Teamwork

16 -- Reaching Out

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked, as Harry squeezed in beside her. Seamus edged over to give him more room. "You've been gone all morning!"

Harry shrugged, and reached for a ham sandwich. He had forgotten it was morning. He supposed he associated the Chamber with late nights. "Out with Draco," he said. Hell. I had half a glass of cognac for breakfast. No wonder it was making me queasy. That must have been a couple of hours ago, now, though. No one should be able to tell.

"All night?" Seamus suggested. "Your bed was already empty at dawn."

"Why were you looking in my bed at dawn?" Harry asked indignantly.

"I just noticed, that's all. Had to use the loo."

"I must have just left," Harry countered quickly, scooping up some mustard. "We'd been meaning to go to breakfast; we just forgot."

"Distracted by your pretty boy?"

"Yes, if you must know."

"More to the point," Hermione interrupted. "Why were you up at dawn?" Her expression gentled. "Couldn't you sleep?"

That was, Harry supposed, his usual reason for getting up early. He smiled at her. "Nah. We wanted to explore, and we decided Filch wouldn't be skulking around that early." He yawned. "Though now it feels like evening, and I haven't done any schoolwork."

"That's all right," Ron said. "I haven't started mine, either. Of course, I just got up."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, slumping.

"Until he came down, I assumed you were sleeping in," Hermione added.

"She was all set to mount a hunt," Ron said cheerfully, taking an egg mayonnaise sandwich from a platter. "But I said this was the most likely place to find you."

"Though I was starting to worry," Hermione said reproachfully.

Ron laughed. "Don't believe her, mate. She's been worried for an hour."

"Sorry," Harry said.

"You missed announcements, you know. Next Saturday is blocked for Quidditch tryouts. You need to settle our slot with Hooch."

Harry nodded. Zoe and Damian were gone, leaving him with a Chaser spot and a Beater spot to fill.

"Are you trying out?" Neville, who had kept his head down during the interrogation, asked the question innocently. Ron tensed.

"I'm not that great a Chaser," he said. He glanced down the table, to where his sister was talking with one of her friends, and Harry could see him evaluating his chances and finding them lacking. "Probably not."

"Oh." Neville blushed. "Well, you look brilliant to me, but I don't know, I suppose." Seemingly aware that he was digging himself in deeper, he made an uncharacteristic grab for an orange, and busied himself with peeling it.

Harry managed to catch most of his teammates as they were leaving lunch. From the way that Jason's attention stayed on Lindsey, even while he answered Harry's question about schedules, Harry thought the younger boy might have taken to a fancy to her. She didn't seem to mind, but Harry resolved to keep an eye on the matter. It wouldn't do to have it interfere with their relationship in the air. It wasn't until he was looking around for Ryan that Harry realized Ron had slipped away. Hermione was still lingering by the door. Harry waved her on and went back to his search.

"Hi," Harry said, slipping onto the end of the sofa nearest Ron's chair. His friend was staring at a Charms text, but didn't appear to be reading it. From the facing chair, Hermione watched anxiously. Ron responded with a neutral grunt.

"Look, about tryouts...."

Angrily, Ron looked up. "Drop it, Harry," he said sharply. "I know my limits. I'm not the best you've got. Ginny's been faster on her broom for at least a year. I'll just have to settle for being the second Weasley not to make the house team." He grimaced down at his book. "Me and Percy. Ugh."

"But I wanted to tell you," Harry said urgently, "Cornelia wants the Beater slot. Keeper's position is open now."

Ron looked up, astonishment wide on his face. "Keeper?" Slowly, he began to smile. "I might have a shot at that."

"Right." Harry cleared his throat. "Someone could do better at trials, of course. I mean, I need to choose the candidate who's best for the team. But you should get in some practice."

"Right." Ron closed his book with a snap, tossing it to the table as he surged to his feet. Harry saw Hermione wince and hold her mouth shut tight. Ron didn't notice; he was calling for Ginny as he crossed the room. With a grin, Harry patted the cushion beside him, and Hermione scooped up her schoolbag and came over to join him on the sofa.

"He should study," she said faintly, ducking her head.

"True," Harry allowed, watching Ron's animated explanation to his sister, over by the windows, "but he wasn't, really."

"It will take up so much time."

"Hush. He'll be fine."

"He doesn't do nearly as well as he could!"

"He does well enough," Harry soothed. "If you wanted ambitious, you're looking in the wrong house."

She laughed at that, and settled. Ginny and Ron had parted quickly, in good cheer. Harry suspected they were off to get hats and gloves.

"Did you want ambitious?" she asked.

"Not really, but it seems to be what I've got." He thought about Millicent. "Though there seem to be all sorts of ambition."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

Harry waved nebulously at the air. He would need to keep this vague. "Just ... I know a few more of the Slytherins, now. What they want isn't always so simple as money or power."

"Recognition?" she guessed.

"Or independence. Or...." he shrugged. "Other things like that."

"Abstractions."

"Sometimes."

She sighed. "I don't really like you spending time with Slytherins, Harry. I can't forget that one of those abstractions is pureblood dominance."

He shrugged again, trying to keep his shoulders loose. "Well, there's no danger I'll be spending too much time with that sort of Slytherin. I'm not really their type, if you'll recall."

Her mouth tightened. "Draco was that sort. I'm not sure he still isn't, under other ambitions."

Harry snorted. "He could find a pureblood lover, I'm sure. No, Draco was already questioning that when we became friends. If he hadn't been, it wouldn't have lasted long." He shifted to face her. "He misses you, by the way. He asked me why you were snubbing him."

"I am not snubbing him!"

"He feels like you are." Harry bit his lip. "You have to be careful with Slytherins. Sometimes they're too subtle -- too used to subtle. They interpret things."

Hermione sat back with a huff, but she looked like she was thinking.

"Keep it in mind, anyway."

"Oh, all right." She sighed. "You really should start your schoolwork, Harry."

"I suppose." He would rather have followed the Weasleys out to the pitch and watched them practice. "Keep my place; I need to get my books."

Harry was on his way to Tuesday's practice when he spotted Rob, Sammy, and Jeremy over by the windows playing Exploding Snap. He detoured over to the game.

"Harry!" Jeremy exclaimed, seeing him approach. Rob waved a hello, and Sammy looked nervously at the Firebolt resting against Harry's shoulder.

"Hi," Harry said. "Want to come watch a Quidditch practice? We'll talk for a while, since it's the first one, but I plan to start with a little warm-up." He grinned at Sammy. "You can see some good flying."

Rob was already scrambling to his feet. "Could we?" he asked excitedly, apparently unable to believe his good fortune.

"Of course. Go and get cloaks, now; it will get chilly."

Rob dashed off, with Jeremy close behind. Sammy stood more slowly. "Rob showed me some magazines," he advanced.

"All right." Harry leaned back against an upholstered chair so he didn't have to look down so far. "Are you interested in the real thing?"

Sammy chewed on his lower lip. Harry wondered if he still thought this was all some elaborate joke. Eventually, the boy shrugged. "I guess I'll take a look," he said.

"Great. Cloak, now."

With a last look at the broom, Sammy nodded and left for his dormitory.

The three boys maintained their moods for the walk down: Sammy cautious and distant, Jeremy moderately pleased, and Rob bouncing with excitement -- except for occasional puzzled looks back at Sammy. From outside the stands, Harry could hear other players, but no one was high enough to be visible over the walls. He led the kids up to the seats. Being the tallest, and in front, he was the first to come in sight of the players -- Jason and Lindsey were in the air, and Cornelia on the ground, pinwheeling her arm in a warm-up exercise. As the boys emerged into the open air, Harry looked back at Sammy. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open, and he came to the present moment in an instant.

"Wow!" He darted forward to the rail, leaning out to watch. "That's brilliant!"

"I showed you my magazines," Rob said reproachfully. Harry laughed.

"Muggles have lots of ways to create pictures of things that aren't real," he explained. "It's not like wizards. We just change what's real and then photograph it."

Sammy's head whipped around, and after a second, he gave Harry a tentative smile. "Was it like this for you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, mostly. Except I was really ready to believe it."

"Oh." Shoulders tightening, Sammy looked away.

Harry joined him at the rail. "No offense intended. Just ... is there someone who usually lies to you?"

The shoulders came down a little as Sammy nodded. "M'brothers."

"That's too bad," Harry said sympathetically.

"And everyone believes them," Sammy continued indignantly. "Just because I said I'd got Wolverine down from the tree."

"Wolverine?" Harry asked.

"A kitten. And I did get him down."

"Ah." Harry nodded. "Yeah. I remember how far I got trying to explain that I had no idea how I'd ended up on the shed roof."

"But wouldn't they--" Rob stopped. His eyes widened. "Oh. Muggles."

"Right. I think it happens to a lot of kids with Muggle families." Harry shook off the thought and the memories that came with it. The Dursleys had hated him before any of that. "Anyway, you can all watch from here for as long as you like, and you can go back to the castle when you're bored. No going into the changing rooms, though, and no stepping out onto the pitch, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Rob chirped, and Jeremy and Sammy both nodded. Harry mounted his broom and kicked off from the spot, hopping the rail and joining his teammates in the air. The boys cheered.

Afterwards, while everyone else was at dinner, he told Draco about it.

"First years?" Draco asked dubiously. He had brought down roast beef, sliced thick and set between hearty slices of bread, and for after, covered bowls of apple pudding. Harry opened his sandwich and spooned some horseradish onto his beef.

"Look," he said, "I'm fine with the seventh years, because they know me, and the sixth-year girls -- two of the five are on the team, and a third is Ginny, so that's okay. And at least two of the sixth-year boys think I'm okay. But the younger kids are a little wary of me. If I start with the first years, they have the least bias. They didn't go through all the fighting and distrust and such of last year, or the rumors that I was crazy the year before that, or Cedric dying with only my word on how the year before that." The last still hurt to mention. Harry had to stop to steady his breath. He took a bite of his sandwich.

"True, but they're not very useful."

Swallowing, Harry shook his head. "It makes me look more dependable, I think."

"Not like you're corrupting them?"

"No one seems anxious," Harry countered. "Amused, maybe. Parvati claims I'm trying to look taller."

Draco laughed. "Tell her Seekers are supposed to be compact."

"She wasn't serious! So, how have your efforts been going?"

Draco shrugged and took a moment to chew and swallow. "Linnet is definitely interested in speaking to you about current events, but she's never been a real partisan. Blaise came to me privately to say that he intended to stay neutral as long as possible, but that he no longer discounted your potential in the upcoming conflict."

"Upcoming?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Wasn't he here last spring?"

Draco dismissed the criticism with a graceful shrug. "My housemates tend to think of that imbroglio as a family matter that overflowed. Typical Malfoy extravagance.

Harry decided not to ask what imbroglio meant. He expected it didn't usually include people dying and buildings being destroyed. "I spoke to Hermione."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "And?"

"I think a project with her would be worthwhile. You two need to spend some time together."

Exhaling sharply, Draco nodded. "I've been wondering.... Might she think we're using her for cover?"

Harry frowned. "I hope not. Maybe."

"Well, then. Perhaps we should arrange things with Professor McGonagall first, and then invite Hermione."

Harry considered that. He didn't think Hermione mattered much to their chances. "Okay."

"That would be my preference. Also, I spoke to Severus, and he responded positively to the idea of a simple project for the purpose of maintaining discreet contact, but he would like to consult with you privately first. He will keep you after Potions on Thursday or Friday."

Harry nodded. "Got it."

Accordingly, they stayed after their Transfiguration lesson the next day. They had a free period before Cursebreaking, but Professor McGonagall did not; Harry knew the sixth-year students would be arriving soon. The professor frowned slightly as the two of them approached her desk.

"May I help you gentlemen?"

Draco shifted back, leaving Harry to answer. He supposed Draco might find the Gryffindor head of house intimidating.

"We were wondering," he said, "about possibly doing a special project."

She frowned. "It is your N.E.W.T. year, Mr. Potter, and you are already taking a full schedule. Your energies might be better spent in revision."

He nodded. "Yes, but I don't think this will be too intensive. We were both interested in learning more about transfiguration of form only."

Her face lengthened as her eyebrows came up. "Shaping? It is a minor branch of study -- hardly of any use beyond art."

Harry felt his face heat, but it was as much with indignation as with embarrassment. He didn't want her putting down Draco like that, even if she didn't intend to. He was sure Draco must be humiliated. "It's useful often enough that we both end up doing it," he retorted.

"Do you really?" She looked intrigued. "For what, if I may ask?"

Stepping forward, Draco pulled one of the candle-holders out of his bag. "Things like this," he said.

McGonagall nodded. "Ah," she said, nodding. "Yes, art."

Draco raised his chin haughtily, and Harry intervened. "I don't think the table is art. Show her, Draco."

After a momentary look of confusion, Draco nodded and drew his wand. With slow, angled stokes, he pulled stone from the wall, shaping a small shelf with an ornamented wedge of supporting stone below it. Harry looked over at McGonagall, and saw her jaw drop. When the shelf was finished, Draco set the candleholder on it and stepped back.

McGonagall straightened. "Well!" she said. She cleared her throat. "Yes, I see. Shaping stone is quite difficult. You do seem to have a talent for that, Mr. Malfoy." She glanced at Harry. "And you?"

He shrugged. "I'm not particularly good at it. I made him a brooch, once, but that was out of gold."

The corner of her mouth quirked, and then settled. "Yes. Soft metals are much easier to work." Her piercing gaze fixed him to the spot. "If it is his talent, Mr. Potter, why do you wish to do it?"

"I just think it's cool," Harry answered baldly. "And we want to do something together."

"Ah." She steepled her hands for a moment. "Well," she said, inclining her head. "If what you want is to do something together, I have a suggestion that should suit nicely, but stretch you both a bit more." Afraid she was going to tell them to go do their homework, Harry managed only a slight nod, but she smiled thinly and continued.

"You may have seen me working with Professor Dumbledore during the rebuilding last spring. Combining forces for Transfiguration is a difficult matter ... but easier if the people involved have an affinity for each other. Rather than attempting to imitate Mr. Malfoy's talent, then, I suggest you balance it. He can work on changing the form of your base material, while you change some other aspect. For example, he might spin broken glass into a window, and as he forms it, you color segments of it. Or he might make a screen of wood, and you turn some panels of it to glass. If you wish to do shaping as well, there is the shaping of two things around each other, which is how some of the highest quality tools are made."

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "That sounds brilliant, actually," Harry said, even though he knew they could not include Hermione.

Draco's nod was hesitant, but his smile unmistakable. "Yes," he said. "Entirely."

McGonagall nodded briskly. "We have other things to discuss, such as scheduling and workload, but I have a class arriving. Devise a more detailed proposal, please, including a schedule that will not hamper your other activities, and bring it to me during my regular office hours."

Harry nodded readily. "Right. We will."

They spent their free time until Cursebreaking discussing possibilities, trying to dream up a project that was difficult enough, but not too time consuming. They both liked the stained glass idea, but Harry wondered if they could do something as elaborate as a display case with stained glass doors. After a tangent on the design of wooden hinges, they speculated about whether this sort of combined spell casting would make other kinds -- perhaps in combat -- easier. Draco said the principle was probably the same, and Harry nodded thoughtfully. That might explain why Professor McGonagall wanted him to learn it.

"Do you have plans?" Draco asked, as they left the room after Cursebreaking. Harry looked up the stairs to the bobbing spot of red hair that showed Ron taking the stairs two at a time.

"I might go out to the pitch."

"Ah." Draco sighed. "It's the library for me, I'm afraid -- at least until practice."

Harry was about to say that he would join him when he spotted someone else -- a flight down, Millicent Bulstrode was just turning on to the stairs.

"Well, catch you later, then," he said, and set off after Millicent.

He tried to catch up to her discreetly, but she was taller, and moving with an open stride, and two flights down, he was barely closer to her than he had been.

"Mill!" he called, as she crossed in front of the doors to the Great Hall. "Millicent!" Millicent turned.

"Whatever--"

"You move fast," he complained, hurrying up to her.

"Oh. Uh, I was in a hurry...."

"Is this a bad time?"

"Nah." She shook her head. "I was moving away, more than toward. What's up, Potter?"

"I just thought we should talk," he said casually. This clearly wasn't the place. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were passing by, and some of both scoping out the encounter in passing. Harry wondered if Millicent had used his last name out of habit or to establish distance. "Come for a walk with me?" he suggested.

In another context, that could have been flirtatious, he realized belatedly, as Millicent smirked, but did not laugh.

"All right," she said, resettling her bag on her shoulder. "Let's go."

With a nod, he set off down the corridor, to the back staircase up to the classrooms. As it was less convenient to the main staircase down from the ground floor, it was not in heavy use. The greatest risk there was that they would disturb a couple snogging in the shadows, but it was still too public for discussing potions. Harry racked his brain for something he could say.

"So," he advanced finally, as they started up the stairs. "Thank you for your protection the other night."

She snorted. "I wasn't sure you'd noticed."

"Oh, I knew the risk I was taking. I was keeping a close eye on who was where."

"Really?" Her heavy eyebrows rose as she looked sidelong at him. "You did a good job of looking like it was nothing."

He shrugged. "If I look nervous, what's the point?"

"What was the point without?"

"Seeing who did what. Seeing if I might risk it again."

She frowned, slowing as they climbed. A rustle of noise at the first landing was what Harry had expected. He didn't look, but had the impression Finch-Fletchley had been one of the pair. "Again," she said plainly, "why?"

"Ah." He hadn't thought of her question that way. The answer to this one had been honed by Hermione's challenge on the train. "Because I think I need to spend time with the Slytherins -- well, with anyone who might consider supporting Voldemort, but doesn't entirely yet. I need to show people who are wavering that his opposition isn't everything they're afraid it is."

She considered that. They were passing the third floor now. The sound of distant chatter bounced down the corridor to them, fading as they continued up. Harry motioned to the side as they neared the fourth floor. "This way."

There was no one in sight, but she still walked close enough to him to speak quietly. "That might be worth the trouble. You're certainly not what I expected. Still, it's a dangerous place for you."

"I know that," he said, turning the corner into a narrower corridor. Two figures twenty feet away, even expected, disturbed him, and Millicent jumped.

"Oh," she said, staring at the shadowy forms and lifting an arm experimentally, "a mirror." Her mouth twisted into a scowl. Harry shrugged and led her between two doors to side rooms, and straight up to the glass.

"What's this for?" she asked suspiciously, but Harry already had his wand out. He tapped the glass, and reached through it to a door latch.

"Come on," he said.

Safely behind the re-solidified glass, she cast wand light to examine the space they had entered. With a grin, Harry set his wand to a barely visible line at waist height on the passage wall, activating a phosphorescent glow that stretched down the corridor on that side.

"Brilliant," Millicent breathed. "Where does it go?"

"Oh, there's a cave-in further on," Harry said, starting down the passage, "but a good wide area before you get there."

"Is this the place for brewing?"

"No, I'm afraid the fumes might be noticeable. I have another spot for that." Around a curve, the glow faltered. Harry reached forward to tap past the gap, and another section came on. That light circled two-thirds of the way around a wide space. The low illumination made tumbled rocks seem larger, and turned the collapsed section beyond into a rising wall of spiked shadows. "No, I want this for the Uncommon Room -- for mixed-house social space. I was hoping you might help me clean it."

"You're going to tell everyone about it?" she asked scornfully.

"Well, not everyone," he replied. "Just people I trust not to tell."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "And when will we start my brewing? Did you buy what you said you would or not?"

"Of course!" he replied indignantly. "Well, except for the mountain crab shell. We might not have everything to start this weekend, but we definitely will for the next."

"Where are you going to get a pound of mountain crab shell in a week?" she snarled.

"Fred and George! I'm telling them I'm starting a dueling club!"

She pulled her head back like a startled cat. "Oh."

"That will make sense, right? I mean, if it's a secret, we'll need regular healing potions, so I can order from them regularly. And they have a business, so they can buy large quantities of things. And they'll approve."

Her good humor restored, she snorted with amusement. "Gryffindors."

"Right," he said stonily. "So you can trust me, right? I'm not about to go back on my word."

"Did I offend you?"

"Yes."

She studied him for a moment. "Oh. Well, sorry, then." Uncomfortably, she looked around the space. "So we should pick up the rocks?"

"And stabilize the fall," he responded, going along with the change of subject. "And then we can worry about cleaning, and I'll probably get Draco to try to help me fix the line that doesn't glow anymore."

"There's another one?" she asked, stepping over to the wall.

"Yeah. It should be both sides of the passage, and then they each loop through this section, so there should be more than twice as much light here."

She examined the glowing stripe on the wall, running one thick finger along the unlit grey line below it, and then glanced to where the light arched over what had been the other door. "I see." She shrugged. "Well, I'm no Merlin with charms, but I can move rocks." With a grin, she picked up a head-sized stone and hefted it in one hand.

"Wait!"

His warning was too late. She'd hurled the rock neatly into the rubble, where it hit with a thunderous crash, knocking loose several other stones which rumbled down to the floor.

They were both silent as the echoes died away. Some dust drifted down from the space above, but nothing more fell. Harry cleared his throat. "Maybe we should, um, stabilize the fall first?"

"And not throw them," she said glumly. "Got it."

"Well, that might be okay if I cast a cushioning charm first."

She perked up. "It would certainly be more fun."

In the end, Harry ended up casting a cushioning charm next to the pile, and a silencing charm on the room. Millicent tossed stones on the cushioned spot, and Harry levitated them out, one at a time, to chink into the pile. He felt like there ought to be something like Draco's glass spell for melting rock so he could bind them together. He should ask McGonagall, he decided, and then Flitwick, if she didn't know. Or maybe Draco could just do it.

"Harry," Millicent said, in between rocks.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you thinking of for brewing?

"Oh, there's another passage--"

"Deeper?"

"It goes all the way to Hogsmeade, and comes up in a house."

Her already small eyes narrowed. "An empty house?"

"Well, one that's supposed to be haunted. But it isn't, I promise."

She turned from the rocks and folded her arms over her chest. "Tell me you don't mean the Shrieking Shack."

"Lupin stayed there as a student," Harry said quickly. "On full moons. That's why there used to be noises."

She frowned. "There've been noises more recently."

"Other people have stayed there since," Harry said. "But live people, I swear. And Draco and Hermione and I spent a couple days brewing there last year. There's nothing worse than spiders -- normal spiders -- in that house."

She raised her head. "All right. But I'm bringing my bat."

They left at dinner time, talking about Quidditch. Harry had forgotten that was strange until they got to the ground floor. Most people were already in the Great Hall, but as he and Millicent came down the last few steps, a gaggle of young Slytherins came tearing up from the dungeons. Among them was the blond first-year girl, who stumbled to a stop as she saw Millicent and Harry. Millicent rolled her eyes.

"Maybe we'd better split up here, Potter. Wouldn't want to turn your house against you again."

He sighed. "They'll get over it. But go in with your lot, if you'd rather."

With a nod, she swaggered over towards the younger kids, who turned and hurried ahead of her into the Great Hall. Harry strolled after. When the blond girl looked back over her shoulder, he winked at her.

After dinner, the Gryffindors returned en masse to their common room. Harry spent a while with Ron and Hermione, chatted for a few minutes with Seamus and Parvati, said hello to Rob, Sammy, and Yolanda, and then headed up to his room. Neville was there, but studying quietly on his bed. After greeting him, Harry collected parchment and ink, and settled at the desk.

Fred and George,

How are you doing? I'm settling in to school. The Cursebreaking professor is brilliant, and knows Bill. I think Ron enjoyed being the person recognized, for once.

You know how I said I might want to order things? Well, I'd like you to send me a few items. First, I need two ounces of fluxweed (don't ask!), a pound of powdered mountain crab shell, and an ounce of murtlap essence. I know those quantities sound ridiculous, but a few of us are starting a sort of an unofficial dueling club. If we're not going to get caught, we need our own customized healing potions. I also need a runespoor egg, or a runespoor dreamer head as part of that project we discussed before.

I hope business is going well! Send me a few harmless things, and I'll show them around.

Cheers,

Harry

Afterwards, he sat, stroking his quill idly against his mouth and wondering what to say to Remus. Could he even call him that? Maybe "Mr. Lupin" would be better. He set quill to parchment, but then lifted it again. No. That was too formal. Just "Remus" seemed cheeky, though. "Uncle Remus"? No, definitely not. Sighing, he began the letter with "Dear Sir," regretting it immediately, but not enough to erase the words with a spell.

Dear Sir,

I am safely back at school, and enjoying having people around again. Ron got a little annoyed about me talking to a couple of the Slytherins on the train, but it seems to have blown over. I'm sure you will be glad to know that as Hermione is Head Girl and Draco is Head Boy, I am receiving frequent reminders to study.

I was thinking about our first visit, this summer, and it occurred to me that I should warn you that your old retreat may no longer be secure, in case you didn't realize. Hermione and Draco and I brewed the portkey Anchor potion there, so its the place where he portkeyed back to, so a number of Death Eaters were there, at least one of whom is related to kids here.

Tell your dog that I miss him, and I hope we can go for some long rambles in the summer.

Best wishes,

Harry

There, he thought, folding the letter carefully, and addressing it "Remus Lupin, Darkmoon Den". That would cover taking Millicent out there. Though now that he thought about it, the tunnel out of Greenhouse Four might be better, if it was reasonably spacious. The Shrieking Shack was a painful walk for him, and Millicent was a lot bigger than he was.