Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

Next morning, Harry woke with his head pounding. A long shower reduced the pain to a slight numbness. He trudged down to the breakfast table, looking for a gallon of drink and all food he could find.

Eating was difficult because the other Gryffindors took turns asking questions while he himself had to make do with the just one mouth for both chewing and answering.

George. "How did the dust bombs work?"

"Super! They saved us twice; Flitwick was the first. Could you see it from the school? ... Snape was the other. He was hidden under an Invisibility Cloak."

Katie. "Who was next, after Flitwick?"

"Hooch. Incredible, that witch. A jinxed Bludger, it almost broke Cho's arm. And Hooch herself, hooded, riding an air attack ... Without Lleyrin, we would've been down and out already there."

He had to describe the air fight and how Lleyrin had first knocked the Bludger and then cured Cho. He left out the parts with the story and the twenty-seconds cure.

Fred. "Could you use the other firecrackers, too?"

"You bet - at the dragons camp, against Drilencu. That got me the time to hide under my cloak and come at him. Besides, we'll talk about that later."

Harry glanced at the teachers' table. There was nothing unusual, nobody missing, Snape looked okay. Drilencu ... Harry's lips tightened.

Ron had followed his glance and now turned to him, eyes shining. "Say, what happened at the camp? When Drilencu came back, he was mad; he stomped through the hall like a bull."

"He cruciated Cho."

Shocked silence fell over the table.

"When I came down, I used a firecracker to deafen him for a moment," explained Harry. "Then I put on my cloak and tiptoed closer."

"And then?"

"Then I disarmed him - was a surprise for him, me under the cloak. Then - " Suddenly reluctant to tell the story, he hesitated.

"Harry!!"

"Well, I was about to cruciate him in return, but Cho stopped me just in time ... I wish she hadn't done that."

"And that's what made him so mad?"

Harry grinned thinly. "No, that was just the part that's been driving me mad - and that's not the last of it, mark my words. No, what he didn't like at all was, I didn't give his wand back."

There was a moment of surprise, then shouts and bravos. "Good one, Harry."

"Is it back now?" asked Hermione.

"Should be - I handed it to Dumbledore."

The Headmaster's name raised another wave of questions. "Where did you meet him?" "What was his trap?" "How did you beat him?"

"He had two of them," explained Harry. "The first trap was the upside-down mirror. I saw it once, in the maze, that's why I could stop in time. It was there that Cho crashed into a tree." He told them all a censored version of the rescue operation and of Firenze's help.

"And what was Dumbledore's second trick?" asked Lee.

"Firenze took us to another exit from the forest," said Harry, "but guess what, next second Dumbledore was standing there, and said something, and wanted to disarm me." He looked at Hermione. "But the sling held!"

"And then?"

"Then I did the same to him."

"You disarmed Dumbledore??"

"I said the same, right? I mean, I tried but failed, too - except that he had something else, not a sling. All I managed was to make his wand jerk a bit."

"And how - "

Harry beamed. "I thought that was it, so near to the school. But Dumbledore said a normal Death Eater would have been beaten now, so ..."

Another wave of shouts and applause went up. The Gryffindors beamed at Harry. That was their Headmaster, greatest wizard of all!

After the breakfast, Harry first checked with Almyra. She told him that Cho was all right and busy adjusting to normal. From Almyra's place he advanced to the next table, eager to return Fleur's shawl.

"Not 'ere, 'arry." Fleur seemed embarrassed. "Come with me." They walked to her office.

"Congratulations, 'arry, to you and Cho." Fleur's eyes were shining. "I 'eard about it at the table - Dumbledore was so proud of you, even Snape - "

"Snape??"

"Yes - 'e didn't stop teasing Drilencu, 'e really had fun."

Wonders did happen, thought Harry. "Here ... thank you for the shawl."

"Could you use it?" Fleur looked expectant.

"Yes - like all the other help, we needed everything. First I used it to touch Cho's Steel Wing, to take it out of the tree - "

"Really? And it worked?" Fleur seemed happy to hear about Veela power calming down a narrow-minded broomstick.

"Yes. Without the shawl, that broomstick could easily have broken my arm. Then, after we'd touched down, I put the shawl around Cho's neck because she was sick and cold. She had a concussion, although I didn't know then."

"And?"

"It worked ... with some side-effects."

"I can imagine." Fleur's eyes were sparkling. "My poor 'unter, so busy fighting the bad wizards and then - a romantic girl at your side."

"She didn't stay at my side."

Fleur laughed, couldn't stop. It was addictive.

"Anyway," said Harry, still chuckling, "when Firenze came - you know, the Centaur who helped me already once before - and I asked him, and he didn't want to carry her, I mean, it was Cho in her dream state who made him do it."

"What did she say?"

"It was so - oh yes, now I remember: 'Fiery Firenze, fair-haired fairy horse'."

Fleur clapped her hands. "Poetic, so nice ... Didn't you get jealous, 'arry?"

"At Firenze?" He shook his head. "I had other problems, really."

He left Fleur and marched down the floor, thinking about what she'd said. Jealous of a Centaur, him? Sometimes he couldn't follow her thoughts. Then he remembered what she'd said about Snape. After a moment's hesitation, he headed for Snape's office.

"Come in."

Snape didn't seem surprised. "Mr Potter, I was more or less expecting you. Otherwise, it would have gone looking for you."

"Why?" Funny question, with him visiting Snape.

"Well, to hear if you're okay, and see if we can look each other in the eye." Snape seemed surprised that the reason wasn't obvious.

"Oh, you mean the curse? No," said Harry, "I have no problem with your curse, Professor Snape. It was okay; that was a hard exam and - "

"So we're on as good terms as we can be?"

"Yes - er, I hope you didn't get cold, but we didn't dare touch the dust."

Snape waved dismissively. "I was rescued quickly, aside from the fact that I'd been wearing enough garment ... and a quilt."

"Yes." Harry nodded slowly. "The quilt - it almost did it."

"Almost?" Snape shook his head. "The quilt worked all right; it was me who failed. Although it's still unclear to me how you managed. And then - fairy dust!"

Harry grinned. "Professor Snape, you've been fighting more than just myself - it was Myrtle's idea, and the twins' work, and Lleyrin's drink - "

Snape's eyes widened. "The Giant chief? He gave you a drink? And that - "

Harry nodded. "That, and the front shield on the Steel Wing, and a similar training with Viktor. Even so, half a second more and - "

"Mr Potter," said Snape with satisfaction in his voice, "you just re-established my self-esteem, and you told me who I have to visit for some expert talk about potions - aside from the very interesting stories at the breakfast table. So I wasn't the only one with a Cruciatus curse."

"No, Professor," replied Harry, "but the only one who did all right."

* * *

At lunch, Cho was back. Harry saw her eating with obvious appetite. That was good to know, but for what he had in mind, he had to stop her from eating too much. Right now, crossing the distance to the Ravenclaw table didn't feel difficult at all, and students were looking at him anyway.

Before he could get up, Viktor announced a Squad meeting. It would be held in a classroom in about an hour. That left just enough time for what Harry had planned.

He hurried over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Cho, good to see you. How's your head?"

"Like new, and useful for eating - half a dragon sounds about right."

"Save a little space," he said. "We have to make a visit."

"Do we?" Cho watched him carefully.

"Yes - paying for some dust."

Cho nodded in affirmation and turned back to her food.

Harry walked back to his seat where he finished his own meal, taking care to leave some storage capacity unused. But first, he asked Ron why the meeting was scheduled in a classroom.

"Private party," answered Ron with a grin. "We don't need all the other students staring at us."

"Like me, you mean?" Hermione stared at him angrily.

"Well, you are, er, somewhere in the middle." Ron was amusing himself. "You know, Viktor could establish you as his, er, personal assistant, then - " He jerked his head back just in time to avoid Hermione's blow.

Feigning astonishment, he added, "If that doesn't suit you, ask Harry. He's probably entitled to invite a special guest."

That was certainly a reasonable idea; there was nothing that could be said against Ron's suggestion - except that Hermione still felt teased, and probably was right. She declined Harry's offer.

So Harry stood up and marched once more to the Ravenclaw table to find Cho chewing. "Are you still eating?"

"What do you fink dish ish?"

"Sounds more like talking." Harry grinned.

Cho swallowed. "That reminds me - I wanted to ask you something." She stood up and motioned him to follow. The question seemed not supposed for more ears.

They reached the Entrance Hall. "Harry, that shawl yesterday - what was it?"

Harry kept his face straight. "I had it from Fleur. It's a tranquilizer."

"Tranquilizer, eh? ... Some tranquilizer." Cho wasn't looking at him when she asked her next question. "What did I say?"

"You were cold, and hurt, so I put it around your neck."

"No - with that thing."

"Then ... well, then - um, then came Firenze, and you stepped up to him and said you had a picture of him, and that he was beautiful, and then, you said" - Harry had to giggle - "you said, 'Fiery Firenze, fair-haired fairy horse'."

"Oh, no!" Cho's cheeks turned pink.

"But that's what made him help us!"

Cho relaxed a bit. Unfortunately, Harry had to giggle again.

She eyed him with suspicion. "What else?"

"It wasn't you then, it was Firenze. He said, 'Cho Chang's charming chatter'."

"Great." She looked very embarrassed.

"And then he knelt down, so you could climb up, except you didn't. And then Firenze said" - Harry had trouble again, but steadied himself - "he said, 'Heave her hips, Harry.' I think you've infected him." Harry erupted in laughter.

Cho waited until he had calmed down. "And that was all?"

"Basically, yes."

She looked disbelieving.

He had to stop this interrogation quickly. "Cho, let's go - there's just enough time before the Squad meeting."

As he led her to the kitchen, Cho watched the steps and turns and twists with full attention. When they entered, the house-elves looked up. A moment later, the room was full of chirping and chatter. Dobby hurried by.

"Dobby, I want you to meet my team partner, Cho Chang. Cho, this is my friend Dobby - source of cakes and fairy dust."

"Dobby is proud of Harry Potter, his great wizard, sir, how he fought the other wizards ... and of Cho Chang, great witch ..."

Harry avoided Cho's glance - it was the only way to stay serious. "Dobby, we came to tell you the story, just as promised - to thank you for the fairy dust."

They were urged to sit down. Dishes appeared before them, elves scurried around, busily prearing still more desserts, and a cup ...

Cho grabbed a piece and took a bite with her hand on her mouth, then she had herself under control again. "Delicious," she said.

It was the signal to bring still more.

Harry began to talk. His intention was to provide a slightly censored version of their patrol while Cho was eating. It didn't work that way.

After each step, after each wizard beaten, especially the female house-elves wanted to hear Cho's version of that part. It gave Harry time to eat some of the desserts; moreover, it gave him an insight into Cho's perspective.

Dobby didn't like the zig-zagging of the story, he clearly preferred a unique, uninterrupted Harry Potter version, but was overruled by a majority. Like the students, the house-elves were happy to hear their Headmaster and Harry had found some kind of a draw.

When Harry and Cho stood up to leave, the house-elves tried to equip them with all the desserts that hadn't been eaten. Harry declined; as nice as the idea seemed, to come to the Squad meeting with armloads of cake and other sweets, it could only backfire. The others would expect similar treats in the future, while Harry had no intention of sharing his privilege to such an extent. After all, the twins had known about this source much longer than he did, and they never appeared with presents for the Squad.

Maybe Cho had similar thoughts; at least, she didn't object.

They walked to the classroom where the meeting was scheduled. "So what do you think of the source?" asked Harry.

"Nice people," answered Cho. "First I had to fight one laugh after the other, but after a while, I got used to them ... How many students know about that place?"

"You mean the entrance? You're the sixth. The twins found out, and then one day, they decided to share the secret with us three - Ron, Hermione, and me."

"That was generous of them."

Still, the picture wasn't clear yet for Cho. "And Dobby - what's so special with him? He's really crazy about you - his great wizard, sir, on and forever." Cho's voice mimicked Dobby's chirping quite well.

"Dobby is free. He's been hired by Dumbledore, for a salary. First he had a bad reputation with the others, a paid house-elf, imagine ... I guess they've grown used to it by now."

"So he's free? Good for him," said Cho impatiently, "but it doesn't explain why you're his one and only hero."

"Sorry, I forgot to mention it - I freed him."

"From whom? Couldn't have been the Dursleys, could it?"

The picture of Dobby in Privet Drive appeared in Harry's memory and made him chuckle. "No," he said, "his former master was Lucius Malfoy."

Cho's head snapped around. "Really?"

Harry nodded.

"Young Potter - full of surprises ... And when might her great wizard feel it appropriate to tell that story to his cute little witch, sir?"

Harry had to master another fit, more from Cho's voice than from her words. "Not now, anyway." They'd reached the classroom.

Some minutes later, the Squad had gathered completely. That included Ron as well, and Ron had arrived with a special guest: Hermione. "She volunteered to do the protocol, an offer I couldn't deny."

Viktor went through the formality of announcing the news everybody knew already - that Harry was back on the Squad, that he would form a twin team with Cho and that, on demand, they would join the other twin team of Katie and Alicia for a quad team. Then Viktor asked for something Harry should have expected with a bit of clear thinking - a detailed report of their patrol, for entertainment as much as for a review of attack techniques that had to be expected from real Death Eaters.

At least he and Cho had practice now. They sat down at the table in front, noting the unfamiliar perspective from the teacher's position, and told the same story again, passing each other the thread at the proper scene.

As they quickly learned, the facts weren't enough. The other Squad members wanted a detailed description of how the teachers had reacted. The former house teams were pleased to hear about the performance of their heads of houses, nobody felt mercy for Drilencu, and all of them applauded when Harry quoted Dumbledore. When he and Cho had finished, a longer applause rang out.

Then Viktor stood up. "Harry, Cho, to complete the lesson, what's your conclusion? What do we learn from that patrol in general?"

"Um ..." Harry was dumbfounded.

Cho was quicker. "Basically, Squad duty is to find people," she said, "not to attack them. But all things considered, I wouldn't mind a dust bomb or two out there."

The Squad members agreed, shouting. Fred and George didn't join, though, which for Harry was a clear indicator that they'd come to the same conclusion already by themselves.

Viktor seemed more reluctant. As he pointed out, throwing a dust bomb would invariably expose the rider to a curse from close distance.

The other Squad members wanted to hear Harry's opinion.

"If I had a choice," Harry said, "I'd rather stay away. But then, having a bomb in your pocket doesn't feel wrong."

The others nodded in agreement.

"At any rate, the Steel Wings are awfully effective. The front shield holds a lot - that's why a direct attack might be the best solution ... And cursing the broomstick itself has no effect whatsoever. With them, we're in a totally different position than before."

"What else?" asked Viktor.

"Giants."

Harry and Cho looked at each other; they had given the same answer at the same time. Cho motioned him to speak.

"The Giants' camp is like an outpost," Harry explained, "and the Giants are helpful, experienced in fighting, in tending wounds ... I think we should get in touch with them more closely - something like, each team has its own Giant. Cho and I have ours, it's Lleyrin."

"That reminds me," said Viktor. "Madam Hooch wants her Bludger back - a task for the Squad, she said. I thought you were the best candidates to get it back from Lleyrin."

Once more, Harry and Cho looked at each other. That witch had some nerve, first sending it and then ... After a moment, Harry realized that, from a teacher's view, it seemed a perfectly ordinary request. Back to normality ... it might take him still a day or two.

* * *

Viktor wanted them to fly right after the meeting. Their order was just to reach Lleyrin, get the Bludger, and come back.

"How do we carry a Bludger?" asked Harry.

A bag, was the answer, strong enough to hold a Bludger, and much lighter than the standard box.

Still, they couldn't start yet; Harry wasn't going to visit Lleyrin without a present, not after the Giant had helped them so much and spent a lot of the precious dragon blood. That visit was special anyway; they were supposed to hear the end of a story. But where to get a present in a hurry?

"What kind of present do you need?" asked Cho.

Harry explained that it could be anything, as long as it looked as if the guest had invested some thought, so it could be discussed during small talk.

"I think it's me who should give it," said Cho. "It was my arm he cured, after all - yes, you got some dope, but you already gave him presents, but it's the first time for me."

"Do you know something?"

"Maybe," answered Cho, her eyes glittering. "Give me that bag, and wait here."

She disappeared. When she came back, she said, "I need a bottle."

They found one in the Potions classroom. Cho's hand reached in the bag, came up with a smaller bottle, reached again, came up with another, and another ... A moment later, six small bottles stood on the table.

"What's this?" asked Harry.

Cho was pouring the contents of the smaller bottles into the big one. A strong, sharp odour filled the room. Interrupting her work, she looked up, a malicious expression on her face.

"Each year, my mother sends me to Hogwarts with one of those bottles. That stuff - it's called China Oil, supposed to be good for colds, coughs, and I don't know what ... Burns like hell, and Madam Pomfrey has better methods, so I never use it. But - you know, I just can't pour it in the sink and then tell my mum it's empty."

Continuing to pour, Cho added in a grim voice, "This is the opportunity I've been waiting for."

It was Harry's first sign-out with Ron in which they followed the new rule. "Don't wet your pants if it takes a little longer," he told Ron. "I'm sure we'll stay with Lleyrin for a while."

They flew off with Cho head and Harry tail.

This was their first regular patrol - almost regular, after the exam, and after weeks of deep frustration. Harry felt wonderful, just great. No wizard waiting for them - hopefully not, that was: at least none from Hogwarts, and none other either, Harry felt sure of that.

Reaching Lleyrin's hut, Cho simply manoeuvered to the window and called, "Lleyrin!" Then, not waiting for a reply, she dismounted and walked to the door.

Harry followed.

When the door opened, Cho said, "Hello, Lleyrin, I want to thank you for your help. If you could put me on that table, please."

With a smile in his eyes, Lleyrin took Cho and flung her up. At the Giant's questioning look, Harry nodded and was carried up, too.

Lleyrin came with two boxes for him and Cho, to be used as stools. They sat down.

"Cho Chang and Harry, my home is honeyed with your visit."

Had this been a mock version of the traditional welcome? Harry tried to present the formal answer, but Cho was quicker. She held up the bottle.

"Then this will help to balance the sweetness, Lleyrin - with greetings from China, where I was born."

Their host accepted the bottle, opened it, and sniffed. His nose wrinkled. "Cho Chang, is this a cure in return for a cure?"

"Yes, Lleyrin. It's called China Oil and it's used for colds, coughs, and other maladies. For humans, it's pretty strong, so it should be just fine for a Giant."

"I'm sure you are right, Cho Chang, after you had had the opportunity to hone your eye for Giant cures ... Did your arm work?"

"Very well, Lleyrin. Madam Pomfrey, our mediwitch at Hogwarts, didn't have to treat it at all, only my head needed her work."

Harry asked himself why he'd come. They were doing pretty well without him.

"What happened to it, Cho Chang?"

"I crashed into a tree, Lleyrin."

"Cho Chang in the Tree - that would be a Giants' name for you, although you might not value it properly." Lleyrin didn't smile; still, he seemed to be having fun. His glance turned to Harry. "Did you do the same, Harry?"

"No, Lleyrin. It was a wizard trick I had seen before, and so I could handle it."

"So you plucked her out, and then you and Cho Chang could finish your patrol?"

"Yes, Lleyrin, thanks to your drink. Without it, I'd never have been able to come that far."

Their host nodded. "Many Giants said the same, at some time. Your patrol is done, Harry and Cho Chang, you might want to hear how Bodragh no Wonders finished his trial."

"Our official duty is to get the Bludger, Lleyrin," answered Harry. "But you're right, I'd like to hear it very much."

"Then listen to how Bodragh solved his problem ... He was in the forest and had realized that the forest people were hurting his town badly, in revenge for his intrusion. Bodragh decided to leave the forest, the town, the entire valley he called his home, and seek for a place in exile. But before leaving and never come back, he wanted to see his girl a last time, if possible, to apologize for his misguided actions."

Lleyrin paused for a moment, offering an opportunity for questions. When none came, he continued.

"So he went into the town, where he waited for her in the early evening when he might have a chance to see her and talk with her unnoticed. The girl's name was Seselith in June. Earlier on, before his unlucky decision to drop the invitation, Bodragh had liked to call her Seselith in Juniper, and she had liked it, too.

"When she passed the spot where he was hiding, he spoke to her, 'Seselith - it's me, Bodragh.' After the first moment of fright, the girl rushed to his cover and asked him why he'd come. 'I have to go from here,' said Bodragh, 'I have brought misfortune to all and everybody. I wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am.' Seselith said, 'I have something for you, Bodragh. Wait here and let me get it.' She walked to her parents' house. When she came back, Bodragh saw a bundle on her shoulder. He asked, 'What's in there?' Seselith answered, 'My things. I have to go with you.' Bodragh was astonished, quite baffled. 'Why do you want to do this?' he asked. Seselith said, 'One reason is that somebody has to take care of you, and that's enough answer for now.' Then they walked away, to find another valley where people would call him Bodragh near Waters."

After his last words, Lleyrin had fallen quiet. His audience was quiet, too, caught by the story and by their own thoughts.

The Giant stood up. "I'll get the bouncing ball."

They heard some clanks, then Lleyrin was back. Harry held the bag open, so their host could push the Bludger in. Then Harry quickly closed the bag, relieved to feel the Bludger calm down, maybe from the darkness.

Lleyrin put him and Cho to the ground and then followed them outside, where they mounted their Steel Wings.

"When we see each other again," said Lleyrin, "it's your turn with a story, that's the Giant tradition. It will be your present for me." He waved. "Be careful with the trees, Cho Chang ... Be careful with the forests, Harry Potter."

* * *

The new year had arrived. It brought with it an air of bitter coldness; going on flight patrol required as much clothing as one could wear. Flying without gloves became impossible. Some of the Squad members had masks that covered their heads, leaving only the eyes exposed, the same type Madam Hooch had used in the patrol exam.

Harry envied them. Coming back from patrol, his ears would hurt badly. He'd tried the Omnioculars as protection, not gaining much effect. He wondered if he should ask Dobby whether the house-elf would knit such a mask for him. It would certainly help a lot, only Harry felt it difficult to ask, after Dobby had already done so much and had given him another pair of socks at Christmas.

For most of the other students, the days without classes had been an opportunity for recreation or doing homework, according to personal taste, either way providing a new experience: Hogwarts full of people with no fixed schedule, except for meals.

Yes, it was nice, but only up to a point, in particular as the school fell a bit short on entertainment. Lacking anything else, the students had asked for educational movies that could be watched in the spector room. Following that demand, and maybe obeying a gentle pressure from Dumbledore, the teachers had organized a loose routine of daily presentations. However, the list of available spector movies looked miserably short, and even the favourites - Muggle and Giant scenes - became boring after the third time.

Ron had kept himself busy every single day with his reorganization. Officially, the task was sailing under the flag of an O.W.L., although it seemed as if Ron would have done just the same even without the promised reward. Apparently, the reorganization involved a lot of quillwork. One morning, he surprised the others with a question.

"Say, Hermione, are you still in touch with that Skeeter woman?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione stared at Ron in disbelief. "The greater the distance, the better for both of us. Why do you ask?"

"Well," said Ron, "I remember the quill she had; it could write by itself while she was talking. I could do with that kind of help, but I don't know where to get it."

"Ask other office people," suggested Hermione. "For example, why don't you ask Percy?"

It was Ron's turn to shoot an incredulous glance. "That'll be the day, me asking Percy for something like that. I've got calluses on my hand, not on my brain."

"Fine," snapped Hermione, "then use your natural charm to find someone else to help you - "

"Good idea," replied Ron, unimpressed.

Except Hermione hadn't finished yet. " - but first, tear off the calluses from it!"

Ron the organizer wasn't brought off his track. "Will do," he answered and left, raising more irritation from Hermione than any sharp reply could have done.

The only remarkable event after the exam occurred during breakfast at New Year's Day. An owl came down to Harry's table and delivered what looked like a New Year's card, except Harry didn't know from whom. Rather than a signature, the card showed a skull with a serpent - the Dark Mark. Otherwise, the card contained just four words:

They gave Harry a nasty feeling. He would have dropped the card, but Ron as well as Hermione had seen both the owl and his reaction. Hermione convinced him to make a report, so he brought the card to the Head of Gryffindor.

"I think I've seen this handwriting," said McGonagall hesitantly.

Later that day, she told him that it probably had been Draco Malfoy's writing.

"But that's not his style," said Harry. "He'd be insulting and would use more words."

McGonagall agreed. The image of an invisible person, instructing Draco what to write, intensified the bad feeling more than Harry felt ready to admit.

* * *

They were in double Potions. Snape had started something new. He called it analysis and explained its purpose as figuring out what a brew might include. The first lessons dealt with basic facts of chemistry, very boring.

Not even Hermione could enjoy the dreadful amount of formulas and numbers. Recently, her eagerness for schoolwork had shrunk to an almost normal state, Harry couldn't exactly determine whether it had to do with seven O.W.L.s, certainly enough to keep your interest, or whether it had started around the time the Durmstrang group had arrived.

Snape was writing on the blackboard and the students were busy copying the text onto their parchments. It was boring work. Harry felt irritated by this inefficient technique; there were times when a few Muggle artefacts would have been quite useful.

"Hermione," he whispered, "we need copy quills. You really should contact that Skeeter woman."

"What?" Hermione hadn't listened.

"Copy quills - so we don't need to write that crap by ourselves. Or a school copier, something like what you've - "

A cold voice interrupted him. "Mr Potter! Miss Granger! May I be allowed to join your discussion?"

Hermione went scarlet. She hadn't been speaking - and now that!

Harry tried to save the situation. "Sorry, Professor Snape, it was only a private - " He stopped just before saying joke; too high the risk of being badly misunderstood, even with the new Snape, and more so after the recent encounter with curses and dust bombs. Then it was too late.

"Ah, I see," said Snape, his voice like in the bad old days. "Celebrities don't talk with everybody. After class, you two will come to my office. I might have a topic which involves all three of us."

The scratching of quills was the only sound during the next minutes. Harry tried to catch Hermione's look, but she held her head down, a pink flush on her face that refused to fade. Hermione and detention - it was as though the sky had come down.

When the other students had left the dungeon, Harry and Hermione followed Snape to his office. Nobody spoke. Inside, they stood waiting for what would happen.

With his back to them, Snape fussed with his paperwork. Without turning, he said, "Sit down. You didn't wait for an invitation when talking, so why do it now?"

Hermione's face flushed. Harry tried to control himself. He wasn't going to lose his temper, not in this office.

Now Snape turned. "I forgot the magic word," he said. "Please, sit down."

Harry's mouth fell open. Snape - a smiling Snape - took a seat himself.

"There's something I want to discuss with you - not what you think," the teacher added at seeing their faces. "It's not exactly a secret but I'd prefer to keep it confidential as much as possible. So I used the opportunity for a cover-up in full public - you know, old habits die hard."

Harry stared. "We were talking about - "

Snape waved him off. "Never mind. That's not about detention. It has to do with Potions, but it's far beyond the lessons in class. I'm looking for someone who can handle a very complex recipe, as a backup for myself. That's the reason why you, Miss Granger, were, er, invited."

Hermione's mind was clearly still working on the news that there would be no detention. For once, Harry was ahead of her, feeling pretty sure that he knew what Snape was talking about.

"Your role, Mr Potter, is a minor one - this time."

Snape joking ... Harry had trouble trusting his ears.

"You're part of the cover story," continued Snape, "especially since I have no doubt that you'd hear it from Miss Granger anyway." Again a smile. "However, you might become involved when using the result. It has to do with a cure, and the patient is Mr Lupin."

Snape watched their faces. Apparently noticing that Harry had understood, he waited until Hermione had recovered enough to grasp the meaning of his words. Seeing her eyes go wide, he said, "Usually you're quicker, Miss Granger. Sorry, I didn't mean to shock you so badly."

As Snape explained, the potion was extremely complex and dangerous if not prepared with maximum care. He intended to make sure that at least one student could brew it - "not counting someone like Dumbledore. Brewing that stuff needs time, and the Headmaster has other things to do."

Snape's next words made Harry stare again.

"There are three students at Hogwarts I'd count up to the task, as far as I can see. You, Miss Granger, are one of them. One reason why I'm asking you first is that you know the background. You've seen already what happens if the patient doesn't receive the cure in time. Another reason ..." Snape hesitated, then hurried on, "well, I remember a few occasions when I had you at the wrong end of my public performance. So think of it as an offer for compensation."

A caleidoscope of emotions passed through Hermione's face. Harry became aware that she knew only the public version of the new Snape - in contrast to himself, who'd met Snape more privately at several occasions and in several offices, the teacher's own as well as that of Dumbledore. Thinking ahead of Hermione - what a rare experience.

Then she found her speech. "I'm ... What would I have to do, Professor Snape?"

"The first phase is learning the recipe. That shouldn't take long. Then comes the mastering of the procedure; that's the long part because there are some tricky spots in it. It will be done with a dummy of the real recipe, some ingredients are awfully difficult to find. Phase three, then, is the real thing. Phase four - Mr Lupin takes it. If he survives," Snape smiled, "when he survives, you'll do it on a regular basis, to get practised and to keep your mind in shape."

Hermione was silent.

Snape said, "You may want to think it over. In any case, I ask you to keep this conversation confidential."

"I won't tell Rita Skeeter."

"Who?"

"The Daily Prophet woman."

"Oh. That's good." Snape's expression made it clear that the message had reached its destination.

Back to her usual self, Hermione went for the catch. "Maybe I can give you my answer immediately. Would that count as an O.W.L.?"

Snape's eyes widened a bit, then he looked amused. "I'm glad to hear the shock was only temporary, Miss Granger. My answer is yes. Do I understand that your answer, under these conditions, is the same?"

"Yes, Professor Snape." There was triumph in Hermione's face.

For a moment, Harry interpreted Hermione's expression as her reaction to the deal she had cut with Snape, although it hadn't been too difficult, not after Snape's previous remarks and with respect to the importance of the task. Only as Hermione's smile went broader and broader, he remembered: this was her eighth O.W.L.! She would set a new school record - provided she could manage, although he had little - no, he had no doubt at all.

Snape stood up. "Very good. We'll start tomorrow. Before you leave, may I offer some of this stuff?" He held up a bottle. "It's really distasteful."

Hermione was again caught off balance. "Why?"

"To wash off that grin. It would crash our cover story right away - nobody would believe you've got detention."

* * *

When Ron heard the story, his excitement remained within narrow limits. Like Harry, he felt no doubt that Hermione would master the challenge, probably more quickly than Snape might expect. Unlike Harry, Ron didn't muster strong emotions at the prospect of Hermione setting a new school record. It seemed as though he'd just waited to witness the discovery of Hermione's last step toward long-standing glory. For him, such a goal was beyond reach but nothing to worry about either - small wonder, with one O.W.L. more than Harry.

"Very clever," Ron said after Hermione had finished. "By the way - coming back to those quills, do you think - "

"You're disgusting!" Hermione marched off, probably to find someone who would express more respect for a soon-to-be Hogwarts champion.

Harry wondered if she might be successful; after all, Viktor didn't strike him as the scientific type. A moment later, he realized with some surprise that another person might be the proper admirer - Fleur.

The encounter with Snape and the knowledge of Hermione's task had an unexpected side effect for Harry. He followed Potions classes with a new attitude. In his mind, there was always a direct link to Lupin, more so when hearing about the fatal effects a badly brewed potion might have. And - oh wonder, the fog hanging over chemistry basics lifted! He still stood far from familiar ground, certainly way behind Hermione, however firm enough to play ahead of the other students ... Ron, for example.

In a few days, the deadline for the O.W.L. signings would be reached. Naturally, O.W.L.s became a permanent issue in the conversations of the fifth-years. Harry's planning was settled - not only that, he already had finished most of the preparations, thanks to Hermione's interventions earlier in the school year.

The variations between the topics Flying and Transportation had finally settled to a Comparative Review of Flying Techniques: Broomsticks vs. Flying Carpets. In a way it was a pretty narrow topic, not too much work, although it was the work he still had to do, and of course he nourished the unspoken expectation that his Goblin Request would have a severe impact on the grading, even if his presentation might lack some detail or another. This would certainly be more rewarding than a Special Award for Services to the School - after all, he had one already.

Nonetheless, the proper feeling of joy refused to build up when hearing from other students how far they lagged behind. The reason, naturally, was the one O.W.L. ahead of Harry Ron had.

Stupid, somehow, taking something like that as a reason to feel inferior, what with the Steel Wings, the patrol exam, and so forth - but Harry couldn't help but feel like that.

Sitting at the Sunday lunch table, he listened to the conversations of other students. Neville Longbottom would do an O.W.L. on Unforgivable Curses - an obvious choice, considering the fate of his parents. Harry decided to talk with Neville privately; they might share some efforts and results to mutual profit. Neville's second O.W.L. - and the last one he planned - was of course Herbology.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were preparing O.W.L.s in Divination - the only Gryffindor students with an O.W.L. in that course and therefore the targets of many jokes.

Seamus Finnigan planned four O.W.L.s, so far like Harry, except that he would need time until the end of February, which meant the full extension period, to figure out what to settle for. Care of Magical Creatures was the only one Seamus felt sure about.

Checking the other tables, Harry could see similar scenes. At the Ravenclaw table, Cho was discussing with Almyra, quite agitated, actually. Well, couldn't be O.W.L.s; Cho had done hers the year before. Harry didn't know which, didn't know how many either; O.W.L.s hadn't been a topic in their conversations, probably because he didn't want to talk about them and Cho hadn't asked.

Cho stood up. She looked at him and tilted her head, indicating that Harry might meet her outside.

Surprised as much as pleased, he followed. Passing the door, he found Cho waiting, Almyra at her side.

Cho said, "Hi, Harry. You've met Almyra, but if I remember correctly, you two were never properly introduced to each other - or if so, it was a bit confused."

Cho's voice sounded so stiff that Harry dropped the thought of a joke at once, but he still felt none the wiser.

"So then - Harry, this is Almyra Benedict ... Al, this is Harry Potter."

"Hi."

He didn't know what to think. What charade was this? Of course Cho had referred to their first meeting in the Hogwarts Express, but that was eons ago, or so it felt.

If he looked wondering, Almyra looked seriously embarrassed, although not from Cho's behaviour. Almyra was about Harry's size and had a bronze tint to her skin which, in this scene, definitely tended to the copper side. Her hair was as black as Cho's but, unlike Cho's straight long mane, short and curly, similar to Angelina's.

Cho didn't - or pretended not to - take notice of the awkward feelings around her. "Al is my anchor. She comes from Jamaica, she's an immigrant like me, that's why we hold together so much."

Yes, indeed. For a long time, Almyra had been the barrier around Cho, the one who'd prevented Harry from approaching her, and most likely fully unaware of her role. Knowing that the immigrant state wasn't the only reason for the friendship between Cho and Almyra, Harry took care not to reveal any such knowledge in his expression.

The effort seemed wasted. Almyra didn't look at him.

"In contrast to me, Al is a pureblood witch," explained Cho. "She can trace back a line of Voodoo priests in her ancestors that spans centuries - maybe not as many as that Malfoy mess, but enough for sure to give some stuck-up noses a bad shock." Cho presented the news with pride in her voice.

To no avail: poor Almyra was changing from copper to red.

This state wasn't exactly unfamiliar to Harry, but it felt strange seeing it happen to Almyra. On the train, for example, she'd appeared quite calm, still watching him when the others had looked away.

Cho said, "Al wants to talk with you about something. So, okay then, see you later." She turned to move.

"But ..." Alarm rang in Almyra's voice. "I thought - "

With astonishment, Harry watched as Cho patted Almyra's shoulder. "Calm down," she said, "he won't bite. If he raises his wand, run."

To Harry, she added, grinning, "She's not used to celebrities." With these words, Cho left them standing there.

"Me neither," muttered Harry. He felt sympathy, witnessing the effect of Cho's kind of humour toward her best friend.

It seemed to help Almyra, enough to find her speech. "I - um, can we go to the library?"

"Sure."

Harry followed, contemplating her with more attention. Almyra had a slim figure, an excellent one actually, although she would never win a contest. Her features were too strong, remarkable but not as pretty as, for example, Cho's. Well, he might be prejudiced.

Searching for more innocent small talk, he asked, "Has Cho been serious about you as her anchor?"

"What? ... Oh, yes. I mean, no." At least, Almyra didn't jump. "Not in the sense that she's signing out and in for every flight. We used to hold to each other in the first year - you know, as foreigners. Since then ..." Almyra's voice trailed off.

Yeah - on noses and throats, thought Harry, hoping that sooner or later a state might be reached in which he could know their story officially. Every piece of secret knowledge was a trapdoor - if not for others, then for him.

He said, "I know that feeling, even ..." His sentence didn't finish either, but still, Almyra seemed to understand.

In all her embarrassment, there was something unusual. It took Harry a moment before becoming aware of what it was: Almyra didn't giggle, at least not from nervousness, nor as a reaction to something strange. The only time he'd heard anything like that from her had been when she'd tried not to burst out laughing, right before Cho's Chinese pardon ritual.

Reaching the library, Almyra checked around. Obviously, had there been someone else, she would have headed for another room. But there weren't any other students, so they sat down.

Almyra had a roll of parchment with her. When she looked up, presenting the first signs of another nervousness, Harry decided to cut through any further small talk.

"So what is it you want to talk about?"

"Yes, I ... It has to do with my Graduate Work."

Harry looked blank.

A Graduate Work, as Almyra told him, was an optional enhancement of O.W.L.s, done in the sixth or seventh year. It required a lot of work and was significantly more demanding than an O.W.L. Students who were planning a career as a scientist or researcher would perform such a project.

"The topic is your own choice," explained Almyra, "and it can be completely outside of what is taught in Hogwarts. Mine is, er ..." Again, Almyra had trouble.

Harry started to wonder in earnest. For an instant, the thought crossed his mind that Almyra's work might have to do with Goblins, then he dismissed the idea. In that case, as unlikely as it seemed, Cho would have prepared the ground.

Almyra opened a parchment, her fingers trembling. "That's the title."

Harry read, Unintended Transfigurations and Animalizations. Involuntary Dehumanizing Effects of Transient Nature. Case Studies.

The title didn't tell him much - almost nothing, actually. Animalization and Dehumanization - these terms sounded pretty bad. He looked up. "Can you translate that for me?"

"It's about people transfiguring against their will," said Almyra, gaining self-assurance from her work, "and not under a curse, that is, not under a direct one." Her eyes stayed fixed on the parchment. "I think you'll understand when I tell you who's my first case: it's Professor Lupin."

"Oh - I see."

The title became more understandable. Unintended made sense now: Lupin didn't volunteer to turn into a werewolf, he had no choice at full moon. And now Harry could guess the meaning of transient, the term he hadn't wanted to ask about - it meant a temporary state, ending automatically or with the change of some condition. Dehumanization, animalization - sure, in his werewolf state, Lupin was totally different from a transfigured wizard like McGonagall, he didn't even think as a human.

"But what ..."

Rather than continuing, he tried to find the answer to his question by himself. Was Almyra interested in the dog she'd seen in the train? Most likely not, as she probably knew that it had been an intended transfiguration. Then what else?

Almyra found the fast forward for her speech, as if trying to prevent more questions.

"Werewolves are the most common cases of unintended transfigurations. I'm lucky that Professor Lupin is here at Hogwarts. I'm even more lucky that he's ready to answer me. Dumbledore helped me with that; I wouldn't have been able to ask Lupin by myself. But then, werewolf cases are known already, so - with his case as the only one, my work would be okay but nothing special. So when I discussed it the other day with Cho, I said, 'I wish there was another case at hand,' and what she said was, 'There's one. We have a" - Almyra's voice faltered, then steadied - "a Parselmouth here.' And I said, 'Yes, but that's permanent, not transient.' And she, 'No, it's not.' And I, 'What do you mean, it's not?' And she, 'I'm not going to tell you. You are the scientist, go and figure it out.' And I, 'But I can't, I'd die before asking him.' And she, 'No you won't.' And then she promised me to do the first step and ... Yes, she did but then ... So that's why we're here."

Harry had to grin. "Yeah, that's her."

Almyra tried a smile, but failed. At least she could look at him, hope and anxiousness balancing on her face.

"So you want me to be your second case?" asked Harry, no longer grinning.

"Er, yes, that's true - if Cho's right about your - if it's not permanent." Almyra hurried to explain, "You know, it would make the work outstanding - there's almost no literature about, er - "

" - Parselmouths," finished Harry for her. "I bet."

He didn't know what to think. Cho had been the one suggesting him. But she'd done so without disclosing anything of what he'd told her at Christmas.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I think I know what Cho had in mind when ... yes, it's somehow transient. But" - he looked down - "to be honest, I don't feel up to telling it. It has nothing to do with - "

Almyra was fumbling in her pocket. Her fingers came up, trembling, holding a small parchment she offered him to read. "That's what I got from Cho. I don't know what it is, I mean it's something written but I don't know what. She said - she said, 'If there's a problem, give it to him'."

Harry unfolded the piece of parchment. There was one line.

He started to giggle. After a few seconds, it grew into a bad fit of laughter, shaking him, irresistible, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

Almyra looked alarmed; she didn't know how to react. After a moment she tried to join but stopped quickly.

His body twisting, his stomach hurting, Harry offered the parchment to her. "Here ..."

Almyra read, for a moment uncomprehending, then started giggling too; she could giggle, yes, how much she could giggle, and laugh. So it took some time before their attempts to stop were no longer corrupted immediately by another look at each other.

Still panting, Harry said, "I guess I'm going to ask a lot of questions, but - you know, I think I could ... I mean it's okay. Your work - "

"Oh, that's wonderful! Thank you so much, I hope I'll find a way to make up for it."

"There's no - " A thought struck Harry. "I might know something. What do you think, could that be a topic for an O.W.L.? You know, I was looking for one more in my collection."

"Easily," said Almyra. "You can - we can profit from each other!"

"Super - yeah, great!" Closing in on Ron ... "Almyra, we have a deal."

Beaming, all nervousness gone, Almyra offered her hand. "You can call me Al."

Harry took it, shook it. "Okay - er, Al. Please call me Harry."

They erupted in laughter again.