Blood Magic

Extracurricular Activities

The next morning, in the Common Room, Harry caught Ron and pulled him over to Hermione.

"Okay," he said, "listen. I don't want you two to apologize to each other, or anything, because you were both doing what you thought was right. I do want you to go back to being friends." Ron and Hermione eyed each other doubtfully. Harry growled slightly. "And if you're stupid about it," he said, "I'm not above resorting to emotional blackmail and telling you that I've had an insane summer, and I desperately need a familiar, supportive environment."

He assumed a tragic pose worthy of Fred. Hermione choked on a laugh. Ron snorted.

"Well, there," said Harry brightly. "Instead of going on about how horrible my life is, you can do something to make it better, okay? Now shake hands and say you still like each other."

Hermione, smiling nervously, held out her hand. "I ... I still like you, Ron," she said shyly.

Ron rolled his eyes and shifted nervously on his feet. He glanced furtively around to see who was looking at them. Not many people, Harry thought. Finally, he took Hermione's hand and shook it quickly.

"You're all right," he said grudgingly. He grinned. "For a fussy swot."

"Well!" Hermione tossed her head. "Someone won't be getting to look at my notes, this year."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron pleaded. Harry decided they were back to normal, and headed for the portrait hole and breakfast. Hermione and Ron followed, still bickering amicably.

The sixth years had timetable meetings, not classes, the first day of school. At midmorning, Neville was at his meeting, and Seamus preparing for his. Harry, Ron, and Dean sat on the Harry's bed, sorting the twins' samples into three piles: "known (try)," "unknown (try)" and "don't try."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "They gave you all four flavors of ventriloquism drops -- two each!"

"Ventriloquism drops?"

Ron held up a packet of large hard sweets in white, red, yellow, and purple. "All of them let you throw your voice where you like. The colored ones change your voice, as well." He grinned. "I've got an idea. Can I have one? A purple?"

"Will you give me a demonstration?"

Ron nodded eagerly. "This weekend. And I'll tell you right before I do it, okay?"

Harry grinned. "Okay." He fished out one of the purple sweets and gave it to Ron, who wrapped it in his handkerchief. "Brilliant!"

"What about me?" Dean asked.

"I'll tell you when to watch," Ron promised.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Neville. "We don't have classes by house!" he exclaimed, as he burst through the door.

"What?" Dean and Harry responded, shocked.

"Oh, right," Ron said. "You didn't know that? The classes are more exclusive, and since not all of us are taking the same things, we get mixed up more. Snape is the pickiest. Bill says he only has two sessions for sixth years, small ones, and one for seventh years. McGonagall has two sessions for sixth years and two or three for seventh years, because she doesn't have as many people drop out or fail, and she likes her seventh year classes with no more than five people. Charms is still four sessions, because so many people take it, but not by house, because our timetables will all be different."

"Oh." Harry frowned at Ron. "Want my timetable? In case you get to pick?"

Ron looked relieved. "That would be great!"

Before dinner, Harry got Andrew, Jack, Ron, and Ginny together in the Common Room. This wasn't terribly difficult, as Andrew and Jack seemed pleased to have a sixth-year friend, and were, in Harry's estimation, with Ron as often as not.

"We're the team," Harry said, "and yes, I can play again. I checked with Dumbledore. I think we'd be best off with me as Seeker and Ginny as a Chaser. We need two more Chasers, and we need to elect a Captain --"

"You," Ginny said, yawning.

"Second," Ron said.

"How about Ron?" Andrew objected.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Well," Ron said, "considering I've been on the team one year, and Harry most of five..."

"We didn't play, in my fourth year."

"Fine -- four! I think he will have better perspective."

Harry nodded. "For once, I'll agree. Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm fine with that. Wish I'd played with you before, though."

Harry nodded. "That's unfortunate. We'll need to get in a lot of practice to pull together as a team. That's why I want to have tryouts this Saturday. Yes, Ginny?"

"I think I should have to try out for the Chaser position," Ginny said bravely.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Want me to try out for Seeker, too?"

"You've played Seeker, Harry. I haven't played Chaser."

Harry nodded. "Fine," he agreed, with only a slight touch of exasperation. "You can try out. Still, once we accept you -- and I'll be shocked if we don't -- you get a say in the other two Chasers, because you have team seniority. So don't think this gets you out of judging."

"Okay."

"All right, then. Am I officially captain?"

A chorus of "yea"s replied. Harry ignored Ron's and Ginny's matching elaborately bored tone. "Good. That means I can book the pitch. I'll go see Madam Hooch before dinner. Keep Saturday open -- this could take a while. Who wants to draw up the tryouts notice?"

"I will," Ginny volunteered.

"Great." Harry stood up. "This meeting is dismissed. See you all at dinner."

Severus sat at the staff table and toyed with his glass. He tried not to let his attention settle at the Gryffindor table, though it returned there often. Harry, rather than being seated with Hermione and the boys of his year, was seated with Hermione, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Dean Thomas. Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom were a bit further down. Snape imagined that Finnegan looked a bit put out, though from this distance, he could not tell conclusively. Longbottom, of course, was a boy who knew his rank, and submitted to any social change without offense.

Severus did not turn his head when Madam Hooch told Professor McGonagall that Harry was the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, or that the team had booked the pitch for tryouts on Saturday. He expected Harry to be captain, of course. Who else could be? And certainly, they needed to construct a new team as soon as possible. That was probably what they were talking about now, with their heads bent together. Indeed, Granger and Thomas seemed to be having a separate conversation.

Severus glanced over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was sitting with Gregory Goyle and a fifth year girl who seemed to be constantly with Gregory, for the last two days. Draco was looking absently off into the distance. Severus had found Lucius's son a bit sullen in his tutorial, that morning, and the boy was clearly missing his former perception of power, but he did not yet bear the Dark Lord's Mark, for which Severus was grateful. He had tried to put it in the boy's head that his cleverness and wit was his best path to maintaining power in his house through the current political fluctuations. He had even suggested, concealing his anxiety, that Draco cultivate younger students from an assortment of backgrounds, ensuring that he would have allies in any eventuality. As he could not openly doubt the Dark Lord's future victory, this had required very careful phrasing. Draco had seemed to understand, but he was currently showing no inclination to act on the advice.

Severus finished his soup and had just started on a piece of salmon when his arm burned with a summoning so fierce that he twitched and nearly dropped his fork. Quickly he put down his knife and fork and excused himself with a murmur. Unbidden, his eyes went to Harry. The boy was watching him anxiously. Severus was certain he understood that flinch -- possibly he had felt a twinge of it in his scar. He wished he could acknowledge Harry's concern with a nod, but even that slight gesture might be noticed and wondered about. Severus let his eyes scan once across the hall, then pivoted and swept to the door and out into the hall. Once shielded from those hundreds of eyes, he broke into a run.

As soon as Severus had collected needed items from his room, he flooed to Crabbe's manor, and, from there, apparated to the summoning site, following the burning pull of the Dark Mark. He found himself in an unfamiliar room, with exposed, smoke-darkened beams and a high roof. He had arrived late, as usual, so he had no time to observe more. Only two people were still on the ground before the Dark Lord. Severus found his place in the circle, then fell to his knees. For just a moment, he felt a flood of relief at the surrender, then, reluctantly, remembered it was not genuine. He still had decisions to make.

The Dark Lord turned to him. Severus crawled forward, pushing his own agenda deep inside himself, and pulling over it his submission to his lord. "Master," he murmured, as he kissed the hem of the Dark Lord's robe. He let himself be dizzy with the honor of touching the least part of his master's robes. Lesser servants might never lay eyes on him, but the Dark Lord himself spoke his will to Severus.

"Severus, my clever brewer," the Dark Lord hissed, "have your duties to Dumbledore delayed you again?"

"Your summons came during dinner," Severus murmured, "but I left immediately. Only the school's Apparation block delayed me, my lord."

"I do not doubt your enthusiasm, Severus," the Dark Lord said, in a voice replete with the doubt he denied. "I hoped, perhaps, you might explain a matter to me? From your ... advantageous? ... connections in Hogwarts."

"Ask, my lord," Severus urged.

"It is Potter, Severus," his master hissed. "I have heard he ventured unguarded from Diagon Alley into Muggle London, but this was not detected until too late. How is the boy warded, now that his mother's kin are dead?"

Severus hoped his master would take his fear wrongly.

"I do not know, my lord," he lied, believing the lie as deeply as he could. "I will ask Dumbledore. He will dissemble, at first, but the fool is proud, and may tell me in time, if properly encouraged."

"I expect results," the Dark Lord said threateningly. "We should have had Potter a month ago."

"Had I been warned --" Severus dared, but his master hissed him to silence.

"Do not speak of it! I do not want to be told what should have been done, only that next time, it will be done correctly!"

"You are wise, master," Severus lied ecstatically, drawing the robe's hem to his lips, once more. "I will find this path for your glorious vengeance."

The meeting was short. Severus was not one of those tortured, this time. When they were dismissed, he was able to turn to the windows, and Apparate to a sheltered grove in the distance. Once there, he put a few trees between himself and the summoning place, then looked around.

To his dismay, he recognized the little village at the base of the hill he was on. It was Hogsmeade. He was far too close to the school, and to Harry, for his comfort. The walk home took less than an hour. Severus spent it wondering how to appease the Dark Lord without endangering Harry.

When he got back to his rooms, he found Harry there, sitting by the fire, reading a Transfiguration text. The boy looked up, relief turning almost instantly to alarm at whatever it was he saw on Severus's face. Severus was not sure what his face showed. The sight of Harry, sitting in his living room as if he belonged there, had caused a chaotic flood of feelings: security, affection, exasperation, fear, anger. Harry was here; he was safe. Harry was here; he cared. Harry was here, like a bloody idiot; two days into school and already he was acting suspicious.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for being out past curfew."

"I was worried about you."

"Harry, I have taking care of myself for longer than you have been alive."

"Yes, but ..."

Severus fixed him with a contemptuous stare.

"It's more dangerous for you, with me alive." Harry tried to make the observation sound witty, but failed. Severus was relieved to conclude that he still had some powers of intimidation.

"And more still if you come here," he hissed.

"I wore the cloak. No one saw me."

"On the evening of a meeting, it is not unusual for one of two of my associates to contact me. I usually open the floo for a few hours."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You will stay where you belong!" Severus screamed, lunging at Harry. He stopped himself a mere foot short of the boy's face. It had gone pale, but was quickly darkening. Severus did not want to know whether that color was from embarrassment or anger. He knew it was shame that was flooding his own with hot blood. With all the control he had in front of the Dark Lord, he still could not keep his temper when not in danger. It made no sense to him.

"Go," he said. He wished that he had Albus's trick of putting warmth in his voice, but he had only taught himself steel and ice, and it was ice, now, with the effort of not screaming, again.

Harry stood, not looking at him. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Later, Harry," Severus said harshly, hoping Harry understood that was a promise. Harry had slipped the invisibility cloak over himself, hiding his face. There was a pause -- Severus hoped Harry was checking the hallway with the magic mirror -- then the door opened, then closed.

Severus stared at it. A score of things he might have said jammed in his throat and blocked it painfully.

"Dear child," he whispered.

He kept the floo warded, after all, and made himself a cup of hot whisky. He was on his fourth before he dared attempt sleep.

Harry slunk back to Gryffindor. He had brief impulses to storm down the empty halls, instead, but told himself firmly that he did not need to be penalized twice in one night. His mood was such that he was not at all surprised to come in the portrait hole and find Hermione waiting for him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Have fun?" she asked bitingly.

"No. I was utterly bored."

"I'm tempted to report you to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione said shrilly. She looked genuinely upset.

Harry forced a smile. "Don't bother. I already got caught by Snape. He only took twenty points, though."

"Only!" Hermione exclaimed. "Harry, it's only the second day of term!"

"Sorry ... I had something I had to do, that's all."

She bit her lip. "Were you out smoking?" she asked quickly.

Harry laughed, despite himself, at an unbidden image of smoking in Severus's rooms. "That would have been much worse than twenty points."

"Was that what you were out for?" Hermione asked stubbornly.

Harry closed the distance between them. "No," he said seriously. He leaned his face close to hers, and breathed gently into her mouth. While she was still frozen in surprise, Harry brushed his lips softly against hers. They felt lovely. Panic surged through him, and he stepped back.

"Believe me?"

Hermione nodded and stared at him. She wasn't saying anything. Harry knew that had been one of his goals, but it was still unnerving.

"Will you stop being cross, then?" he coaxed.

"You still cost Gryffindor twenty points. You still can't follow rules for two days." Hermione sounded more frustrated than angry, now. "And I know that Ron was out last night, with your cloak."

"But you approve of that," Harry told her teasingly.

"I do?"

Harry blushed. "He'd brought me cigarettes, to replace what you'd managed to get confiscated. I told him to get rid of them, and he did."

"Oh."

Harry was glad he'd been able to give her details on something, especially something that should please her. It seemed to have distracted her, at least. "Er... suppose we'd both better get to bed," he suggested awkwardly.

Hermione focused. "Yes. Definitely." She gave a little squeak of dismay. "I have Arithmancy first thing tomorrow, and I'll be tired, thanks to you, Harry Potter!"

"Plead Prefect duties. It's such a burden, keeping those uncontrollable Gryffindors in hand. Professor Vector will understand."

"That won't make me study any better."

"So you might be merely above average," Harry responded dryly. "Meanwhile, I'll be in Potions, being tortured."

"You will?" Hermione sounded disappointed. "I'd hoped we'd have it together."

"Apparently not."

Hermione frowned. "He did that on purpose, I bet." She looked at Harry and scowled. "And stop giving me that sly look!"

"What sly look?"

"That ... that "oh, I'm so clever" thing, as though running around at night makes you special!"

"Hermione, I don't think --"

"Go to bed," Hermione snapped. "I don't have time for this."

---

Chapter 29: Classes Start