The Knights Of Walpurgis

Chapter Fourteen: Lessons To Be Learned

"Mr. Potter, you will concentrate!"

Harry mouthed the words along with Madam Marchbanks as he pushed himself to his feet. Every part of him ached now, and he had trouble standing upright due to a pulled muscle in his back.

Apart from that, he was enjoying himself. At first, he had been suspicious of Madam Marchbanks approach to their sessions, but he could tell that she was taking no pleasure from his inability to do better. If anything, she didn't seem to show any emotions as he crashed heavily to the ground a dozen times or more in each lesson. Occasionally, Harry thought that he noticed a slight pursing of the lips before she yelled at him again, leaving him wondering if he was imagining things.

*

Harry was learning a great deal more in Bill's Defence class, he thought. The new curses that Bill was teaching them required a lot of concentration, and Harry was pleased to notice that he was able to focus on the lessons for long periods of time, even with some of the other students hardly seeming to stop their whispering about Susan and him.

Susan had finally returned to lessons after reappearing at Hufflepuff's first Quidditch match of the season. She had looked uncomfortable and out of place in the game, and Ernie had looked positively furious with her at times. Eventually, Hufflepuff's Seeker had beaten a distracted-looking Cho Chang to the Snitch, earning Hufflepuff a narrow victory, and both teams had left the pitch in poor spirits.

Harry barely had any chance to talk to Susan, despite her reappearance. Hermione, who often worked with the Hufflepuff girl in Defence class, reported that a lot of the more prominent Hufflepuffs had been making nasty remarks about her, and apart from Hannah, she felt very lonely among her housemates.

"And they're supposed to be the loyal ones," Ron muttered, as he glared at a particularly indiscreet pair of Hufflepuff fourth years.

"Well, I suppose that it just goes to show," Hermione huffed. "We can't be pigeonholed, especially at eleven years old. It's ridiculous, really."

Harry and Ron refrained from rolling their eyes. Hermione had seized on the latest Hogwarts trend as a sign that the Sporting Hat was right in its assertion that the Houses needed to stick together, and lot let such trivial issues divide them.

"I wonder what would happen if the Sorting Hat just refused to break up the first years into Houses?" Hermione mused. "Harry, didn't you say that you knew where the Hat stays between one year and the next?"

"Yeah, in Dumbledore's office," Harry said quickly, for he had seen the beginnings of a plan forming behind Hermione's gleaming eyes.

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Yes, I remember you saying now. Well, I still think it's silly the way they split us up."

She set down her cutlery, got up and walked away from the table. Harry and Ron exchanged a look of relief.

"Mental, that one," Ron said fondly, before turning back to the training schedule he was preparing for the next practise.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, remembering Hermione's other obsessions. "Er, has she said anything about SPEW recently?"

"Haven't you heard?" Ron said, looking up. "She found out that no-one except Dobby would come near Gryffindor Tower, so she went down to the kitchens to talk to them."

"What happened?"

"They've locked her out," Ron said, his eyes glittering as he struggled to control his amusement. "Seems like they've had enough of her attempts to revolutionise their lives."

Harry smiled as Ron chortled, but he felt rather bad for Hermione. He had known months before that Dobby was the only elf who would go anywhere near Gryffindor Tower, and had done nothing to stop Hermione in her attempts to carry on with SPEW.

"Is that why she's so set on sorting out this stuff with the other houses?" he asked.

Ron looked up again, sighing as he set his quill down.

"Yeah, I reckon so. She can't boss the elves about, so now she wants to boss everybody about."

"I don't think it's about that," Harry said.

"Oh, I know," Ron said. "And I wouldn't dare say that to her face. But she's only seventeen, for Circe's sake. Percy was a bit like that, too. He wanted to make the world a better place, but no-one wanted to listen to him. Hermione's better, 'cos she's got us around to keep her on the right track, but still, some of the things she comes out with..." Ron shook his head.

"It probably wouldn't hurt if we tried to do what she's saying, though," Harry said. "I mean, making friends with people in other houses. I've spent some time with Susan this year, and--" he looked around, making sure he couldn't be overheard by anyone inconvenient "-- Blaise and Theodore have joined the HA."

"Yeah, well, look what happened to you and Susan," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. Harry was about to reply when Ron held up a hand.

"Look, I know you're right about trying to make friends in other houses, but think of it this way: supposing you go up to Ernie, or Pansy, or Cho and start acting all friendly, what do you think's going to happen?"

"Well..."

"They're going to tell everyone that they meet that you're trying to suck up to them. And why would you do that, unless the rumours about Susan and you are true?"

"Maybe you're right," Harry said, feeling uncertain.

"'Course I am," Ron said, casting a nasty look at the Hufflepuff fourth years, who had started chattering again. "Look, I'm not saying that we shouldn't try and do like the Hat says, but I don't think this is the time. Wait 'til all this dies away. It won't take long."

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling a lot more convinced. "That makes sense."

*

"Felling better, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, truthfully.

"Good. The gossips have moved on?"

Harry started in surprise.

"I am Headmaster of this school, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled. "I do not stay in this position by being very far behind with the news. And, if I may say so, I noticed that the violent reaction when I probed your mind coincided with my encountering a memory of yourself and Miss Bones."

Harry stared unmovingly at the old wizard.

"But I shall not pry any further," Dumbledore said. "No, Harry, relax. I shall not probe so deeply this time. Let us see how you can cope with an assault on the, ah, outer walls of your castle."

Harry settled back in his chair and let his eyes close. In his mind, he stood with Sirius on the battlements of his castle, watching as Dumbledore began to cross the lake towards them.

*

Five minutes after leaving Dumbledore's office with a spring in his step, Harry was lying flat on his back on the floor of the Room of Requirement, breathing heavily. He could envisage the pursing of Madam Marchbanks' lips, and forced himself to clamber to his feet again.

*

Two hours later, he limped into the common room and dropped onto one of the sofas next to Ginny and Ron.

"Rough lesson?" Ginny asked, not looking up from her textbook.

Harry grunted in reply, letting his head sink back against the back of the sofa. He wondered whether it would be possible to bribe Ron into revealing the password to the Prefects' bathroom, then remembered that he'd have to risk meeting Moaning Myrtle if he went for the long, hot bath that his body was crying out for.

"Learn much?" Ron asked, looking grateful for the chance to set his Potions essay to one side.

"No," Harry said. "Same as usual."

"Any good falls?" Ginny asked. She had taken to asking this after Harry had mentioned how one of Marchbanks' Trip Jinxes had caught him in mid-air and had him turning a double cartwheel before crashing to the ground.

"None worth mentioning," Harry said, smiling tiredly. "Is Hermione around?"

"Nah, went to the Library about an hour ago," Ron said, shrugging. He picked up his essay again. "She'll be back eight minutes after the Library closes, same as always."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry said. "I wanted to ask her what I can do about Susan."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"I want to try and cheer Susan up a bit," Harry said. "She looks miserable in classes, and I know that she hates having people talking behind her back all the time. I'm used to it, and it still annoys me sometimes. I reckon she must be really upset."

"Was it her missing a week's worth of classes that made you realise that she's upset?" Ginny said, with a straight face.

"I..." Harry began angrily, before stopping.

Ron and Ginny were both grinning widely at him.

"Alright," he said, with a sigh. "So I'm not very quick at understanding other people's emotions. That's not exactly news, is it?"

"No," Ginny said. "But you're getting better, Harry. All we need now is a Time-Turner, and then you can go back and fix things with Cho."

"What do you mean?"

"Who do you think is responsible for spreading the rumours about you and Susan to the Ravenclaws?" Ginny said, soberly.

"Cho?" Harry asked. "Are you sure?"

"Someone's convinced her," Ron said. "Didn't you know? She hasn't been to the meetings since everyone started talking about it."

"Oh," Harry said. He thought back to Diagon Alley, and Tonks' warning that he should try and smooth things over with Cho.

"What do I do? Seems like everyone's got a reason to hate me right now," he said. The words felt bitter in his mouth. Surely, after everything that I've done, I've earned people's trust.

"I don't think you can do anything," Ron said. "It'll die down, eventually. That's what I reckon, anyway," he added, quickly. Ginny gave him a curious look, before turning back to Harry.

"Suppose you're right. These things usually do," Harry said. "At least Rita Skeeter isn't writing it up for the Prophet."

"Seems like things in the real world are more interesting," Ginny said, gesturing at that morning's Prophet, which sat on the table in front of them. "Anyway, what are we going to do about Susan and you?"

"Er, I dunno. I'll wait to ask Hermione tomorrow, I guess."

"Thank you very much," Ginny said.

"Er... Sorry," Harry said. "I'm just used to asking Hermione."

"Hmmph," Ginny said, but Harry thought that she wasn't as offended as she seemed. "Anyway, what did you have in mind?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't exactly take her out to prank Filch, can I?"

"Why not?" Ginny asked. She grinned mischievously. "Sounds like fun. I'll come, if she doesn't want to."

"Do you think she'd want to?" Harry asked. It didn't seem to him to be the sort of thing that Susan would want to do.

"It'd be good for her to get out after the week she's had," Ginny said. "A bit of fun will help take her mind off things."

"Okay," Harry said thoughtfully. "I guess I'll see if she wants to come out tomorrow night."

"And if she doesn't," Ginny said, her mouth quirking into an evil-looking grin, "I'm always up for pranking Filch."

*

"Are you sure that this is safe?" Susan asked, sounding rather nervous.

"It'll be fine," Harry whispered in reply. "Look, Mrs. Norris is the one we need to worry about, believe me. We'll hear Filch long before he gets anywhere near us."

Susan fidgeted uncomfortably, but nodded. Harry led the way through the deserted corridors, pausing occasionally to relight an extinguished torch. Susan followed closely behind, stopping occasionally to spin around at an imagined noise or movement. Harry only stopped to rearrange his grip on the heavy box that he was carrying. He had almost emptied the bags that he had bought from Fred and George's shop, but thought that they would probably approve of his going so completely over the top when Filch was his target.

"You know, Filch is usually okay to the Hufflepuffs," Susan said.

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know," she said. "Somebody said that he was a Hufflepuff when he was at school, but I'm not sure. I never see him using magic, and most first years can manage scouring charms, can't they?"

"I suppose," Harry said, not having learnt any cleaning charms until his fifth year. Although Harry knew that Filch was a Squib, he didn't want to mention it to Susan. Although she had always been very nice, he didn't know what she would make of the news. Even Ron, who was generally fair and non-judgmental about such things, had laughed about Filch being unable to do magic.

"Isn't there anyone else we could do this to?" Susan asked. "What about Hagrid?"

"What about Hagrid?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Well, he'd think it was funny, wouldn't he?"

Harry relaxed, and carried on. "Yeah, he probably would, but I'd rather go after Filch. He's nasty to people for no real reason, even if he does let the Hufflepuffs off. Last week he put two second years in detention for breathing too loudly outside the library."

"Oh," Susan said. "I didn't know that."

"No reason you should," Harry said, looking both ways before stepping out into the next corridor. "They were Gryffindors and if I didn't know that Filch likes Hufflepuffs, then why should you know he hates Gryffindors?"

"He doesn't like Hufflepuffs, I don't think, anyway," Susan said. "But he's not nasty to them."

"Well, even if he's only a git when he's around Gryffindors, he deserves to be told that it's not right," Harry said. "We're nearly there."

Eventually they reached the door of Filch's office. Harry was sure that they would have been quicker if they had used the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak, but he wasn't sure how many people he wanted to share those with. Only Ron and Hermione knew about the Map, and only a few others had heard about the Cloak. Even if he did like Susan, he wasn't yet certain how far he could trust her.

Shaking his head slightly, he laid one hand on the doorknob.

"Ready?"

Susan appeared to steel herself, and nodded.

*

They were putting the finishing touches to their work. Harry wasn't sure what effect he'd wanted to create, and after a hurried exchange of notes with Fred and George, had come to the conclusion that he'd try a bit of everything and see what happened.

To that end, Filch's chair was rigged with a Portable Swamp. His precious filing cabinets, which contained the caretaker's records of the misdeeds of every student who had crossed him, was set to explode with twenty Galleons worth of Wildfire Whizbangs, although Susan had insisted that these at least be visible. At her suggestion, Harry had conjured a large sign warning of the effects of tampering with the cabinets or the fireworks. Filch, a Squib, would never be able to access the cabinets without a wizard's help, and Harry had a feeling that not many of the staff would rush to the caretaker's aid. Quite a few of them had been students at Hogwarts during Filch's reign as caretaker, and more than one would have felt the cantankerous old man's wrath for dripping water on the floor, or traipsing mud into the Great Hall.

The highlight, in Harry's opinion, lay in Filch's other set of filing cabinets, which every student knew contained the items that Filch confiscated during the course of the school year.

These cabinets had, with much satisfaction on Harry's part, been bobby-trapped with Fred and George's latest invention. According to the creators, the Beaky Banshee Blast would 'deafen, disable, disorient and deceive anyone who came into contact with it', and while Harry thought that the reference to banshees were over-exaggeration on Fred and George's part, a quick test of the trap in the Room of Requirement had resulted in the loudest wailing Harry had heard since opening the golden egg from the Tri-Wizard tournament two years beforehand. The trap was set to activate if anyone so much as brushed against the cabinets, and would keep wailing for one minute afterwards. The noise alone would be enough to prevent most wizards concentrating long enough to disable it, and there was an added bonus: Whoever activated the trap would experience the sensation of being pecked all over by a hundred birds. The trap, Fred and George claimed, was good for a hundred hours of use, and Harry had set it in the hope that it would keep Filch away from his precious cabinets for at least a week before he worked out how to disable it.

He looked around the room, which was scattered with numerous minor traps quite apart from the major ones, and felt content at a job well done.

"Harry!"

He looked over at Susan.

"Mrs. Norris just looked in here!"

"What?" Harry hurried over to Susan, and looked out into the corridor. Mrs. Norris was barely visible as a dark patch running down the corridor, and Harry was sure that she was off to find her owner.

"Quiet," he hissed, needlessly. Susan was silent now, her wand clutched in white-knuckled hands. He extinguished the single lamp in the room with a whispered spell, and pulled her deep into the shadows in one corner.

The door creaked open, and Filch stalked into the room, Harry pressed himself and Susan against the wall, sucking his stomach in as Filch went past. The caretaker paused, and for a second Harry's heart stopped. He was certain that the caretaker would realise that there were two students only a few feet away, but Filch was distracted. Letting out an incoherent bellow, he charged across the room and came to a halt in front of the Whizbang-bestrewn filing cabinets.

"Now!" Harry whispered, grabbing Susan's hand and leading her out of the office. They paused in the doorway as Filch ignored the warning sign and took a swipe at the cabinet with his broom. Harry chanced a look over his shoulder, to see Filch emerging like a dark phoenix from the multi-coloured flames that had erupted at his wipe, and which were now consuming his filing cabinets.

"Run!"

They bolted, heedless of the sound they made as their shoes clattered on the bare stone floor. The fireworks detonating inside Filch's office more than covered the sound of their escape, and though Filch burst out into the corridor behind them, he was distracted by Peeves the poltergeist, who had been drawn to the noise and disruption like a bee to honey. While Filch ranted and threw things at the non-corporeal Peeves, Harry and Susan sprinted away. They were safe long before they rounded the corner into the Entrance Hall and dashed down the steps towards the Hufflepuff common room.

They only stopped to catch their breath beside the Hufflepuff guardian portrait, an elderly wizard painting a landscape. Harry bent over, huffing deep breaths as Susan slumped back against the wall.

"That, er, that was different," she said, between breaths.

"Yeah."

She pushed herself upright, and held out her hand. He took it, and let her pull him up.

"I don't know if I'd want to do that again, but thank you for letting me see what Gryffindors get up to on their evenings off," she said, still holding his hand. Harry found it rather more distracting now than he had when they were running from Filch.

"Well, not all of us do it," he said, wondering what would happen if he took his hand back. He met her eyes, and noticed that she was shivering. "Are you okay? You look cold."

"I'm..." She looked away. "Harry, you do make things happen, don't you?"

"Er..." Harry was aware that, not only were there hands still clasped together, but that there wasn't much space between them.

She looked up at him again, and there was a note of desperation about her voice. "I suppose that I should be getting inside."

"I think that that's probably wise."

Harry let out a long breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding. Susan's hand disappeared from his so fast that he might have sworn she had Disapparated. He turned and found himself nose-to-nose with Ernie McMillan. Had Susan not been behind him, he might have taken a step backwards.

"Twenty-five points from Hufflepuff, and the same from Gryffindor," Ernie snapped. "You're out of bounds, and out after hours as well. I imagine you're responsible for all the fuss upstairs as well, but as I can't prove that and have you suspended, I'll have to settle for docking you some points. Get into the common room, Susan."

Susan made a sound as though she were about to protest, but seemed to think better of it. Harry felt the anger growing inside him as she gave the password and he heard the portrait swing shut behind her. He continued to hold Ernie's gaze, unblinkingly, thinking about how nice it would be to punch the Hufflepuff in the nose.

"Back to your dormitory, Potter, and if I ever catch you out of bounds again, you'll be sorry."

Harry bit back on the reply that he wanted to give, and settled for glaring at Ernie as the Hufflepuff Prefect turned on his heel and stalked back into the common room.

When the corridor around him was clear, Harry grabbed his wand and stormed off, waving it wildly as he imagined Ernie retreating before him. It was only when he heard a terrific crash that he came to his senses. One of the enchanted suits of armour that lined the Hogwarts corridors was lying in a tangled heap in front of him, groaning slightly as it clutched at its badly buckled chestplate. Harry stared at it in amazement for a second before there came a loud roar of fury from nearby that Harry knew all too well as the sound of an enraged Filch. Not wanting to risk another close shave with the cantankerous caretaker, he sprinted back upstairs to Gryffindor Tower where he collapsed into bed and quickly fell into a sleep where Ernie McMillan was trapped under several tons of collapsing armour.

*

Potions the next day did nothing to improve Harry's mood. He and Neville had had to endure another session of sneering and snide remarks from Snape, and their recent improvement in the class seemed to desert them. The black, gelatinous goo that had formed at the bottom of their beakers has been about as far from the white, lightly steaming potion that they were supposed to be brewing as it was possible to be. Even Hermione had seemed genuinely bewildered about how they had managed to produce the concoction.

"I didn't even think that it was possible to mess up a potion so badly," she said in wonder, as Harry and Neville stared ruefully at their sample beakers.

"For once, Miss Granger, I am inclined to agree with you," Snape said, appearing soundlessly behind them. Neville jumped several inches into the air. "Do settle down, Longbottom. How you and Potter have survived in my class so far is quite beyond me. You will receive a D for this work, and one more such grade will see you removed from this course. Evanesco."

Snape waved his wand and made the contents of the beakers vanish. Harry and Neville exchanged identical, frustrated glances that spoke volumes for their hatred of Professor Snape.

"Seems to have forgotten about that lesson we taught him, doesn't he?" Harry said, on their way out of the door.

Neville nodded shortly, and glared at the floor as they trudged towards the Great Hall.

"Reckon that you can get through to him again?" Ron asked. Despite having Hermione's help, Ron had been unable to get his potion to change from creamy yellow to the brilliant white required, and was expecting a low grade.

"No way," Neville said. "He's an idiot. If he taught us properly, we'd be okay, but he's too obsessed with swooping around the place and terrorizing people."

Harry looked with some surprise at Neville, who very rarely criticised Hogwarts staff in such terms.

"What?" Neville said, of Harry's expression. "You know it's true, Harry. He hates the two of us especially."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "Good to see you sticking up for yourself a bit, Neville," he added.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Neville said. "I don't need anyone fighting my battles for me, Harry. I've always stuck up for myself."

He stormed off, leaving Harry to stare after him in shock. He turned to Ron, who was grinning in a very knowing way.

"What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing," Ron said. "Neville's just a bit moody lately."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Dunno. You're the expert on that," Ron said.

"I--" Harry began, and then stopped himself. He smiled slightly. "I was a bit of a pain last year, wasn't I? I'm trying to do better this year. Practising my Occlumency seems to help - I can calm myself down a lot better when I get frustrated or angry. Most of the time."

"Yeah? That's good. Don't worry, about last year, either. We got used to it. I'm still glad you've been bit more cheerful this year, though."

*

Neville's bad mood seemed to drive him generally to greater heights in every subject apart from Potions. Although he was still struggling somewhat in Transfiguration, he had improved considerably on previous years. He was level with Hermione in Care of Magical Creatures, and had even managed to get ahead of her in Herbology. The influence of the HA allowed its members to be among the best in Defence Against the Dark Arts, although in this last class, however, no-one came close to Harry. Quite apart from his extra work with Madam Marchbanks , Harry was fervently studying the spells that Bill was teaching them in the knowledge that one day in the near future he would have to face Voldemort. As Harry had discovered in his fourth year, fear had a positive effect on his ability to learn potentially useful knowledge.

It was galling, then, that he was still being blasted over and over again in his dueling sessions with Madam Marchbanks. He had spent nearly a month under her supervision, and each evening he would limp out of the lesson covered in bruises which only a steady supply of Murtlap salve supplied by Hermione seemed to soothe.

Harry stared at the ceiling for the fifth time that evening - his third tumble had been spectacular enough to warrant his remembering it for Ginny's amusement; the rest had just been painful - he felt his anger growing again. He sighed, and brought Sirius to mind, but instead of the smiling, calm Sirius that he usually imagined, he found himself remembering events in the Shrieking Shack, more than two years previously. Sirius had ranted, raved and screamed until the truth had come out.

"Ready yourself, Potter," Marchbanks said.

"For what?" Harry asked, clambering to his feet. He fixed the elderly witch with a defiant gaze and crossed his arms across his chest.

"For the next time I knock you off your feet, it seems," she said. She pursed her lips in a manner that was becoming familiar to Harry.

"I thought you were supposed to be teaching me how to fight Voldemort!"

To Harry's surprise, his shouted comment triggered a bout of loud, wheezing laughter in the old witch, which ended with her coughing loudly in a way that made him wonder whether she might be choking.

"Ohhh..." she sighed, leaning heavily on her stick. "Teach?" she said loudly. "Me teach? Got no patience to teach!"

"Then why--"

"Of course, if you decide to learn, that's another matter."

Harry ducked the next hex that Marchbanks threw in his direction and responded with a Scalping Hex that Bill had demonstrated in class earlier that day. Marchbanks deflected the spell with a nonchalant wave of her wand, but Harry saw something that he had never seen before.

Marchbanks had almost smiled.

*

Harry lay on one of the large, squashy bean bags that covered the floor of the Room of Requirement. Every part of him ached, but he had a feeling of satisfaction that went some way towards making up for it.

Only a few minutes beforehand, he had managed to catch Madam Marchbanks with a jinx.

At Hermione's suggestion, he had spent some time with Professor Flitwick. Flitwick had once been a dueling champion, and had been able to suggest a few spells that were of little practical application outside their ability to unnerve an opponent. Marchbanks had been able to deflect most of them with the same nonchalant wave of her wand, but the last one that Flitwick had suggested, after a long period of dredging through his memories, had worked.

"Expellimaximus," Harry mouthed, struggling to restrain a smile at the memory of the look of surprise on Marchbanks face as her wand jerked up and out of her hand. She had snatched it back before it had gone more than a few inches - Harry had noted, without much surprise, that her reflexes were every bit as good as his own - but they had both known that for a split second she had been vulnerable.

Harry could have capitalised on the moment, but he had been so shocked that it had worked that he had stared in amazement at Marchbanks, allowing her to hit him with a Full Body Bind.

Still, as she'd hobbled across the floor towards him to unhex him, he'd had a glow of satisfaction coursing through him, rather than just the warm glow of a new burn inflicted by one of Marchbanks' hexes, which was much more usual.

It made for a pleasant change.

"Harry?"

Hermione and Ginny stood over him once again, peering down at him with looks on their faces that spoke of both concern and amusement.

"Today went better, then?" Ginny asked, as they helped him to his feet. "You're grinning, even if we are still having to pick you up off the floor."

"Yeah, better," Harry said. "Where's Ron?"

"We bumped into Luna, Theodore and Blaise outside," Hermione said. "Apparently Theodore had a joke that he wanted to share with Ron. I thought that it might be a rude one, so I came in here with Ginny. Luna seemed happy enough to stay outside, though."

Harry heard the note of disapproval in Hermione's voice, although whether it was disapproval at Ron's staying outside with Luna, or at Luna's staying outside to listen to a rude joke he couldn't say.

Probably both, he thought, as Hermione walked off to talk to some of the HA members as they began to arrive. His good spirits faltered slightly as it became apparent that there were still a lot of members staying away from the club.

"Oh, Harry, look," Ginny said, laying a hand on Harry's arm and bringing him back to the room.

He followed her line of sight and saw Susan and Hannah standing together with Neville. He smiled, and then realised what it was exactly that Ginny was talking about.

Susan was prodding Hannah insistently in the back, and Hannah was blushing brightly. She seemed to be stammering over whatever it was that she was saying, and then, to Harry's great surprise, Neville smiled and nodded. He said something to her and she in turn smiled widely before nodding. She turned back to Susan looking as though she were about to burst with happiness. Neville turned back to Seamus with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, but Harry could see the smile on his face.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other with identical grins.

"I knew that it wouldn't take them as long as it took Ron and Hermione," Ginny said.

"Well, could it take anyone else that long?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sometimes it can take years," Ginny said, smiling. "You should hear the story about how Mum and Dad got together. Well, stories. It can take a few days to tell them all."

"I'd like to hear it, sometime," Harry said. "I don't really know how my Mum and Dad got together. I know that they didn't get along when they were our age, and that's it."

"Maybe Professor Lupin can help?" Ginny said.

"Yeah, I'll write to him and find out. How about you and Dean? How did you--"

Ginny's face had fallen at the mention of Dean's name, and Harry felt like kicking himself.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay," she said. "I just don't think that it's working out. We don't see very much of each other, and when he does have free time, he always seems to spend it with Seamus. They're trying to take over from Fred and George. Seamus think that it'll impress girls, that everyone will think that they're really cool. Dean just goes along with it, you know what he's like."

"I could talk to him-"Harry began.

"No, don't," Ginny said. "I don't suppose that I'm a very good girlfriend. I don't really care very much about football, and I can't sit still long enough for him to draw me. We don't really have much in common."

"Wish I could help," Harry said. "I seem to have a lot of people talking to me about relationships this year, and I never know what to say."

"Maybe I should give you some more lessons," Ginny suggested, with a smile. Harry grinned.

"That'd be good," he said. "When's a good time for you?"

"Well, what about the Hogsmeade trip this weekend?" Ginny said. "I think by then that Dean and I will... Oh, wait."

"What?"

Ginny grimaced. "Nothing."

"Hello Harry, Ginny."

Harry turned around to find Susan standing there. He felt himself blush slightly as they looked at one another.

"Hi, Susan," Ginny said. She flashed a smile at Harry, but he rather thought that she wasn't particularly happy.

"Yeah, hi," Harry remembered to say, he shot a grateful look at Ginny, who shrugged.

"Er, am I interrupting something? Another lesson about girls?" She smiled uncertainly, and Harry could tell that she was very nervous. He glanced across the room and noticed Hannah watching them intently.

"No, it's okay," Harry said. "Although we were just arranging one, actually, for the next Hogsmeade trip--"

He stopped, for Susan's eyes had widened, and she looked stricken.

"Susan, it's okay," Ginny said. "I suppose that I can see Harry any old time, if you wanted to..."

She tailed off, and Harry watched in abstract interest as Susan's pale face began to slowly regain some colour.

"Yes, thank you, Ginny. Er, if that's okay, I mean, if you want, er, if you'd like to, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and somewhere in between his brain and his mouth his survival instincts cut in.

"I'd like that," he said.

Susan beamed at him in relief.

"That's great," she said. "Thank you. I'd best let you get on with the class. Speak to you later?"

She dashed back to Hannah, looking as though she'd just undergone some terrible ordeal.

"Just so you know," Ginny said, quietly. "She didn't ask for anyone else. She likes you, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Do you like her too? You do know that you just agreed to go to Hogsmeade with her, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do know, thanks. And I guess I'll find out whether or not I, you know, like her."

"You don't know if you do?" Ginny asked. She looked at Harry as though she weren't sure if he was serious or not

"Well..."

"Shall we have your next lesson tomorrow, then?" Ginny sighed. "We don't have long, so I'll see if some of my friends can help us. Some of them... Well, their experiences put me in the shade, shall we say."

Harry sighed, but knew that he needed help if he didn't want the date to be a complete disaster. "I guess that we should."

To be continued...