The Temple of Le Fay

Chapter Twelve: Myths and Legends

"Miss Granger, hello! Wonderful to see you again!"

Hermione looked up from her book on toadstools and into the cornflower-blue eyes of Gilderoy Lockhart. She felt her heart jump a little in her chest as she looked at the teacher she'd once had a crush on. Looking back four years at her memories, she knew full well why she had been taken with the handsome wizard.

He's still rather charming,

she thought, then smiled politely. "Hello Professor Lockhart. It's good to see you again."

"It's just Mr. Lockhart now, Miss Granger. Anyway, it's good to be here to be seen, if you know what I mean," he twinkled. "Not that I would ever say anything but good things about St. Mungo's. They did, after all, restore my memory. Nonetheless, it's not the most pleasant of places. Much nicer to be back at Hogwarts."

"I like it here too," Hermione said, looking back down at her book.

"Working hard as always?" Lockhart asked. She looked up again and smiled weakly.

"Yes. Herbology," she said. "Not my favourite subject."

"Really? I was always rather good at it. I suppose being in Hufflepuff it's not surprising. Plants and Memory Charms. Not much of a wizard, am I?"

"You were in Hufflepuff?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes," Lockhart replied. "How did the Sorting Hat put it? 'No real way to say, but Hufflepuff will guide you straight and true.' Well, Professor Sprout and the others did their best, of course."

"What happened after you left school?" Hermione asked, interested despite herself.

Lockhart picked at the cuff of his robes. "I took a job with Gringotts as an archivist. It rather honed my writing instincts and, of course, my research abilities. I was rather silly and gave it all up to write the biography of a curse breaker. Along the way I changed the names a little."

"A little?" Hermione asked. Lockhart nodded.

"Gaspart Gadding was his name."

"Gadding with Ghouls?" Hermione guessed.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. He really was a most unfortunate man. A wonderful wizard, but by the time it came for him to dictate his memoirs he looked rather like a scabby knee. All over. My publisher talked me into becoming the public face of the book, and one night, with a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhisky in me I Floo'd to his office and wiped the bit of his memory that said I wasn't just the public face of the book. It was all rather too tempting for a poor Hufflepuff."

"And now?"

"And now I'm working for the Ministry. Having broken a thousand laws they gave me the choice of Azkaban or public service. Well, even without the Dementors acting as guard, Azkaban prison is no place for the faint hearted, so here I am."

"Putting your research skills to good use."

"Exactly," Lockhart beamed. "Perhaps I can start to repay my debt by finding out what the Ministry wants me to find out."

"The Temple of Le Fay?" Hermione whispered. Lockhart jumped several inches in the air before recovering.

"Of course. I quite forgot that you're friends with Harry Potter. Well, may I ask you a favour, Miss Granger?"

"I suppose there's no harm in your asking, Mr. Lockhart," Hermione said cautiously.

"I would like to have the chance to apologise to Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Weasley. In private, of course. I don't want to make a big song and dance of it, but I do rather feel dreadful for what I put them through and would like the chance to apologise properly."

"I'll mention it to them. I can't say what their response will be," she said.

Actually, I can tell you exactly what Ron's response will be. It will start with 'No', end in 'way' and have several swear words in between.

Lockhart beamed at her, and for the briefest of seconds she felt as though she were twelve years old again. He stood up, and turned to go back to the stacks of books through which students and Ministry researchers were poring.

"Well, back to work," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I'm glad to see that I don't always get treated the way I deserve."

*

Hermione made her way back up to Gryffindor Tower with an armload of books. She was settled in to a comfy armchair and halfway through Merlin: The Authorised Biography when the portrait hole opened and the Quidditch team came tumbling though. They were in high spirits, the Chasers chattering about a new formation they would be trying out in the first game, Seamus and Josh arguing about whether Seamus' Nimbus 2000 or Josh's Nimbus 2001 was the better Beater broom, while Ron and Harry were bickering about tactics. Ron broke off the discussion to say hello to Hermione, who smiled.

Love is when your boyfriend gives up a Quidditch discussion to say hello.

Marking her place in her book, she made her way over to the team, who were downing glass after glass of water from the jug on one of the tables. Every time a cupful was poured, it filled itself up magically. Hermione's current S.P.E.W. project was to find a way around the need for the jugs, which she knew were scattered around the school.

Keeping the water fresh and chilled must be an awful drain on the poor things.

Exasperatingly, whenever she asked Dobby about it, he just smiled and said; "It is not being a problem, Miss. We is glad to be serving our Masters and Mistresses."

She pushed S.P.E.W. to the back of her mind as she joined in the chatter between the team members for a few minutes, before giving in to temptation and returning to her book. She passed Dean on the way back to her chair. He seemed a bit quiet, and was throwing rather envious looks at the full Quidditch team. Even as she realised it, however, she heard Ron calling out to him. He got to his feet, and walked over to the team.

"Dean, listen, we've been talking about you and the other reserves," Ron said.

"Oh yeah?" Dean replied.

"Yep. We were thinking it might be a good thing if you could make a few practises here and there, get used to the way the team plays. I mean, when you finally give into temptation and push Seamus here down the stairs-"

"Cheers, Ron," Seamus said, grinning.

"-well, it's you who'll have to come in and play. So, d'you reckon you could come and make a practise, say, once a week?"

"Well, yeah, that'd be great," Dean said, delight spreading across his face like ripples on a pond. "That'd be really good."

"Great. Just let us know if you want to come on Saturday mornings, okay? Otherwise we'll just haul you out of bed at six a.m. for the fun of it."

Dean nodded enthusiastically. Hermione looked fondly at Ron, and turned back to her book, a small smile on her lips even as she began reading about how Merlin ended up being trapped in a cave for hundreds of years.

*

What had started as a trickle quickly grew to a flood. Almost every student in the school now attended the Duelling Club, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were so well trusted by the staff that the Club was only rarely supervised by more than one teacher at a time. More often than not the teacher would be talked into assisting a demonstration which kept them occupied for most of the time.

Draco Malfoy had become a passionate advocate, buttonholing people to convince them to attend if they weren't already doing so, and reminding people when the next meeting would be. At the second session, he even had a civil conversation with Neville that the left the Gryffindor thoroughly thrown off balance. Enough so that Daniella Spinnet was able to sneak a Tarantallegra jinx past Neville's guard and leave him tap dancing for the next five minutes.

Harry had his hands full tutoring people in Defence Against the Dark Arts. While the Duelling Club had originally involved people learning one or two hexes at a time and practising them on one another, Harry and Hermione had decided it might be an idea to offer an alternative. Now Harry, Ron and Hermione each focussed on their personal strengths, building on each session as they went. Harry most often found himself being asked to help with the Patronus Charm. Even though the Dementors had seemingly abandoned Voldemort's forces following the second battle of Hogsmeade, people were still anxious about the possibility of the former Azkaban guards returning. Few of the students seemed able to master the complex spell, however, and only Harry, Hermione, Ron and one or two others were able to produce a fully corporeal Patronus.

"Maybe I should write to Dad," Ron suggested. "He's got people practising their Patronus day and night. He might have some tips."

Harry watched as Cho Chang and Justin Finch-Fletchley managed nothing more than a faint silver wisp.

"Yeah, can't hurt," he said. He felt slightly put out by his inability to teach the spell more effectively. He looked around for Ginny, who had held back Dementors with her Patronus the previous year, and wondered why he had been able to teach her but not the others.

Maybe I'm trying to do too much? With Ginny I had weeks of private lessons. With the Duelling Club I get a couple of hours a week. Besides, not everyone wants to learn the Patronus every week.

Plenty of people were working under Hermione in an attempt to master combat Charms and useful Transfiguration spells that could be applied during a fight. Harry paused to watch Hermione transfigure a small table into a dog. He remembered that Cedric had used the same spell to tackle the dragon that he'd faced in the first task of the Triwizard tournament two years before. Even now, Harry thought, it was hard to believe that Cedric had been gone for over a year.

The dog, a big black Labrador, rather spoiled Hermione's demonstration by rolling onto its back in front of Neville. Neville tickled the dog's stomach, laughing as he did so. Harry could see from across the Great Hall that Hermione's mouth was set in a very Professor McGonagall-like way as she waited for the laughter to die down. Looking back at the dog, Harry realised that it looked like Sirius did when he transformed into a dog. Harry decided to write to Sirius and Remus later that night and bring them up to date on everything that had happened since they had last seen each other.

Across the Hall was Professor Skeeter's fencing class, which had attracted a great deal of attention from the start. Skeeter, together with Dean, was putting the students through an accelerated study program that already had them conducting proper duels, albeit with their weapons blunted. Harry had volunteered for one fight against Ron, but the sight of his best friend wielding the Gladius Excalibur had been enough to make him change his mind. Dean had stepped forward and disarmed Ron in under a minute, much to Ron's annoyance. Following their embarrassing display, the two of them had decided to skip the fencing class for the time being.

Ron had decided to work on strategy. To that end, he had set up several chessboards and was taking on all challengers. At one point, Harry noted, there were six people facing Ron at the same time. Several of the games were very tight, as Ron had to dash from one board to the next. One or two matches were complete walkovers, however, and the grumbling losers joined the small crowd around the display to try and see where they had gone wrong.

Harry felt content enough with the way things were going, but it was a struggle to keep momentum going when there was often a lack of focus to the group. He rarely seemed to teach the same group from one week to the next, which meant he spent a lot of time repeating the basics to people who had missed one class for whatever reason. As he watched Cho glaring at her wand, he wondered if there was any way around the piecemeal nature of his instruction.

I'll ask Professor Skeeter. She seems to have it worked out. It's good to have a teacher around full time.

He glanced over at Professor Flitwick, who was one of the people trying to beat Ron at chess. As Harry watched, Ron toppled Flitwick's king with his knight, and the Professor applauded sportingly. Turning back to the crowd in front of him, Harry sighed inwardly as Terry Boot tried for a Patronus but only succeeded in making his wand backfire and coating himself in soot.

I must be able to teach them better that this.

*

Conversely, Ron was enjoying being able to talk about strategy.

"You can't just go into a fight and throw your best spell straight off," he said. "You have to use your brains, not just your wand. Wear your opponent down. If you can keep him moving, that's great. Don't forget that a lot of Death Eaters are your Mum and Dad's age, so a few minutes hard exercise and they won't be able to breathe properly. Then you can go in for the big spells. Tarantallegra is always a good spell to use, and if you hit someone with Rictusempra, then they'll be laughing so much they'll not be able to talk easily. And if they can't talk, they can't hex you. The simple spells," he said as he checkmated James Staunton with two pawns, "are worth knowing."

"What if you're facing more than one person, though?" Staunton asked.

"Run," Ron said. "Bravery in that sort of situation will get you killed. Besides, here's a lesson I learnt from Fred and George."

He tapped the next board with his wand, which made the pieces move around freely until Ron's white pieces surrounded Seamus' king.

"If the enemy has chosen the battleground, you'll probably lose. When I was about six I made a vow to myself never to go into Fred and George's room on my own. You wouldn't believe the sort of stuff they had in there for intruders."

"What about in Hogsmeade?" James asked. "You-Know-Who picked the battlefield both times, and we still won."

Ron looked at the chess board for a long moment before answering.

"The first time they attacked, my girlfriend ended up in hospital for several weeks. The second time they attacked people died. I wouldn't say we won either fight. We were lucky that things didn't go worse for us."

James looked chastened by Ron's response.

"Okay, but how do we choose where we fight? We have to react to You-Know-Who's attacks, right?"

"Yeah, for now," Ron said. "Maybe some time in the future we'll take the fight to them but for now we're not doing that. Don't get me wrong, we're all just students here. We're not the front line. Merlin help us if we're ever called upon to fight again."

"So why are you running the Duelling Club if you don't think we'll have to fight?" James asked.

"You don't have to be here," a fifth year Ravenclaw snapped.

"No, it's okay," Ron said. "Look, I hope we never have to fight again. So does Hermione, and, I can assure you, no-one wants it more than Harry. We're helping teach you how to fight because if you should ever need to, you'll have a better idea of how to. We don't expect you to have to fight, we don't have access to You-Know-Who's plans, we don't think he'll show up at the next Hogsmeade weekend.

"But the simple truth of the matter is that people are being attacked. Eloise Midgen was nearly killed a few weeks back, and a lot of Ministry workers have been attacked. My brother and my Dad work for the Ministry, and I'm terrified that they'll be next on the list. If one of you ever gets attacked, and I teach you something tonight, or next week, or in six months time that saves your life, well, that'll make all the times I've handed in my work late, or couldn't spend time with Hermione, or got four hours sleep worthwhile. That's why I'm here, because I hope and pray that you'll never have to use anything you learn here, but there's always the chance that you will.

"Now, any questions before we move onto the next part of tonight's session?"

*

Dear Moony and Padfoot,

Harry wrote.

I hope you're not working too hard. It's pretty tiring here. Every year someone says that it can't get any harder, and every year they're wrong. I'm almost wanting to be back taking my O.W.Ls again, except I'd have to sit through Divination again. Nothing's worth that, 'though I imagine knowing the phases of the moon is pretty handy for you two.

We were at the Exploding Snap club tonight. Things are okay, but as club secretary I do wonder if there's a way of better organising events. I'm not sure that everyone is getting the full benefit. Not everyone can make every session, and it seems a bit silly to go over the rules of the game every time we meet.

Ron's chess lessons are going well, though. He really seemed to get through to a few people when he was explaining about the pawn gambit tonight. Hermione's still working with her study group. They were working on ways to Transfigure furniture into animals today. It was the very first thing Professor McGonagall showed us, which is quite strange. I still don't have the faintest idea how to do it.

Moony, do you have any suggestions as to how people can repeat my staggering achievements? Not everyone seems to grasp the rules of Happy Families, and I think a few people are getting a little crazy about it.

Apart from that, everything here is okay. Ginny made it onto the house Quidditch team. She's going to play as a Chaser. We've got four new players this year, so we're practising like mad. We've got the reserves practising with us a lot as well, so we're really busy.

Something you might be interested to hear: Draco Malfoy transferred from Slytherin into Ravenclaw at the start of the year. He had to be Sorted again and everything. He's the son of your friend Lucius, Padfoot. Did that ever happen while you were here?

Ron says hi,

Harry

Harry sealed the letter and tied it to Hedwig's ankle. The snowy owl hopped on to his wrist, and Harry took it to the dormitory window. He undid the clasp, eased the pane aside, and let Hedwig out. He watched her fly away until she was a tiny speck of white against the dark night sky. When she vanished at last, Harry sighed and turned away, shutting the window. A movement in one of the beds caught his eye.

"Still up, Harry?"

"Just had a letter to send, Dean,"

"Oh, alright then. What'd you make of the Club tonight?"

"Ah, it was okay. Don't think I'm making much progress teaching the Patronus charm though."

"No? Weird. Everyone in my group learned loads tonight. Anyway, best get some sleep. Divination first thing tomorrow."

"Still saying you're going to stab a friend in the back?"

"Yeah. She's dead set on it. Won't tell me who, though. The old fraud reckons I should be trying to work out who I might be a threat too."

"Well, I'll make sure to keep you in front of me," Harry smiled tiredly.

"Yeah. Probably going to be Seamus. Maybe I'll steal Lavender from him?"

"Yeah, could be. Or you'll set him up so Trelawney starts picking on him."

"Sounds even better," Dean grinned. "Well, night Harry."

"Night, Dean."

*

Harry, Ron and Hermione all had Tuesday morning off. They watched with mixed feelings of sympathy and amusement as the other sixth years trekked off to Divination after breakfast. They made their way back to Gryffindor Tower where, as an early autumn storm lashed the windows, they settled into the comfortable armchairs by the fire and worked on homework and Arthurian legend.

For a change, Harry was the only one with homework to do. He'd skipped working on Potions on Saturday afternoon to spend time with Ginny while Ron and Hermione did their homework. He frowned as his mind kept slipping back to the memory of their walk by the lake instead of staying focussed on the five foot long essay that Snape expected to be ready for the next day.

"The Fourteen Uses Of Clark Beetle Blood Can Be Simplified Into Four Groups Or Further Divided Into Thirty Seven Sub-Categories. Using Examples Of Fully Detailed Potions, Show Why Meddling With The Classic Classification Of Fourteen Uses Is At Best Foolish And At Worst Wilfully Tempts Danger."

Harry groaned. The title alone was enough to make his head spin, even if it did take up three valuable inches of parchment. Moodily, he struggled onwards, deliberately leaving his measuring tape out of hand's reach.

Hermione, meanwhile, had begun her third text of the week. It was a rare volume that looked at Arthurian legend from Morgan Le Fay's point of view, and she had some hope that it might contain some previously unknown information on the famous sorceress. Ron was struggling with The Once and Future King.

"I know that Muggles used to accept wizards," he said as he read of the young Arthur's first encounter with Merlin. "But the way Merlin just shows up with Arthur at his guardian's castle and starts showing off. Even back then there must have been laws against that."

"I should imagine it's rather dramatised, Ron," Hermione said.

"What, you mean made up?"

"Well, yes. Partly. Most of it seems to agree with what I've read elsewhere, but I've no doubt that parts of it have been made more fantastic then they actually were."

"Great. I've been wasting my time with a storybook," Ron grumbled. "Aren't there any books that tell the truth?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out!" Hermione said. "Me and about thirty witches and wizards down in the library. Honestly, Ron-"

"Okay, okay, I'll read it," Ron interrupted. "Why didn't anyone think to ask Merlin what really happened to Le Fay, that's what I want to know."

"Probably they did. That's one of the things we want to find."

"'We'?" Ron asked. "Did they ask you to help them, Hermione? I mean, you've got as much work as I do. I know you're good, but even you shouldn't be taking on that much extra work."

"No, I wasn't asked, I'm doing it for Harry's sake," Hermione replied. "That reminds me, though, Lockhart said he wanted to meet you two and Ginny so that he can apologise for what happened when he was here last time."

"Right," Ron said. "I think I've got room on my timetable. D'you reckon a week-next-never will be soon enough for him?"

"Ron. . ." Hermione began. Harry looked over his shoulder.

"How about we let Ginny decide?" he said. "It's her who was really in danger from what he did, after all."

"Yeah, okay, fine," Ron said. "Whatever Ginny decides, I'll go with."

They went back to their work in silence.

*

Tuesdays were what Ron referred to as 'easy day'. A single period of Charms after morning break was followed by a single period of Transfiguration after lunch. Once they were through with that they were, as Professor McGonagall often put it, "Free to work on whatever subject you wish. However, if you don't hand your essay in to me by lunchtime on Friday then you shall be the live subject for our next practical lesson."

For Hermione, of course, no day was an easy day. When she wasn't in class, she was either in the library or studying in the common room. Even Ron was struggling to get her to look up from her books as the term progressed. Harry felt increasingly guilty as he realised that a lot of the work she was doing was related to the Temple of Le Fay.

"Harry, don't be silly," she said when he tried to talk her into slowing down. "I love the Arthurian stories. Doing this isn't work, it's fun."

But Harry wasn't convinced. Too often Hermione was the last person to leave the common room at night and the first person there in the morning. He tried speaking to Ron about it, but Ron wasn't concerned.

"Look, she's mad. We've known that for years. There's not a thing we can say that'll make her slow down. She knows not to do more than she cope with, and she can cope with a lot."

Harry was a little happier with this. By the time the weekend rolled around, he had convinced himself that Hermione was just being Hermione, and that working so intensively wasn't as much of a burden for her as it was for anyone else.

It was with a clear conscience, then, that he took Ginny out for a late evening stroll down to the Quidditch pitch on Friday evening.

"Just a week to go now," Ginny said. "Us against Slytherin on Saturday. I can't wait."

"And then?" Harry asked.

"Ravenclaw play Hufflepuff after that. We play Hufflepuff in December, Ravenclaw play Slytherin in January. Slytherin-Hufflepuff in March and mid April it's us against Ravenclaw."

"Well, I'm impressed. I didn't know who we were playing after Slytherin," Harry said.

"Yeah, like I believe that," Ginny said, squeezing his hand. "Think we'll do well?"

"No idea," Harry said truthfully. "A new team, lots of new players on the other sides. We'll have a better idea after the first two matches."

"I know we'll win," Ginny said confidently. "We've been flying well in practise, and it was a great idea to have the reserves play with us."

"Yeah, Ron thought it'd work. I'm surprised Oliver never thought of it," Harry said.

"Who do you think'll be our biggest challengers?"

"Ravenclaw," Harry said. "I don't want to sound like Lockhart or anything but if it comes down to it I reckon Cho's the only one who can give me any real trouble in a fight for the Snitch, and that's usually what matters. Unless Crabbe and Goyle are playing as Beaters for Reavenclaw."

Ginny giggled. Harry had never tired of hearing the sound, and he loved being the cause of it. She smiled up at him.

"Have you spoken to Cho yet?" she asked quietly.

Harry's good humour dimmed quickly.

"No," he admitted. "I haven't really seen her, to be honest. Whenever she comes to the Duelling Club, she's surrounded by her friends. It doesn't seem right to talk about, well. . ."

"Cedric," Ginny finished for him. "When she's ready, she'll come to you."

"I hope so. I'd hate to think she was holding off from talking to me about it."

They clambered up the stands in silence, puffing slightly as they got to the top. Harry slipped his arms around Ginny and smiled down at her, enjoying the way her pale skin glowed in the moonlight.

"What were we talking about?"

"Don't remember."

"Oh, okay."

*

The next day was a Saturday and Ron and Harry dashed through Quidditch practise with almost indecent haste. Professor Snape had set them an almost indescribably evil essay that would involve them spending most of their weekend in the library. They left Katie to give a post-session talk to the rest of the team, had a quick shower, and made their way to the library.

Just as they were about to go in, the doors flew open and Hermione stormed out, banging the door behind her. She didn't acknowledge their presence, but stalked off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, her cheeks glowing red. Harry and Ron looked after her, and Harry was about to follow her when Ron laid a hand on his arm. He jerked a thumb at the library doors.

"Let's see what's got her mad first, yeah?"

They opened the library door to the sound of Madam Pince screaming at the top of her lungs at someone. Looking around the edge of the door they saw Gilderoy Lockhart floundering in front of the raging librarian.

"Yes. . . But. . . I mean. . . Really. . ." he was stammering as Pince tore into him.

Harry and Ron shut the door carefully.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

*

They found Hermione by the fire in the common room. She had a furious scowl on her face, and was glaring at one of the set texts for Charms in a way that reminded Harry of Tom Riddle's basilisk. They sat down either side of her. Ginny came in with the rest of the Quidditch team and came over to join them.

"I thought you were going to study?" she said. She looked closer at Hermione. "What's wrong?"

"That's what we were about to ask," Ron said. "Hermione?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said, her voice unusually high. Ron looked up at Harry and Ginny, one eyebrow raised. They took the hint and went over to talk to the rest of the team.

""Okay, if something were wrong, what would be wrong?" Ron asked.

Hermione slammed the heavy book shut with a loud bang, and dropped it beside her on the sofa.

"Stuck up, toffee nosed, arrogant, self-centred. . ." she muttered, glaring at the fire.

"Who is, Hermione?" Ron pressed.

"Those wizards in the library," she spat. "Idiotic, rude and they wouldn't know a good idea if it was staring at them out of one of their precious books."

Ron struggled to hold back a grin. For more than five years he'd teased Hermione about her books, and to hear her say something similar about someone else would, under other circumstances, have had him rolling on the floor laughing. For Hermione's sake, he controlled himself.

"What'd they say?"

"One of them saw me taking back some of the books on Merlin we've been reading. He was really rude, said that I'd slowed them down, that they'd been looking for the books I'd had."

"Well, they're idiots not to have booked them out beforehand," Ron said.

"Well, yes, I didn't put it quite that way but that was basically what I said to him," Hermione said, her scowl diminishing slightly.

"What happened next?"

"Two or three of his friends came over and were very rude to me. I said that I wanted to help and that I was a friend of Harry's, and they laughed. They said that it had nothing to do with me, that I should worry about my own work, that they weren't about to do my Transfiguration work for me -as if I'd need their help-"

Ron grinned, but didn't say anything.

"-and then one of them turned around and said that when the day came they needed a Mudblood to help them it'd be a very sorry day indeed."

Ron stopped grinning. "He said what?" he asked, calmly.

"You heard," Hermione sighed. "Lockhart heard it too and came over to say something but they just told him to get lost and that he should stop getting in their way."

"Which one of them was it?" Ron asked, standing up and drawing his wand.

"It was the blonde one but. . . Oh Ron, don't be silly," Hermione said, grabbing his arm as he stood. "You can't go and hex a Ministry wizard."

"I would," he said, reluctantly putting his wand away. "If you wanted me to."

"I know you would," she said. "And I appreciate it, really I do." For the first time since leaving the library she smiled slightly.

"Well, if they don't want you helping them, it's their loss," Ron said.

"I hope not," she said. "What if they miss something that would lead to the Temple? What if they stop all access to any books on Merlin or Le Fay?"

"Hermione, you can't do everything, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said.

"Then trust this lot to do their job. They probably just spend so much time with books they don't know how to mix with people."

She sighed, and curled up against him.

"When did you become the level headed one?" she asked.

"When I started thinking like you," he replied. "Now, stop worrying about those Ministry idiots. There's more important things to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Like that Potions essay. Did you know it's six feet long?"

"Yes. I did two feet this morning while you were practising."

"You did? Let me have a look, Hermione. I won't copy it. I just need to know where to start. . ."

"Ron, how will you ever learn anything. . ?"

To be continued...