The Harpsichordist

Chapter Seven: Monday, Monday

Monday was turning out to be an exceptionally fine day, perhaps one of the last for the year unless the Diablo winds started up again, bringing hot air in from the east.

Wendy hopped onto the 51 line bus for the Berkeley Marina, deciding that she'd do a bit of walking, look at the boats, and eat her sandwich while watching any kite flyers. She also had in her bag that little book she needed to finish, Lydia Goehr's The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works, about philosophy and ontology -- whatever that was, because Goehr hadn't explained it yet -- in regards to the changing musical aesthetics of the nineteenth century. Wendy suppressed a mental snore as she thought about the first chapter, "A Nominalist Theory of Musical Works," which had taken her four days to get through. Perhaps the next nine chapters would be easier going.

The bus came to a bumpy stop and Wendy hopped off, calling a "Thanks!" to the driver, who grunted and closed the doors behind her. She set off towards the big parking lot where all the boats were kept, wondering if she'd see anything interesting.

It happened just as she skirted a particularly big yacht.

Two men in cloaks and masks stepped out from behind the boat and blocked her path. There was something very sinister about their stance and clothing; Wendy recalled stories of rapes that had happened at the Marina in the past and was filled with apprehension.

Then she saw that they were carrying wands and knew that she was scared. These were no rapists or muggers -- they were wizards, and they were threatening her.

She opened her mouth and screamed, louder and higher than she ever knew she could.

It was cut off though, as one of the men pointed his wand at her and said, "Silencio."

She was still screaming, and her throat felt raw, but nothing came out. She turned and ran, instead. Something caught her by the heels and she fell, hard, onto the pavement.

"Impedimenta!" said the same man, and it was as though a sheet had been wrapped tightly around her.

She was face down on the ground, voiceless, immobile, with two armed wizards closing in on her. Were these those crazy Death Eaters Davitt had mentioned? If they were... what did they want with her?

Wendy suddenly and abruptly was in fear for her life. These were the men who hated Muggles, who no doubt hated Luke for being at Hogwarts. It was a strange, detached feeling; she wasn't afraid of death so much as angry that she couldn't fight back with tooth and nail, or take one of them with her. If she could have spoken, she would have taunted them, told them that her mother taught her only to pick on people her own size.

She heard a pair of footsteps approach and braced herself for pain, for oblivion, for whatever was coming. The Death Eater knelt and turned her over. Black eyes were visible through the mask.

"Don't worry, you'll get out of this alive," said Severus Snape's voice very quietly. "Davitt --"

"Get out of the way, Snape," said the other Death Eater. His voice was smooth and silky, very British and arrogant. "I want to kill her and be done with it."

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered to Wendy. Then he straightened up and turned to the other man. "I want her to suffer, Lucius," he said coldly.

"Severus," sighed the man, and, even in his annoyance, could have been drinking tea and discussing the cricket match.

"Beauty always looks so compelling when under stress," said Severus.

"Severus, you're far too soft. Get out of the way."

But before the other man could take over, Severus had pointed his want at Wendy's heart and said, "Crucio!"

It was pain beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Sparks shot through her body and her limbs were on fire. She wanted the pain to stop, to die and be at peace. Anything was better than this never-ending boiling heat consuming her.

She would have been screaming, but there was no sound. It was surreal. She could hear children laughing in the distance. She could hear cars pulling into the parking lot across the empty lot. All while suffering this agonizing torture. It seemed to last for hours with no respite. After what felt like an eternity, the pain began to occupy all of her existence. There never had been anything but, there never would be anything except, the endless, merciless pain.

There was a pop! and someone shouted, "Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Two loud thuds of bodies hitting pavement were accompanied by the most wonderful feeling Wendy had ever experienced -- the cessation of pain. But she was still shaking, as though she'd just come out of a clothes dryer, like the morning after a migraine all over her body. She was nauseated and dizzy and still couldn't move.

"Wendy! Wendy, are you all right?" It was Davitt. His face appeared in her line of sight. "Can you move?" When she evidently couldn't, he pointed a wand at her and said, "Finite incantatem."

Now she could move, though she really didn't want to. She rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball, aware that she was whimpering and crying.

"Bollocks," Davitt said. It was the first time she'd heard him swear, and it sounded strange. "How long did he have the curse on you?"

"Felt like ... an eternity," she croaked. Her brain, right, she had a thinking organ. It started to work. Slowly. The sun was warm on her face. "Maybe... five minutes?"

"Good Lord, you're still conscious?" he said. "We need to get you to the hospital. I've never done this before, but it's our best bet... and Poppy knows better than anyone... "

Davitt disappeared, but reappeared quickly holding a crumpled bottle that had once had some sort of soda in it, and set it on the pavement. "This will do. Portus," he intoned. The bottle glowed briefly blue, and rattled a bit. "Can you touch this?" he said. "You need to reach for it, just a finger. We'll leave them to their own devices," he added, nodding at the two fallen Death Eaters.

Wendy stretched out her arm, very much aware of every single muscle and nerve ending in it. It seemed to be a very long distance to the bottle, though it was really only a few inches. Finally, her finger touched it, and a moment later, a hook grabbed her from behind her navel, jerking her forward in a whirl of sound and color.

* * *

The Hospital Wing was a cheerless place. Sterile beds with white linen and iron frames, a stone floor that had no character whatsoever. Even the paintings were of placid pasture scenes, with nary a wild witch or wizard, just calm sheep and pretty boys and girls tending them.

Wendy lay on the bed, smiling weakly up at Luke. He knelt beside her, stroking her forehead. God, how he'd missed her. She was pale, barely darker than the sheets, her brown hair rumpled around her head like a halo.

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was bustling around the bed, fussing with bottles and goblets and muttering to herself; she kept trying to shoulder in past Luke, but he wouldn't budge.

"I can't begin to thank you," Luke said, looking up at Davitt.

"It was Severus who sent me the message," Davitt said. "I had to leave him there."

"Severus?" exclaimed Luke. "What was he doing there?"

Several people answered at once.

"He's working for the Order," said Albus.

"He was the primary attacker," said Davitt.

"He kept me alive," whispered Wendy.

It was too confusing. "Wait," he said desperately. "Is he a good guy or a bad guy?" It sounded stupid coming out of his mouth, but this whole thing seemed stupid. He had half a mind to just pack up and leave, go back to America.

Again, everyone tried to speak, but Albus held up his hands for silence. "Professor Snape has been working with the Order of the Phoenix against Lord Voldemort for many years. He is a crucial part of our information web -- and I must remind you that this knowledge must go no further than these walls," he said solemnly. "It was Severus who informed me of the attack first, though Mr. Potter also experienced a vision."

"Vision?" said Luke, looking at Harry, who was standing slightly in the shadows, as though trying not to be noticed.

"Harry occasionally experiences visions or dreams of what Lord Voldemort is doing at that moment, particularly when Lord Voldemort is feeling a strong emotion," Albus explained, also looking at Harry, who didn't meet anyone's eyes.

Luke shook his head. He looked down at Wendy, who had her eyes closed. "Why did it take so long for you to find her?" he asked Davitt, his voice cracking. He clutched Wendy's hand hard.

"I had no idea where she was," Davitt said apologetically. "It took me several minutes to scan the entire Berkeley area for Unforgivables. If Severus hadn't kept her alive -- "

"You call this keeping her alive?" Luke shouted, suddenly overcome with rage. "Why couldn't he just grab her and bring her here, the way you did? Why couldn't he have just knocked down the other man and run off? Why -- why -" There were no words. He felt relieved and angry and just so, so tired of being worried and scared and threatened by this damnable purity nonsense.

"It's okay," said Wendy quietly, when he laid his forehead on her shoulder. "I'm all right. I just feel a little... twitchy."

"You're not all right," said Madam Pomfrey brusquely, jamming her knee into Luke's ribs to get in closer, her wand out and moving along Wendy's body. "You're going to feel some effects for quite a while."

"Why? What happened?" asked Luke impatiently, rubbing his side.

"I was walking down by the Marina," Wendy began softly. "I had just passed a large boat when two men in cloaks jumped out at me -- at first I thought they might just be ordinary rapists -" she snorted. "Ordinary rapists! This is absurd," she added, with a feeble laugh.

"Anyway," she went on, sounding tired, "I realized they were wizards when they pulled out their wands, and one of them said to just kill me -- I think his name was Lucius -- and then Severus said that he wanted me to suffer, and put that curse -- whatever it was -- on me."

"What curse?" asked Luke.

"The Cruciatus Curse," explained Albus. "It causes pain. It's an Unforgivable Curse; use of it on another human being means a life sentence in Azkaban, the wizard prison."

"So will Severus go to prison for using it on Wendy?" Luke hoped he didn't sound too eager.

"No," said Albus.

"Why not?"

"It can't be traced to my wand," said a new voice. They whirled around to see Severus Snape staggering into the Hospital Wing, looking exhausted.

"Severus," said Albus, going swiftly over to him and supporting him under one shoulder. "Severus, sit down, you need to rest."

Madam Pomfrey's knee his Luke's ribs again as she left Wendy to join Albus.

"Headmaster, I am perfectly capable of standing," he said, but weaved dangerously and would have fallen if he had not been supported.

Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue, shoved him onto the bed next to Wendy's. "Good heavens, Severus, did you Apparate here?"

He nodded.

"Across seven thousand miles, including four thousand of ocean -- you foolish, foolish man," she went on. "I want you to drink all of this -- I insist, Severus! It's just Dreamless Sleep, you brewed it yourself. Drink! And you can explain to Albus in the morning."

He took the goblet, but didn't drink it. "Albus," he said urgently, "I need to tell you -- "

"It's all right," Albus said gently. "Between Harry and Wendy I have a good picture."

Anger flared in Severus' face. "Potter!" he spat with renewed vigor. "Has he not learned anything from last year?"

"That will do, Severus," said Albus calmly. "Drink your potion; we will talk in the morning."

Severus finally downed the goblet in one gulp. He collapsed sideways onto the pillow, and the goblet clattered to the floor.

Madam Pomfrey bent to pick it up, shaking her head and muttering something that sounded like, "Wizards." Then she pointed her wand at some screens in the corner, which came clattering over noisily and set themselves up between Wendy and Severus' beds.

"Luke?" said Albus gently, placing his hand on Luke's shoulder.

Luke looked up into his lined face. Albus' blue eyes were worried behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Shall we have some tea in your rooms? We must talk."

"All right," Luke said, finally getting up. "I'll come see you soon," he promised Wendy. "Sleep," he added, kissing her on the forehead.

She smiled at him. "You, too," she said. "I'm fine, now. Or at least, I will be."

"Harry?" said Albus.

Luke realized with a start that Harry had been standing in the shadows during the entire scene. He hoped that Harry wasn't a rumormonger.

"Yes, Professor?" said Harry, blinking.

"Would you like to stay the night here in the Hospital Wing, or go back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll -- I'll go back to Gryffindor Tower." He sounded utterly exhausted. He turned and left the infirmary, walking slowly.

Luke felt a pang of sympathy for him. Harry had no parents, no real support network apart from his friends and teachers, and with that whole conflct with Voldemort thing -- how the boy could sleep at night, Luke didn't know. Though, considering the bags under his eyes, Harry didn't sleep.

Harry disappeared out into the hallway, and Luke, after sharing a quick but tender kiss with Wendy, followed Albus out the door.

* * *

When Poppy had finally left her to rest, Wendy snuck out of bed and peeked around the curtains. She knew she should be lying down -- her feet sent little tingles of pain up her legs with every step, but she wanted to get a good look at Severus.

She felt very strange about him now. She owed him her life, and yet it was his fault she still felt tingles of pain every minute or so. Five minutes under that horrible curse; she'd never forget those five minutes for as long as she lived.

Had he really had to keep her alive? And what was that comment about "Beauty always looks so compelling when under stress"? Did he think she was beautiful? Even if he did, she wasn't anyone special to him -- she was just another Muggle, just a girl that Luke cared about. Wouldn't it have been easier to simply have her killed? As horrible as the thought was, if Severus was really working for the good side as a spy for the Death Eaters, then he'd just endangered his position. When the other man -- Lucius? -- woke up, Severus must have had a lot of explaining to do. It was his fault that the attack had failed, for if Severus hadn't spent precious time torturing her, Davitt wouldn't have had time to find her. Wouldn't it simply have been easier to let her die and keep his position in the grand scheme of things?

Wendy studied him leisurely, letting her mind drift. Dark hair, shiny with oil and thin. Skin so pale she wondered if he ever went outside. High cheekbones and a beaklike nose. His eyes were closed, but she could remember them: black and opaque, with no hint of the thoughts behind. Though, when he'd apologized to her before -- before doing it, there had been genuine regret in them. Perhaps it was because he regretted torturing people that he was now on the side of good.

It was strange to think of life as being good versus evil. There were terrorists in the Muggle world, horrible terrorists. But often such people had justifiable grievances against the rest of the world -- having their homeland stolen from them, having their rights violated and way of life destroyed. Voldemort's crusade was simply an ethnic cleansing, a holocaust of Muggles. He had as much right as Hitler had to do the things he was doing, which was to say, none.

* * *

Wendy woke the next morning feeling very refreshed. The bed beside her was empty, the curtains drawn back -- no doubt Severus had had to continue teaching. There was a note on the bedside table from Luke:

Wendy --

Albus is making me teach today; I'll see you at lunch. I love you.

Luke.

Simple and short. She loved him too.

Poppy came over just then and fussed over her, poking and prodding with her wand. She gave Wendy a potion to drink every hour, and it was only after Wendy had taken the first dose and been poked and prodded some more that Poppy allowed her to be propped up in bed to read. She had not, however, been allowed to leave the bed to fetch the book, which Poppy brought from a sagging little shelf by the door. The Potions Masters' Mistress, it was.

Henrietta Goodlove was a simple country girl in every way, Wendy read from the back cover. Every Tuesday she would go to the apothecary to fetch potions for her ailing mother. But money is running out, and Henrietta has no one to turn to for help. When Helmut Welhung, the German Potions Master with a mysterious past, discovers this, at first he sees just a way to take advantage of a pretty girl in trouble. But Henrietta has more than just her wand up her sleeve...

Wendy snorted. Just what she needed -- a cheesy romance novel to take her mind off ... things.

She had just reached a very enjoyable point where Henrietta, fully naked, and Helmut, halfway naked, are having a raving argument about the use of dried nettle in a Pleasuring Potion, along with examples of its use interspersed graphically throughout the scene when the sound of an argument outside the Hospital reached her ears.

"But couldn't you just grab her and whatever it is you people do -- Apparate? Then she wouldn't be in the state she's in!" That was Luke.

"Mr. Navarra, had I taken her in front of Lucius, I would have lost my position in the Dark Lord's inner circle."

"Bugger your inner circle. Wendy was minutes away from insanity, you heard Albus!"

She had not known that. Wendy set the book down to listen intently.

"The Headmaster exaggerates, Mr. Navarra. I know that curse intimately --"

"Because you've used it so often, no doubt!"

"-- and I would have lifted it the moment she came near to danger. And I remind you --" Severus' voice became so low that Wendy had trouble hearing, "-- that my position in the Dark Lord's inner circle is what gave us the chance to save her. Had I not told the Dark Lord myself, no doubt one of the students here would have informed their father, and I would have heard nothing about it until the Potter boy decided to inform us of his visions."

"But don't you even feel regret that you've harmed her? That you made her suffer?" Luke's voice was wavering. He was horrible at confrontations, Wendy knew, and he must be absolutely furious to be arguing with someone like this. Well, she'd be furious if the same thing happened to him. "Or are you just an unfeeling bastard who doesn't care how much pain people feel as long as they're alive?"

There was a long silence. Severus' reply was very quiet. "I do not regret saving her life. I do regret that she had to suffer because of me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my work."

One set of footsteps died away before Luke came into the Hospital Wing. Thinking that it would be best to pretend she hadn't heard, Wendy hastily picked up her book.

"Hi," said Luke when he was at her side.

"Hi," she said, putting the book down and folding over her page.

Luke pulled over a chair, kissed her gently, and sat down. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Much better," she said honestly. "The tingling is almost gone and my headache is completely gone. Poppy says I can get out of here tonight."

"So you'll be okay?" he asked seriously.

"Yeah," she said.

"Because if there had been any lasting damage, I'd probably kill Severus," he said vehemently. "And I mean that," he added.

"But he kept me alive," Wendy protested. "If he'd just let Lucius kill me, Davitt would have been too late."

Luke waved that aside. "He should have figured out another way. I was just talking with him, out in the corridor -- I don't suppose you heard?" he asked her nervously.

"No," Wendy lied. "I was too busy reading about Henrietta and the various uses of Pleasuring Potion that Helmut's discovered," she said, gesturing to the book.

Luke did not take the profferred bait. "I don't know why he was up here in the first place -- when I came up, he was just standing outside the door. Anyways, he doesn't seem to feel sorry." Luke seemed about to go on ranting, but Wendy took his hand.

"Luke," she said, very sincerely, "Luke, look at me. Look into my eyes." He did, and she could see tears. "I've forgiven Severus. I'm grateful that he found a way to keep me alive. Can you forgive him, please? For me?"

Luke turned away, but she put her hands on his head and forced him to look at her. He looked lost, forlorn, and angry at the same time. Uncertain of himself, but certain of his emotions. His face was tense and upset, inches away from breaking down.

"Please," she whispered.

He swallowed.

* * *

Harry was thrilled to see that all of the Gryffindor sixth-years had made it to N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although he really shouldn't be, he felt inordinately proud of his pupils, and quite wanted to puff out his chest as he watched Neville duck Tonks' Jelly-Legs and send a Stupefy in her direction. "In her direction" was perhaps the best phrase, really, as it soared a good foot over her head and knocked a picture frame off the wall, causing its inhabitants to scatter frantically for nearby portraits.

"Expelliarmus!" Tonks shouted from her crouch, and Neville's wand went soaring out of his hand, landing ten feet behind him.

"That was really good, Neville," said Tonks as the boy, pink in the face, went to retrieve his wand. "You ducked quickly and didn't take any time to recover from the hit." Neville grinned with pride as he absently turned his new wand over in his hands.

Tonks turned back to the class. "Now, who wants to go ne-"

"Expelliarmus!" cried Neville, and this time he hit her, squarely in the back, sending her sprawling forward and her wand flying ten feet into the air. The Gryffindors, all standing, rushed to catch her, and Neville deftly snatched her wand.

"Are you okay?"

"Professor, you all right?"

Tonks got to her feet, grinning widely. "Neville's just taught us lesson number one, folks," she said. "Never turn your back on an armed enemy."

They all laughed, and Neville gave Tonks back her wand with a small flourish.

"As I was saying," she continued, "who's next?"

Lavender went next, and sent up a very good Shield Charm that enabled her to resist Tonks' barrage of minor jinxes for several minutes. Lavender pointedly regarded the nails on her left hand (her right was busy with the wand), then grinned at Seamus, who went pink. Lavender suddenly dropped the Shield and sent a disarming spell towards Tonks, who, naturally, blocked it and sent it back to her. Lavender ducked and shot an Impediment Jinx towards the professor, but Tonks was faster and snapped a Full Body-Bind on her before the spell was completely out of Lavender's mouth.

"Good work," she said. Lavender stayed immobile. "Sorry, Miss Brown!" she said, laughing. "Can I get one of you boys to prop her up against the wall so she can see?"

Seamus did so, to much hooting and good-natured catcalling. Lavender's eyes rolled, and Harry could have sworn she went pink.

Tonks tested all the Gryffindors in this way, and Harry was so happy with their performances he felt like bursting. Parvati had really worked over the summer, it seemed, as had Seamus. Seamus wasn't exactly one of Harry's pupils from the D.A., but Lavender must have given him some pointers, for he lasted a good three minutes under Tonks' barrage.

Then it was Harry's turn.

There was an almost feral smile playing on Tonk's face, and she rolled the sleeves of her robes up to the elbow as he came to the front of the classroom. He wondered what it would be like, actually duelling an Auror. He'd fought Death Eaters, who undoubtedly trained well under Voldemort, but an Auror, who spent three years learning how to duel, would surely be an amazing challenge.

"I think we'll need a bit more room," Tonks said, and waved her wand to push the desks and chairs back all the way against the walls. Several fell over.

The class seemed to be holding its breath as Harry and Tonks bowed formally to each other. "Ready?" she said. He nodded. "Can we get a count of three?" she said to the class.

"One -- two -- THREE!" bellowed several voices.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried.

"Impedimenta!" said Tonks at the same time. They both ducked, though Harry felt a breeze ripple his hair as he dove under a convenient desk.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted.

"Protego!" she cried, and he scooted out of the way just in time.

She had the advantage of being on her feet, but he had the advantage of the desk being in her way. In order to get at him, she'd have to duck down, which would give him time --

"Reducto!" The desk broke apart in splinters above him, but Harry was rolling away, those Quidditch reflexes taking over. As he rolled, he saw flashes of the classroom, and tried to identify a safe place to hide, but there was none, unless you counted behind Ron, and that simply wouldn't do.

So he stood up. Tonks shot another disarming spell at him, but he was ready. "Protego!" he shouted, and Tonks, caught off her guard, almost didn't duck in time. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted again, and this time he scored. Tonks froze, her arms snapped into place beside her, and she fell with a thud. Harry sauntered over and snatched her wand out of her hand.

"Should I just leave her here?" he called to the class.

They grinned and hooted, "Yes!" with an especially loud call from the newly de-Petrified Lavender. Even Hermione was smiling, though she hadn't called out. Tonks was glaring at him, as much as a fully immobile person can. "It was a good duel, you know," he said conversationally to her prone figure. "Quite challenging, really."

Tonks suddenly reached up with both hands and grabbed his chest, turned him over, and was suddenly lying on top of him with one knee perilously close to his sensitive areas.

"Lesson number one, remember?" she said, with that feral smile. "Actually, it's more of a variant: don't assume that you've won."

"How -- how did you -- I mean, what was -- how did you do that?" he exclaimed, as Tonks hauled him to his feet.

"There's a way of fighting Petrificus that I'll be showing you this term," she said. "I think that's what I want to focus on for you as a class," she added. "Harry here has taught you a lot of the offensive spells, and you've all developed pretty good reflexes for ducking. But you only know the Shield Charm, which isn't very powerful, and we Aurors have got a good bag of tricks for resisting most minor jinxes and hexes."

Everyone was listening intently, looking eager.

"You're quite ahead of most sixth-years, I understand," she went on. "I've looked at the N.E.W.T. Educational Standards of 1994 quite thoroughly, and sixth years are supposed to start learning how to combine the spells into coherent duels. You lot have done that very well, if on a basic level, but you're still well ahead." She gave them a moment to grin at each other, which many did. "Now, there's one more thing," she said, her voice turning serious. "I've heard that several of you can cast Patronuses. Izzat true?"

Several nodded, a few said, "Er, a bit."

"Can I get a few demonstrations?" Tonks asked, grinning.

The only person who didn't manage quite a solid Patronus was Seamus, but then again, Harry reflected, he'd only just started in on them. Even Neville managed one, and everyone was quite surprised to see a large and malevolent vulture flying from his wand.

He shrugged, as if to say, "Hey, I know as much as you." No one would ever forget the sight of Snape in that vulture-topped hat, Harry realized, as a few people giggled.

"Okay, class, I think that's everything," Tonks said finally when Hermione's otter had faded away. "Homework -- don't groan, of course there's homework! -- I want you all to write me 18 inches on the Shield Charm and its weaknesses. With references," she added. "And no copying from Hermione!" she added over the noise of packing.

"Was that a cool lesson or what?" said Ron, as the three of them headed to dinner. "She's fast!"

"Of course she is, Ron, she's an Auror," said Hermione.

"But Harry got her," said Ron. "And Harry's no Auror -- not yet, anyways. And did you see Neville! Actually hitting her with a spell! I mean, it actually hit her, it didn't go wavering off in some random direction!"

"Hey!" protested Neville's voice behind them.

"Oh, sorry, Neville," said Ron. "But you have to admit-"

"Well, the new wand's been loads better," said Neville shyly. "Twelve-and-a-quarter inches, dragon heartstring and ebony," he said proudly. "Gran was furious that I broke Dad's wand, but the new one's simply amazing." He flicked it idly, causing a shower of gold sparks to fly out of the tip. "Can't wait to learn more," he said quietly, then headed off up the corridor past them.

"He's changed," said Ron.

There was a moment of silence amongst the trio. Then Hermione said, "I suppose we should go eat?" and they followed in Neville's direction.