

"Want me to come along?"

Ron gave him a sharp look. "You don't have to come just cos you're feeling guilty. Not if you've work to be done."

"I can afford the time. And you know what it's like with beginners - the more helpers you've got, the better."

"Okay then - straight after lessons, while there's still some light."

They had Intelligent Magical Creatures first thing, and Wynne gave him a sharp look as they went in. He'd probably heard the story like everyone else. But Harry sat down and took his books out as if it were any other lesson.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen. As most of you know, Hermione spent some time working at Gringott's over the summer, and she's going to begin by telling us what goblins are like close to."

Harry felt he could afford to listen to this with only half an ear. Hermione's talk took about twenty minutes, and Professor Wynne opened the lesson out into a question and answer session. Harry suspected he'd be in the firing line the lesson after.

Harry met Ron up in the dormitory after the last lesson of the day; they both changed into something less formal and took their broomsticks out. Ron had been given a new one soon after his father's promotion, and it had helped his performance no end.

"I can't believe it," Ron said to Harry as they clattered down the stairs.

"What's that?"

"I feel it's all my fault."

"What is?" asked Harry, a little more exasperated.

"Nott. We got really friendly - talking about Quidditch and the rest of it. Thought he was a good bloke - despite being in Slytherin. Then he starts talking to Dean, and I reckon that's when he found out about his parents and so on."

"Yeah. And don't forget it was me who partnered Nott and Dean for the practices. But I think he had us all fooled."

"One good thing - Malfoy and his gang are gone."

"Maybe not for good," warned Harry.

"What??"

"Depends on whether they find any evidence linking them."

Ron stopped and stared at him. "You're joking."

"I'm not. We might know it, but can you prove it? Anyway, if he does come back, he's going to be under pretty tight security."

"With Snape in charge of him?"

"Remember Snape's supposed to be on our side."

"Oh, yeah? And he did a pretty good job with Malfoy and his gang, didn't he?"

"Well, we'll have to wait and see."

By now they were out onto the pitch, and the new First Years gathered round. Two of the Second Years - Edward and James, who had been in the First Year team the previous year - were there to help them. At this stage, most of the coaching consisted of basic flying techniques. They stayed out on the pitch until it was too dark to see, then went back to change for supper.

Harry could feel the tension in the Hall as soon as he walked in. Dean was popular, and the kidnapping of his girlfriend and parents had touched a nerve not only in Gryffindor but in most of the student body. The Slytherin table had some notable absentees, and the few seventh years there were either remarkably subdued, or, as in the case of Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, very red rimmed around the eyes.

Dean had gone round the house earlier in the afternoon saying he wanted no reprisals. It was just as well, because Harry felt that without that message fights could quite easily have erupted. Dumbledore and the other teachers were out in force on the staff table, keeping a beady eye on things. Harry steered Ron to a seat where he'd have his back to the Slytherins. During the course of the meal, people kept on drifting over to the Gryffindor table to check that Dean would be talking to the Defence Group that evening. Each time someone came over, Dean would throw a mock exasperated look over to Harry, but Harry did suspect that Dean was secretly rather enjoying the attention.

It also meant that it would be an relatively easy evening for Harry: he didn't have much organising to do. By eight o'clock, the Room of Requirement was full to bursting, and there were great catcalls and cheering when he and Dean stood up. Harry stood there until gradually things quietened down, and deliberately spoke in a rather soft tone so that people had to shut up if they were to hear him. He didn't say much, but introduced Dean and sat down again.

Dean again looked highly embarrassed at being the centre of attention, but as he began to talk, he lost his shyness and got into the swing of his narrative. Harry noted several omissions, most of which were sensible enough. Near the end, he drew from his pocket Voldemort's wand. There were gasps from around the room.

"Harry and I were very very lucky," he said quietly. "I managed to trick Voldemort this time. Mainly because he wasn't expecting it. Mainly because he wanted something from us. He wanted Harry. All I can say is: I hope it never happens to you. You know what he's done before, and what he'll do again given the chance. Don't think that because Harry and I got away this time, you might have the same luck. You won't. But we've still got to fight him. And that's why we're here this evening."

There was complete silence for about ten seconds, then a slow rumble of agreement built up. Dean turned to Harry, who stepped forward.

"Thanks, Dean." He turned to the others. "I'm getting rather tired of telling stories about my latest escape from Voldemort. But you've just heard about the sort of things he is prepared to do. If Dean's trick with his wand hadn't worked, he'd be dead, I'd be dead, his parents and his girlfriend would be dead. So I owe Dean a lot."

"Plus Malfoy and his mates are locked up," someone shouted. That sounded like Ron.

"Yeah. But remember - Voldemort works by tricking people, by taking hostages, and we need to be alert to keep alive. Sorry to end the evening on a note like that - but that's really why we're all here."

Again there was silence. Harry wondered if he'd overdone the gloom - but after Dean's everyone had become more aware of what this was all about.

"Anyway, that's another term over. Have a good Christmas, everyone ... and by the way - a message from Hermione: don't work too hard!"

The laughter broke the tension, and people started gathering their things, and breaking up into huddles. Dean was surrounded by people firing questions at him.

Ron grinned at him as Hermione pulled a face.

"All right," she said resignedly, "you lot can take it easy. I'm not."

"Who said anything about taking things easy?" asked Ron in a tone of mock innocence.

She flashed him a look. "If you're not careful, I'll pop into the Burrow every day to make sure you are working."

"Promise?" asked Ron eagerly.

Hermione snorted.