Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa

Chapter 12: History Lessons and Love Pentagons

Ron looked upon Harry with a sort of stunned expression that conveyed perfectly what the tongue was incapable of.

The sun had reached its zenith, yet provided no warmth to the two boys as they sat outside of Hogwarts, bundled up warmly against the cold air that blew off the frigid lake. While not cold enough to freeze the deep body of water, it was brisk enough to tinge the two boy's cheeks the same color as their Gryffindor scarves.

"So," said Ron, with a slumped and defeated expression as he sat down upon a damp log by the shore of the lake. "You-Know-Who does not even factor in here."

Harry sighed and crouched next to his best friend. "It was a lot for me to take in as well."

For reasons Harry could only begin to understand, he had withheld all mention of his conversation with Draco Malfoy from Ron for nearly a week. He was quick to tell Hermione, but for some reason, he did not want to share the icy truth with Ron. Hermione possessed research skills that could scrape of layers of this mystery, given time. While Hermione might have been the difference between life and death in all of Harry's escapades, he could not help but think Ron was along for the ride, simply because he was his friend.

Now, a week after his conversation with Malfoy, Harry found a grave weakness within himself. He could not eat his food during dinnertime, and he could not sleep during the night. He found out now, more than ever, he needed Ron simply for his support. Hermione could never provide him with the kind of support that a best friend could. At first, Harry thought it would be selfish to tell Ron, for little tangible progress would be made, and if those of House Narhassa found out Ron knew what he did, they would likely kill him as quickly as they would have Malfoy.

Yet, Harry felt instantly better once he made the choice to tell Ron everything.

"Seth Redetyor is not Voldemort," said Harry. "He's something or someone much worse. Malfoy figured this out much sooner than all of us."

Ron looked up to Harry, blowing out some visible smoke from his mouth into the cold air.

"He had an advantage over us, seeing as how he is all but a Death Eater himself. If someone knows Voldemort's plans, it is that pallid git."

Harry nodded. "Advantage or not, this is what he figured out. The Sorolith that Hermione was talking about; Malfoy knew about it."

Ron bit his lip. "But, how?"

"He hit me with that too," said Harry darkly. "Remember when Hermione told us the story about the hiking wizard who unearthed the Sorolith on the top of Ben Nevis?"

"How could I forget?" returned Ron.

"Well," said Harry. "It was Lucius Malfoy who killed the man to steal it from him, nearly thirty years ago."

Ron blinked, his breath catching in his lungs. "But, Lucius Malfoy isn't much older than thirty years old..."

Harry nodded slowly. "And that is the cold and sinister truth about it. Draco said Lucius had been forefront with him about this story, and for some reason, I think Malfoy is being one hundred percent truthful. That hiker was a butler in the Malfoy Manor, who had taken a week off to practice his favorite past time. While it was doubtful that Lucius knew what sort of powers the Sorolith held then. He couldn't have been more than seven years old, but when Lucius saw the Sorolith in the butler's room after he had returned, he locked the butler in his closet and took it. No one found the butler for a week."

"But, how did Lucius get away with that?" asked Ron, his wide-blue eyes widened in fear.

Harry looked out over the lake, his eyes hard and his face unreadable. There was something so dark about this story that it brought out even the worst in him just telling it. His voice possessed the same chill as the air around him, as the sickening tale had made him nauseous.

"They were not about to put a seven year old in Azkaban," said Harry factually. "They refused to believe that Lucius was the one who did it. Instead, they blamed his father, Draco's grandfather, Darius Malfoy. He was placed into Azkaban for murder and died after two years."

Ron shivered all over as the gravity of this tale swept over his body, turning his skin a sickly, pale white. "And Malfoy... just offered all this up?" said Ron, his voice cracking with tension. "Offered up the truth about his father?"

Harry tapped his two fingers against his chin pensively. "Draco serves Voldemort loyally. This much, I know for certain. Lucius Malfoy, at this point in his career, is all but as powerful as the Minister of Magic; perhaps once Fudge shows the same incompetence that he showed Dumbledore last year, he might even rise to the position. He had nothing to loose by telling us this information. My guess is what he wants us to trust him in a mutual struggle against this Redetyor."

Ron ran his hand through his ruddy, red hair, searching the sky for an answer Harry did not seem to have.

"What is Redetyor trying to do?"

Harry shook his head. "I do not know... but what I do know is this: Draco told me that the Sorolith, which had been in Lucius' possession ever since that day, thirty years ago, was stolen five months ago, right out from under his bloody nose."

Ron gasped and nearly became paralyzed. "And I'm willing to bet... the next day, or the day after, the current 'Wizards of Narhassa' were suddenly given their mysterious powers."

"Bang on," said Harry darkly. "Bang on..."

"So, let's review," said Ron. If the expression on his face swam with confusion as much as his mind did, he was as hopelessly lost as Harry was. "Lucius Malfoy kills the butler and holds the Sorolith for thirty years. A few months ago, it is stolen from him mysteriously, at the same time as the Muggle mutations began. According to Malfoy, You-Know-Who is not behind this... but Seth Redetyor is. Was it Redetyor who stole the Sorolith?"

"Draco seems to think so," said Harry, without much hesitation. "Or else, he wouldn't have been so suspicious of him from the start."

Ron sighed and the two friends finally fell into silence. "It all makes sense, in an impossible, improbable and unimaginable way."

Harry, despite himself, managed a smile. "I just thought you should know, that's all."

The red haired boy turned to Harry. For one of the first times ever, he could not read what emotion was behind Ron's face.

"Why did you wait so long to tell me, Harry?" asked Ron, his voice hinting at a bit of pain. "You've never held back anything from me before."

Harry stood up slowly from his crouching position next to Ron. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was something we should get involved in. By what Draco said, this seems to be Redetyor against Voldemort."

Ron paused and considered that for a moment. "What changed your mind?" he asked at length.

Harry sighed and turned his back to the lake, beginning to walk back to Hogwarts. Ron followed him, walking side by side as they always did.

"If Redetyor wins, that proves he is more powerful than Voldemort and we simply trade one evil for another. If Voldemort wins, he'll have whatever scheme Redetyor was up to at his fingertips and succeed where he has failed." Harry glanced from the ground to Ron. "Either way, we loose."

"So, what are you thinking?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head. "We need to find a way to make them both loose."

Ron shrugged weakly, as if the prospect sat as well with him as a root canal. "Any idea how?"

At that, Harry sighed. "Not a clue in hell."

The two boys walked back to Hogwarts in silence.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"And now," droned on Professor Binns as he hovered in place, with a phantasmal textbook within his hands, "we will move onto the Dementor Resurrection of 1659. This was the second of the five of the resurrections we have noticed. The third was on January 29^th, 1710, and was most noticeable for the length of time it..."

Harry looked to Sean, who was sitting next to him. Sean's eyelids looked very heavy as his head rested within his hands. It was clear that the effect of Binns being a ghost had worn off a long time ago. On Harry's other side, Ron had already fallen fast asleep and was snoring to the beat of the ghost's monotonic voice. Hermione, next to Sean, was furiously scrawling notes, no doubt in a vain attempt to keep awake. She was failing, however, as he quill was slipping off the paper every time she finished a line.

"If this class was any drier, I'd dehydrate," muttered Sean as he slapped himself in the face.

Harry nodded with understanding. "How's your fantastic phenomenon class coming?" whispered Harry, making sure to keep his voice in check.

Sean's expression turned from fatigue to nervousness. "I don't really know, Harry."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, leaning closer to Sean.

Sean looked to Binns, who seemed engrossed in his own lecture. He then leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear.

"I feel like a complete outsider," he said. "And, whenever I go in, they all look at me, as if I didn't belong. Even Alex won't talk to me anymore."

Harry winced slightly. While he had told Sean about his conversation with Malfoy, he had downplayed the story quite a bit and left out many key points... especially the part suggesting that it was Alex who nearly killed Draco.

"It's just because you are in Gryffindor," whispered Harry, in an attempt to sound lighthearted. "They don't really know you."

Sean looked back to Binns, who was completely unaware of their conversation, and then continued speaking. "Jessica is a Hufflepuff, and they swarm around her like she's some kind of ringleader. It makes me nervous."

At the mention of Jessica, Harry felt his face flush a shade of red. It had now been two weeks, and Jessica seemed to be blatantly ignoring him. He tried to start up conversation with her nearly every day, only to be either brushed aside or, at best, politely talked to for no more than five minutes before she excused herself and pecked him on the cheek.

"Are you still having your dreams?" asked Harry. He did not dare to tell Sean, but about a week ago, Seamus had charmed Sean's bed with a noise barrier that prohibited any sound from within to escape the confines of the curtains, so long as they were closed. Seamus, never one to be overly compassionate, had just reached his limit. As a result, Harry never knew if Sean had his dreams anymore.

Sean sighed. "Every night. I've started to pay attention... if nothing else, to learn what is being talked about."

"Does Voldemort still teach the class?" asked Harry. It was clear that, perhaps, Sean's dreams were the only set of circumstances that linked these chains of events to the Dark Lord. Harry wanted to know everything.

"Yeah," whispered Sean, with a nod. "Though it's strange, I don't remember much about the dream when I awaken."

"Mr. Hopper and Mr. Cameron, are you quite done?" asked Binns agitatedly, closing his book and glaring at Harry.

Harry lurched up from his slouched position. "What?... erm, yes sir, quite done."

"Perhaps if what you were saying is so important, you should share it with the rest of the class," said Binns, with an unusual edge to his normally drab and boring voice.

Harry shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I was just telling Harry about some of my dreams," said Sean nervously. "He wasn't even talking."

"Oh, but, Mr. Cameron, why stop there?" pressed Binns, his sallow, ghostly face etched with a cross look. "You've been talking for at least half the class. I'm sure you have, at least, something of importance to share with us."

Sean lowered his head. "Everyone in House Narhassa has been having strange

dreams, Professor. I have them too."

Binns did not react for a moment, but the quizzical look on his face showed a sort of torpid anger. Yet, before he could continue, Hermione raised her hand.

"Professor, what was the original Order of Narhassa all about?" Harry was not sure if the purpose of this was to sate an intellectual curiosity, or bail Sean out... however, Harry quickly decided on the latter.

The ghost stared blearily upon Hermione. "Ms. Grant, I do believe that is very much off the topic of discussion."

Yet, as the class had done once before, three years ago with the Chamber of Secrets, they did not let the topic drop.

"It's current history," said Seamus, leaning forward in his chair. "We would all benefit greatly if you could tell us about the roots of House Narhassa."

Binns wearily eyed Seamus. "Nonsense, O'Flaherty, the Order of Narhassa was a group of fanatics eight hundred years ago who were led by Salazar Slytherin. That is not current history." Binns' grave expression, however, finally melted away as he looked over his class. Harry's chair was virtually tipping over, as he was riding on the corner, while Ron Weasley was ACTUALLY awake. With a sigh, he closed the textbook in front of him.

"Very well," said Binns. "Since this lesson could very well be a page out of Hogwarts: A History, I suppose we can spend some time discussing it."

Even Hermione put down her quill, listening to Binns with rapt attention.

"Around the mid twelfth century, perhaps 1155, Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor had a major dispute concerning who would be admitted to learn at Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin, angered that the other founders sided with Godric Gryffindor and allowed those of a non-pureblooded nature to be schooled in Hogwarts, left. All this should not be new material for any of you."

"What then, Professor?" asked Harry, energetically.

Professor Binns calmly placed his phantasmal hands upon the podium in front of him. "Salazar Slytherin then faded out of history for nearly forty years. In fact, Godric Gryffindor and the rest of the founders thought him to be dead, though, he reappeared approximately forty years later at the head of a mysterious cult."

"Order Narhassa?" asked Ron, appreciatively.

Binns shook his head. "The title "Order Narhassa" was not formerly given to them until well after Slytherin's death. At the time, they were called the "Cult of the Narhassa."

"What's the difference?" pressed Ron, with an impatient tone.

"Mr. Weatherby," snapped Binns, looking very disappointed. "An "Order" is a noble organization while a "Cult" is an evil one, devoted wholly to some sort of belief."

"Oh," said Ron, checking himself.

"The most recorded information we have is that one night, say around 1197, Slytherin kidnapped the first borne of all of his cultists... and betrayed his order. The children were held at stake while each member gave up his or her life to Salazar. The terrible truth of the matter was that Salazar did not tell them that it was their souls that would be taken, just their lives. When this happened, Slytherin used their soul energies to awaken the legendary figure of Narhassa."

"What is that?" asked Hermione, her eyes widened with fascination.

"No one knows for sure," continued Binns. "Some stories depict Narhassa as a man, shining with brilliant powers. Other stories depict it as a legendary beast more powerful than a dragon, capable of laying the world to waste. Finally, some depict Narhassa as an invisible force that squeezed the life out of anyone it touched... I do not speculate which story, if any, is correct."

Binns paused for a moment to adjust his spectacles.

"In the interests of being thorough, I will speak now of what happened after Narhassa was awakened. Godric Gryffindor, who was over three hundred years old at the time, once again took up his sword and armor and went out to confront Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin used the powers of Narhassa to slay Godric, however, Gryffindor was able to mortally wound Slytherin in the process as well as defeat Narhassa, whatever form it had taken. Salazar died shortly after from the wounds he sustained."

Harry nodded slowly, still in danger of falling off his chair. "So, the children in House Narhassa are the descendents of those first borne that were held at stake?"

The phantom professor nodded. "That is as good of a hypothesis as any. Many of those children were adopted by those outside of the Wizarding World, and never formally trained in their powers. Over the course of eight hundred years, their innate Wizarding magic may have run dry. What has sparked the talent within the youths of Narhassa is what the Headmaster is trying to figure out."

"Tell us about the fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin!" exclaimed Dean, who was sitting behind Harry.

Binns look of the calm and mild teacher seemed to strain. "That is not documented. I fear we have exhausted..."

"How did Gryffindor die?" asked Ron, bouncing slightly in his chair. "Did he run Slytherin through?"

"That will do!" exclaimed Binns. "We have gotten off the topic enough for one day. Now, back to Dementors."

Harry sighed. There were so many pieces to this jigsaw puzzle, yet, now they were beginning to fit in his head. Salazar Slytherin founds the Order of Narhassa, stealing the first borne of all his followers and dupes them into sacrificing their souls. Gryffindor finds this out and avenges the dead, and both die in the process.

But where was the missing link, and did this have anything to do with Redetyor's plans, wondered Harry.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sean enjoyed a leisurely dinner that night. It seemed, after the grim truths revealed by Malfoy and by Professor Binns that no further conversation about Narhassa was to be had this night. Instead, Ron, Harry and Sean spoke about Quidditch at length, while Hermione remained respectfully silent, listening with a short smile on her face.

"So, yeah, I talked to Katie a few days ago; she said that we have the field tomorrow with the Ravenclaws, after the Slytherin/Narhassa game, and we can conduct our tryouts then on one side of the field," Harry was saying to an eager looking Ron and Sean.

Sean smiled brightly. "Sounds great, Harry. I talked with one of Ron's brothers, and he is letting me use one of his old brooms."

Ron blinked with stupefaction. "What, the Comet 5?"

Sean shook his head. "No, it was a Cleansweep, I think."

Hermione winced slightly as Ron's face lit up with anger. "I've been asking them for that broom since third year!"

This even brought a nervous shift to Harry, as Sean shrugged weakly. "You can have it, if you want."

If this answer was meant to calm down Ron any, it failed miserably. "I don't want YOUR broom, Sean."

"Then, what's the problem?" asked Sean, in a voice weakened a bit by Ron's livid expression.

Ron pushed his plate roughly to the side. "You are the damn problem, that's what!" he snapped. With that, he stood up, and marched away, leaving Sean looking completely helpless.

Harry put his hand on Sean's back. "Let me talk to him. He's had a lot of information laid upon him today. He's probably a bit wired and tired."

Sean nodded and looked down into his plate. Harry rose to leave, leaving Hermione and Sean side-by-side.

"I'm really sorry," said Sean softly. "Fred and George let me borrow it... they said a Chaser needs a fast broom."

Hermione put her arm around Sean with great affection, stroking his shoulder consolingly. "Don't be upset, Sean. Ron is just... well, I don't know what's going on with Ron, but I don't like it."

Sean put his palm over Hermione's, rubbing the top of her silky hand with care. "I'm not upset... now."

Hermione smiled. "For someone with only a few months practice at speaking, you really are good at it." Sean looked at Hermione, with a slight mischievous glow in his emerald green eyes.

"When you've fantasized all your life about being able to simply talk to the girl of your dreams... and that dream comes true, you realize you can do anything."

Hermione's face blushed over, yet throughout the action, she maintained a sort of regal pride that made Hermione the girl she was. "You flatter me too much, please stop," she said with a firm voice.

Sean continued to rub the top of Hermione's hand. "I'm not flattering you. I'm just saying what's on my mind."

Despite herself, Hermione's pride melted away into a smile. "Yeah, I guess you are."

"Flattering you would be telling you that you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and that you are the one I've been dreaming of for my entire life," said Sean evenly, looking into Hermione's chocolate brown eyes.

Hermione's face went from red to pale white, and her calm composure turned into one of nervousness and trepidation. Sean could not read the expression behind her eyes, but he instantly regretted telling her as much as he did. He had just laid way too much on her, and although it was in a nearly jesting manner, he meant it...

... and Hermione knew he meant it.

"Sean... look," began Hermione, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to lead you on... I really like you too."

Sean's expression brightened considerably, however, he did not speak, for Hermione's eyes told him that she was not done.

"But," she said. "I just don't feel that strongly for you, as you seem to for me."

Sean felt a bit of humility rushing back into his chest and sitting on his stomach like an anvil. There was an awkward silence between the two, but despite the tension, Hermione's hand continued to rub his shoulder, and he still stroked the top of it with his own fingers.

"It's ok," said Sean at last. "Relationships aren't built in a day. You are worth waiting for, Hermione."

As if that was the last straw, Hermione removed her arm from his shoulder, bent over and kissed him upon the cheek softly. "I've got to hit the library, Sean," she said, as she withdrew her lips from his cheek. "Can we..." Hermione's face flushed scarlet, and her lip trembled. "Do you..."

Sean smiled at her. "Very much so. Let's meet tonight in the common room, and we can talk."

Hermione laughed with nervous tension. "Yes, lets. I'll see you tonight then."

Sean did not speak, but the smile upon his round, freckled face said all he needed to.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Look Ron," snapped Harry, following his best friend. "As your best friend it is my duty to inform you that you've gone from being a pillock to an asshole, and this has got to stop."

Ron remained silent as he stormed up to the Gryffindor Common room.

"What in BLOODY HELL is going on, Ron?" shouted Harry, storming up the stairs, nearly bumping aside Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who were on their way down to dinner.

"Oh how cute," said Parvati with a slight giggle. "Another lover's quarrel, Harry?"

"Sod off!" shouted both boys, nearly blowing her hair back with the force of their voices.

"High spirited one at that," snorted Lavender, completely unabashed by the fierce retort. Both girls broke into a chorus of giggles as they rounded the bottom of the steps and started for the great hall.

"Why is it always Sean?" snapped Ron, wheeling about to face Harry. His hand gripped the banister of the steps in a white-knuckled death grip. For the first time Harry could ever remember, his voice was cracked with sorrow. If Harry didn't know better, he would have guessed that Ron was on the verge of tears. "I had to work all summer before Fred and George would buy me dress robes. Why did they just hand him something twice as valuable? What has HE done that is so special!"

Harry shrugged angrily. "That doesn't matter. I'm not talking about Sean. I'm talking about you."

Ron turned around, swallowing angrily. Harry wore a completely dumbfounded

expression... Ron WAS about to cry! In all the times Harry had ever known him, he had never cried openly.

"I'm always second, Harry. Whenever there is a problem, it's my fault. Sean and I don't get along because of me. Hermione likes Sean more because of me... you trust Hermione and Sean with Draco's story more than me..."

Harry put his hands to his hips. "Ron, what is this really all about? You know I'm your best friend, and that's not second to anyone."

Ron turned around, shaking his head. Their forward motion up the winding, shifting staircases of Gryffindor tower had stopped. He looked down to his shoes.

"I'm in love with Hermione, Harry... and it's so painful to see Hermione and Sean in the same room, let alone sitting next to each other."

If this answer shocked Harry in the least bit, it did not show.

"That's great, Ron," said Harry, not hiding a lot of disdain. "But you are telling the wrong person. Why are you so afraid of rejection?"

"Because," said Ron. "I know it is a certainty! I mean, what do we have in common? Nothing... she is all about books and I love Quidditch."

Harry rolled his eyes. "A certainty? Did the alignment of Saturn to Mars this month tell you that, or are you just clairvoyant?"

Ron bit his lip coyly. "I know Hermione just as well as you do. If she was interested in me, she would have given SOME sort of clue."

"Oh right," said Harry gruffly. "Just like the amazingly affectionate clues you been giving her... dismembering her and biting her head off whenever she puts the letters S, E, A and N anywhere within the same sentence!"

"You aren't helping, Harry," said Ron darkly, turning around.

Yet, a forceful arm grabbed Ron's shoulder and swung him back. Harry was glaring at him with a very fiercely controlled anger in his eyes.

"I'm beyond trying to help you, Ron. Now, I'm telling you what is going to happen..." trailed off Harry ominously.

Ron narrowed his blue eyes. "Oh, is that how it's going to be now?"

Harry ignored him. "You are going to tell Hermione how you feel and you are going to leave Sean be if you cannot get along with him. You are going to stop making me decide between three of my friends all the time. It is getting aggravating, and I've got my own problems right now.... and don't need you, Hermione and Sean in a volatile love triangle that I have to keep from detonating ferociously every bleeding dinner!"

Ron's cold expression melted away as he shyly buried his hands into the folds of his robes. He bit his lip and readjusted his look on Harry from hotheaded anger to sincere compassion.

"She's still not talking to you, is she?" asked Ron, completely out of the blue.

Harry bit his lip in frustration, and did not speak for a moment. Finally he lowered his head, as the anger drained from his system

"No," he said bitterly. "She isn't."

Ron sighed and turned around, continuing his ascension up the stairs. "Come on, let's get out of here."

With a weak nod, the two best friends finished the hike up the stairs of the Gryffindor tower, and, after muttering the password weakly, passed into the Gryffindor Common Room.

"I'm sorry that I've been so erratic," said Ron in a grouchy tone. "I guess between Redetyor, Malfoy, Hermione and Sean, my mind feels like it's on a hamster wheel, always running somewhere, yet moving nowhere."

The Common Room was completely empty, for dinner had not finished yet and every single Gryffindor was likely eating still. Ron and Harry flopped down in opposing, maroon chairs, by the fireplace, preparing themselves to continue their talk.

And then, Harry felt it... a soft touch on the sides of his neck and running down the front of his chest. Ron's eyes widened and Harry did not have to turn around to know who it was.

"Hey, Harry," purred a lovely and extremely welcome voice into his ear. Harry lifted his head slowly and peered into the face that was looking down on him from behind his velvet chair.

Harry's first reaction was of complete disbelief. It was Jessica alright, complete with the Hufflepuff insignia upon her robe. But, on that same token, how could it be? This was the Gryffindor Common Room, and she did not know the password to get in.

Yet, Harry's doubts and inhibitions slowly melted away as she delicately stroked his face.

"How did you get in here?" asked Ron, voicing Harry's question where his trembling lips and tongue-tied mouth failed him. Ron's face was no less shocked than Harry's.

Jessica moved around the side of the chair and sat down in a third chair, in between the both of them.

"Ron," said Jessica, smiling weakly. "Can I talk with Harry for a moment alone?"

Harry rose slowly, his legs shaking a bit. "The other Gryffindors will be... will be coming back soon. Let's go up to my dorm."

Ron's brows arched slightly, and Harry shot him a pleading look. With a smirk, Ron lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs.

"I'd like that," said Jessica shortly. "I... owe you an explanation for how I've treated you the past two weeks."

Jessica helped Harry to his feet, and Harry led her up the stairs to the dorm room all Gryffindor Fifth Years shared, leaving behind a very intrigued and weirded out Ron in their wake. The lovely blonde-haired girl walked gracefully toward Harry's bed, her black robe churning purposefully with the motion. Her straight blonde hair fell down behind her back, seeming as perfect as ever as the candlelight within the room glazed off of it brightly. She sat down upon the bed and looked to Harry, her sparkling blue eyes seeming to gain a life of their own.

"Well?" asked Harry, a bit drably.

Jessica put her palms to the comforter top of Harry's bed. "I managed to charm Seamus into blurting out the password." Jessica then winked. "All magic was involved, do not worry. I did not do anything else."

Harry glared firmly at Jessica. "You charmed him... you mean you put an Imperius Curse on him?"

Jessica shook her head. "I simply gave him the impression that the password to the Gryffindor Common Room wasn't very important and he said it on his own free will."

"Oh, that's much better," muttered Harry, crossing his arms and looking at her. "Comforting to know you can do that, and have no shame in doing it."

Jessica looked momentarily hurt by Harry's word, perhaps just as much as it hurt Harry to say them.

"Harry, I'm so sorry for the way I've been acting," she said softly. "Just, with everything that has been going on... the attack on Draco, the strange vibes of everyone within House Narhassa; it is all scaring me."

And as adamant as Harry thought he was going to be with Jessica, he felt his emotional barrier fall at the first sign of pushing.

With a sigh, Harry sat down next to her, slipping his hand into her own. "Jessica, I'm sorry too. I... I've also been so caught up with those events, plus Ron's been having a hard time... and, maybe I've been insensitive..."

Jessica stared into Harry's eyes and blinked a single time, and Harry lost his train of thought as the words choked in his throat.

"No, Harry," she said. "You are always sensitive. I don't think it is possible for you to be anything but sensitive. I should have told you sooner how I felt about the Narhassa lot... they do not leave me alone."

Harry looked at Jessica with concern. "What do you mean?" A thought crossed his mind as he remembered his talk with Sean in Professor Binns' class. All of the Narhassa students just did not seem to leave Jessica alone. At first, this news had made him a bit suspicious, but now that he was in her presence and about to confess her problems to him, she had his undivided attention.

Jessica sighed and lowered her head, her voice sounding strained. "They try to talk me into doing terrible things, Alex especially. He approached me two weeks ago and asked if I wanted to go with him to hurt Draco Malfoy."

Harry felt a surge of anger within his chest, churning over like magma within a volcano, waiting to erupt.

"It was him," she said softly. "I didn't want to tell anyone, but it was him and two others who attacked Draco. I was afraid what Alex would do to me if he ratted me out. Yet, I cannot help but feel responsible. I should have warned him... I should have DONE something."

With a nod, Harry sucked in some air through his clenched lips. He successfully controlled his rage as Jessica continued.

"What does it all mean, Harry?" she asked, her voice beginning to break. "Why does House Narhassa think I am so ready to do all these terrible things? Am I a bad person?"

Harry, with the gentleness of a kitten, placed his hand under Jessica's chin and tilted her head to look into his eyes.

"You could not be a bad person if you tried," said Harry, a slight smile forming on his face, despite his anger within. "I am here for you, Jess."

A single tear slid down Jessica's face as she threw her arms around him. Harry could feel his body beginning to swell up with passion as he fell onto his back, into the pillows of his bed.

"Thank you so much, Harry," said Jessica softly, as she hugged him closely. "I was so afraid that... that you would be intimidated by me."

Harry pushed Jessica's blonde hair out of his face so that he could better see her. He lifted his finger from his side and wiped away one of her tears gently. "You don't scare me," said Harry softly, his normally reserved expression brightening into a beaming smile.

Jessica laughed, choking back a sob or two in the process. She stared down into Harry's face from her position on top of him. With a soft, deliberate motion, she slid a bang of his messy, black hair out of his face.

"I promise I'll never take you for granted again," said Jessica quietly. "I love you, Harry."

While Harry had been expecting a peaceful make-up and perhaps some action if he were lucky, he was totally taken aback by this. His green eyes widened to the size of saucers, while something darker crept into his soul. Jessica was waiting for him in the Common Room, said everything he wanted her to say, came up to his room... and now he was on the same bed as her, with her telling him she loved him.

Something about this whole encounter seemed so... artificial.

"Jessica," said Harry, about to protest; however before the words could come out of his lungs, her lips were covering his. Artificial or not, his entire body swam with heat as he accepted the kiss and felt Jessica's arms thrown around his neck. It was a completely liberating feeling.

Artificial or not, he was back with his girlfriend.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Get up everyone!" said Sean in a high-pitched voice the next morning. "Quidditch time!"

Harry groggily rubbed his eyes and looked at his clock, which read 6 AM in bold, painful numbers. He would not have awoken this early had this Quidditch game been a Gryffindor game, let alone a Slytherin vs. Narhassa game. Apparently, his feelings were shared with much of his roommates.

"Sean, shut your trap and go back to sleep!" moaned Seamus from somewhere outside of Harry's curtains.

"I swear, I'm going to box you silly and throw you out the window!" shouted Ron in a voice half muffled by what could only be a pillow to his face.

Harry fumbled for his glasses by his dresser and put them on over his face. With a determined grunt, he clambered out of bed. Sean was already dressed, though he was not wearing his school robes. He was dressed in very baggy jeans and a sweatshirt that read UCLA upon the front.

Since today is Saturday, he can probably get away with it, reasoned Harry.

"Hello 'arry!" said Sean exuberantly, impersonating a British accent rather poorly. "Top o' the day to ya, chap!"

Harry arched a brow, looking at Sean strangely. "Did you cock up a Cheering Charm, or are you doped up on smack?"

"Ooh, nothing," said Sean, all but moon walking back to his dresser and pulling out a red and gold scarf. "Ah'm walkin on sunshine, woooah oh!"

Harry's first impression was that Ron had thrown some sort of hex at him. But, instead, all that seemed to be thrown at Sean was a pillow from under Ron's curtain, landing five feet away from him.

"You won't be walking anywhere fast if you don't slam it shut!" groaned Ron from within the curtains of his bed.

Yet, Sean's round face was cracked into one of the brightest smiles Harry had ever seen. Finally, he shook his head and managed a tired, morning grin. He could not deny the amazingly good spirits he was in today as well. His session with Jessica had ended early last night, well before any of his roommates had returned, but he was still riding on clouds.

"Baby, I just want you back, and I want you to stay... ooh yeah!" sang Sean, pushing his way out the door, just in time to avoid pillows thrown by both Dean and Seamus. Harry could not help but laugh as he threw on a black school robe and followed Sean out the door.

"Alright," he said, shutting the door behind him. Maybe it was his imagination, but he felt the door vibrate and emit a spell striking sound, perhaps a Muting Hex that would have smacked Sean in the head. It did not take an Auror to figure out who was the one who might have thrown it. "Explain."

"I'm in love with Hermione," said Sean, dancing in spot and humming the words to Katrina and the Waves - Walking on Sunshine, after his quip.

Harry rolled his eyes. I've gotten that one enough between yesterday and today.

"Well, that's great Sean," said Harry, trying to stifle a yawn. "Why don't you tell her how you feel," continued Harry, thinking he was perhaps turning into a broken record.

Sean continued to dance in place. "I did," and then continuing his energetic humming

Harry arched his brows. "And, judging by your incessant singing, humming and dancing to a bad 80s song, the reaction was favorable?"

"Oh yeah... oh yeah... it just feels good!" said Sean, not missing a step in his dance routine. "Come on Harry, you know the words!"

"I'm not singing," replied Harry dourly.

"Come on, Harry! You know you want to..."

"Like I want a double block Potions Class," said Harry sternly, but a grin on his face hinted that he could not play the role of the serious Professor for long. "So what happened?"

Sean finally stopped dancing in place and rubbed the back of his hair. "Well, we met in the Common Room last night, after everyone had went to bed. She wanted to tell me that she had never met anyone quite like me... and then, I was like blah blah blah... and she said that she says she want to give it a shot with me... and then, I was like blah blah blah...

"Sounds like a very heartfelt conversation," said Harry, hiding a chuckle.

"Oh, you know it!" said Sean, resuming his dance. "Come on Harry, dance with me!"

"Do I have to turn your legs to jelly?" asked Harry, with no trace of seriousness in his voice. "I will, you know."

Sean smiled, finally regaining a bit of composure. "Anyway, let's go grab some breakfast. I'm dying to see how Quidditch works!"

Just as they entered the Common Room, however, a very strange sight startled Harry. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Professor McGonagall entered the room, looking extremely grim and stern. In all his years of living in the Gryffindor Tower, the number of times he had seen Professor McGonagall in the Common Room could have been counted on one hand.

"Morning!" chirped Sean happily, waving the old woman. Apparently, he did not see this as strange.

"Mr. Camaradi," she said sternly. "Take a shower, go back to bed, get some breakfast or otherwise make yourself scarce."

Sean's smile waned at the sharp words, but upon seeing Harry's grim expression and a nod in his direction, Sean continued past the both of them and out of the Common Room.

"See you at the game, then, Harry."

Harry did not manage to work up the fortitude to nod or say goodbye to Sean as he stared into Professor McGonagall's stern eyes, only enhanced all the more by her square spectacles.

"What's going on, Professor?" asked Harry nervously.

"You are to come with me, Harry," she stated darkly. "Lupin wants a word with you... right now."

The gravity of Professor McGonagall's words never were lost on Harry, though these words seemed to sit upon him like a loadstone, making his legs weak. His head spun with nervousness.

"Come," she said, as she lead a very shaky Harry out of the Common Room.