The Knights Of Walpurgis

Chapter Five: Another Year, Another Feast, Another Sorting

"DIGGORY NEW MINISTER FOR MAGIC," the Daily Prophet headline declared from kitchen table as everyone scrambled to and fro throughout Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Molly fussed over the four students, yelling rather more than usual. They eventually gathered the last of their belongings, helped immeasurably by a Remembrall that Tonks had loaned them for the morning. Eventually, with all four trunks packed with some semblance of completeness, the four of them gathered in the kitchen. Molly poured out a last cup of tea for each of them as they waited for Mr. Weasley to arrive with Mundungus and transport for them to take to Kings Cross.

Harry stared at the Prophet, although he'd already read the article so many times that Molly had had to shoo him out of the kitchen to pack. Amos Diggory stared sternly from the front page, before turning and striding through a set of doors that Harry assumed was the official entrance to the Ministry. The image faded, and when it reappeared, Harry stared at Diggory's eyes. The skin around them was heavily lined, and it looked as though Mr. Diggory had aged ten years in the year since Harry had last seen him.

"Harry?"

He looked up, and met Ron's gaze.

"Time to go mate, come on."

Harry downed the last of his - cold - tea and stood up.

"The start of a new year," Hermione smiled. She'd received confirmation the previous Monday that she'd got twelve O's in her OWLs, setting school records in four of the subjects. Ron and Harry had passed most of their subjects, although Harry had failed History of Magic and Divination, and only scraped a borderline pass in Astronomy. For his part, Ron was happy enough with his 'P' in Potions, seeing it as an achievement that he hadn't received a lower score. Ginny, without OWL results to worry about, had been pleased to discover that she was not going to be one of the Gryffindor Prefects that year.

The group piled into one of the Ministry cars that Arthur had requisitioned for the morning. Harry sat between Ginny and Remus, with Arthur and Tonks in the car as well. Kinglsey Shacklebolt and Mundungus had joined Molly, Hermione, Bill and Ron in the second car.

Harry had ridden in a Ministry car once before, at the start of his third year when everyone had been convinced that Sirius was trying to kill him. As they had then, the cars sped at high speeds through the busy London traffic, squeezing through too-narrow gaps and crossing junctions on red lights unscathed. Harry noticed again that Remus didn't seem entirely comfortable with the speed at which they were travelling and he and Ginny tried to draw their former teacher into a conversation. But Remus would only nod or shake his head, while Tonks watched the whole affair with sparkling eyes. After a few minutes Arthur sharply told them to stop, before settling back into his seat. Harry and Ginny exchanged a surprised glance, before looking at Mr. Weasley, but he was staring absently out of the window of the car, one hand shoved deep into the pocket of his robe.

They emerged into the bright sunshine in front of Kings Cross with more than half an hour to spare. Hermione wandered off with Tonks to find something to read on the train - she ignored Ron's rolled eyes - while Ginny linked up with some friends from her own year. Remus followed them discreetly.

"I need to get the cars back soon," Arthur said. "So we'll say our good-byes now, then catch up with the girls. Have a good year, boys," he extended his hand to Harry, and then Ron. Both shook it rather solemnly. "Harry..." Mr. Weasley paused. "I have a feeling that another hard year is in store for you. I'll do my best to try and make sure that the press are kept under control, but..."

Harry looked at him curiously. "But what?"

Mr. Weasley sighed, and drew his hand from his pocket.

"Arthur..." Mrs. Weasley began.

"He needs to know, Molly," Mr. Weasley said quietly. He handed Harry a sheet of parchment. Harry took it and began to read.

To: All Employees, Ministry of Magic

From: Amos Diggory, Minister for Magic

It is clear to everyone now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. It is up to the Ministry to take action. I promised the people who voted for me that I would make dealing with You-Know-Who my top priority. I must establish what a suitable course of action is. I make no secret of the fact that I have always believed that he killed my son, and his return means that justice for this senseless murder is a real possibility.

I am seeking the advice of professional wizards throughout the world at this moment. Dark Lords have risen and fallen in other countries apart from Britain, and their experience will be invaluable. Ultimately, however, I know that the final decisions will rest with me. I am writing to you now to tell you to be prepared. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has a complement of ninety-four active Aurors. We are currently contacting retired Aurors such as Alastor Moody in the hope of bolstering their ranks, and also seeking to entice more people into training as an Auror.

Ultimately, though, this can only help so much. I will ask you, all of you, to do as I have done for the last year and practise your hexes, your jinxes and even your curses. There may come a time in the future when you will be asked to fight. I hope that this will not be the case and that justice can be allotted swiftly and surely.

I am aware, as I'm sure a number of you are, of the existence last term at Hogwarts of an underground resistance group known informally as Dumbledore's Army. I am told that this group was conceived and led by Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. I have a deep and lasting respect for Harry, and am proud that he and my son were friends. If Harry Potter wishes to aid our cause at any time, I will be happy to accommodate him.

I shall continue to keep you posted as my work progresses.

Amos Diggory, Minister for Magic, 29^th August 1996

"It was delivered to everyone's desks on Friday afternoon," Arthur said. "I don't want to spoil your weekend, son, but I thought you needed to know about it."

"He wants everyone ready to fight a war, doesn't he?" Harry said, still staring at the parchment. "What does he think is going to happen, that Voldemort will just let him choose a time and place?"

"I'm sure the Minister knows that every bit as well as you do," Mr. Weasley said quietly. Harry felt the anger that had flared in him snuff out like a pinched candle. "But Harry, it won't be long before the Prophet gets hold of this, and they'll probably make it sound like he's begging you for help."

"But..." Harry began, before stopping. He'd had enough exposure to the press over the last few years to know that they rarely let the truth get in the way of selling papers. "I think I'll get Hermione to stop reading the Prophet at the breakfast table," he sighed.

Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder in a very father-like manner. "Harry, you don't want to listen to anyone spouting any nonsense," he said. "The Minister seems to have grasped he knack of embracing the popular trend, and right now your actions with the Defence Association," he stressed the last two words, "have bought you to a lot of people's attentions. It's not your responsibility, Harry. Try not to let it spoil your year. That's what schoolwork is for."

Once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked off after saying one last goodbye, Harry and Ron shared an identically morose look.

*

"Dad reckons the papers are going to come after you again?" Ginny asked as the Express chugged through London on its journey north.

Harry shrugged.

"Well, Harry is very heroic," Luna Lovegood commented, from behind her copy of the Quibbler, a magazine run by her father. Harry and Ginny had found Luna and Neville Longbottom in the last compartment of the last carriage. Despite having fought alongside Harry and the others at the Ministry in June, Neville and Luna seemed to still be a pair of social outcasts. Hannah Abbott had been chatting to them when Ginny and Harry arrived, but had left shortly afterwards. Harry thought it rather a shame, as he considered them both to be his friends.

Unless...

Ginny and Luna were discussing his heroic status among other wizards. Neville was putting something back in his trunk. He'd been doing that since Ginny and Harry had arrived, nearly ten minutes before. Apart from a passing greeting, Neville had been struggling with his trunk ever since.

"You alright, Neville?" Harry asked.

"What? Oh, yes, thank you Harry," Neville replied, his voice absolutely calm. Harry blinked. The entryphone at the Ministry had more emotion in its voice then that. He looked closer at Neville, and grinned as he realised that his classmate had a definite pinkish tinge to the back of his neck. He looked at Luna, who was chatting away normally with Ginny, and decided to say nothing.

If Neville fancies Luna, it's his business. I'm certainly in no position to be offering anyone love advice, he thought. And I might be wrong, anyway. He settled back in his seat and suppressed all but the smallest smile as Neville, after several more minutes, seemed to become satisfied with the contents of his trunk and sat down too.

"Good summer, Neville?" he asked.

"It was, yeah," Neville replied. "Gran was furious about the Ministry though," he added, a little mournfully.

"She didn't get mad at you, did she?" Harry asked.

"Not mad exactly," Neville replied, looking as though he were trying to find the right words. "She was angry I went into danger, but then Dumbledore told her I did okay-"

"You did brilliant, Neville," Harry interjected. Neville grinned, and then continued.

"She wasn't happy about my dad's wand, though. I had to pay for a replacement." Neville shrugged. "Guess it's only fair. The new one's horse chestnut and unicorn hair, nine inches long."

Neville drew his wand from his belt smoothly to show Harry. As he looked at it, Harry glanced at Luna. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt over a skirt, and didn't seem to have her wand anywhere immediately accessible although, with Luna, it wasn't wise to make too many assumptions. Still, Harry was pleased that at least one other person appeared not to have succumbed to the need to have their wand within a moment's grasp. His own wand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans, although after the warning he'd received from Mad-Eye Moody the year before, he now refrained from keeping it in his back pocket. He quite liked having both buttocks firmly attached.

A short time later, Ron and Hermione returned from their prefects' meeting. Ron dropped into his seat with a deep sigh, and Hermione looked rather flustered. Harry had barely opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when he realised that Ron and Hermione had been followed.

Draco Malfoy stood in the open doorway of the compartment, staring silently at Harry. Crabbe and Goyle, his burly cronies, stood behind him, adding an intimidating physical presence to Malfoy's unreadable expression.

"Can we help you, Malfoy?" Harry asked, standing and walking to the door. He stood between Malfoy and the others, wanting to be Malfoy's main target, if the Slytherin made a move.

But Malfoy didn't seem to want to do anything. He stared blankly at Harry for several seconds, before turning on his heel and stalking away, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him. Harry watched them push through the crowds until they were out of sight, and then turned around, shutting the compartment door behind him.

"He was like that all through the prefects' meeting," Hermione said. "He didn't say a word. He just sat at the back and stared at Ron and me."

"Better then having him spewing his usual rubbish," Ron commented, taking a bag of Chocolate Frogs from his trunk and offering them around. "Still, bit creepy, you know?"

Harry shook his head, and sat back down.

"I don't care about Malfoy," he said. "His dad's in jail, I'm not surprised he's trying to give me the creeps. I'm not going to let him get to me."

Ginny nodded approvingly. Neville looked a little bit worried.

"He'll probably come after all of us," he said. "We all helped put his dad in Azkaban."

"I don't think we really have anything to worry about," Hermione said. "Malfoy wouldn't stand a chance in a duel against any of us, I think."

"Yeah, Neville, you can take him," Ron said, tossing Neville a Frog, which Neville dropped into Luna's cup of orange juice.

*

The six of them whiled away the rest of the trip by talking about what Amos Diggory's plans for dealing with Voldemort, as well as listening to Luna's account of her trip to Sweden with her father, in search of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

"The wizards there weren't very helpful," she said. "They wouldn't believe us when we said why we were there. We ended up looking around museums and old houses a lot of the time. There was a lot of old books on magic, but they weren't very interesting, and I didn't read very much. The handwriting was very small, and rather hard to read. They did have some spells that I hadn't heard of, though, and some pictures of Snargle-Tailed Woolmongers. Those were fascinating."

Hermione looked studiously out the window as Luna expounded on the characteristics of Snargle-Tailed Woolmongers to the others. Harry rather thought that she was fighting back a desire to say that the creatures didn't exist.

By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade, the conversation had returned to Amos Diggory's plans for Voldemort, and the six of them had had fallen into roughly three points of view.

Hermione and Ginny subscribed to the opinion that Diggory was using Harry's name to set an example, that he was really calling the Ministry employees to set up their own version of the DA and train themselves for the possibility of fighting.

Ron and Neville suspected that Diggory was using Harry's name as a way of showing he wouldn't be repeating Fudge's mistakes by ignoring whatever Harry might discover about Voldemort.

"You can be a special adviser to the Minister for Magic," Ron had said cheerfully, as he hauled Pigwidgeon's cage down from the luggage rack.

Luna had kept her thoughts to herself, at least until her father cross-referenced Mr. Diggory's exact time of date with the Quibbler's resident astrologer.

Harry had kept his opinions to himself as well, but he remembered Amos Diggory's understandable grief about Cedric's death, and wondered how a man still in mourning for his son had come to be in a position to run for Minister for Magic. Harry feared that his initial reaction to Diggory's Ministry memo might not have been too far from the truth, that he was preparing the Ministry for an all out war with Voldemort. Harry wasn't sure that it was a conflict the Ministry could win.

*

"Firs' years, firs' years over here!"

"Alright Hagrid!"

"Hello, you lot! See you at the feast! Now, firs' years, follow me, inter the boats now... Ah, now, don't worry. We'll get one of the teachers to dry that off for you. Just be grateful the water ain't too deep her, okay?"

Harry felt a smile appear on his lips as he watched Hagrid leading the frightened looking first years across the lake towards Hogwarts, which appeared almost ablaze in the night sky, with bright light streaming from every window.

"Come on, Harry, the coaches are ready to go!"

Harry jumped slightly at the sound of Ron's voice, but hurried over to the carriage and piled in with Luna and Hermione. Ron swung the door shut as he pulled himself up and took the seat next to Ginny.

"Good to be home?" Hermione asked quietly. Harry squinted out of the carriage's front window, at the Thestral pulling them along, at the dark lake with its reflections of the Hogwarts lights shimmering on its surface as Hagrid and the first years passed across it, and then finally at Hogwarts itself. He sighed.

"Yeah," he said. "It really is."

*

"I sat before you this time last

My tale was one of warning

And now I'm here yet one more time

The new Dark age still dawning

In four rows still the houses sit

And so I must divide you

Pick loyal and brave and shrewd and smart

And hope that I choose true

But what would happen if I failed

And mixed you all a-muddle?

We'd have a year of mixed up kids

Not an ocean perhaps, but a puddle

Slytherins would be so loyal

Like their Hufflepuff comrades

And Gryffindors were ne'er so smart

"Must be from their Ravenclaw taught grandads!"

Mild Hufflepuffs all brave and bold

Dashing to defend our honour

And Ravenclaws, calm, cool and shrewd

Just hear those smart snakes slither!

It would not be so bad perhaps

But we will never know

My job for more than a millennia now

Is to tell you surely where to go

"It's not so bad," I tell myself

"House allegiances don't matter."

Hufflepuffs have no monopoly

On friendly, open chatter

The Gryffindors, all proud and strong

Can have a hint of devilry

And the Ravenclaws, with their books and brains

Are still champions of chivalry

The Slytherins, I assure you now

Are not as Dark as they are painted

Only a few who've come for that House's ranks

Are deservedly hated.

So listen closely as I say this

(For I may be asking questions)

Be sure and sit with whoever you wish

When you all begin your lessons

It matters not what house they're in

Or what Quidditch team they cheer

You may be glad of their helping hand

If things pass as I fear

I'll say again that a Dark age

Is upon us once more dawning

You've seen the signs, you've heard the tales

Do you need much more warning?

The war that comes is fuelled by talk

Of blood supremacy

As if what flows within your veins

Is all that we can see

Your choices are what matters now

You'll pick good not ill I know

My choice will give you seven years

In which to learn and grow

But think awhile as you take your seat

On what you've heard tonight

A great darkness is coming

I implore you to meet it with light."

The Sorting Hat performed its customary bows to the four house tables as the Hogwarts students applauded its latest effort. Harry noticed that there was more applause then last year, when the Hat's stark warning of the coming troubles had been the first omen of what would prove to be a difficult year. Now, it seemed, people were becoming more accustomed to the idea of a war in which they would be involved. The Hat's song this year encouraged trust and fellowship, and while its content was little different to the previous year, Harry thought it had seemed rather upbeat. He looked across the Great Hall, his gaze seeking out Draco Malfoy as "Artemis, Gregor!" was summoned to the three-legged stool to be sorted. Malfoy's gleaming blonde hair stood out among the dark robed figures seated around the Slytherin table. He was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, as well as Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, but looked distinctly less arrogant then normal. Further down the table, Harry could see Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, the other two sixth year Slytherin boys, deep in conversation, casting furtive glances around them. Harry frowned slightly as he watched them, wondering if he was reading too much into a simple conversation between friends who'd probably been separated all summer.

"Harry?"

He turned away from the Slytherins, and looked up a Hermione.

"Sorry?"

"Ron was wondering what you think of posting a notice on the common room notice board about Quidditch tryouts?" she said. Ron, who was having an animated discussion with Neville and Dean, turned away briefly to nod, before going back to the others.

"Er, I suppose. Shouldn't Katie be doing it, though? She's captain this year, isn't she?"

"I won't have time."

Harry looked around, and saw Katie Bell grinning at him from the other side of the table. Her dark brown eyes gleamed as she looked at him, and then she grinned even wider at his confusion. "It's my final year, I've got NEWTs to prepare for, I want to keep up with the DA, I want to keep on playing Quidditch and there's the small matter of my boyfriend in Hufflepuff, too."

"You don't want to be captain?" Harry asked.

"I wouldn't be any good," Katie said. "I can't get up before seven in the morning unless someone pulls me out of bed. Angie and Ali used to do that, but if I was captain, who'd dare?"

"Ginny would," Harry said immediately. Katie laughed.

"She probably would. But I don't think it'd be right for another seventh year to be captain. It should be someone younger."

Harry found himself caught between Hermione and Katie's gazes.

"Ah, no, not me," he said, realising as he did so that he didn't particularly want the position either. "It'd be a bit much, to be honest."

He paused for a second, and ran through the list of available candidates in his mind. Of the other four players on the team, Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper only had two games under their belts, and hadn't excelled themselves in either one. Ginny had her family's talent for Quidditch, but she would be learning to play as a Chaser - Harry didn't think she'd have any trouble qualifying for one of the vacant positions on the team - and also had only played two real games. That left someone who had dreamed of captaining the house team since he was a first year.

"Ron," he said quietly, glancing at his friend. Ron, for his part, was completely engrossed in the story that Seamus was telling. The Irish boy was illustrating his point by waving his hands in an hourglass pattern. Harry looked back at Hermione and Katie. Katie nodded firmly, and Hermione beamed.

"He's got a good head for the game," Katie agreed. "Angie always thought so. That's why she wouldn't let him resign. I reckon he'll be great."

"He'll be really happy," Hermione said, and then sighed. "Although it'll be one more reason for him to ignore his homework."

Harry grinned, and turned to face the staff table as Professor Dumbledore stood, and the final first year scurried to the Ravenclaw table to rapturous applause.

"Greetings, and welcome back," Dumbledore intoned. "I am pleased to see so many of you here. I know that at this time, we are living in a period of great uncertainty. It gives me great comfort, knowing that you are here, and that I may watch over you."

Harry realised that he was holding his breath, but didn't want to let it out. The Hall had fallen silent at Dumbledore's words.

"Last June, I dueled with Lord Voldemort. It was a harrowing and difficult experience, and yet I would do so again in an instant for any one of the people in this hall, for any person at risk. It is my duty, it is my honour. I know that may of you have spent the summer hearing terrible things about Voldemort and his forces, know that many of you live in or near Birmingham, and so I will say this to you. Within these walls, you are safe. I speak both for myself and for my fellow staff members when I say that we shall do whatever is necessary, whatever we are capable of, to ensure that you are protected. And we are not the only ones prepared to go to such lengths."

There was barely a pause, and Harry kept his eyes firmly on Dumbledore, but he knew that people were looking at him.

"To that end, I have reached an agreement with a group of dissident students who founded a highly illegal study group last year. The Defence Association is now an authorised extra-curricular activity, in the same manner as the Gobstones Club and Divination Society, for example. It will be supervised by our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Weasley-" Dumbledore gestured at Bill, who had Apparated to Hogwarts that morning. The new professor raised his goblet cheerily " - but the head of the Association will remain the same as last year, Harry Potter of Gryffindor house."

Harry tried to control the flush threatening to consume his face as he stared intently at his headmaster.

"The Defence Association is open to all students of third year and above," Dumbledore continued. "Any student of any house may attend, provided they are of age. Mr. Potter will doubtless be posting the date of the first meeting on the school notice board before very much longer."

By now, Harry thought, more than three-quarters of the school was looking at him, rather than Dumbledore. He wondered abstractly if the colour of his face matched the red trim of his robes.

"Anyway, on to other matters. The Forbidden Forest is forbidden, just as the name says. The Haunted Toilet on the second floor is haunted, just as the name says. The Prefects Bathrooms are for the Prefects, just as the name says. Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place over the next few weeks although first years are reminded that they will not qualify for consideration until next year, unless their Head of House is feeling desperate."

There was some laughter at this, and Professor McGonagall looked mildly embarrassed.

"I believe that that is all the information that can be usefully absorbed before you are fed and watered. In which case, let the feast begin!"

Dumbledore clapped his hands together, and suddenly the house tables were piled high with food. Ron, who had been waiting for the food to appear since he'd stepped out of the carriage, was first to reach for the platter of garlic bread that had appeared between him and Neville. Soon enough, though, everyone's plate was piled high with food and conversation was briefly muted as the thousand staff and students worked their way through the meal.

Eventually, even Ron, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have eaten their fill and the plates and dishes faded from view. Dumbledore rose to his feet once more.

"Now that we have all eaten our fill, I wish you all a good night. I will continue with the remainder of the school notices in the morning."

Slowly, the students made their way from the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione joined up with the other prefects to lead the first year Gryffindors through the labyrinthine Hogwarts interior and up the stairs to the common room. Harry was trailing behind, and reacquainting himself with the familiar entrance hall, when someone called out his name.

"Potter! Harry!"

He turned around, and was met by Ernie McMillan and Susan Bones of Hufflepuff. The two had been dedicated members of the DA the previous year, and Ernie in particular had been a staunch supporter of the group.

"Potter, just wanted a quick word with you about the DA," Ernie declared briskly, as the other students milled around them.

"Okay," Harry replied. "What's up?"

"We were wondering if you knew when we'd be starting up again," Ernie said. "We're eager to get back into practise. It's a bit hard to stay in shape when we can't cast spells outside of school, as I'm sure you know."

"You usually seem to find a way, though, don't you Harry?" Susan grinned. Harry coloured slightly at the thought of his encounters with the Ministry of Magic about the spells that had been cast in Little Whinging during his time at Hogwarts.

"Anyway," Ernie carried on, glancing at Susan. "We're eager to get back to it, so just tell us where and when, and we'll be there."

"Definitely," Susan agreed, with a nod of her head for emphasis.

"Right," Harry replied. "Er, well, I'll let you know. Or Hermione will, or something. I haven't had much time to find out when Quidditch practises are going to be or anything. You've still got your Galleons, right?"

Ernie produced his charmed coin from his pocket. Susan pulled a chain from around her neck, which held the coin inside a golden collar.

"My Aunt Amelia gave it to me," she said. "I lose things if they're in my pockets, and she thought that this was quite important."

"Right," Harry said again, as she slipped the coin back inside her robes. "Er, anyway, I'll use the coins, but I'll be putting up notices as well. I don't know if more people will want to join this year or what. They might think that it's a bit dangerous after last year."

"Well, we'll be there," Ernie said, carefully laying a hand on Susan's shoulder. "Right, Susan?"

"Of course," she replied, giving him a half-smile. She turned back to Harry. "I know a lot of the Hufflepuff girls want to join."

"Well, that's good," Harry said. "Everyone should learn to defend themselves. Professor Weasley should be a big help, too. He's supposed to be brilliant at Dark Arts."

"Excellent," Ernie said. "We're looking forward to it. Well, must be off. Come on, Susan. Have to be up early for classes tomorrow."

Susan gave Harry a last smile as she walked off with Ernie. Harry watched them disappear down a staircase in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room then, with a shake of his head, he set off for Gryffindor Tower.

*

By the time Harry made it up to the tower, a run-in with Peeves the poltergeist adding fifteen minutes to his journey, the mad rush of the first evening seemed to have died away. Only a handful of students remained in the common room. Harry waved to the two or three people he knew, and made his way up the stairs to the sixth year boys dormitory. He pushed open the door to find Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean engaged in a massive pillow fight.

Ron was hovering unsteadily in mid-air, his aging broomstick looking rather the worse for wear against Harry's Firebolt, which Neville had appropriated from his trunk. Harry wanted to snatch the broom away from Neville, but he was ten feet up in the air and swinging wildly at Ron while Dean and Seamus traded blows on the ground. Harry watched uncertainly as Ron managed to catch Neville around the head with a wild swing, but Neville managed to hold the broom steady as he recoiled, and Harry decided that his Firebolt was in safe hands, at least within the confines of the dormitory. Neville had certainly improved since his debacle during their first flying lesson in. Harry wasn't sure if he was ready to let Neville loose on the Quidditch pitch with it, though.

Harry's train of thought was interrupted by a well-aimed blow from Dean, whose pillow caught him full in the face and shattered his glasses. Harry grinned as he staggered back, and summoned one of his own pillows with a quick twist of his wand. As he charged into the fray, he reflected that it was definitely good to be home.

To be continued...