Seo Gerecednis

The corridors were unusually quiet as Harry and Ace made their way down to the dungeons for Potions. Not because they were empty, either; they passed several clusters of students on the way. Most of the girls and many of the younger boys had red-rimmed eyes, and even those few groups conversing in hushed voices fell completely silent as Harry passed by. It was all he could do not to shout at them, "Yes! He's here, and he's not going anywhere until he knows I'm dead!"

Harry was relieved to see that Snape wasn't in the Potions classroom when he and Ace arrived, and many of the seats remained empty. He spotted Ron seated at a table at the back of the classroom and made his way over to him. "Thanks for waiting for me," he said, dropping his cauldron and schoolbag on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that," Ron said. "Finnegan was being such a git. He tried to run off after McGonagall left, so I went after him." He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought we'd got through to him last term, but he still seems to think you're a nutter."

"Better a nutter than Voldemort's personal welcome mat to Hogwarts," Harry said with a sigh.

"Oh, he reckons you're that too."

"Thanks for that."

Ron's retort was silenced when the door to Snape's private office opened with a bang and the Potions Master strode into the classroom, his robes billowing behind him. "Remove that ridiculous contraption from your head," he said to Ace. Ace casually removed his hat and placed it under his chair.

Malfoy, seated at a table near Harry and Ron, made a caustic remark Harry couldn't quite make out. He then turned to look over his shoulder and give Harry and Ron a sneer. Ron snarled in response.

"Weasley!" Harry looked up to see Snape beckoning at Ron. "Front and center." He pointed at an empty chair next to Ernie Macmillan, then at another student seated nearby. "You there, you're to sit next to Potter and see he doesn't blow himself up. How Potter and Weasley qualified for this course is anyone's guess, but I certainly don't intend to let their antics interfere with those who take Potions seriously." Harry's eyes narrowed as he glared at Snape.

Ron muttered numerous colorful invectives against Snape under his breath as he gathered up his things and moved to the table at the front of the classroom, making way for a girl Harry recognized from her wildly colorful robes and headdress as one of the exchange students. She smiled broadly at him as she took her seat.

"Hullo," Harry said.

Before she could even respond Snape barked, "Ten points from Gryffindor."

"What? I just --"

"This isn't social hour, Potter, so keep your mouth shut. Most of the students in this course are here to learn; the least you could do is respect their wishes."

Harry flopped back in his seat, his face hot, his lips clamped tightly. Malfoy's quiet laugh only made him angrier. Almost without thinking Harry drew out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy's exposed back. He was just about to flick a jinx at him when the cool press of a hand on his stayed him. He looked up to see the girl give a slight shake of her head, then avert her gaze to the front of the room. Snape was watching. Harry carefully pocketed his wand and picked up his quill, grateful to find he had someone on his side.

* * * * *

After lecturing on the uses of deadly nightshade for an hour, Snape set the class to working in pairs on brewing an Embalming Solution, a foul concoction that was irreversible if unwittingly consumed by the living. It involved using an extract of arsenic and powdered goblin gallstones, an ingredient so poisonous Snape himself went from table to table to dispense it when needed.

It didn't take long for Harry to realize his partner had a real talent and taste for brewing potions. She took charge at the outset, but didn't make him feel at all clumsy or stupid. With an accent that made him think of melted chocolate and coconuts she guided him through the intricate process of boiling down boomslang venom and essence of jellyfish to a thin, thready consistency. When time came to mince foxglove petals she remarked that his knife was dull, took a whetstone from a pocket on her voluminous robes and sharpened his knife herself. She then showed him an easier way to chop the foxglove, all while constantly stirring the potion at a smooth, controlled pace.

"Remarkable."

Harry jerked at the sound of Snape's voice right next to him. He'd been so intent on grinding dried nightshade berries to a powder he'd been oblivious to Snape's approach. He looked up now to see Snape's sallow, hook-nosed face glowering at him and tried not to make a face in return.

"Remarkable?" the girl asked. Harry couldn't help noticing that her cheerful demeanor never seemed to waver, not even with Snape looming over her.

"Remarkable that not only has Potter failed to melt his cauldron or set his robes on fire, but also that you two seem to have succeeded in completing your assignment up to this point." He lifted his hand, shielded in a thick, elbow-length glove. "Is your potion ready for the extract?"

Harry moved away when Snape uncorked the vial, half expecting him to fling its contents in his face. The girl, however, remained in place and kept stirring the potion while Snape held the vial's crystal stopper over the cauldron and let four large drops fall. He then took a step back and stoppered the vial. Harry knew Snape was just waiting for something disastrous to occur.

"Now add the powdered nightshade," the girl said. Harry saw she'd switched the direction she'd been stirring, now going clockwise. He did as she said then moved aside, alternating between watching the contents of the cauldron and Snape. Almost immediately the solution turned ruby-red and condensed to a gelatin-like consistency.

Snape's astonishment and disbelief were unmistakable. "Impossible," he murmured. He looked at the girl through narrowed eyes. "I know this isn't Potter's doing. He can't even boil water to make tea. How did you know to change the direction of your stirring pattern after I added the extract?"

"Why did you not instruct the class to do so?" she asked in return.

Harry thought he could've heard a billywig sneeze, the room was suddenly so quiet. The girl, however, seemed unconcerned. In fact, she put her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue at Snape. "How did I know to do it? How else do you think I become a mambo?" she asked, clearly convinced Snape was one of the most ignorant people she'd ever come across. "To me, these potions are like the playing of children." When she shook a finger at him, bracelets jangled noisily on her wrist. "But you should not be wasting your time with this left-handed magic. It is very bad for you. It will poison your --" And here Harry wasn't quite sure what she said, but it sounded like "grow bo' anch."

Harry was so gobsmacked at her cheek he had to sit down. Snape seemed to be beyond speech, though the twitching above his eye gave Harry good cause to believe he was very, very offended. "Fifty points from Ravenclaw," he managed to hiss. He looked down his nose at the girl, then Harry. "And detention for both of you tonight."

Outraged, Harry rose. "But --" The pressure of the girl's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He fell heavily back to his seat.

"Collect a vial of your Embalming Solution and bring it to my desk," Snape told the girl. "I intend to examine it myself to determine whether or not it is genuine." With a swirl of robes he turned on his heel and swept back to the front of the classroom. "For your next lesson, I expect four feet of parchment on the practical and legal applications of Embalming Solution. Class dismissed."

* * * * *

Harry found Ron waiting for him outside the Potions classroom. "What was that all about?" Ron asked as the two of them followed the crowd out of the dungeons and up the stairs.

"Dunno," Harry said. "As far as I could tell she'd done the potion right. I don't know why Snape was so upset about it."

"Yeah, but what about all that talk about mumbo and gumbo?"

"Reckon I could ask her in detention tonight." He pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "Figures the greasy git would give me detention in the first lesson of term."

"When are you and Peter supposed to start your Occlumency sessions?"

Harry stopped in his tracks and smacked himself in the forehead. "Bugger!" he exclaimed. "We were supposed to start that tonight." His shoulders slumped. "Between detention and Occlumency, how'm I supposed to get my homework done?"

"Forget homework, mate," Ron said. "When are you supposed to sleep?"

The corridors were still unusually subdued as students made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry supposed the distraction of morning lessons hadn't been quite enough to help people forget that Voldemort and his followers were positioned nearby. On the one hand, he couldn't blame them. On the other, he'd lived with Voldemort as a shadowy presence in his life -- more recently and tangibly in his mind -- for so long, he could almost make himself forget about Voldemort. Almost.

His thoughts thus occupied, Harry followed Ron up another flight of stairs that would take them to the entrance hall and, from there, the Great Hall and lunch. At the top of the stairs, however, he reached out and grabbed Ron by the sleeve of his robe. "Hold up."

"Something wrong?" Ron stepped aside to let the students behind them pass.

"I just remembered -- we have Transfiguration after lunch, right?"

"Yeah."

"I forgot my book."

"Oh, okay," Ron said with a shrug as he turned away from the Great Hall as if to continue going upstairs.

"No, you go on," Harry said, calling him back. "I'll just nip up to the tower and catch you up later. Save a sandwich for me, will you?"

Ron grinned. "You got it, mate."

Harry watched Ron go, then turned in the direction of the grand staircase. He took the steps two and three at a time, ignoring the stairs and exclamations as he pushed against the flow of traffic headed for the Great Hall. Once he reached the second floor the stream of students thinned and he was able to pick up his pace.

As he ran through the corridors, Harry realized the Aurors who had seemed almost omnipresent the past two days were nowhere in sight. He wondered, then, where Tonks and Kingsley might be; would they still be holding lessons today, or were they occupied with assessing Voldemort's strength and position? Had the Aurors been stationed outside the castle, to ensure no Death Eater made it past the wards? He could just imagine how angry Fudge must be right now, knowing that many of his top officers were effectively trapped within Hogwarts' walls. Harry grinned to himself as he imagined the minister in a towering rage, taking out his frustration on any hapless junior minister who happened to stumble across his path.

The thought that Percy would not be the immediate target of Fudge's ire wiped the grin off his face.

Suddenly sobered, Harry gave the Fat Lady the password and pushed his way through the portrait hole. As he crossed over the threshold he heard a feminine exclamation from within the common room. Surprised and a little annoyed to find someone else there he instinctively reached for his wand, but then Ginny's face, framed by her familiar mass of red hair, appeared from the other side of the settee before the fireplace and Harry relaxed his guard.

"All right?" he asked, going over to her.

She swiped at her cheeks. "All right," she replied, somewhat damply. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get my --" He stopped and peered at her. "Are you crying?" He came around the settee to take a closer look and got the shock of his life. "Hermione!"

Hermione's puffy, tear-stained face smiled weakly up at him from the fireplace. "Hello, Harry. How are you?"

"How am I?" he exclaimed, taking a seat on the hearth. "Why are you and Ginny both crying? What's happened? Are you okay?" He glanced over at Ginny as she knelt on the floor beside him. "How were you able to use the Floo Network? Don't you know Voldemort's got Hogwarts surrounded? He can't get inside this way, can he?"

"Slow down, Harry, I can't answer all your questions at once." He relaxed slightly, relieved to hear the familiar bossy, know-it-all Hermione slip back into place. "First of all, I know what's happened. Ginny was just telling me."

"But --"

"Let her speak, Harry," Ginny said quietly beside him.

"As far as Voldemort getting inside the castle using the Floo Network, you should be safe."

"How d'you reckon?"

"I asked Professor Dumbledore about it last spring, right before the end of term. He told me access from outside the school was closed off over fifteen years ago, and that fireplaces were supposed to be open only to others within the school."

"But what about Sirius --"

"Let me finish." Impatient, he clamped his mouth shut. "Apparently not all the fireplaces were completely sealed. Professor Dumbledore had intended to leave them open this year to make it easier for those of us on the exchange to keep in touch, but he'll have to seal them now, with Voldemort so close."

"I'm surprised he hasn't done so already," Harry said.

"I'll be going to see Dumbledore soon as I'm finished here," Ginny said. "To let him know Hermione was able to get through."

"Is that why you're both crying?" Harry asked, looking back and forth between Hermione and Ginny. "Because Crookshanks won't be able to carry letters back and forth? If we can find a way to use the owl post --"

"No, Harry, that's not it," Hermione said.

"Then what is it?" He could see her eyes filling with tears again and felt panic rise in his gorge. "Why are you crying?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you."

"Why not, Hermione? I thought we were friends." Next to him, Ginny sniffled and blew her nose. "What's going on here?"

Hermione and Ginny were both crying openly now. "Don't make me tell you, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "I can't -- you wouldn't understand."

"I don't bloody understand right now!" he shouted.

He felt Ginny's hand on his arm. "Harry, please." When he didn't respond she sighed heavily and withdrew her hand. "You should go," she said to Hermione. "The longer the network stays open, the greater the risk."

"You're right," Hermione said, wiping the tears from her face. "Of course you're right. Tell Ron... well, I know you'll think of something appropriate."

Harry looked up to see Ginny smile. "This should be fun," she said.

"Ginny..." Hermione warned.

Ginny held up her hands in supplication. "I promise, I won't embarrass him... too much."

Hermione clucked her tongue in apparent disapproval, then turned towards Harry. "Take care, Harry," she said. "Promise me you won't do anything rash."

"Yeah," he said, still smarting from her refusal to confide in him. "I will."

He could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to say more, but instead she gave a quiet "Bye," then her head disappeared from the flames with a whoosh of air.

Harry turned to Ginny, about to say something about how strangely Hermione was behaving, when she launched herself at him and burst into sobs, soaking his collar with her tears. "Oh, Harry, it's so awful!" she wailed.

Completely bewildered by this uncharacteristic behavior from Ginny he reached up and awkwardly patted her on the back. "There, there," he said over and over. He hadn't the slightest idea what else to say. He'd got used to seeing Hermione cry on occasion, and if this were Cho with her arms around his neck and her face pressed against his shoulder, her breath warming his skin, he might think it was just more of the same, but he didn't think he'd ever seen Ginny quite so distressed since he brought her out of the Chamber of Secrets. He really, really didn't know what to make of it all. "You'll see her again next summer," he added after a moment's thought, thinking maybe that was the problem.

Ginny loosened her grip around his neck and pulled back. "Oh, no, it's not that," she said. "It's just that..." She shook her head. "Really, you wouldn't understand."

"Yeah, I got that much." He stood up, breaking free of her embrace, and wiped the soot from his robe. "Harry's so thick, he just doesn't understand a thing."

"We never said you were thick."

"Could've fooled me. Maybe I should go make friends with other thickheads like Crabbe and Goyle."

"D'you really want to know what's wrong?" she asked, her voice rising.

"No," he snapped back. "I only asked to be polite!"

He heard her call him a rude name under her breath, then she stood up to face him. "Fine! D'you remember that injury she got at the Department of Mysteries? The one across --" She made a slashing motion across her torso, reminding him of the curse Dolohov had used on Hermione after he'd been Silenced. Harry nodded. "Well, not long after she got home, she knew something wasn't quite... right. She went to St. Mungo's for a follow-up, but they couldn't find anything wrong. After she got to India she realized she wasn't getting any better, so her host family took her to a Healer there. A specialist."

She'd paused at this point, so Harry said, "And?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "The Healer believes all the potions she had to take to help her recover from that curse did permanent damage. Hermione may not ever be able to have children."