Harry Potter and the Michaelmas Term

Things were beginning to wind down as the end of term approached. The decorations were going up in the Great Hall as the end of term feast approached. Hermione might not have been one to let her efforts slip, but the rest of the Gryffindors were becoming more relaxed.

There were still some surprises left. At the end of the last Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the term, Moody called Dean and Harry back for a word. He glowered at them in silence until they began shuffling their feet anxiously.

"Damn fool stunt," he eventually growled at them, "but well done all the same."

"Thank you, Professor," Dean said politely, relieved the reprimand had been no worse..

"But you need some proper training in case there's a next time. What I was thinking - would the two of you like to visit me in the holidays to work on the Unforgiveables?"

Harry and Dean looked at each other. Harry knew this was too good an offer to pass over.

"I'd like that, Professor." Harry was more formal in lesson time. "But - I was wondering ... could Ron and Hermione join us?"

The magical eye swivelled and stared directly at him. Harry swallowed. He could never quite get over the disconcerting effect of that eye.

"We make quite a good team," Harry went on.

Moody grunted. "Hm. Well. Not a bad idea, I suppose. But no more. It's the sort of thing we keep to ourselves, if you see what I mean."

"We won't spread it around."

"The Ministry no doubt gives you quite a bit of latitude - me too, if it comes to that - but no one likes the Unforgivables. So, don't mention it to anyone else. Understood?"

"We won't," Harry assured him.

"I'll owl you as to time. My place at home would be best." The two boys nodded. "Right, then. Off with you."

Once safely out in the corridor with the door closed, Dean turned to Harry. "Wow. Personal tuition from Moody! Scary or what?"

"He's good," Harry told him.

"Oh, yeah, I know, but he's still scary."

"Heart of gold - if you dig deep enough."

"I'll take your word for it."

It wasn't until the evening that Harry was able to take Ron and Hermione aside to tell them. Ron's eyes widened when he heard what was on offer.

"Wow. This really should be good." Hermione looked a little bit more worried, however. "What's the matter this time, Hermione?"

"Do you think we should be dabbling in the Unforgivables?"

"Death Eaters are happy enough to use them."

"And do you want to be a Death Eater?" she said tartly.

"No, but we've got to know about them, even if we don't use them ourselves."

"True."

To help convince her, Harry told them: "I remember someone saying to me that Moody never resorted to them unless he really had to. He was more scrupulous than most."

"I suppose so. Oh, well, perhaps we ought to know a bit more about them, just to be on the safe side."

There was just one more ordeal to be faced before term ended. There was still one more double Potions lesson.

The Gryffindors decided to go in as a group clustered round Harry and Dean, and without a word, took their usual places. Without Nott and Malfoy the dungeon seemed emptier, and, somehow, larger. Snape swept in, his lip curling as usual. He looked around at the silent class. No one moved.

Then: "The Sospitas Potion." He waved his hand to the board, and the formula appeared. "Got on with it," irritably.

In silence the Gryffindors assembled their ingredients. Everyone was determined to make sure that Snape could find no possible room for criticism. Harry could see Neville's lips moving as he read the list of ingredients and the instructions.

It felt weird - there was not a sound in the dungeon other than people opening flasks, measuring ingredients. Snape stood at the front, and Harry could feel his eyes moving from him to Dean and then to Neville. Eventually Snape began moving around the room. Again, not a word. Snape hovered by Neville's elbow for a long time, but Harry could see Neville doing his best to shut out the presence behind him. Then across to Dean. He stared into Dean's cauldron for a long time, as Dean stood back, clear of the table and of Snape.

Again, not a word, as Snape moved away expressionless. Harry took a deep breath and concentrated hard on his potion. He had all his ingredients at the ready, and began adding them, checking the order carefully, into his cauldron. Stir carefully. Add the essence of murtlap. Stir again. Right. Now leave to simmer for two minutes. He turned down the flame to his cauldron and stepped back.

To his horror, he bumped into Snape, who must have been standing just behind him. He was about to stammer out an apology, then bit his lip. He and Snape stared at each other for a long time, before Snape moved towards Harry's cauldron, ladling out a little of the potion, looking at it, sniffing it, slowly pouring it back. Harry looked at his watch. The two minutes were up.

"Excuse me, Professor." Snape turned to look at him. "I have to add the final ingredient now."

Grudgingly Snape stepped back as Harry finished the potion and turned off the flame to allow it to cool.

Snape moved from cauldron to cauldron, doing his best to find fault. But unwittingly he had created perhaps the best Potions class in the school: not only the Gryffindors were determined not to lose any more points, but had also come to the realisation that the best way to get their own back on Snape was to produce potions so good that there was no way he could find fault.

Finally Snape turned to face the whole class. Harry wondered if he was going to try his next technique, which was to ask impossibly difficult questions, questions which only Hermione and Malfoy - who, after all, was outstanding at Potions - were able to answer. But Malfoy wasn't here any more: it would be only Hermione who would be able to answer them. And Harry realised that Snape was not going to give Hermione the satisfaction of being the only one to be able to answer.

Snape stared at them for a long long time, and, stolidly, they stared back. Finally: "Class dismissed."

They packed up in silence, and it was not until they got out into the corridor that a babble of talk began. Dean was congratulating Neville on his potion; Ron caught Harry's eye.

"Well, no more of that for the rest of the year. And did you see Snape's face?"

"It's sad," said Hermione, as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"That he has to try and get back at us through lessons."

"One thing," said Harry.

"What's that?"

"He's made better Potions makers out of us."

Hermione snorted. "By trying to intimidate us all the time. Honestly, what a loser."

Harry looked back down the corridor. "Just as well we're out of earshot."

"You know what?" said Hermione. "I wouldn't care if he did hear."

Ron put on a tone of mock horror. "Hermione - you rebel!"

"Really, what a way to teach people. Okay, we've learnt stuff - but that's mainly to try to prove him wrong - to show we can do it. People like McGonagall or Remus or Flitwick didn't have to do that. Or Professor Wynne. It worked with us because we hate him so much - but half the people he teaches are just plain terrified and learn nothing at all."

Hermione was getting quite worked up. Ron stopped to look at her.

"You sure you're all right, Hermione?"

"Course I'm all right," she snapped. "But can't you see what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, yeah." Ron was silent for a moment as they walked along the corridors. "I suppose we might have made the potion okay today, but one thing's for sure - at the end of each lesson, I come out thinking I never want to go back to those dungeons and make any more."

"My point exactly. If he were a good teacher, not only would you learn the stuff, but you'd want to go back for more. Would you do that for Snape?"

"Er - not exactly."

Harry was more than slightly relieved that they'd arrived back at the common room. The potions class had been their last lesson of the term, and so now they could pack all their books and paraphernalia. Harry did intend to do quite a lot of work over the holidays - not just for his exams, but because he was becoming more and more convinced that if he was to face Voldemort yet again, then the more he knew, the better his chances. Not that he expected NEWT level magic to bail him out, but he reasoned that if he knew the basics, the rest could come later.

That night's feast felt odd with the gaps in the Slytherin table, and the underlying tensions that hadn't yet evaporated. As far as Harry was concerned, however, they'd got what they'd deserved, and he wasn't going to worry about the missing Slytherins just at the moment. Except to think that whilst he was enjoying a slap up Christmas feast, they were in a cell somewhere, and he didn't imagine that the Ministry cells ran to Christmas feasts.

As they were finishing the last of the mince pies, Dumbledore stood up and surveyed the students in the hall. Gradually a hush fell over the crowd, and heads turned towards the top table.

"Ladies, gentlemen. I shall take up only a moment or two of your time, but I do have something to say that I feel is important. Some of our number are not with us tonight. That is because they are not with us in another sense. They put the lives of some of you at risk, and also the lives of families of yours. For this, there cannot be any excuse. We may have our differences. We do have our differences." Suddenly his voice was grim, so grim that it forestalled any reaction that might have come from the Slytherin table. "But there is one thing that is unforgivable in a civilised society - to threaten or to harm each other, and worse still, to take hostage loved ones. Anyone who thinks that is acceptable is not welcome in this school."

There was complete and utter silence. Harry felt it was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing. Dumbledore surveyed the hall, taking everyone into his sweep, not allowing his gaze to stop at any one place.

Then he smiled. "Have a very happy holidays," he said, and sat down.

Harry looked across the table and caught Dean's eye, then raised his mug in a silent toast. He saw Dean raise his in return, and they each took a sip before putting the mug back down again. People were beginning to move now, getting to their feet and slowly making their way out of the hall.

Susan passed the Gryffindor table and leant over. "I'll send you an owl when I'm back home."

"Yeah - that'd be nice. We can meet up somewhere."

He stood up and watched her leaving the hall with the rest of the Hufflepuffs, then turned back to the others.

"Back to the tower?" asked Ron.

"Right."

Harry could feel the last of the strain of the past week easing out of him. Unlike some of the previous years, he felt that this time the school was united behind him, and that was a very pleasant feeling. Instead of being taken as a lunatic or fantasist, people had come to realise what was really happening - and the attack on Dean's family had cemented that. Articles in newspapers were one thing, but to hear of the kidnapping of the parents of your classmate - that was something else.

The common room was crowded with people all getting ready for the holidays, but Harry and the others were able to bag a group of armchairs.

"Well," said Ron cheerfully, "Dumbledore told them what for, didn't he?"

Dean was staring into the fire. "Yeah." He sighed. "Going to be difficult, going home, and telling them about it all. Explaining what's been going on. Them being Muggles and all, and not knowing anything about You Know Who."

"Do you want me to drop in sometime and talk to them?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yeah, might be an idea - but not straightaway. I'd like to talk things through with them first."

"Sure." Harry paused. "And I need to apologise to them."

Dean shrugged. "Not your fault a lunatic's after you."

"Even so. They didn't deserve being dragged into this."

"No one does. You don't. But there you go." Dean yawned. "And I'll take that wand along to Ollivander. See what he makes of it. Never met one like it before."

Dean's yawn started the others off.

"Come on," said Hermione. "Bed time."

The next morning saw them standing ready with their luggage, waiting for the carriages. Harry supposed that now they could just have gone down to Hogsmeade and Apparated home, but it felt that much more sociable to go in the train.

Neville came up to him. "Um - Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking of having - well, a party, over Christmas." Harry blinked. Neville? Partying?

"Really?"

"Yeah. And - well, you're invited."

Harry smiled at him. "Thanks a lot, Neville."

"You'll bring Susan?"

"Probably."

"Okay then." Neville stood by his side, at a slight loss for words, then cleared his throat, and said: "Better go and invite some of the others. I'll owl everyone, anyway."

"Sure. Thanks again," said Harry, still slightly bemused.

This looked as if it was going to be a busy Christmas. Suddenly Harry's spirits lifted at the thought of going home. Home - to Grimmauld Place.