Welcome to the Light Side

Author's Notes: Thanks to hogwartsduchess of MNFF for beta reading. Chapter Four is dedicated to the Class of 2006. This is my favorite chapter of the story thus far, so I hope you all enjoy it, too. :-) Keep reviewing; it makes me happy!

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Exactly where Terry went after he stormed out of the apartment would remain a mystery for quite some time. Padma and I spent a full hour contemplating the dating methods that he could potentially be busy "investigating" before she had to return to the Ministry to file some papers that she had completely forgotten in the aftermath of the Gryffindor Apparition incident, a set of circumstances that evidently had caused her significant emotional duress. The best that we had come up with was the idea that Terry intended to venture into Muggle London, Imperio a random woman into accompanying him to the party, modify her memory, and release her back into the streets - and even Terry Boot isn't that low.

Eighteen hours later, it was clear that either Terry had never returned that night or he had arrived back at the flat very late and very soundlessly and was so angry with me that he had gone back to the Ministry to work the Saturday morning shift on his own volition for the first time in his professional career. I decided that it would be a waste of time to hang around waiting for him, and if there's one thing I hate, it's wasting time, so I left the apartment for The Three Broomsticks without him. Perhaps I could sit down with a nice mug of coffee and get an early start on Williamson's latest reading assignment in the peace and quiet of Hogsmeade, I thought idealistically. Dream on, Goldstein.

"... did all that work for bloody honour, if you're going to be kind enough to call that wild goose chase work, that is!" Even before I pushed open the door of the pub, I recognized Ginny Weasley's shouting. Blimey, I'm never going to understand how that girl can summon the energy to carry on a scene like that at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning as though it's five o'clock on Friday and a co-worker's just realized that he forgot to express-owl a memo to Romania. "Here I am slaving away in international relations, and she hasn't earned a sickle to her name in two years! She can't manage a home, she can't pay the rent, she can't lead a mature social life -"

"Come on, now, Ginny," I heard Hermione Granger's voice respond in what I think was supposed to be a consoling sort of way. "She's been there for us at times when we really needed her ..."

"She has not always been there when we needed her!" Ginny said hotly, jumping to her feet and glaring daggers at Hermione. I would have been either grovelling at her feet or running away from her faster than the speed of sound at this point ... if looks could kill! "Where was she when we wanted to go home for Christmas but we couldn't leave the apartment unattended because we thought those blokes next door who had been sending you threatening owls would trash it while we were away? Where was she when we couldn't find Harry during that Death Eater scare and we needed someone else to join our search party? Where was she when you had been laid off and we still needed to pay for the flat last month, Hermione? Or maybe you didn't notice that one," she added scathingly, "seeing as I was the one coughing up the cash while you huddled up with your boyfriend to spend some quality time 'reading the adverts!'"

"So she hasn't been there all the time," Hermione pleaded, clearly choosing to ignore her roommate's last remark. "But can you find me a person who has been? When it comes down to it, she's a good friend and you'd realize that you could do far worse for a roommate" - I willed myself not to think about Zacharias, who probably was starting to pack his bags at his parents' house this very minute simply on the assumption that we would allow him to move in with us - "if you would only take some time to think about everything she has done for us rather than concentrate on the few times when she was conspicuously absent. She believed us when we said Voldemort was back, she was there in the Department of Mysteries -"

"The Department of Mysteries!" Ginny positively shrieked. "Herm, I know that you like her and all, but hell, I was in fourth year when that happened! You can't still be giving her credit for things that happened while we were in school, not when we've been living away from home and having careers and doing all those things that those people called adults do for almost half of the time we spent holed away in Gryffindor Tower!" She had a fair point there, in my humble opinion.

"Well, still," Hermione said stubbornly (I had the distinct impression that she was aware she had lost that battle), "just because she's always been a bit patchy at Apparition doesn't mean the poor girl deserves to be completely ousted from her dwelling."

"A bit patchy?" Ginny raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "She scared the living daylights out of me, Hermione! I mean, how would you react if one minute you were dreaming about picking up guys at Ernie Macmillan's hospital benefit and the next you had a nineteen-year-old who you hadn't seen in over a year not to mention her trunk sitting right across your - oh, hello, Anthony," she said in a carefully casual voice, rising from her seat and sweeping across the room towards the bar.

"Morning, Ginny, morning, Hermione," I said, nodding briefly and crossing the pub to take Ginny's now-vacated stool. "Is something wrong?" I added discreetly; apparently, Ginny had failed to notice that I had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation, and I chose not to rid her of her misconceptions despite the fact that I knew exactly what was going on. Hermione, who had always been a good deal more perceptive than her younger friend, shot me a sceptical glance and rolled her eyes.

"Give me another firewhiskey, Rosmerta," Ginny demanded loudly, shaking her hair back and slapping six Sickles on the counter; Hermione heaved a deep sigh.

"She's been calling up mulled mead all morning," she explained in an undertone. "I mean, I suppose it isn't exactly unusual for her to show up in the flat completely drunk at two in the morning, but even for Ginny this eight o'clock thing is a little much. But never you mind about that ... it's not your problem. Reckon it's going to be mine this evening, though," Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "Of course, I probably owe her one, as poor little Miss Weasley's been supporting me for two months, as she constantly likes to remind me."

"Let me guess. Ginny's latest man-hunt at the Hog's Head went rather badly, though Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst both came out with dates for next Saturday, she arrived back home in tears at one, and unfortunately, Loony - I mean, Luna - Lovegood chose the one night Ginny was not too drugged to remember anything the next day to Apparate on her knees," I said succinctly. "Am I good or what?"

"Right in one," Hermione gave me a wry smile and reached across the table to hold my hand. "And I'm caught in the middle again, smack between the two extremes. Even their personalities are complete opposites. Ginny hasn't stopped shouting since the moment Luna walked in the figurative door, and Luna's been maddeningly calm, with her stupid 'this too shall pass' attitude. I wish one of them would just get the idea and move out already!" she blurted in frustration. "Or that I'd get the anthropology job," she added as an afterthought. "Ron's never going to want to move in with me because it would mean ditching Harry, so the most I can hope for is to be put onto some assignment that'll send me clear out of Britain!"

Still doing my best to act caring and sympathetic (for I am, after all, Anthony Goldstein, former Hogwarts Head Boy and Intelligent, Sensitive Dream Guy), I shot a furtive glance at the door of The Three Broomsticks, silently willing Terry, Justin, or even Zacharias to burst in and rescue me. Unfortunately, rescue was not in the cards; very much to the contrary, the arrival of a thin girl with long, dirty-blonde hair and wide, pale eyes was heralded by a very loud swear from the front of the pub and the sound of more silver hitting the marble counter.

"Hello, Luna!" Hermione said in a sickeningly false cheery voice, waving vigorously at the latest arrival and making a bold attempt to smile; her effort failed miserably and she only managed to bring off a pained sort of grimace, rather like the look she had worn when I accidentally dropped Restricted Level V Defensive Magic on her toes. "Well, this is where Ginny and I like to hang out with our friends! Good that you found the place!"

"Oh ... hello, Hermione," Luna said mildly, surveying the pub with an expression that was an odd sort of cross between interest and distaste and readjusting one of the gold bracelets dangling from her wrist. Unfortunately, this action drew my attention to her wardrobe; although she had dispensed with the earrings that she had worn during our Hogwarts days, she was now sporting the strangest dress I had ever laid eyes on, complete with the magenta and red feathers of some exotic bird dangling from her sleeves and a scrap of gold lace knotted into her hair. I hastily turned my laugh into a cough.

"Well, I expect Harry and Ron will be showing up later; they always have to help out around the Burrow before they come to Hogsmeade on Saturday mornings. But of course you remember Anthony Goldstein," Hermione continued loudly over my fake wheezing, shooting me a very sharp, no-nonsense glare.

I gazed at Luna warily. Though I never would say it aloud in a million years, I privately agreed with Ginny on this particular issue. I guess one could say that we always called her "Loony" Lovegood for a reason - my memories of her at school largely consist of a rather disturbing child sitting in the corner of the House common room, humming idly and stringing butterbeer corks together. Judging by her chosen "career" path, I was not inclined to think much had changed.

"Anthony Goldstein ... yes ... you were in my old House, Ravenclaw ..." Luna nodded vaguely, peering at me a little too closely for my taste; I inclined my head stiffly. "Prefect fifth and sixth years, Head Boy seventh year, eight Outstanding O.W.L.s, seven N.E.W.T.s, dated Padma Patil, currently in your third and final year of Auror training, is that correct?" she added succinctly.

I glanced over at Hermione and raised my eyebrows. "Er - yes, actually, that's perfectly correct," I said, doing my best to hide my surprise. While I fully understand that my sensational academic exploits were well-known within the Hogwarts community (shoot, I'm fooling myself again ... but at least the Ravenclaws might have appreciated me; they represent the intelligent sector of the school, after all), for the life of me, I could not understand how crazy Loony Lovegood could remember my standardized exam stats and my girlfriend after two years of chasing figments of her imagination in a foreign country.

"Yes, of course it is correct ... you were, after all ... a very memorable person ..." Luna said impressively, eyes growing even wider than they were already, which was quite an achievement in and of itself, so that she now looked entirely batty.

"Um," I said stupidly, looking vainly to Hermione for support; she looked just as stunned as I felt. Fortunately, we were both spared the trouble of having to offer up an intelligent response when the front door of The Three Broomsticks opened again and Ron, Harry, Demelza, and Zacharias entered the pub. Zacharias looked unusually happy, I noticed; this observation immediately put me on edge, as the things that excite him and the things that excite me are generally polar opposites.

"Morning, Ron, Harry, Zacharias," I said, nodding briefly at each of them. "How's your Auror training going, Demelza? They're still giving you breaks on Saturdays?" I asked politely, in a joint attempt to make nice with Harry's girlfriend and to put Zacharias temporarily at bay.

"They're still giving us breaks on Saturdays," Demelza affirmed. "I don't expect that it will last much longer, though - the end of my first year of the program is coming up in a few months, and we start battle simulations after that if we pass the written exam. I hear that's when the real torture comes in. Of course, it'll be better once we actually start using hexes and stop with all the fiddly potion and theoretical stuff. And I suppose I'm not in a position to complain; if I finish my first year in June, you must be getting your final certification then, right? Gee, you must be absolutely drowning in work! Oh, hi, Ginny! I didn't see you sitting at the bar."

My stomach began to churn slightly at the mention of the Auror certification final exam, but my attention was quickly diverted from coursework when Ginny shot Demelza a death glare from the front of The Three Broomsticks. She never has seemed to take to the younger girl well, which I've always found odd since they both played Quidditch for Gryffindor together for three years, but in my humble opinion, speaking a single word to Ginny Weasley when she's in such a volatile mood is practically asking for a death glare.

"Hey, Anthony, Hermione ... Gin ... Luna Lovegood, is that you?" Ron gaped, looking very much wrong-footed and scanning the rest of the pub as though he expected Terry, Justin, Ernie, Hannah, and the rest of the crowd to come popping out of the cabinets any second now. He turned and whispered something to Harry, who did not look pleased. I had a funny feeling that neither of them had expected The Three Broomsticks to be so crowded so early in the morning.

"Hello, Ronald!" Luna waved exuberantly, protuberant eyes bulging in excitement. "I do hope you're well, Ronald; you're also in the Auror program with Anthony, am I right? Sit down; I want to tell you everything that's happened while I was out of the country. I've had an ever so lovely trip to Norway, though I have to admit, it is rather nice to be back in Britain ... oh, and how nice to meet you!" she patted the spot on the couch beside her, indicating for Demelza to sit down. "I'm Luna Lovegood, used to be in Ravenclaw House, and my father is the editor of the magazine The Quibbler ..."

While Weasley and Demelza were busy watching Luna embark on some story about humdingers and heliopaths, a recital that involved a good deal of wild gesticulation and imitations of loud, screechy animal noises, I think I was the only one who noticed Harry sidle over to Hermione to stage a quiet and rather cryptic conversation.

"... all the days she could have picked to make her dramatic entrance!" I heard Harry hiss irritably. "I don't understand how all of this lot worked up the motivation to come into Hogsmeade at eight o'clock on this particular Saturday morning. I suppose it's good that I can leave Demelza with Anthony for a few minutes, but Ginny, Zacharias, and Luna I really could do without. I need to talk to you and Ron in private." Huh, they were going to use me to distract Harry's girlfriend, were they? This was odd. It had been quite some time since The Gryffindor Trio had last arranged an exclusive meeting.

"I know you wanted to talk, Harry, but we're obviously going to have to put it off for a few days, or maybe even a couple of weeks," Hermione replied in an undertone. "No one is looking for him, no one knows about, well, this, but us, and it can't hurt to wait a little while longer. We've survived for three years without a problem, and Ginny and Luna are liable to hex each other to smithereens if I leave them alone in the same room for more than fifteen minutes!" Three years? Him? This?

"But this is urgent," Harry pressed on. "I was passing through Wiltshire yesterday," he paused significantly, "and I think I have a lead there. A lead that might move, if you know what I'm saying. We've missed it once before, and now we have to act quickly, before it gets a chance to slither away again. Can't you do something about Ginny? The girl is nineteen years old!" What slithers? Slither sounds like Slytherin. But what could Slytherin have to do with anything? I know this lot holds grudges, but how exactly were petty inter-House rivalries relevant to our day-to-day lives?

Hermione looked at Harry for a brief moment, apparently torn, then shook her head. "I know this is important, Harry," she said quietly, "but our friends are important, too. We ought to stage a lookout at Wiltshire to make sure there's no activity in that area. I have to stay here and I think you ought to, as well; Demelza is probably already drawing her own conclusions about what's going on between you and me." Harry and Hermione are having some sort of secret affair? "Ron can go set up the detectors this afternoon." I guess not. "If anything happens, I promise that I'll -"

"I don't think Terry and Justin will be coming here any time soon," Zacharias announced smugly to the room at large, walking over to me wearing that annoying expression that he wears whenever he has information that he thinks I'd be interested in. He clearly was oblivious to the fact that I had been trying to eavesdrop on anyone's conversation. "I saw them in Hogsmeade at six in the morning when I came to pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet for my mother, and they looked a bit worse for the wear if you get my drift. They're probably getting ready to crash in Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley's flat as we speak."

"Yeah, well, Terry's a big boy, he can take care of himself," I said testily, trying to look as bored as possible despite my shock. What on earth could Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchley have been doing in Hogsmeade looking "worse for the wear" at six o'clock in the morning? Surely this wasn't one component of his multi-faceted investigation of dating methods? For the sake of our friendship, I decided that it might be best to avoid interrogating him whenever he next appeared in our apartment.

"But we really oughtn't be discussing Terry's social escapades, however unusual they may be," Zacharias continued smoothly, in a tone of voice that made me feel exceedingly uncomfortable indeed. "I didn't come here this morning to gossip. Actually, I wanted to thank you for agreeing. I didn't think Terry looked too immersed in his job to talk to you last night to I asked him what was going on, and I must say, I'm delighted."

"You're deligh - I mean, I agreed - wait, what's going on, again? I was a bit tired last night, and my mind is rather fuzzy," I added, realizing how rude I had probably sounded, but my heart was starting to hammer violently. I dimly recollected the excuses that I had been feeding Smith to get out of discussing our residential situation, and if Terry was frustrated with me and Padma and his non-love life and he spent the whole night in Hogsmeade with Justin Finch-Fletchley and then ran into Zacharias at daybreak -

"For agreeing to let me room with the two of you," Zacharias said impatiently. "He told me this morning that you've had a chance to talk it over, and I felt it would be most appropriate to thank you. So I thought I would wait until after Ernie Macmillan's St. Mungo's event to move in, which will give me some time to gather my belongings and give you some time to work out who's staying where in the apartment ..." This is why ticking off your roommate is a bad idea. Never before had I felt such a depth of understanding with Ginny Weasley.