Circle's Close

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Stubbornness of Weasleys

***

Harry glanced around his Potions classroom, privately amused at the looks of mingled boredom and confusion on the faces of his classmates. A few seats behind him and over in the next aisle, Lavender and Parvati were keeping each other occupied by reading each other’s palms and trying to predict each other’s love lives. Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff were having a mature debate over wizarding politics – not the most fascinating subject in Harry’s opinion, and he felt somewhat relieved that they weren’t sitting close enough to engage him in their conversation.

Dean and Seamus, sitting directly behind Ron and Neville in the next aisle beside Harry and Hermione, were talking about past girlfriends. And it was no wonder, when Ginny’s name came up, that Ron’s head snapped up and he slowly turned around to face his two roommates, a lethal look on his face that clearly said, ‘I double-dog dare you to say one word about my sister.’

But luckily for Ron (or rather, for Dean), Dean had no intention of speaking about his relationship with Ginny which had taken place two years ago. Instead, he chose to bring up an even touchier subject.

“It’s a bit dodgy, I’ll admit to that,” Dean was saying. “I mean – we find her wandering the corridor late at night – and she won’t even admit to the reason she’s there!”

“Suspicious,” agreed Seamus with a frown. “She was definitely lying to us – that’s for certain. Hey, Ron -- “ he added, seeing that Ron was listening and choosing to ignore the threatening look in his eyes. “What’s your sister up to, anyway?”

“She’s not up to anything,” Ron said through visibly clenched teeth.

Harry knew that Ron was only trying to convince himself of that now more than ever before. He couldn’t explain his sister’s odd behavior, and he couldn’t ignore it, either. Over the past month he had tried ‘investigating’, but had been quite unsuccessful. Ginny was just too good at covering her tracks.

Talking to her about it was no help, either. Ron had tried on a multitude of occasions to ask her what she was up to, which resulted in a heated argument between the two siblings every single time. From what Harry understood, Ginny was not ready to tell Ron about Draco, and Ron wasn’t willing to drop the subject ... which only frustrated both parties to the point where a row between the two stubborn Weasleys had become a regular occurrence in the common room.

After Ron’s forceful comment, Dean and Seamus dropped the subject immediately. They were not willing to do or say anything that might unleash Ron’s fiery temper. It was bad enough that their Potions Master would be showing up at any moment. The last thing they needed were two versions of Snape.

“Good afternoon, class,” said a pleasant voice from the doorway.

With shock and alarm, each head swiveled around to face the doorway. Whispers and low murmurs rippled across the classroom as Claire made her way from the back of the class to Snape’s desk, not wearing a set of wizards’ robes like the rest of Hogwarts’ staff, but resplendent in stylish Muggle clothing. A few pairs of curious eyes followed her as she moved. The rest looked positively gleeful, comprehension dawning on them.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Claire continued, reaching Snape’s desk as she slowly circled around it, facing the class. “Apparently, it’s extremely difficult to be in two places at once.”

By now, most of the students knew who Claire was and why she was at Hogwarts. A couple of weeks had passed since she had arrived at the school, and thanks to the flu virus which had spread, touching nearly every single student over the span of two weeks, almost everyone had gotten a chance to meet her.

“For those who were lucky enough to avoid the virus which has finally -- thank heavens – finished circling the school,” Claire began with an ironic smile, “you probably don’t know who I am. My name is Claire White, and if you haven’t guessed already, I’ll be standing in for Professor Snape today. He’s feeling a little under the weather, and should be better by tomorrow.”

There was a collective groan of disappointment at this statement while Dean said, “Are you absolutely sure?”

Claire nodded, biting back a laugh. “I should hope so,” she replied with an apprehensive smile. “Or my reputation as a semi-decent Healer will be forever corrupted in the eyes of the wizarding world,” she pointed out logically, while the class sniggered in reply. “And I truly have no intention of giving Professor Dumbledore any reason to regret offering me a job here.”

After discovering a note which Snape had left for her, Claire brought herself around the desk and sat on top of it, casually crossing one leg over the other as she perused the short piece of parchment. Unaware that every single student in the classroom was watching her, she snickered softly as she read the letter, and clucked her tongue impatiently after she had finished.

“It says here that you have been working on an Oculus serum, is that correct?” Claire asked, finally addressing the class.

Hermione immediately lifted up her hand, making Claire laugh lightly. “Please don’t raise your hand, Hermione,” she insisted. “I’m not really one for extreme organization. Speak your mind when you feel like it. That goes for all of you,” she added to the class, who looked at her in surprise.

Hermione, looking more amazed and relieved than anyone, hesitantly lowered her hand. “I don’t know if Professor Snape had a chance to tell you – but we’re supposed to work on our point-form assignment today.”

“That’s right, Hermione,” Claire said, looking back down at the piece of parchment. “It says here that you’re all to work quietly while reading through your textbooks, and write down the ingredients and the how-to formula. He also reminded me here that it would be wise for me not to change his method of teaching. Of course,” she added matter-of-factly while smiling benignly at the students, “Professor Snape also states that he doesn’t want me to completely annihilate his class. And to be perfectly truthful, I’m finding it difficult taking orders from someone who once called me ‘Mudblood’ twenty years ago. So, who’s up for a game of Exploding Snap?”

There was a round of cheering among the students while Dean and Seamus chorused together, “Strip Chess!” Laughter followed this suggestion, and even Hermione and Claire joined in with the rest of the class.

“Alright, I have a better idea,” Claire suggested, sobering as she gained the class’s attention once again. “Close your books; pull out some parchment and your quills.”

“What are we doing?” asked Ron as the class hesitated. “You’re not actually letting us off the hook, are you?”

Claire sighed apologetically. “Unfortunately not, Ron. What I thought we could do is work together on the assignment ... kind of like a group effort. And then we’ll use our spare time for something else ... something your Potions Master would most definitely not approve of.”

“But you told us to put the books away!” Neville said worriedly. “How are we expected to work together when we don’t know what to write?”

Claire’s dark eyes landed on Neville and she smiled tenderly down at him. “You might surprise yourself today, Neville, with how much you all actually know without having to consult a textbook. And if you work together as a class – I can guarantee that you will come up with an essay which will surpass even Professor Snape’s expectations.”

“Er – are we talking about the same professor?” asked Ron uncertainly.

Claire laughed softly before encouraging the class to trust her on the matter. The students quickly obeyed with enthusiasm and Claire waited until she could see that everyone was ready to take notes. Harry glanced at his girlfriend, who seemed surprisingly pleased with Claire’s approach to working with the class.

“Can anyone start by telling me the purpose of the Oculus serum?” she asked. She pointed at Dean, who looked slightly alarmed at being the first student called upon.

“Er – It’s a remedy for eye problems, such as conjunctivitis, puffiness and any kind of pain related to the eye area,” he answered nervously. He sighed with relief when Claire nodded, smiling brilliantly.

“Perfect,” she replied. “Make sure you write that down, class. Harry – can you tell me what the serum is made out of?”

“The main ingredient is cornflower,” Harry answered automatically, while the class scribbled madly. “And a bit of thyme and lavender to ease the headaches. which are usually caused by pain in the eyes.”

“Very right,” Claire replied. Her eyes returned to Neville, who was too busy writing down the information in point form to notice that she was looking at him.

“What is very interesting about most healing potions,” Claire told the class in a conversational tone, “is that there’s usually something about them that most people aren’t aware of. For example: sometimes, one potion will have two or more purposes, or in other cases, a potion will have certain side-affects which most people don’t take into consideration. Neville, I was wondering if you can tell me something about the Oculus serum that most people in this class might not know.”

Neville’s head shot up and he looked up at Claire in horror. But after a short pause, his fear seemed to slowly evaporate as she looked at him encouragingly. He took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s simple to make,” he said nervously. “M-most people don’t realize that. And – it can be used for cuts and scrapes. It’s not recommended ... of course. There are many other – and better – Healing potions suited for physical wounds. I just mean ... it can be used in desperate situations.”

Claire smiled brilliantly at him. “Very nice, Neville, very nice indeed. I hope everyone wrote that all down,” Claire added in an amused voice before winking down at Neville affectionately. “Because I don’t believe that Neville wishes to repeat himself. Now – can anyone tell me the negatives for the serum?”

“It’s highly addictive?” Justin suggested.

Claire looked over at him with mild curiosity. “And your name is?”

“Justin, ma’am. Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he answered eagerly.

“Good,” Claire replied. “And I wouldn’t use the words ‘highly addictive’, in response to your suggestion, Justin. However, if you use it more often than your body requires it – your system can develop an immunity to its effectiveness – rendering the serum completely useless. It’s just like any other drug on the market, people. Don’t abuse it – and it won’t abuse you in return. Can anyone else tell me another con? Hermione?”

“It doesn’t work the first time you take it,” Hermione answered. “You have to take regular doses until the condition clears up. The recommended quantity is twice a day for three days – one shot in the morning and one in the evening.”

“Very nice,” Claire said, sounding impressed. The class continued on in this vein over the following half hour, each student contributing to their assignment with a motivation and confidence which their regular Potions teacher would never care to coax from them.

"I thought that the Oculus serum cured astigmatism," Parvati said halfway through their lesson.

"That is absolutely correct," Claire said, beaming. "Which is the exact reason why this particular potion -- as simple as it is to brew -- isn't taught until Seventh year. The Ministry has always felt that for an underage witch or wizard to brew this for selfish motives is quite inappropriate."

Harry grinned, wondering if it would be more beneficial to him if he brewed a batch of the serum, so he would never have to wear glasses again. On the other hand, he had grown rather attached to them over the years, and had no real desire to dispose of them.

“And the taste is awful,” Ron piped up in conclusion. “At least – that’s what my brother, Charlie, told me when he had to take it after he nearly got his eyes poked out by a temperamental mother dragon.”

Claire was about to reply when their class was suddenly interrupted by a soft tapping sound coming from the fireplace. Not a moment later, Dobby the house-elf appeared in the classroom, dusting off his vibrantly colored socks and wiping away the soot from his tennis-ball sized eyes.

“Dobby!” Harry greeted enthusiastically alongside Hermione, who was smiling affectionately.

“Dobby apologizes, Miss Clarissa White, for interruptin’ her class,” Dobby squeaked, bowing so low that his long, thin nose touched the floor beneath his feet.

“Not at all, Dobby,” Claire greeted warmly, motioning with her hand for him to come closer. “And please, for the last time, call me Claire.”

Dobby’s round eyes widened to saucers as he shook his head slowly from side to side, timidly approaching her. “Ooooh, no,” he said, looking mortified. “Dobby has been told to treat Miss Clarissa White with the utmost respect due to her, and so Dobby shall. Dobby does not want to disappoint Mr. Sirius Black, Miss.”

Claire looked over at Harry, who smirked slightly at Dobby’s determined expression. Claire kneeled down and touched the house-elf on the shoulder very lightly. “Yes, well, it seems that Sirius needs to be shown a few things about respect, himself,” she replied with slight disapproval for the man she was once engaged to. “Does someone need me in the hospital wing? Is that why you’ve come here?”

“Yes, Miss,” Dobby said brightly, bobbing his head up and down. “Dobby hopes that he has not interrupted Clarissa White’s class ... But even so, Dobby hopes that she will follow him to the hospital wing – where her great skill as a Healer is also needed.”

“Of course I will,” Claire assured him, winking sidelong at Harry. “And thank you for coming to fetch me, Dobby. Professor Dumbledore was very right in suggesting that I ask you to act as my messenger. I doubt anyone else could do as marvelously as you are.”

Dobby’s large green eyes lit up with pride and Harry knew just how much Claire’s compliment meant to him. His godmother turned to the rest of the class. “I shouldn’t be longer than ten minutes. I think we’ve finished up with the essay. There’s just one more thing in order. Five points to each person who pitched in with the assignment -- I think that includes everyone, doesn't it? And now that we still have half the class to go – I want you to do something for me.”

“Another essay?” groaned Ron, and Claire couldn’t bite back a smile at the worried expressions on the faces in front of her.

“No – not exactly,” Claire told the class. “Now that you’re graduating in two months – I want you to think about and discuss amongst yourselves your fondest memory here at Hogwarts.”

The class looked at her in bewilderment, half expecting some kind of a catch. But Hermione had a different concern on her mind, and had no qualms about voicing it.

“But what has that got to do with Potions?”

Claire smiled, her eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief Sirius had a tendency to express when he was feeling particularly playful. “That’s the beauty of it – absolutely nothing.” And as the class erupted into appreciative laughter, Claire followed Dobby through the fireplace, leaving Harry and his class alone for the time being.

Justin leaned back in his chair, looking particularly smug about something. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Can you believe that she called me Justin?”

“She calls us all by our first names, you halfwit,” said Hannah. “Besides ... she’s not going to be interested in a schoolboy. She obviously prefers a real man.”

“You’re just bitter because that real man is Professor Black,” Justin returned, smirking. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Yeah, tell us something, Harry,” Dean said, speaking loud enough for the entire class to hear. “What’s really going on between Miss White and Professor Black?”

All eyes swiveled onto Harry, who suddenly found himself under the spotlight. It was the first opportunity his classmates had had to ask him what had been on their minds almost since the day Claire arrived at Hogwarts.

Sirius and Claire had told Harry that what went on between them was strictly between them – and they had done a pretty decent job of keeping their relationship under lock and key. However, there had been at least one or two slip-ups, and the rumors were flying, as was Hogwarts’ custom.

While Harry searched for an answer, Hermione came to his rescue, looking at Dean coolly. “What do you think is going on?”

Seamus and Dean looked taken aback by this approach. Dean couldn’t seem to come up with an appropriate answer without sounding disrespectful.

“I saw them,” said Parvati to Hermione and Harry. “I saw the two of them just last week. If they aren’t together, well ... there’s always the term “friends with benefits” to fall back on. If that’s what they’re doing.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” Seamus teased Parvati, who blushed crimson.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” she replied defensively. “I’m just trying to understand the nature of Professor Black’s relationship with her, is all. There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“You’re trying to figure out whether you should scratch him off your list of obtainable men, is what you’re trying to do,” Ron said laughingly, and Lavender giggled while Parvati blushed even more.

“What about you, Neville?” Seamus asked curiously. “Why does she seem to favor you more than anyone else? I wasn’t even aware that you knew her – or that you caught the flu bug.”

“I didn’t,” Neville said quietly.

“Well?” persisted Dean. “You’re not going to tell us what’s going on after all these years of knowing each other?”

“She knew ..." Neville looked at Harry for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in a helpless manner. “She knew my parents.”

There was a small pause. Though it wasn’t common knowledge among their class that Neville’s parents had spent nearly half their lives in St. Mungo’s, it was certainly known among his own roommates by now. Dean and Seamus looked at Neville apologetically, but Neville wasn’t finished.

“She ... was my mother’s midwife,” he said, “when I was born.”

“Blimey!” Ron gasped. “I never knew that!”

“Sorry we pushed you, mate,” Dean said sincerely. “It’s none of our business.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be figuring out our fondest memories?” asked Hannah pointedly, and Neville looked very relieved that the attention was off of him as the class readily agreed.

“I wonder why Miss White wants us to,” Justin added. “There just doesn’t seem to be any point.”

“There doesn’t need to be,” Harry said. “Not a logical one, anyway. It’s like she said just before she left – we’re graduating in two months. In two months, we’re going to be living completely different lives – finding our path in the real world. I think that she wants us to relive the good times we spent here. We’ve been spending the past year studying and preparing for the rest of our lives non-stop, haven’t we? This is her way of telling us to take a deep breath, slow down, relax, and enjoy life. That’s all.”

“Yeah?” Dean said, nodding shortly with comprehension. “What is your fondest memory, Harry?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, paused a moment, and then closed it. He shook his head. “I know it sounds cliché – but there are too many to pick from.”

“Allow me to refresh your memory,” Hermione said, leaning towards him and kissing him behind his ear. The class howled and cheered at this while Harry’s face glowed brilliant red.

“I suppose it’s difficult to compete with that,” Ron agreed, laughing as well. “What about you, Hermione?”

Hermione paused a moment, looking deep in thought. “My best memory ..."

“Do I have to refresh your memory, too?” Harry teased, while Hermione blushed.

“Blimey,” Ron said, shaking his head at his two best friends with a teasing smirk on his face. “And usually it’s Hermione accusing me of getting side-tracked. I’m surrounded by hypocrites.”

After a few more minutes of reminiscing, the conversation was followed by the familiar whooshing noise coming from the fireplace. Claire stepped through into the classroom, trying to brush any excess ashes from her dark strands. She seemed to give up, deciding that no one could possibly tell the difference between her hair and any clinging charcoal.

“Is everything alright?” asked Harry with mingled concern and curiosity. He smiled as Claire rolled her eyes, advancing into the classroom and taking her seat back on the top of Snape’s desk.

“That depends on your version of ‘alright,’” Claire replied hesitantly. “I apparently have a new patient on my hands, and I’m thanking God that I’m here right now, instead of in the hospital wing.”

“It can’t possibly be worse than having Professor Snape as a patient, can it?” asked Ron, incredulous over the matter.

“Oh, it’s much worse,” Claire said with a small, ironic smile. “I not only have Professor Snape to take care of – but Professor Black as well. And I have the vomit on my shoes to prove it,” she added, sticking her foot out for the class to see.

A few girls shouted “gross!” while the boys cheered with approval.

“Hermione, my dear,” Claire said with a pleasant smile, trying not to laugh at the mixed reaction she had received. “Would you do the honors? Charms never have been my strong suit.”

Hermione swiftly pointed her wand at Claire’s shoes and exclaimed, “Scourgify!” The vomit and the sickening odor vanished instantly and Claire wiggled her feet happily.

“Have you ever lost a patient before?” asked Ron, returning back to the subject at hand. “Because I think your spotless record is going down the loo as we speak.”

“Well, if it does,” Claire said, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands on her lap, “and if Sirius manages to make vapor out of your Potions Master, then it looks like there might be another job opening for me to consider.”

Dean raised his hand. “Er – Miss White? Is the option of vaporizing our teacher exclusive to Professor Black only? Because I’m pretty sure that I can find some very willing volunteers.”

“Yourself included, Dean?” asked Claire with a smile, while the class sniggered softly. When Dean hesitated to reply, wondering what Claire would do to him if she heard him speak ill of his professor, she added, “You only have a few more weeks with him. If you’ve lasted this long – you’ve got it made.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ron said with a bitter, forced smile. “He doesn’t hold your fate in his hands – with N.E.W.T.’s coming up and all.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” Claire agreed, looking at him. “But if I remember correctly – your N.E.W.T.’s are the most important scores of your entire Magical training. Do you honestly believe that Professor Snape is the only one responsible for grading you? Trust me – there will be other very unbiased Testers on the panel.”

The class didn’t look convinced, which prompted Claire to add in a lighthearted tone, “Stop worrying. Believe me when I say that there are worse things than the Severus Snapes of this world.”

“And that’s supposed to make us feel better?” Ron asked, incredulous.

Claire sighed, smiling apologetically at the class, who continued to look at her apprehensively. “I can see that I’ve only made things worse. Let’s forget about Snape – and let’s move onto the assignment that I left you all with.”

The class readily agreed; eager to follow Claire’s advice and forget all about their Potions Master.

*

The Gryffindor common room was silent while Hermione and Leah sat together on the scarlet sofa, studying for their N.E.W.T.’s and O.W.L.’s respectively. The only sound that broke the persistent silence was the occasional groan of frustration that emanated from Harry and the occasional chuckle from Ron every time one of his chess pieces took out one of Harry’s.

After more than twenty minutes of this, it was Leah who eventually spoke, looking up from her Transfiguration notes to look at Harry in a speculative manner.

“If you’re so terrible at chess,” she said with a bewildered frown, “then why do you persist in challenging Ron?”

Harry shrugged, and after commanding his knight to move toward Ron’s bishop, he glanced over at Leah.

“I always manage to convince myself that I’ll catch Ron on a really bad day and finally beat him.”

“But he never does,” Hermione added, her face stuck in her Charms book. She giggled softly as Harry gave another loud groan, having lost his last castle.

“What you should have done,” Ron told Harry in professorial tones, and Harry had the suspicious feeling that his best mate was thoroughly enjoying himself, “is moved your bishop instead. That would have saved your castle and you would have taken out my knight in two moves, because I would have had to get my queen out of harm's way. Do you see?”

“I don’t understand,” Leah said, frowning slightly as Harry shook his head, berating himself for being such a blind prat. “You don’t mind helping Harry during the game?”

Ron shrugged, waiting for Harry to make his next move while the latter stared contemplatively down at the nearly empty board. “To be honest, it’s more challenging for me if I help him along.”

Harry muttered something unintelligible that could have been an insult to Ron, while still pondering over his next move.

“Because as you can see, Leah,” Ron added in a louder voice, glancing over at his girlfriend, “I could have won a very long time ago. And where’s the fun in that, eh?”

Leah dropped her book onto the table and moved from her seat next to Ron, where she watched the game with open curiosity. Harry commanded his knight to move and when it did, a satisfactory smile slowly crossed Ron’s lips.

“I can’t believe you’re not watching this, Hermione,” Leah said, turning to her. “It almost looks like Harry’s going to win, after all.”

Hermione let out a low sigh, flipping to the next page of her book without looking up. “As to your first comment, I’m not watching because I’ve seen them go at it a thousand times before. Especially when they should be pulling out their books to study.”

Harry and Ron took a moment to exchange a guilty smirk at this slight remark of disapproval.

“As for your second comment,” Hermione continued in lighter tones, “it always looks like Harry’s going to win. But he never does.”

“That’s cold,” Harry said, shooting an indignant look at his girlfriend. “And I think I resent that.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Hermione said with sweet smile as she finally looked up from her book. “But we all know who’s going to win this game. Ron isn’t the best chess player Hogwarts has seen in over a century for nothing. And don't argue, Ron -- you heard Dumbledore in First year after you played us across McGonagall's giant chess set.”

“You’re not that bad, are you, Harry?” Leah asked him while they both waited for Ron to make his move.

“It’s not that Harry is terrible,” Hermione cut in. “The truth is; Ron is just that good. He’s more of a strategic player, if you get my meaning. While Harry tends to act on instinct – without really thinking first – Ron likes to plan and consider every option from every possible angle. Those skills are what make him such a great leader.”

“Leader,” Ron scoffed distractedly, still staring avidly at the chessboard.

“You may not possess the confidence or determination that most leaders do,” Hermione added in agreement. “But you have the kind of mind that plans battles better than fighting them. And that’s not a bad thing,” she hastened to add, seeing Ron’s back stiffen slightly with resentment. “It’s those kinds of qualities that will see you rising above others. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if you became Minister for Magic someday.”

Ron snorted with disbelief, but Harry, who was facing him, could see that Hermione’s words had greatly comforted him. He suddenly felt a rush of gratitude towards Ron. After months of watching his two best friends training to become Aurors, Ron had never once shown an ounce of jealousy or envy. And yet Harry knew that deep down, somewhere, he wished he had been included. But Harry had to agree with Hermione on this one. Ron was destined for great things that even he couldn’t foresee. The same talent he possessed for being a great chess player was going to see him do great things for years and years to come.

Ron made his move, and while they all waited for Harry to make the next one, the portrait door swung open and they were soon joined by Ginny, who quickly sat next to Leah.

“You haven’t lost yet?” she asked Harry; looking slightly alarmed by this fact as she stared down at the chessboard and the very few remaining pieces.

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming,” Harry muttered, earning apologetic giggles from the three girls.

“At least Ron helps you along,” Ginny returned smoothly. “He’s merciless when he plays against a Weasley. Just ask Fred and George. Haven’t you ever wondered why they always gave Ron a hard time during their years here at Hogwarts?”

“Then what was their excuse for the way they treated Percy?” asked Hermione from behind her book.

“Because he was a pompous git. Still is, come to that,” Ron muttered, waiting patiently for Harry to take his turn. He looked over Leah’s head to his sister. “Where’ve you been?”

“I had a meeting with Snape,” Ginny told him, scrunching up her nose. “According to him, I have one of the best Potions marks in my class – which actually means that my Potions mark is my highest overall grade. He wanted to talk to me about taking the advanced class next term.”

“Wow ... advanced potions with Snape ... I can’t say that I envy you,” Ron said before another thought struck him. “Hey, Harry – didn’t Claire have the highest mark in Potions when she went to Hogwarts?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, still pondering over his next move. “It was even higher than Snape’s, according to Sirius.”

Ginny groaned softly. “I wish Claire hadn’t left all those years ago – then she could have been our Potions teacher.” She gasped, instantly slapping her hand across her mouth as Harry’s eyes met hers. “Oh – Harry – I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, I’m such an idiot! My mouth just – runs away and – Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Harry said with the shake of his head.

In reality, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. Ginny’s words had immediately reminded him of how his classmates – either close friends or otherwise – had constantly asked him questions about his godmother over the first few weeks she had been at Hogwarts. Where had Claire been all this time? Why had she suddenly returned? And why had she left in the first place?

Hermione had been his savior on more than one occasion, threatening to take points away from their classmates’ Houses if they didn’t leave Harry alone. They had heeded Hermione’s warnings, and let Harry be. He had asked Claire these exact same questions before, and had accepted her vague answers instantaneously. He knew that there was more to the entire story, and also knew that one day, he would learn all there was to know.

“When are they leaving again?” Hermione asked Harry, interrupting his train of thought.

“Who?”

“Sirius and Claire,” Hermione elaborated, knowing he had tuned out and was smiling in spite of it. “You told me that they were leaving towards the end of May – a weekend vacation, right?”

“A romantic getaway,” Leah sighed. “It’s like a story from a novel – how enchanting! Where are they going, do you know, Harry?”

“Er – “ Harry slowly shook his head. “I think that they said something about France. But ... I’m not even sure if they’re positive about that. They might go to Australia.”

“The options are there,” Hermione added. “Since Claire just had her Apparation license renewed, they can go almost anywhere they want to.”

“Does it weird you out that both of your godparents are working at Hogwarts?” Leah asked Harry. “That would be like ... my mum and dad working here. That would be too strange.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, appearing to be thinking deeply about his next move, when in actuality he was considering Leah’s question. Without another thought, he moved his remaining bishop across the board.

“I kind of like it,” Harry finally replied. “At first, I thought Sirius would be constantly on my back about school and always trying to advise me about staying out of trouble. But he never did that – well – at least not as often as I thought he would,” he added with a wry smile.

“But he’s always shown interest in your studies,” Hermione gently corrected Harry, finally putting down her book for a moment.

“Of course,” Harry agreed. “He’s always encouraged and advised me on what my options for the future are – and I’m not saying he doesn’t care about my well-being. I think it’s a good balance. He doesn’t infringe on my personal space, and he doesn’t favor me above everyone else, either.”

“Oh, alright, Harry,” Ginny replied, rolling her eyes disbelievingly. “Of course he favors you. You are his godson,” she added pointedly.

“But he treats me like everyone else,” Harry told Ginny. “He’s there for me when I need him – like your parents are there for you when you need them. But he doesn’t make the arrangement uncomfortable – like some parents might in the same situation.”

“There’s no ‘might’ about it, Harry,” Ron put in. “I know for a fact that I wouldn’t want my mum or dad teaching here.”

“I second that,” Ginny said with a smile. “We love our parents – but they can be quite overbearing at times. They’re worriers, whereas Sirius and Claire are not. Your godparents take it day by day – and Sirius is at the point where he knows you can take care of yourself. Mum and Dad will never reach that point.”

“Maybe not with you,” Ron pointed out, and paused a moment to command his queen to move, effectively taking out Harry’s last bishop. “But you’re their only girl. Lucky you.”

“Ha! Lucky!” Ginny said scornfully, while Harry gave a groan of despair at losing another chess piece. “I’d gladly trade places with you. You think it’s the worst thing – being the youngest boy in the family with five older brothers’ accomplishments to live up to. Try having two overprotective parents and six older brothers who are always trying to advise you about life, love and sex.”

“Ginny!”

“Do you see what I mean?” Ginny asked, turning to Hermione exasperatedly. “I can’t even say the word ‘sex’ without making Ron blush as red as the sofa we’re sitting on.”

“I’m not blushing!” Ron retorted, but it was clear as day that he was. Harry tried to bite back a smile at Ron’s flustered state. “And what advice could we possibly give you about love? You don’t have a love life to speak of.”

“How the hell do you know?” Ginny returned hotly. “Just because I don’t tell you about every little detail that goes on in my life – “

“Are we really going to get into this again?” Ron exclaimed, turning his attention away from the game for a moment to glare at her. “If you have something to say to me – just say it, and be done with it!”

It was difficult to say which Weasley was more livid at the moment. They stared at each other, neither one willing to back down and admit defeat. It was this exact situation that had made Hermione lose her temper a handful of times, leaving Harry to intervene, forcing Ron and Ginny to cool down by separating them. Harry knew that that was the only option left to him at the moment, and would have no choice but to carry it out.

“Er – Ginny – do you remember asking me for the Marauder’s Map?” Harry suddenly asked, after commanding his queen to move across the board. “Why don’t I grab that for you as soon as the game is over?”

“You’re not going to have to wait long,” Ron muttered before Ginny could answer. “Checkmate.”

Harry stared, dumbfounded, at the chessboard. “Well – I guess that’s that. Come along, Ginny. I need to show you how to use the Map.”

“What map?” asked Leah as Ginny silently followed Harry up the boys’ stairs. Harry could hear Ron quietly explaining to Leah all about the Marauder’s Map as they disappeared from view.

“I know how to use the Map, Harry,” Ginny finally muttered, entering Harry’s room as he reached upwards and the room flooded in light as he waved his wand over the lamp, (remembering only too late that he could do wandless spells now).

“Good,” Harry replied, taking a few quick strides across the room to his desk where he pulled out an old blank piece of parchment. “Does Ron know why you want to use it?”

Ginny gave a dirisive snort. "If he actually knows that I'm using it to keep tabs on him so he doesn't catch me with Draco -- I'll eat a bucket full of Flobberworms. Besides, does he even care about what I'm up to?" Ginny added, folding her arms across her chest as she regarded Harry with a cool look. “You heard him downstairs. He’s so incredibly thick, he doesn’t even realize or care that I’m hiding my relationship with Draco from him.”

Harry breathed heavily through his nose, handing her the Map. “That’s what you think, Ginny,” he replied. “He, more than anyone else, knows that something is going on.”

“What’s the big deal?” Ginny asked defensively, spreading her arms out wide in a helpless gesture and flapping the Map around in the air. “You, Hermione, Sirius and Remus and everyone have been hassling me to tell my family. And just as I’m actually getting around to doing it – you stop me. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I still think you should tell Ron and the rest of your family,” Harry persisted in a patient tone. “I just don’t think you’re going about it the right way. You need to sit down with him calmly. You know how Ron can get sometimes. Yes, I agree that he’s matured greatly over the past year or two. I truly believe that Ron will be able to handle this relationship if you calmly tell him how serious you are about it. If you jump to the defensive automatically, he’s going to get very defensive in return – and that’s what you should try to avoid.”

Ginny quickly tucked the Map into her robes, nodding at Harry. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll wait for the perfect moment to tell him. It seems that he’s always distracted with something, so I may have to wait until after his N.E.W.T. exams.”

“I actually agree with that,” Harry replied. “You’ll need his complete undivided attention to tell him the news – and you won’t get that with Hermione pushing him to study all the time. Listen, Ginny. I know that the stress-level is high with exams coming up – it’s easy to lose control of your temper. But you have to try ...”

“I know, Harry,” Ginny said with an edge to her voice. “We’ve had this conversation more times than I can count. I’ve practically memorized it by now. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

There was a short pause while Ginny seemed to be considering something. She apparently came to a conclusion of some kind, because she gave a firm nod.

“Thanks for the Map,” she said. “I’ll have it back to you by the end of the year. Unless you need it sooner than that?”

Harry shook his head. “Keep it," he told her.

She raised her brows doubtfully at this. "What?"

"Keep it," Harry repeated firmly. "I'm certainly not going to need it after I graduate. It's only going to collect dust in my nightstand drawer. You still have another year to go. Keep it."

"B-but, Harry! This ... this was your father's, wasn't it?" Ginny asked, not quite willing to accept this amazing, unexpected act of generosity. "I can't possibly --"

"Keep it. It's what the Marauders would want," Harry persisted, grinning now. "You can give it back to me when you graduate – but be careful, too. That Map has helped me quite a bit over the years, but it’s also given me a lot of trouble.”

“I’ve been warned,” Ginny smirked. She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Harry." She turned and left the room, leaving Harry with an almost ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite explain.

*

“Clear your mind, children ... and let your Divining Spirit guide you.”

Harry and Ron stared at their purple saucers which were scattered with broken eggshells – a new way to interpret the ‘Signs’, according to Trelawney. At the beginning of their lesson, she had instructed them to break a few eggshells and gaze into their jagged edges; informing them that no two eggshells looked the same – just like no two snowflakes looked the same. Their Divination teacher was busy circling the classroom, making herself available to anyone who required her aid. But Harry had decided long ago that he would not put himself in the precarious position of having another vision.

“And how do you expect to accomplish that?” Ron whispered once Harry had told him this.

Harry leaned forward, scanning the classroom with one sweeping glance to make sure that no one was listening. Satisfied, he turned back to Ron. “Hermione and I have been practicing Occlumency as part of our Training,” he whispered. “I’m going to focus at blocking out anything that might come my way. I’m not going to go through with it again,” he added.

Ron clearly didn’t approve with Harry’s decision, giving him a look of supreme doubt. “Why would you want to do that?” he asked quietly. “You’re the only one in this entire class who has, so far, been able to predict anything worthwhile.”

“And a lot of good those predictions have done me,” Harry replied in a low, angry voice. “If I could have stopped them from coming a long time ago, I would have. I finally have the chance to prevent them from coming to me – and I’m definitely going to take full advantage.”

He recalled the heated argument he had had with Hermione over a month ago; remembering that he had told her just how much he hated the predictions. He was more serious about that now than he had been then. He was grateful that he had been re-learning Occlumency for the sake of their Auror Training. This would give him the perfect opportunity to test it out – and see if he had been practicing hard enough.

Ron had given up the attempt to convince Harry that his visions were useful as he sat back in his seat, staring at the broken pieces of eggshells on his saucer with a frown of disapproval on his face.

“I can’t see anything,” Ron muttered. “This is pointless.”

Harry sniggered sympathetically, growing silent as he began to focus on blocking out anything that might be forcing its way to him. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind of thought and emotion. When he opened his eyes, he found he was in a complete state of control and could even allow himself to stare down at the eggshells, which did not appear to be a threat to him in the least.

“Have you seen anything, my dears?” Trelawney asked in a fluttery whisper, kneeling between Harry and Ron. “Any ... visions? No, Mr. Weasley? Well, perhaps you should focus more intently. And what about you, Mr. Potter?”

Keeping his mind completely focused on not seeing anything, Harry shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Professor.”

Trelawney looked somewhat alarmed with Harry’s answer. “Nothing at all? Try harder, dear – please.”

Harry could feel her magnified eyes boring into his skull as he leaned forward over the saucer, staring down at it and giving his teacher the impression that he was really trying to focus on receiving a signal of any kind. He felt a jab of guilt in the general region of his stomach, but decided in the end that he was doing the right thing.

“I can’t see anything, Professor,” Harry told her after a minute of pretending to focus.

“Try again,” Trelawny urged, sounding desperate. “I know you can do this, Harry.”

Harry “tried” again, and a moment later, with an air of giving up on seeing anything, Harry sat back in his seat, pretending to look thoroughly distressed over the fact that nothing had come to him. Trelawney gave him a look of utter disappointment.

“Well ... It’s no real wonder, I suppose ... it’s very easy to get distracted knowing that N.E.W.T.’s are around the corner,” she replied sadly, standing up. She smoothed down her beads as she looked at her students. “The Inner Eye cannot be manipulated into functioning whenever you desire,” she added, as though trying to remind herself of this fact as she addressed the entire class. “You can only attempt to stimulate It. Now class,” she added. “I will ask you to throw out the eggshells and put the saucers back onto the shelf. Then I will ask you to turn to chapter 34, page 387 in your textbooks.”

There was a collective movement around the class as every student withdrew their wands and exclaimed, “Scourgify!” while pointing at their eggshells. Once the saucers were clean, Harry’s classmates did as Trelawney asked and returned the saucers to where they had procured them. A moment later, everyone had their books out and Harry found that they would be studying the Star Charts.

After five minutes of listening to Trelawney ramble on about the mysteries of the constellations, the bell rang and she reminded the class that they would be studying Star charts for the remainder of the school year, until it was time to take their N.E.W.T.’s, and she then assigned them homework for the next few evenings.

“Lovely,” Ron muttered, gathering his things and standing up. “Who even cares about the sodding stars these days?”

Harry didn’t answer as he and Ron made their way to the exit behind their other classmates. Harry turned and caught Draco through his peripheral vision. Harry gave a nod of acknowledgment, which he returned.

“Potter ...“ Trelawney’s misty voice called out. “Potter, may I take a moment of your time and exchange a word with you?”

“Go ahead,” Harry told Ron, nudging him forward as the class thinned out by exiting through the trapdoor. “I’ll meet you in the common room.”

Ron shot a look at their teacher and decided that he didn’t want to hang around to wait anymore than Harry wanted to have a conversation with Trelawney. He nodded and left the classroom, and was soon followed by Draco.

“Have a seat, my dear,” Trelawney said, motioning with her hand to a chair which was seated in front of her desk. “I would like to discuss a serious matter with you ... and I am hoping that you will be completely truthful with me.”

“What is it, Professor?”

Trelawney sat down behind her desk, looking Harry square in the eyes with her magnified ones. “I was wondering if you could tell me something about your visions ... Have ... any of them ... come to pass?”

“No, Professor,” Harry quickly lied, wishing he could just forget about them. They hadn’t done him any good so far ... why would he want to dredge it all up again? Especially with someone as batty as Trelawney?

“Are you sure?” Trelawney pressed, sounding relatively unconvinced.

“Absolutely,” Harry lied again.

Trelawney sighed heavily with a slow nod. “Alright, my dear,” she said, with a disappointed look on her face. “You may –“

But what Harry “may”, he never found out. In that moment, Trelawney’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, which fell forward so Harry could see the top of it. He stood up and peered closely at his professor, wondering if she had dozed off.

“Professor?”

Instantly, Trelawney’s head snapped upwards and her eyes looked straight into Harry – turning his heart to ice with her dreadfully cold stare. And when she spoke, Harry’s entire body froze along with his heart, as though her voice was speaking from the deepest pit of Hell.

“By blood, by wood, by dragon fire;
The darkness wakes, the lamps expire.
The stars look down from deepest night
As darkness swallows up the light.

Unseen, the endless circle turns
Its face upon the earth it spurns.
And when the circle closes, all
Before the night will prostrate fall.

With no beginning, nor an end
The circle turns o'er foe and friend.
The spirit in its prison cries
The voiceless sings, the deathless dies.

The midnight hour strikes; the key
Unlocks the door to set Death free.
The heavens quail before the One;
The circle closes...all is done.”

Just like she had done four years ago, Trelawney’s voice ceased altogether and her head fell forward onto her chest while Harry stood there, wondering if he should wait for her to wake up or if he should just leave, knowing that she would be fine once she awakened. But before he could make a decision, Trelawney’s head snapped up and she looked at Harry with a curious frown.

“My dear boy,” she said in her regular, dreamy voice. “Are you still here?”

“I – I’m sorry,” Harry said. “You … you just … “

“Have you something important to tell me?” Trelawney asked eagerly. “Do go on, my dear.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he knew that she would not recall what she had said. He could argue with her until he was blue in the face, but she would remain completely ignorant of the incident.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry finally answered as he firmly shook his head, his heart thumping madly with leftover terror from watching her in her trance.

“Well, my dear, go on then!” Trelawney insisted, waving him away with her hand. “You’ll be late for your next class.”

Harry sighed heavily and departed, making his way to his Defense classroom, knowing that Ron and Hermione would have already started to make their way there.

The circle closes ... all is done, Harry thought to himself, reciting the words in his mind. But what circle? What is done? What did it all mean?

Maybe it wasn’t a prediction after all, he thought reasonably. The information was too vague ...

But ironically enough, it was his logic that disagreed with this argument. He had seen Trelawney go into a similar trance before. At the age of 13, he had no way of knowing what it had been until Dumbledore had explained to him what it meant. But he was older now. And he realized that he didn’t need Dumbledore this time to tell him that Trelawney had just made her third official prediction to date.

***