Past Present

The last days of November and the first weeks of December were no better. Umbridge sat in on class after class. Though Harry rather enjoyed seeing Professor McGonagall give Umbridge what for during her observation of Transfiguaration, for she had been far less polite and respectful than Viktor had been, it made his heart fall to see her ever present fluffy pink cardigan, pink parchment, and clipboard each time. Hagrid had taken them into a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, and shown them (the ones who could see them, at least) the thestrals during his observed class. Umbridge had treated Hagrid as though he were something of a simpleton as well, engaging in exaggerated pantomime as though English was not even Hagrid's third language. And Harry had almost felt sorry for Trelawney, when Umbridge had tried to bully her into predicting anything at all of substance during Divination. Even worse, she deemed Snape one of the best teachers at Hogwarts, much to Harry's chagrin.

"Didn't seem to have a problem with Fleur," Hermione muttered under her breath as they left Defense Against the Dark Arts. "No 'Is English your second language, dear?' with her," she added.

"What's Umbridge got to complain about? All she ever does is have us read the book. I don't remember the last time we actually performed a charm in there. Viktor was right though. Umbridge acted like Fleur had the cooties when she confirmed she was part veela," Harry said in a soothing tone.

"Sure, but she didn't insult her about it out loud. Or ask her where she slept in front of the class or about how close it is to Roger Davies," Hermione complained. "Did you write home about Yule, Ron?"

"Sure, Mum's alright with it. Bit disappointed, but alright. How come nobody but Viktor gets to go with you to your house, though?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore thought one underage student and a couple of Muggles loose in Muggle London was plenty for him to keep up with at once, I think. He wouldn't let me go home at all unless I agreed to let Viktor come with me. I don't think he could spare us each a bodyguard. And you have to admit, Viktor stands out a bit less in London than, say, Hagrid. Or a gaggle of students accompanied by a gaggle of wizards. Put him in jeans and sneakers and a sweatshirt, he looks like a college student home for break. I got the feeling Dumbledore didn't want us to stand out too much, just get in, visit and get out. He managed just fine there when he visited this summer. London's not so different from Sofia. It's only a day. I get to spend Christmas with you two. Pavlova and the Burrow all in one day," Hermione said.

"Still not fair. Harry and I can take care of ourselves," Ron grumbled.

"Lots of things are not fair," Hermione replied lightly. "And when you get off these grounds, you're just as good as a Muggle, at least in London, unless you want us all getting tried for underage, unsupervised magic. Have no trouble tracing it down to my house, now would they? If they're all like Umbridge, the Ministry would probably prosecute us all for lighting our wands to keep from falling down the stairs in the dark," she added.

"Are your parents any happier about it? You only getting one day home?" Harry asked.

"I guess so. They're resigned to it, I think, now that Dumbledore wrote them explaining that he only wants to make sure I'm safe while I'm away from school. Uncertain times and all that. And they like Viktor well enough. They trust him. They let me go to his house, didn't they?" she pointed out.

Again that night, Harry drifted off to sleep, and soon found himself wandering the Forbidden Forest, called by that voice, that song. It was beautiful. And it seemed to be coming from the lake. He worked his way along the paths, out of the forest. Across the lawn, just across the lawn, that was the only thing separating him from...

"Harry?" Viktor's voice came out of the darkness. "Harry." Harry woke with a start, to find his bare feet on the stone floor of the castle, in the corridor outside the common room. "What are you doing out here?"

"I...I was dreaming... I must have gone sleepwalking," Harry answered. Again, he added silently to himself. He had had this same dream, so many times now, and always it slipped away, or when it was clear, either Ron woke him because he was mumbling in his sleep, or caught him in the common room or on his way to the stairs, and now Viktor had headed him off in the corridor. It was almost disappointing. That dream was a lot nicer than the flashes he got of Voldemort and Wormtail plotting, and the odd flashes of emotion he got that were oddly out of sync with his own even when he was awake.

"Well, get back inside, to bed," Viktor said, studying him with his brows together.

"What are you doing out here either?" Harry asked, noticing that Viktor was in his dressing gown, carrying his wand.

"Making sure you do not fall down the steps and crack your head open in your sleep. Now, do I haff to take you back in myself, or can you make it?" Viktor said, stepping closer. He was out of the light now, and the shadows made his expression impossible to see.

"Fairy lights," Harry mumbled to the equally sleepy Fat Lady, and stepped back through the portrait hole.

"Has he done this before? Gone wandering in his sleep?" Viktor asked quietly.

"Not that I know of. But then, some decent people are asleep at this time of night," the Fat Lady yawned.

"I thought you were supposed to keep tabs on them," Viktor said in a low voice.

"I do the best I can. But even I can miss things when I'm asleep, dear," she replied rather indignantly, and set back to snoring vigorously. Viktor waved his wand and whispered the words to reset the alarm at the door. If Harry or anyone else came in or out of that portrait hole the rest of tonight, it would wake him again. He slipped off back toward his quarters. Filch would probably be along soon and he didn't fancy a late night chat with him about how he should be allowed to whip the students or to toss Peeves or the latest indignity foisted on Mrs. Norris by pranksters. It made his head ache worse to think about it.

He rolled his shoulders back. Probably just lack of sleep and stress, worrying about when he was going to hear back from the examiners and trying to get ready for the holiday break. I'm catching it from Hermione, he thought to himself, smiling, this worrying over how I did when I know I did fine. Or maybe it was all that tooth grinding Umbridge inspires. He still had a stack of Arithmancy papers to grade for Vector sometime tomorrow. He hadn't been sleeping well. And he had just had one of the oddest dreams. Not a nightmare exactly, just the opposite, best he could remember. Not much seemed to happen at all. One thing bothered him about it. Of all the places on campus to dream of, why the Forbidden Forest? At least he thought it had to be the forest. He had only been in there once. Then that awful screeching had woken him up. At first he thought one of the students must have trodden on their owl. Maybe it was one from the Owlery outside his window. It had seemed so close. Must have been close to wake him up like that. Then the alarm on the portrait hole. He dearly hoped Harry stayed in bed the rest of the night. He could do with the sleep.