Resonance

Chapter 27 -- Holiday Blues

The train left Hogsmeade right on schedule the next morning. Harry had gone down to the platform with the rest of the students and he waved Ron and Hermione off as the train chugged away. They both shouted, "Merry Christmas!" to him out the window, making Harry realize that Ron must have finally accepted things at some point without Harry noticing.

Hogsmeade was quiet as Harry wandered up the street to Puddifoots where he had tea and a scone. Six months to go, he thought. He envied Suze her upcoming years here. His friends would think he was a nutter for that; they were all so eager to leave. He had missed a lot over the last six years, he was begining to realize. Being tormented by Voldemort had cheated him out of things, like getting to know most of his classmates. Getting through a year without something suspicious and tragic happening had been impossible.

Harry paid for the tea and stepped back out into the crisp air. He strolled slowly back to the castle through a light dusting of snow. The entrance hall and the Great Hall were empty and echoing too much, so Harry wandered up to the Defense office in search of company. The door was open and Snape was packing books from the shelf behind his desk into a small trunk.

Snape glanced up at him and said, "I am caught up with grading, so we can leave shortly."

Harry was looking forward to Christmas with mixed expectations. "Whenever you're ready."

"You appear to have survived the ball," Snape commented as he compared the spines of two books.

"It was all right," Harry said and leaned casually against the doorframe.

Snape raised his dark eyes from the books. "Interesting choice of date."

Harry chewed his lip. "You did say . . . "

"Yes, I did. It was unexpected, nonetheless, but you seem to have handled it appropriately, in the end."

Harry crossed his arms and leaned harder on the wood trim. "Why wouldn't I have?" he asked, sensing that he was wading into something murky.

Snape selected one of the books in his hands for the trunk. "As you yourself said: I do look out for my students," he stated.

Something inside of Harry shifted and he didn't like the feel of it. He tried to pin down the squirming thing. "As opposed to me," he heard himself say.

Snape set the book he'd just pulled onto the desk. His eyes narrowed as his head tilted to the side. "In this, I do not expect you to need it."

Harry considered that before he pushed himself straight. He didn't feel like arguing over something he wasn't clear on himself. "Let me know when you're ready. I'll be in the tower," he said before walking away.

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The next morning in the Zepher household, Suze rubbed her eyes and sat down to breakfast. Her mother had woken her early to eat with them. Even though it was not a work day, both her parents were dressed well.

"How did your examinations go?" her father asked, sounding not too confident of the answer.

"All right," she replied, feeling defiant but working hard to keep it out of her voice.

"Hm," her father said in a "we'll see" kind of way.

Suze frowned and buttered her toast rather than get into anything. They acted like she didn't try at all.

"Wurther's called a meeting for this afternoon," her mother announced to her father from behind the Financial Times. "I'll pick up your robes on the way back."

Suze wondered if her parents had ever been interesting people who went to balls. She propped her chin on her hand and remembered yesterday evening while munching her toast. It seemed even more fun in retrospect than it had at the time, and Harry had been much nicer than she had imagined. She sighed a bit as she cracked her egg with her butter knife. They had rotated around the Hall so many times she could still feel the movement this morning.

Hope I can live down being at the ball with a Gryffindor, Suze had commented when she had felt a little more comfortable.

I'll tell you a secret, Harry had said. The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin, but I made it change its mind.

She had laughed very hard at that notion, and without thinking had said, You are the very picture of Gryffindor. I hear they’re going to replace the lion with your face. This was a rephrasing of a snide Slytherin comment and she had immediately wished to retract it.

He'd made a noise as though she had mortally wounded him, then laughed. Merlin, I hope not, he'd said, not angry at all.

"Are your school supplies all set?" her mother asked sternly, interrupting her pleasant reverie. "Make a list if you need anything. I'll get things today but I don't want to have to go out again before the holidays." Her tone indicated impatience held over from past times when Suze had forgotten things.

Suze got up and made the list right then. She bit her tongue as she handed it over, and her mother took it without comment, wearing a serious expression. By the time Suze returned to it, her egg was cold. She ate it anyway.

A scratching at the window announced the post owl, so her mother pointed her wand over her shoulder to open it. The owl dropped the paper, picked up a sickle in its beak from a small bowl on the table, and flew off again. The window closed itself after the owl left.

Suze watched, barely breathing, as her father unrolled the Prophet. He read the headlines and then flipped it up. On the front page was a photo from the ball. It showed Harry on the left talking to the headmistress as Professors Snape and Sprout looked on with polite attentiveness. She was cut off; not even a hint of sleeve showing. Suze sighed as she squinted to read the headline and the first part of the article before the paper moved. It was boring stuff about how things were back to normal at Hogwarts. Or as normal as they ever were, as McGonagall was quoted. Pages rustled as her parents read. Suze heated a piece of toast from the table with her wand and buttered it.

Being a professional Quidditch player sounds like fun, Harry had said.

I don't know what else I would do, she'd returned, echoing his earlier comment.

Just keep getting a little better all the time. You don't have far to go from what I can see. She replayed that in her mind a few times, pinning dangerous hope on it--hope that would not have come from anyone else's opinion.

Her father's confused voice said, "Isn't this you?" He folded the paper around, then folded it in half again before laying it on the table for her to see. Down the right-hand column was a rather nice picture of the two of them dancing. They were swaying to the music and Harry was talking silently. "Isn't that Harry Potter?" her father asked in near utter confusion.

"Yeah," Suze replied as casually as possible. "Harry asked me to the ball," she stated as though it happened everyday.

Her mum put the Times down and leaned over to look. She grabbed up the paper in a sudden motion and read out the caption, "Harry Potter and Suze Zepher enjoying the Hogwarts Christmas Ball. I didn't know you knew Harry Potter," she said in surprise.

Suze shrugged. "He's the Gryffindor Seeker."

"We know that," her father said. "But isn't he a Seventh Year?"

"We just went as friends, Dad," she said, borrowing one of their tones.

"I didn't mean that," he said, "I'm just surprised you got to know him that well."

"We had a good match--we talked about it afterwards. That's how we got to know each other," she felt compelled to explain. They rarely asked her about her friends or her playing, even though they seemed to follow the school's Quidditch matches rather closely.

"Slytherin lost that match," her father pointed out.

A little miffed, she said, "Yes, but Potter ended up in the hospital wing overnight."

"You put Harry Potter in the dispensary?" her mother asked, appalled.

"One of the Beaters did. Potter got knocked into a tower by a Bludger and despite bleeding like crazy, he wouldn't quit. He passed out from lack of blood right after catching the snitch and fell about sixteen feet to the grass." In a darkly determined voice, she added, "I was so close to beating him to it."

Her parents looked startled by this speech.

"You should come to the matches more often," Suze commented levelly.

"All right; we’ll try to do that," her mother said. Suze couldn't tell if she were really excited by the notion or thought it would make it easier to keep tabs on their daughter.

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Diagon Alley was decorated up for Christmas: wreaths with twinkling miniature lanterns hung on each lamp post, elves in green and red costumed tossed glittering dust on passers-by. A dusting of snow lightened the scene and neatly covered the grime.

Harry went to Gringott's first. As he waited behind a hunchback, a family with four misbehaving small children, and a hag, for a goblin to take him to his vault, he tried to estimate what his list was going to cost. It was at least sixty or seventy galleons, he thought. Once he got to his vault, this seemed like an extravagant amount given his dwindling piles of coins. But he reassured himself with the thought that even after he filled his sack, he would still make it through the school year.

Back out on the road, Harry headed first for the Quidditch supply store. He had only yesterday thought of what to get Ron, and if it were going to work out, he would have to act fast as it was only seven days until Christmas. At the shop he purchased an authentic Chudley Canons cloak; cringing a bit at that much orange fabric in a single garment. The stitching on the logo was nice, though, unlike the cheap versions he had seen around.

He folded it up tightly and took it immediately to the Post. He had already written the letter out, which he took out to reread as he waited in queue. The letter was basically a plea for the team to autograph the cloak. Harry had not missed the look Ron had given the Bulgarian bat at Harry's birthday party. He hoped his own personal request would be enough to get the cloak back signed in time for gift-giving. He suspected with chagrin that it would be, and felt a little uneasy about doing this at all, but he had not thought of anything better and was desperate.

With the cloak owled off to the team captain, Harry went back down to the bookstore. He perused the recent arrivals, looking for anything Hermione or Snape might appreciate. The store was crowded with shoppers. From the table he picked up a new book on advanced counter curses and flipped it open to read a few random pages. Beyond the book, his eye was caught by the sight of a silver-tipped cane tapping along the floor as someone approached.

Startled a bit, Harry raised his eyes. A greying, portly man in a fine three-piece suit and satin-lined cloak approached, but unlike Malfoy, this man seemed to need the cane since he kept it close beside his right leg as he walked.

"Hm," the man said as he stopped a polite distance away. "You must be Mr. Potter." His voice was deep and rolling.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, wondering if he should know this man.

After a pause the man said, as though it were a point of information, "I am Alfred Freelander."

Harry froze, but recovered quickly and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said honestly.

The man's grey eyes looked Harry over. "You look to be doing well, Mr. Potter."

A witch pushed her way behind Harry, nearly losing her hat. "I'm doing all right, sir," he acknowledged. Then thinking quickly, added, "I did appreciate your offer, sir."

Freelander smiled faintly at that. "I wonder . . . would you be willing to grace my table with your presence, on Boxing Day?"

"I'd be honored, sir."

"I'll have an invitation sent to you then. Do you have a card?"

"No," Harry admitted, laughing lightly at that notion. From his knapsack he pulled out a parchment and never-out quill. He wrote out his address and handed it over.

"Shrewsthorpe," Freelander read from it. "You are very close by, indeed. My estate is in Riverden, just two towns over." He gave Harry a polite smile. "I look forward to your visit," he said and gave Harry a small bow of the head.

"So do I, sir," Harry managed to remember to say.

---------

Harry carried his haul back to the house and immediately took it to his room. He realized now that he was going to have to get more wrapping paper, but he had a few days to manage that. The evening felt very quiet in comparison to being at Hogwarts or even shopping. And the fire in the dining room hearth made the room comfortable as they sat down to dinner.

"One term down," Harry commented, finding himself falling into this countdown.

Snape raised his head and pushed his hair back from one side. "Looking forward to finishing?"

"Yes and no," Harry said honestly. He felt like he should, since every other student was, but he also resisted the thought of moving on, since it was all he knew.

"How did your examinations go?" Snape asked.

"Pretty good, I think. You haven't finished grading the Defense ones yet?"

"Not quite."

Harry frowned as he reconsidered. "Are you really grading me twice as hard as the other students?"

"Yes."

Flustered, Harry mumbled, "I might not have done so well, then."

A platter of roast mutton appeared, covered in sauce, it smelled wonderful. As he served himself, Harry complained, "Geesh, Greer is doing that too, I know, and the other day I suspected McGonagall of it as well. I think my grades are in trouble."

Snape smiled a little slyly as he accepted the serving spoons when Harry finished with them. Harry shook his head and sighed, prompting Snape to say, "All that matters at this point are your N.E.W.T.s."

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry breathed, not feeling much better about that.

An owl arrived late as they were enjoying a bit of chocolate cake. Harry accepted the creamy white envelope and the aged bird took off again.

"What is that?" Snape asked curiously.

"An invitation to dinner, I expect," Harry said. The card-shaped envelope was addressed to Harry Potter and Guest. He tugged the wax seal open and took out the card which was written in gold ink in very flowing script. Boxing Day dinner at seven o'clock was the summary of its lengthy prose.

Snape was examining the seal on the envelope with a lowered brow. Harry handed him the card as well and retook his seat. "You knew this invitation was coming?" Snape asked.

Harry lifted a shoulder. "I ran into Lord Freelander in Diagon Alley yesterday," he replied casually.

Snape stared at him. "This is a rather highbrow event, Harry."

"So . . . dress robes, you are saying?"

"At the very least."

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A few days later, Harry woke to a surprise breakfast guest. Sitting at the table looking mussed and casual as though she might have spent the night, was Candide. Harry hoped he covered his uncertainty quickly enough, as he sat farther down the table than normal, across from an empty chair.

As breakfast arrived, she asked in a friendly tone, "How did your term go?"

"Well enough," Harry replied, grateful that he could occupy himself with eating rather than conversation.

He ate and listened to them talk about everything from Ministry politics to gossip about her officemates. When he finished, Harry rose from the table, picked up his cup of coffee, and mumbled that he wanted to get his holiday assignments out of the way. The pair nodded at him as he departed.

In his room Harry buried himself in his schoolwork, starting with his Potions assignment. At lunchtime he was called down to eat. Harry took his Transfiguration textbook with him. It was his weakest subject, and looking over his essay grades from the previous term made him think McGonagall believed so too. At the table he opened the book like a suit of armor. He was aware of Snape's eyes passing over him, but his guardian didn't chastise him for being unsociably occupied.

During the afternoon, Harry spent an hour or two reading in the window of his room, sitting on his trunk. He found himself hoping the girl in the yellow slicker would walk by, although he couldn't decide whether he would run down and try to introduce himself or not. She would probably be wearing a different coat in the winter, but he thought he would still recognize her.

He didn't need to decide, as she didn't pass by while he was waiting.

Harry did not bring a book down to dinner because he simply could not study any longer. He found Snape and Candide playing a card game with Harry's wizard pack while they waited for dinner. They were drinking something in little metal cups and Candide was laughing much more than usual.

Dinner materialized. Harry, not feeling particularly hungry, picked at his plate in a desultory fashion. Candide tried gregariously to involve him in the conversation.

"So, Harry," she said, "How much longer do you think the Minister of Magic can ride the popularity he gained when Voldemort was defeated? He's waiting a long time to call an election."

Flatly, Harry replied, "I don't read the political items in the Prophet."

In a slightly snide tone, Snape explained, "He doesn't like to read about himself--you must understand."

"Lucky for you," Harry said levelly, "nothing shows up in the Prophet about you."

Had Candide not been sitting across from them both, this comment would have garnered a very different reaction. As it was, Snape simply peered down his nose at him, shoulders stiff. Candide said, "There was that nice picture of you dancing with someone the other day. You didn't even see that?"

Harry shook his head.

At the conclusion of the meal, Harry tried to use the excuse of assignments to get away, but Candide urged him strongly to join in some three-person game she wished to play.

"I've never played card games with more than one person," Harry explained in an apologetic way.

"Perhaps it is time you learned," Snape said in one of his more insistent on obedience tones.

Harry retook his seat, trying to not appear too much as though he was giving in. He listened politely to the rules of the game and the random strategy hints she proceeded to impart. After the deal Harry picked up the nine cards before him and sorted them as instructed.

After several rounds and many corrections he finally had a basic sense of the strategy. He couldn't win a hand, though, but he did manage to prevent Candide from winning one with a lucky play. "Figures you two would gang up," she commented as she collected the cards to redeal.

At ten, when he could reasonably do so, Harry claimed he was too tired to continue and this got him out of a new game that was about to be introduced.

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The following morning, only Snape was in the dining room, having a coffee. Harry sat across from him, glad to have a quiet breakfast. Breakfast failed to appear though, and Harry was forced by boredom to read some of the paper. As he was turning to page two, footsteps sounded behind him and Candide shuffled in, looking in dire need of coffee. Harry froze, then pulled the paper up before him to hide his reaction, which was more severe than he'd expected.

When he had his expression under control, Harry lowered the paper and folded it casually beside his plate. "Good morning," he managed in return to her greeting. Not feeling social enough for this, he ate fast and left for his room.

Harry paced for a minute before pulling out a quill and parchment to write to Hermione. After the basic greetings and hopes that her holiday was going well, he stalled. Candide has moved in, he considered writing, but it sounded so odd. Candide has been visiting, he wrote instead. Whatever generosity he had felt toward her had dissipated utterly. He wondered at that, reminding himself that he had been determined not to allow it to slip away completely.

I've been learning to play cards, he added. Certainly Snape deserved someone, he thought, remembering the real regret he had expressed when she had broken it off. Snape had used him to make some kind of point with her, but Harry could only guess what the point had been, exactly.

He finished the letter with meaningless chatter, folded it up, and attached it to her present. Hedwig came to the window from the neighbor's pine when Harry opened it. She flew off again, willingly carrying the thick book and light letter.

Harry didn't sleep well that night, which was becoming a trend during this break. He woke several times with bad dreams but did not want to ask for potion, if only because it would mean interrupting both of their sleep, at the least. At worst Snape would want to know what he was dreaming about, and he wanted to keep to himself his queer dreams of being left behind.

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The next afternoon, a Christmas tree appeared in the main hall. Not a large one; one that in fact had the look of the last chicken in the shop, but it was decorated with an array of interesting glittery spells, one of which made the branches themselves glow green intermittently. A few presents were under it already for him from Anita, Dobby, Gretta and Shazor. There was also one for Snape, presumably from Candide, as it was not signed. Harry thought of fetching his gifts, but realized that he had not bought anything for Candide, so he didn't. He'd had no notion before that moment that he might need one and didn't, in any event, have any idea what he might get her.

Harry fetched his books instead and went to the library to study until dinner.

---------

"It's really sweet," Candide said in a playful tone, leaning in the doorway of the drawing room where Snape sat making notes from a textbook.

"What is?" he asked in a very doubtful tone.

"Harry's fallen asleep over his book in the library," she said with a grin.

Snape stood suddenly and stalked past her with purpose. At the door to the library he stopped and surveyed the scene. Harry was slumped over the small desk, his head pillowed on what appeared to be his History of Magic textbook. Snape, with angry motions, stepped in and started to close the French doors, but paused to say, "If you'll excuse us for a moment." He shut the doors on Candide's concerned face.

Snape stepped over to the desk. "Potter," he said sharply. Harry jumped awake and rubbed his eyes. Snape demanded, "You are not sleeping properly?"

Harry frowned but didn't reply. He closed his textbook, the pages rippled from the moist heat of his face. Snape said, "Go up to your room. You have two hours before dinner to get a little sleep."

Harry stacked his history book with the others and, scratching his head, left the room. In the hall he encountered Candide, who looked curiously at him. Tired, he turned away mutely and went up the stairs to his room.

In what felt like minutes after he put his head on the pillow, a sharp rap sounded on the door to his room. He assumed it meant dinner and forced himself with effort to sit up and wake up.

Dinner was very quiet and even a little tense. Harry waited after finishing his plate for tea to be served. He really needed to spend more time on his assignment for McGonagall. Before the holiday, he'd had a notion of rereading the textbook carefully from start to finish, and he had not given up on doing so yet, but he would need some serious tea to even consider working on that this evening.

That night in his room, Harry read Transfiguration until he could not keep his eyes from falling closed at each new sentence. Eyes aching, he put the book aside and turned down the lamp before flopping onto his pillow.

At midnight, in the bedroom at the other end of the balcony, Snape sat up. "I should check on him," he said after exhaling loudly.

Carefully, Candide said, "You were a little harsh with him earlier . . . "

Snape huffed again. "Harry periodically has difficulty sleeping but I only find out when he becomes narcoleptic," he explained impatiently as he pulled on a pair of slippers and a dressing gown.

Harry rolled over when he heard the door latch move. "Still awake?" Snape asked. When Harry didn't respond, Snape stepped over to the bed and stood beside it. "Are you having nightmares?" he asked factually. When Harry shrugged, Snape said, "Why didn't you say?"

All Harry could think of to do was to shrug again, so he did nothing.

"What is in your nightmares?" Snape asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry replied. After a pause he added, "There aren't any shadows or anything," in a slightly desperate tone. He really did not want to talk about it.

Snape stood silently for a while in thought before sitting on the edge of the bed. "You have had a nightmare already tonight?" At Harry's reluctant nod, he said, "What was in this dream?"

"I don't want to say," Harry repeated tiredly. "It's a stupid dream."

"If it is keeping you up for days at a time, it cannot be insignificant," Snape pointed out. "Where were you in the dream?" Snape asked in a quiet, yet demanding tone.

Harry sighed in frustration. He really wanted to be left alone to try to sleep. "In the ocean," he finally replied reluctantly.

"In the ocean; doing what?"

"Swimming. Treading water. I've fallen overboard," Harry admitted sadly.

They both sat still for a long moment before Harry continued, "No one notices. No one on the boat notices," he clarified. In his mind he could see the vision from the dream of Snape, Candide and formless others laughing and drinking, unable to hear his calls. He frowned. "It's a stupid dream," he repeated, finally turning to look at his guardian.

Snape eyed him a moment in surprise before bending over to rest his forehead on his palm. His hair fell around his face. "Harry, you are not being pushed aside, or abandoned," he stated forcefully.

"I know that," Harry retorted in a difficult tone. "I said it was dumb," Harry insisted, feeling an ache of uneasiness despite his assertion.

Snape rubbed his eyebrow. "Do you have potion?" he asked.

"I don't want any," Harry said stiffly.

"You wish to continue to fall asleep while studying? Shall we expect you to fall asleep during meals now as well?" Snape asked facetiously.

Stung, Harry rolled away, curling his legs up a bit and ducking his head. He wanted to just tell his guardian to go away, but he could not quite bring himself to do it. He ignored him instead.

Snape sat in silence for a long minute before standing to leave. Back in his room, Candide asked if everything was all right. "He is having nightmares," Snape said. "A not uncommon occurrence with him," he added as he turned the lamp down.

But at three in the morning, Snape found himself still lying awake. He rose with cautious movements to check on the boy again. Harry actually seemed to be asleep this time, Snape discovered with relief. Although, he noticed, the duvet was crooked on the bed, as if he had not been sleeping undisturbed. Snape moved to straighten it and found that Harry's hand was clutching it. Pulling it free drew a noise of complaint from the sleeping form, so he hesitated straightening it farther. With a start, Harry woke up and immediately rolled away again onto his side, tugging the duvet around himself tightly.

At five in the morning, Snape again rose to check on him, strongly compelled to do so. Harry was sitting in the window this time, staring out of a pane that had the frost cleared from it. He was sitting on his trunk, wrapped in the duvet from the bed. The fire burned high in the hearth as though recently fed new wood.

Snape stepped over to him and stared out at the crystallized street light and snowy road. "Is there anything I can do, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. He looked exhausted.

Back in Snape's room, Candide said in a mystified voice, "Checking again?"

"He is being difficult and obstinate," Snape commented.

She rolled over and peered at him in the dim light. "He's seventeen; he's supposed to be." When Snape didn't respond, she said a little impatiently, "Don't you remember being his age?"

"I try not to."

She laughed mirthlessly at that. "Well, that would be normal for his age, believe me. I think you’re taking it too seriously."

Snape sat on the edge of the bed and mulled things over in silence. Candide broke into his thoughts by asking in honest curiosity, "Isn't he usually difficult?"

"No," Snape replied, "only when he’s hurting." While Candide froze and considered that, Snape added, "Your presence is disturbing him more than I imagined it would." He went on, "Perhaps it would be best if you departed today."

"I can leave first thing," she said in an ambiguous tone.

"Perhaps after lunch and please make some external excuse, if you will. His capacity for nightmares is second only to his one for guilt. I do not want him suspecting."

She fluffed her pillow before plunking her head back on it. "My parents are wondering why I haven't made it to their house yet. They’re hinting strongly that I should be bringing you."

Snape exhaled audibly. "That is as good an excuse as any," he said a bit forcefully.

---------

Breakfast proceeded in silence until Candide finally said to Harry, "Severus told me that you’re invited to the Freelander's for Boxing Day." At Harry's nod, she said, "Too bad it isn't summer, the estate is supposed to be beautiful. You'll probably get a tour of the house, though." When Harry shrugged again, she gave up.

After lunch, as Harry sat reading his Transfiguration textbook and drinking tea, Candide came back down with her satchel. Harry took this in with surprise.

"I have to get to my parent's house," she explained with reluctance. "They are about to send another owl, I'm sure," she added in a long-suffering tone. "Here is your present, though." She handed over a smallish yellow-wrapped box. Harry accepted it slowly.

"It's nothing much," she said, "compared to what you undoubtedly deserve."

Harry cradled it against his arm. "Thanks."

She smiled kindly at him before turning to Severus for a quick hug. Then she was gone in a flash of green in the hearth.

Harry frowned lightly at the gift. "I didn't realize she was leaving today," he said, thinking again that he would not have known what to get her.

"She has delayed visiting her family twice already," Snape commented. "There was some pressure in fact for my visiting with them as well," he added with honest dislike of that notion.

"Oh," Harry breathed. He stood to take the gift and put it under the tree and realized that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He went up and fetched his presents for Snape and put them under as well. Hedwig had not returned from taking Neville his present, although she had returned with Harry's gift from Hermione, which was also under the tree now. Gifts for him definitely dominated.

Harry returned to rereading his Transfiguration text in the dining room, finding it much easier to concentrate now, which he credited to the tea.

In the middle of Chapter 6, Harry asked, "Do you know the theory of Holistic Hovering?"

Snape shook his head, looking like he might not have ever heard of it.

Harry frowned and sighed. "Of all the N.E.W.T.s I need to get at least an 'E' on, this one is the most in doubt."

"Have you asked Minerva for extra help?"

Harry shook his head. "She's sorta busy. Hermione helps when she has time."

"Ms. Granger's remarkable grasp of certain subjects, notwithstanding, especially for a Gryffindor--"

"Oh," Harry interrupted. "She did the same thing I did--talked the Sorting Hat out of putting her in Ravenclaw."

Snape looked disturbed by that. "That hat needs a spell rework, I think. Nevertheless, I believe you would find a teacher's assistance more useful. Do not be hesitant about seeking help from Professor McGonagall. I expect she would make time for you if you expressed a need for it."

A pair of owls arriving cut their conversation short. Harry opened the window and used a severing charm to cut the strings to the package they were jointly carrying. With grateful sweeps of their wings they took off again. Harry read the label as he brought it to the table. "All right!" he said in excitement. "I was afraid this wasn't going to make it in time." He tore the box open. There were two orange cloaks inside, which explained the weight. He snapped the first cloak out. It was signed to him. He stared at it in confusion.

"Goodness," Snape exclaimed snidely. "Where do you plan to wear that?"

"I don't." He pulled out the other one. "It’s for Ron's present." This one wasn't signed quite as extravagantly, but it was still nicely done in a variety of ink colors.

Snape lifted the corner and read one or two. "Well, at least you are learning to use your influence for something."

"You think I abused it?" Harry asked in concern.

"Did you send them two cloaks?" Snape asked. When Harry shook his head, he said, "Then clearly the Canons do not feel that you are."

"I couldn't think of anything else to get him," Harry complained. "And Ron was jealous of the Bulgarian bat I received from their national team."

"I expect he will be pleased," Snape commented unreadably.

Harry packed it up quickly and said, "I hope Hedwig returns soon."

"You may use Franklin. He is a much larger owl and that isn't exactly light."

"Thanks," Harry said and took it to his room to wrap it. He stuffed the other cloak deep in a trunk with the thought that if Ron ever saw it, it would diminish his own cloak considerably, in his friend’s eyes anyway.

Once that present was away, Harry relaxed and returned to his studies, making notes now of things he should ask McGonagall when he had the chance.

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