Harry Potter and the Flesh of the Jade Guardian

Chapter 2: A Return to "Normalcy"

Uncle Vernon didn't seem pleased that Harry would be obtaining a ride from a friend from school. Harry watched as his bulk shuddered behind the morning paper, rustling the newsprint like leaves in the wind.

"How are these...people coming here?" Uncle Vernon finally asked, peering from over the top of the paper. Clearly, the memory of the Weasley carpool was very much on his mind.

"In the normal way," Harry said evenly. Seeing as that did little to slow the mad artery pumping wildly at Dursley's temple, he hastily added, "By car. You know...four wheels, usually has an engine..."

Uncle Vernon scowled but instead of telling Harry off for his cheek, he picked at his high fiber wheat toast and grapefruit slices.

"Are you sure?" he grunted suspiciously, looking at Harry again, his mustache twitching with apprehension.

"Yes," Harry said, slightly amused at how well his uncle was taking it. "They live in a normal house and they drive a normal car. In fact, I hear they're superbly ordinary dentists."

"Liberals, I'll bet," Uncle Vernon muttered. "A child at that school..." That seemed to satisfy him because he was suddenly quietly reading the paper again.

The doorbell rang and Harry quickly made for the front foyer. Despite his haste, Aunt Petunia beat him to it. She opened the door cautiously, slipping her horse-like face around the edge.

"Hello," a man said brightly. He was barely hidden by Aunt Petunia's spindly frame. "We're the Grangers, you must be Mrs. Durs--" he was cut off by Aunt Petunia flinging the door open and stepping aside. Lips pursed and chin held snobbishly high, she stalked off past Harry into the kitchen without a glance.

A handsome couple stood at the entrance, rather flabbergasted, staring into the spotless foyer.

"Hi Harry!" called Hermione slipping past her parents. "Come on or we'll be late."

Harry couldn't help grinning at her as she pointedly ignored Dudley, who was overcome by a fit of sniggers at the sight of her bushy hair. It seemed he hardly remembered that Hermione was indeed a witch and that he was very much afraid of magic.

"Sorry about that Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said. "Please, come in."

"Make it quick boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice registered rather shrilly from the kitchen making it clear there would be no invitation for tea.

With the Granger's help, Harry's things were packed into the their (normal) car in record time. As Harry made one more trip back to his room to fetch Hedwig's cage, he noticed that the Dursleys were now watching the Grangers suspiciously from the kitchen door. Dudley had actually moved his huge, orange clad bulk to the living room to better watch Harry's things leave number four. Hermione rushed back in as her dad shut Harry's things in the boot of the car.

"Is that all, Harry?" she asked. She stopped short and allowed herself to acknowledge Dudley's rude stare from the corner of her eye at last.

"Yeah," Harry replied showing her the cage. "All done, thanks."

With that, he stepped over the threshold to certain freedom and happily called a farewell over his shoulder. He was answered by a soft "Hallelujah" from Dudley. Hermione paused and turned to eye the large boy. Harry nearly fell backwards as she grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him. Winking at him, Hermione faced Dudley and furrowed her brow.

"Boo!"

Dudley, defying the laws of gravity, jumped a foot off the couch.

"I couldn't resist," she whispered to Harry as he led the way out grinning.

"Is that all, Pumpkin?" Mr. Granger asked Hermione as they approached the car. He was a tall, lanky man with brown hair, square spectacles, and a neat mustache. He smiled wickedly, nodding towards number four.

"Your relatives are right charming, aren't they?"

The front door slammed shut. Harry grinned.

"They couldn't charm snakes."

"Come on, we've got a train to catch," Mrs. Granger announced, attempting a reproachful look at her husband through a bemused smile. She was a lovely lady, and the resemblance was very clear between her and her daughter. They all climbed into the car and made for King's Cross.

* * *

Pushing their trunks on two carts, Harry and Hermione inconspicuously slipped onto platform nine and three-quarters. They made their way onto the train, stowing their luggage and seeking an empty compartment to save for themselves and Ron.

"Where is he?" Hermione muttered as the whistle blew, signaling the Hogwarts Express's awaiting departure. Large crowds of students were piling onto the train, laughing and calling to their friends. Harry and Hermione squeezed their way back onto the platform in search of the Weasleys. Suddenly, two identical, redheaded boys plowed their way through the gates.

"Bye Mum!" one of them yelled over their shoulder.

"We'll send love later, don't have time to profess our affections now!" his brother added.

A girl with long crimson hair burst through after them, toting her rucksack over her shoulder.

"Ginny, hurry!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called from somewhere behind her. Mr. Weasley followed his daughter with her trunk, his mouth looking considerably swollen. Hermione eyed Harry, who shrugged in response.

Hermione and Harry both craned their necks in search of Ron and he finally appeared, hastily parting the crowd with Mrs. Weasley. He was walking nearly half bent, ardently paying attention to his mother as he pushed his cart quickly towards the train.

"And Ron don't forget you have O.W.Ls this year," Mrs. Weasley was saying, "you do your bit and study! And keep an eye on your sister."

"Sure, Mum," he replied tragically as she stuffed a sandwich into his hand.

"Better yet," she added firmly, watching as Fred and George Weasley collided with the train conductor, "keep an eye on the twins, too."

Ron sighed and his mother hugged him good-bye. He lugged his trunk into the compartment and waved his father out.

"Ron!" Hermione called making her way towards him.

"Hullo," he said grinning, stepping back onto the platform.

"So what was it this time?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow. "You very nearly didn't make it."

Just then, Mrs. Weasley appeared at by her side.

"Hello, Hermione," she said warmly giving the girl a quick hug. "My, certainly grown up over the summer, you have!"

Hermione blushed furiously. Mrs. Weasley had certainly warmed up to her since a certain Rita Skeeter, one very pesky columnist, took leave from her writings early that summer.

"Not really," Hermione mumbled shyly.

"And Harry!" Mrs. Weasley turned to him and he felt his cheeks go pink. She stood on tiptoe to hug him and he graciously returned it. "You've gotten so tall!"

Ron snorted and Harry had to resist giving his friend a good elbow in the ribs...now that he could reach, that is.

"How are you, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked.

"Oh, wonderful!" she replied, before warily eying the twins. "For the most part."

She then leaned toward him, her eyes full of motherly concern.

"And you Harry? You holding up well?"

"Great," Harry said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I mean, now that it's time to go back..."

It was half true. Harry couldn't wait to return to one of the few places he found solace, but just thinking about the way his peers had reacted to his presence at the end of last year made his stomach churn. The whistle blew once more, signaling its awaiting departure.

"Oh, don't you think on it," Mrs. Weasley said intuitively, squeezing Harry's elbow. She gave them one last smile as she glanced around in the direction of the twins' hasty exit from her sight. "Good bye, sweethearts "

She reached up and gave Ron a final kiss before making for a window that Fred and George were frantically trying to shut. Harry grinned and led Ron and Hermione onto the train just as Mr. Weasley finished stowing Ginny's trunk. He smiled at them and stepped onto the platform.

"Gwoo bwhy," he said pleasantly through swollen lips.

"Good bye, Mr. Weasley," Hermione and Harry called, looking at Ron who was suddenly red in the face with his battle against a furious fit of laughter.

"We whur late," Mr. Weasley stated sheepishly, patting his reddening son on the shoulder. They grinned and waved to Mrs. Weasley who was a few windows down wagging a finger at the twins.

Ron, gasping with laughter, followed Harry and Hermione to one of the compartments they had saved earlier. He wobbled in and collapsed into a window seat.

"Ron," Harry said as he sat down next to him, "are you going to need medical attention?" Ron nodded his head yes. Hermione blew her hair out of her face exasperatedly, sitting down across from them. There was a loud mewing from the wicker basket perched on the seat beside her. She opened the top and pulled out Crookshanks, her bandy-legged tabby, still looking curiously at Ron

"What's wrong with your dad? Toothache?" Harry asked looking out the window. At the mention of 'toothache', Ron burst into even more laughter. At last, he drew in a long breath and sighed, shaking his head.

"Well," Ron began with a grin, "this morning Mum was real nice and made chocolate chip pancakes for us. It just so happen George and Fred concocted trip chocolate chips of their own for there Tooth to Tusk line."

The train was moving now and they could hear the echo of Mrs. Weasley's voice hollering one last threat at the twins.

"Anyway, Fred and George were early to breakfast and were busy discussing their teeth enlarging chocolate chips. They were arguing about how much should be in a marketed bottle and got caught up in a mild debate, sending the open package back and forth, weighing it and such. Well, mum turned around and plopped down our plate of hot cakes and when she looked away, Fred accidentally spilled the joke chips onto Dad's pancakes. They tried to scoop it up, but Dad walked in and sat down looking a bit...frazzled. He took one look at the pancakes and completely fell in love with mum again. George and Ginny tried to tell him, but he kept on saying he didn't want to hear any of their troubles until after breakfast. Well, after two bites of his chocolate chip pancakes..."

"Oh no," Hermione gasped.

"Oh yes."

"He grew tusk?" Harry asked feeling the beginnings of a laugh (feeling slightly guilty of course, as he adored Mr. Weasley).

"Big ones, it's why we're so late."

Ron and Harry burst into laughter and though Hermione made a valiant effort at keeping the reprimanding look on her face, she soon broke and joined in.

"I'm surprised Fred and George are alive!" she exclaimed.

"I reckon mum would have done them off if we weren't already so bloody late," Ron snorted.

The rest of the train trip consisted of laughing and talking, as well as a steady stream of visitors. Most everyone was cheerful enough, if not a bit reserved around Harry. It was enough, however, to curb whatever anxieties Harry housed about returning to Hogwarts. Those of his peers who had stopped by had reacted better than he had expected.

Harry grinned to himself as he watched Ron nearly unseat Hermione and Crookshanks as he dived for Pigwidgeon, his tiny owl, whom had escaped from his cage.

When they had finally pulled on their robes and reached Hogwarts, night had fallen and a cool breeze lifted their hair. They had shared their carriage with Neville Longbottom ("Fantastic Ron, love your hair!") and were now walking into the entrance hall together.

"I'm starving!" Ron announced.

"You just ate a package of chocolate frogs!" Hermione noted, nudging him in the back.

"Nearly an hour ago!" he replied wide-eyed. "Where's the nosh?"

"With the loads you eat, Ron," Harry said, "it must be magic you're so skinny."

"I'm a growing boy," Ron replied soberly. "Wish I could say the same for you."

"Not everyone can be a troll, I guess," Harry countered.

They entered the Great Hall and as Harry saw the large swarm of students, the anxiety returned full measure. He followed Ron towards the Gryffindor table, his eyes cast down because he didn't want to look at anyone, lest they thought he didn't remember that he bared the guilt of Cedric's death. Harry managed to lift his head long enough to spot Cho Chang several feet away. She caught his eye. Her petite form seemed lost in the swirl of black-robbed students, but never the less, he saw her. To Harry's surprise, she smiled and waved, though sadness was evident in her face. He waved back awkwardly, slightly relieved that she hadn't turned away from him in disgust.

Harry seated himself awkwardly, meeting Ron and Hermione's eyes. They both looked knowingly at him, and Harry knew that nothing would be that bad as long as he still had them. This was home after all--a little stiffer than he had remembered, but still Hogwarts.

The High Table was filled with teachers waiting for the feast to begin. Within minutes, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, was clinking his goblet for their attention as Professor Flitwick set up a stool and the familiar old Sorting Hat before the High Table. The Headmaster waited for silence, beaming at his pupils. The room quieted.

"Welcome back!" Dumbledore said, the candlelight emphasizing the twinkle of the wise, pale, blue eyes. "Yet another year has begun. Tonight, I find it my obligation to inform you of all the key points that will make this year very different from any other." He paused and grew uncharacteristically serious.

"Last year's Triwizard games was one that brought a tragic result, but it also brought us knowledge, new friends, and wisdom. Those qualities are very important now that an old threat is upon us."

"Dad's infuriated with the Ministry," Ron whispered to Harry, furrowing his brow angrily. "He's been wasting too many hours there trying to get them to wizen up." Harry felt his own blood began to heat as he thought of what he had revealed to the Minister of Magic last year, and how Fudge had reacted: much like a naïve, arrogant, child. However, though Minister refused to believe Harry that Voldemort had returned, Harry hardly doubted that the wizarding community could ignore the signs. Everyone could feel that something was amiss--they just didn't know if it was the Dark Lord or not yet.

"Do not be reckless," Dumbledore was saying. "I advise against wandering about the grounds alone, especially at night. During visits to Hogsmeade (which regrettably, will not be so frequent this year), keep to the well-populated areas of town. And especially, please be weary of strangers. If ever you feel in danger, please report to a staff member immediately."

Dumbledore stared at the downfallen faces. He seemed to know the speech would not be entirely welcomed, but he was taking on the job that the Ministry still refused to do. Over the summer, it was he who informed the students and their families against the Minister's wishes. His white beard glistened in the mingling light of the torches and stars of the enchanted ceiling.

"However, Quidditch shall resume," Dumbledore continued with a smile. "I expect a very exciting game year from our teams and players."

At that, the spirits lightened, and a loud cheer went through the hall. "Quidditch" was music to Harry's ears. He hadn't even been on a broomstick since his first challenge in the Triwizard Tournament last year.

"So let us get on with the Sorting, and finally the jewel of the evening"--Dumbledore paused dramatically--"Dinner."

With that, the new first years began to line up along the wall and approached the Sorting Hat apprehensively as they were called. Soon, it was over and the first years where settled into their House tables.

"At long last," Ron sighed as food and drink began to materialize onto the golden platters, tureens, goblets, and pitchers. The food met Harry's every expectation as usual. Hermione cast an annoyed look when Ron graciously praised the house elves on their delightful cooking. Soon it was over and everyone proceeded to the exits, the prefects leading their Houses to their dormitories, armed with their shinny badges and the knowledge of their respected passwords.

Hermione left Ron and Harry to lead the Gryffindors up toward their tower. In the common room, no one dwelled long. Most said good night and yawning, made their way to their dormitories. Ron and Harry said goodnight to Hermione and made their own way up to the fifth year dormitory they shared with Dean, Seamus, and Neville. There was content laughter and conversations as they changed into their pajamas.

Exhausted, but considerably happier then when he had first entered the Great Hall, Harry collapsed onto his four-poster, pulling the curtains around him. True, the year would be unpredictable with the return of Voldemort, but Harry couldn't help but feel the threat was very far away now that he was home. Here he had friends, Dumbledore, and Quidditch. But it wasn't enough to push the mounting episode of dreams from his mind. Before he knew it, he was within the heart of the cave dungeons again, watching his mother just as he had in the last episode of images.

She was breathing slowly, repeatedly glancing behind her. Often, she checked her wand, asking it to point due west, toward the heart of the caves. Finally, the narrow passages opened into a large cavern alit with torches that would burn for eternity. There was only one entrance, and she was standing in it. It appeared she had reached a dead end. She examined the bare cavern before her eyes trailed to a stone table in the middle of the room where a golden sword lay. On the wall opposite of the entrance was a line, tattooed onto the rock and marked by a gleaming piece of jade. Both stone and sword flashed so brightly, Lily squinted against the gleam.

"Nox," she whispered, letting her wand extinguish its own weak light. The sword was not encrusted with jewels, but bore a single, stunning, green stone in its hilt. Pocketing her wand in the cargo pocket of her hiking trousers, she reached out a hand inches from the precious metal, seemingly trying to decide if all she had to do was pick it up. Time seemed to stop and a bit of sweat trickled down her brow.

"Oh well," Lily muttered with a shuddering breath, "live and let die." She grabbed the hilt of the sword and gasped. Despite the chill of the cavern, the metal was warm to the touch and was light as air despite its size.

"That's it?" she whispered, amazed at the lack of obstacles. Her amazement melted into fear as a shadow whipped over her face. She turned quickly and found the entrance of the cavern empty.

Harry's heart was racing with his mother's and he wanted her to bolt back through the cavern to his father. But she held her ground.

Clutching the sword, Lily circled slowly. Suddenly, she was flung across the chamber by unseen hands, the sword clattering away from her. She scrambled to her feet, stunned, frantically trying to see what had attacked her in the dim firelight. The flames of the torches rose to a roaring height, allowing Lily to see her attacker and scream.

"No!" Harry yelled flinging back the hangings of his bed. His heart was pounding in his chest so that he felt his ribs would crack.

"Wasn't me--," there was a loud crash as Ron tumbled from his bed.

"What is it, Harry?" Seamus asked sleepily. Harry was shaking violently and struggled to catch his breath.

"Who yelled?" Neville asked poking his head from out of his own four-poster. Dean leaned out curiously from his own bed.

"No--nothing," Harry muttered. "Sorry, I just had a nightmare, I'm all right."

Ron, having regained consciousness, was peering at Harry from the floor, rather suspiciously.

"You sure, mate?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah," Harry answered feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He gazed at each face peering out at him. "Yeah, just a nightmare."

All four boys stared at him.

"Snape was in it," he hastily added.

"Well, in that case," Seamus answered slipping back behind his curtains, "I totally understand." Neville nodded his agreement. Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry tired to flash him a reassuring smile in the dark.

"Snape, eh?" Dean said shaking his head sympathetically. Seamus yawned and said good night, as did Neville. Ron cast Harry one more curious look before climbing into his own bed.

Harry's heart had finally returned to a normal, functional pace, and he finally lay back onto his pillows. He could only stare into the darkness, feeling the terror he saw his mother feel. The dreams were so very real, straightforward, and he knew what his mother was thinking...not at all like a normal dream. Harry allowed his mind to slide around in the silence.

* * *

"Good morning!" Hermione said cheerfully as Ron and Harry sat down on either side of her the next morning. She had her new third edition Arithmancy book propped against the milk pitcher. Ron groaned.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to read at the table?" he asked reaching across her plate for some porridge.

"One," she replied defiantly, brushing his hand away before passing him the porridge. "You're not one to take lessons on manners from. And two, I'm skimming--"

"Big difference," Ron interjected.

"This class gets more in depth this year. I have to be prepared."

Harry laughed, shoveling warm kippers into his mouth.

"What?" she asked plainly, cocking an eyebrow.

"I reckon you're more prepared than Professor Vector," he said. Ron grinned his agreement.

"Hiya, Hermione," said Dean. He sat across from her, completely oblivious to Ron or Harry. "I meant to say this last night, but..." Dean paused thoughtfully. "Anyway, I just wanted to say congratulations on becoming a prefect."

"Thanks," Hermione said her face melting into pleased embarrassment.

"I couldn't imagine anyone else who could match you," Dean blurted out with a crooked grin, before quickly turning away.

Dean seems particularly interested in Hermione this morning, Harry thought. Perhaps Krum's interest in her was contagious. He smiled inwardly and turned to ask Ron to pass the toast to find Ron's face tinged with pink. He was watching both parties intently.

"Hardly," Hermione was saying rather bashfully, closing her Arithmancy book.

"They'd be scared not to make you prefect," Ron grunted, his face flushing now as he threw a glare at Dean. "You'd probably go rabid on the school if they didn't."

Hermione's eyes flashed, but before she could snap back, she was interrupted by groans all about the table. McGonagall was handing out their timetables. As Ron received his, his attention was momentarily drawn from Hermione.

"Excuse me, Professor?" he said slowly, turning his card around. "There's a mistake on mine. It says Defense against the Dark Arts is postponed."

"It's not a mistake, Weasley," McGonagall answered snappishly, handing Hermione and Harry their timetables. "It has been postponed until our Professor arrives." Then she added, "I recommend you worry about what's on your schedule rather than what's not on it."

"You'd think it'd be a really important class this year," Ron noted. McGonagall stared at him for a moment, letting the chill of her gaze freeze his insides. "But I'm sure the new professor will be great," he added with a weak grin.

McGonagall sighed and continued on.

"I wonder who'll our Defense professor will be," Hermione said thoughtfully packing her book into her bag.

"Me too," piqued in Dean.

"Oh, belt up," Ron muttered too quietly for Dean to hear.

"Who in their right mind would take that job?" Harry queried.

"That's what I'm worried about," Hermione said. "No one in their right mind would."

* * *

"So lets say you find yourself caught in the snare of a man eating plant," said Professor Sprout as she walked about the class between the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. "What must you avoid and how would you escape?" Neville's hand shot up into the air alongside Hermione's.

"Neville?" the professor called, surprised at his readiness.

"You must avoid the fangs because they have powerful hallucinogens that can render you immobile instantly, and to escape it, you must expose it to light, fire, or extreme heat."

"Bet Hermione wouldn't get that one," Ron muttered to Harry who stifled a chuckle. Hermione, eyes glued straight ahead pulled out her wand from her pocket under the table. She leaned over and set a bit of Ron's robes alight with her curious blue flames.

"Ack!" Ron yelped, jumping to his feet in a frantic dance just as Hermione extinguished them.

"Mr. Weasley?" Professor Sprout inquired, pushing a bit of frizzy hair back into her hat. "Is there something you'd like to add?" Ron stopped and patted his robes, before looking up to find curious stares from both the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. He grinned sheepishly at them.

"Ack....er....Ack-zactly right, Neville!" He sputtered throwing Neville a thumbs up. "Brilliant go, mate!" Hermione was red trying to fight fits of giggles; Harry's head was wedged into his textbook. Behind them, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were giggling softly along with Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan.

"Yes..." Sprout agreed slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I believe Mr. Weasley is correct in noting your expertise...if not a bit overexcited. Ten points to Gryffindor." Neville beamed appreciatively and blushed. He sat down and grinned weakly at Harry, who caught his eye momentarily.

After copying down the homework, the bell rang and they gathered up their things to leave for lunch.

"Hermione," Ron muttered, "you're pure evil."

"Well," she said smiling sweetly, "goes to prove I'm a bona fide witch."

"I thought you said you couldn't dance," Harry added. "You were quite good from what I could tell."

"Oh, shut up," Ron growled.

They left the greenhouses for the castle, stomachs grumbling. When they reached the Great Hall the Weasley twins intercepted them before they could sit down for food. "Guess what, Harry?" George asked.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Angelina Johnson was just made team captain this morning," Fred said grinning-it was no secret he fancied her.

"Angelina?" Hermione exclaimed. "That's fantastic!"

"Yeah, that's top," Harry said, grinning as he took a seat opposite Fred and George.

"She'll be fantastic, with us to give her a heads up, of course," George said thumbing his chest.

"God have mercy on her soul," Ron mumbled under his breath

"That's not nice!" they returned in unison. Ron shrugged slyly and glanced at the table.

"Sandwiches!" he said happily. "And not a sign of one being corned beef!"

"Anyway, tryouts are going to be in two weeks," Fred continued, helping himself to a turkey on rye Ron was holding. "We kind of need a Keeper with Wood going off and graduating. The old prat."

Harry laughed, rather missing their uptight, hardworking team captain who was currently training with a national reserve team. Hermione was looking at George who had grown quiet.

"Why so blue?" she questioned, spooning soup into her bowl. George sighed melodramatically and bit into his sandwich.

"Madame Hooch never even considered us for team captains."

* * *

The day could have been bright, brilliant, close to perfect...had they not had potions as their last class.

"As you all are aware," said Professor Snape as he walked about the class, passing out a thick packet of parchment, "you are expected to take O.W.Ls at the end of the year." He returned to the front of the room eyeing the Gryffindors with an especially violent and very familiar contempt. But he looked a bit paler than usual and his dark greasy hair was threaded with gray.

"I remind you all of the importance of passing them," Snape continued flatly, "and I pray perhaps your stupidity will take a holiday during exams."

Hermione flipped through her packet, her brow furrowed as she read the list of potions in the contents. The first five pages contained a huge list of potions they had learned since coming to Hogwarts. A page after that contained yet more study material on caldrons, strainers, ladles, and the like.

Ron groaned as he sifted idly through his own packet, casting a mournful glance at Harry, who undoubtedly mirrored his woeful expression.

"These are study packets designed to help refresh your memory," Snape was saying, crossing his arms over his chest. Gazing at Neville he added, "For some, there is no memory to refresh." Neville coughed and stared at the ground, suddenly interested in a beetle eye on the floor.

"Potter!" Snape addressed, turning around to face him. Harry cringed, struggling to look his professor in the eye.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent. Snape glared at him in return.

"Name me the compounds of the Sleeping Draught."

Harry glanced nervously down at his packet, praying that somehow the answer would materialize through the cover.

"Not fast enough, Potter," Snape said shortly, walking away. "Five points from Gryffindor." Malfoy sneered and leaned in Harry's direction.

"Good answer," he said sarcastically, as several Slytherins sniggered into their hands.

"Shut up, Toothy," Harry hissed. Malfoy glared angrily, running his tongue over his teeth. The twins' tusk testing was obviously still a fresh wound for him. The bell rang and everyone prepared to dash from the dungeons.

"And Potter?" Snape called after Harry before he could make it to the door behind Ron and Hermione. "You might think about studying harder if you want to pass." He paused, peering at Harry from the curtain of dark hair. "By the way, another five points from Gryffindor for name calling in my class."