The Brethren of Tyr

Chapter Eleven: Eternal Mystery

Harry sat down to breakfast like he did every morning, and couldn't help but look across at the High Table. It had become almost a daily ritual, ever since he had overheard that conversation between Beauchamp and Snape. Hermione also had a ritual of her own, but rather than eating and staring conspicuously for signs of arguments, threats or general discomfort between teachers, her ritual involved spending hours at the library looking up information on vampires, instead of attending breakfast. Harry knew this was what she was doing, owing to the sheer number of books on the creatures she had acquired, her conspicuous absence from the Great Hall of a morning, and from gentle teasing out of information from Ginny. What he couldn't figure out, though, was why. She spent enough time in the library already, why on earth did she feel the need to give up breakfast in the pursuit of knowledge as well?

"Maybe we'd understand if she bothered to tell us what she was thinking!" Ron sighed petulantly, as he got up to reach for a piece of bacon. Harry couldn't help but smile at Ron's irritation. If there was one thing his redheaded friend couldn't stand, it was not knowing something that Hermione didn't wish to tell him.

A seat scraped the floor next to Ron and a figure sat down. Harry saw Ron turn sharply to face it.

"Oh, so you've finally decided... Oh, hi, Neville. Sorry," he said, in a less brusque tone, "I thought you were Hermione- don't tell her I said that," he added, nervously. Neville laughed.

"Your secret's safe with me. Here," he asked, "have we got Transfiguration today?"

"Nah mate," Ron replied, "it's Charms."

Neville wiped his brow with the back of his hand and exhaled audibly.

"Phew! I forgot to complete my Transfiguration homework- hopefully I can finish it off during lunch," he explained.

Ron leant forward in frustration, and caught his sleeve in a dollop of tomato ketchup on his plate.

"I'm getting fed up with all this homework- I thought O.W.L.s were bad enough, but this is ridiculous! We have to read in preparation for the lessons? What's the point of having the bloody lessons then, if they aren't going to teach us it?" he ranted. Harry shrugged.

"It's the Halloween feast tonight, isn't it?" Harry asked, changing the subject. Ron looked at him oddly.

"Well, yes, being as it is Halloween," he replied. "Honestly, Harry, you really are becoming like Hermione, forgetting what day it is because you're distracted by a mountain of work. You'll start spending all your free time in the library next... where is she?"

Harry sighed quietly. He saw Ron's point in a way, if you replaced the phrase 'a mountain of work' with 'being a key to unfulfilled prophecy that will change wizarding history'.

Oddly, the news of his role against Voldemort didn't penetrate his every single waking thought, nor that many of his sleeping ones. He was both comforted and concerned by Hagrid's words from last year: "As long as Dumbledore's here, I'm not too worried." Dumbledore was supposed to be the greatest wizard of all time, and he won't be able to defeat Voldemort. Neither would any of the Order- Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt. The former was pretty expert at defence and was a werewolf to boot, the latter two were Aurors; they wouldn't be able to defeat Voldemort. Even Beauchamp, who Harry had been taught Defence Against the Dark Arts by for the past month or so and had seen plenty to convince him that she was a pretty amazing witch, wouldn't stand a chance either. What about Snape, who Harry had seen put up an impressive fight against Beauchamp in the duel that McGonagall still developed a nervous twitch over if anyone mentioned it in her presence? He wouldn't do it either, though Harry still wasn't entirely convinced that this was because of the prophecy. Despite Dumbledore's convictions, Harry still harboured an inkling that his ex-Death Eater Potions teacher wasn't in fact an ex-anything, except an ex- decent human being, presuming he had ever acted like one in his life. When push comes to shove, Harry thought pensively, it all comes down to him- a scrawny sixteen year old who couldn't even make his hair surrender to his command, much less the darkest wizard of the past thirty years.

"Oi, Harry! Get a move on, we've got Charms in ten minutes!" Ron shouted in his ear, which caused Harry to jump and nearly spill his half-empty glass of pumpkin juice over their table. He slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Has Hermione come down for breakfast yet?" he asked, despite knowing the answer. Ron shook his head.

"Nope- she's still up in the library, I guess, forgetting that she's going to be starving by mid-morning. You know, for such a smart witch, she can be a bit thick at times," he grumbled, tucking some leftover bacon and egg into a bread roll and stuffing it into his bag. Harry thought it wise to let the gesture go unmentioned.

They got to Charms before Hermione did and managed to secure three seats at that perfect place in class- not too far away from the front so that they couldn't see what was going on, yet not too close that they couldn't carry on a whispered conversation without courting Professor Flitwick's attention.

Ron breathed deeply.

"Ahh, perfect!" he sighed in reference to their seating, which caused a passing Hannah Abbot to laugh at him.

"You enjoy Charms that much?" she asked him with a grin. Ron smiled back,

"Yes, it's the perfect way to start the day," he joked. Hannah looked conspiratorially at Harry and Ron, and lowered her voice.

"I say," she whispered, "we should have a reunion. You know- a DA get-together where we can reminisce and gloat about getting one over that Umbridge woman?"

Harry smiled.

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea actually. Shall we try to sort one for the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Alright, I'll let Ernie and Susan know, and I've got Defence classes with the Ravenclaws, so I can speak to Terry as well. Word of mouth will do the rest, I'd imagine," Hannah replied.

At that point, Hermione entered the classroom in a bit of a rush; clearly thinking she was late. Draco, who was also entering the room at the same time, took the opportunity to trip her up and she nearly went flying into Mandy Brocklehurst. Hermione turned around and glared at Draco.

"Are you not supposed to be growing up, Malfoy, instead of regressing?"

Draco merely laughed.

"Ooh, big words for a little Mudblood," he sneered. Ron stood up at hearing this.

"You just wait, Malfoy, I'll do you for that!"

"I'd like to see you try, Weasel!" he spat back.

"How about we don't see either of you try, and then I don't have to give either of you detention or deduct house points, hmm?" Professor Flitwick offered, as he entered the class. Ron and Draco muttered their apologies to Flitwick and sat down in their respective seats.

They were studying Conjuring Charms that day, which made it easy for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to talk whilst practising conjuring up flowers in the corner of the classroom, and for Hermione to gratefully eat the squashed bacon and egg sandwich Ron surreptitiously slipped her.

"Well, I think I may have an idea about our new Defence teacher," Hermione announced quietly once she had swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. Harry and Ron leaned in closer, with Ron pretending to reach for a book and Harry checking to make sure Professor Flitwick was still at the other end of the classroom.

"She may be a vampire," she said. Harry and Ron looked at each other with incredulity.

"A vampire?" Harry asked.

"Don't be daft!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione blushed a little.

"Just hear me out first. I know she sits at the High Table all the time, but have you ever seen her physically eat anything there?"

"Well, no, but to be honest, I've never really paid that much attention," Ron replied. Harry looked at him.

"She seems to like to cook her own food. Remember when Snape was going mental because half of his ginger supplies were missing, only for Beauchamp to admit she'd been dying for a curry the other night, and give him an I.O.U.?" he pointed out, whilst staring out Draco from the other side of the classroom until the boy averted his eyes. Ron laughed.

"His face was a picture!"

Hermione rapped their knuckles with her wand, demanding attention.

"That could easily have been a cover-up for something else. Plus, she is very pale, almost corpse-like."

"She does seem rather skinny..." Ron thought aloud. "But what about the magic? I thought vampires weren't magical in that way," he asked. Hermione thought about this for a moment.

"Well, I'd imagine if the person that was turned into a vampire was a wizard or witch in the first place, they'd be able to perform it all the same. Seeing as Beauchamp can perform wandless magic, I'd say it's perfectly logical that she's been around a lot longer than she appears to have. I asked McGonagall about it, and she said it was something anybody could learn, but it takes a lot of hard work and training, and that most modern witches and wizards don't bother," she finished, before suddenly clicking her fingers as though she'd remembered something.

"And remember when Snape took over our lesson, and taught us about vampires?" she exclaimed. "He pulled the same trick when Lupin was teaching, and set us a werewolf essay, hoping we'd spot the signs. Except Beauchamp returned before he had a chance to set any homework..."

"And Nearly Headless Nick bumped into her, and Hagrid mentioned only the undead can do that, such as vampires," Harry added. Hermione nodded.

"Precisely," she said, whilst neatly conjuring a daffodil from between the stone slabs of the floor.

"Oh, well done, Miss. Granger!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed, as he was passing. Hermione beamed, and bent down to pick the flower from the floor. Harry was glad he hadn't seen his earlier attempt, which resembled half a watermelon. At least he'd faired better than Ron, who ended up conjuring a bag of self-raising flour in a simple homophonic error he claimed could happen to anyone.

A sudden crash and a few squeals, followed by the ground shaking under Harry's feet indicated that somebody had made an even more impressive mistake than Ron. Looking across the room, Harry noticed with some amusement that Draco was looking very embarrassed, with a huge oak tree standing in the middle of the classroom where a flower should have been. Poor Professor Flitwick had to disentangle himself from between the branches, before summoning a cushion from near the doorway to break his fall.

"Not to worry, Mr. Malfoy," he said, kindly. "It's easily sorted- you just lost concentration, that's all. Try to focus a little harder next time. Miss Granger!" He called over to Hermione. "Would you come over here and show Mr. Malfoy how it's done?"

"What, me?" Hermione replied in shock, forgetting her manners for a moment, "Oh... of course, Professor," she managed to recover, before grimacing to Ron and Harry and walking over to a clearly enraged Draco.

Ron nudged Harry in the ribs.

"What in Merlin's name is Flitwick thinking!" he exclaimed, "Even Beauchamp wouldn't try something that dumb, and she hasn't got a clue about our houses!"

"Inter-House unity," Harry sighed, miming inverted commas with his index and middle fingers. He looked over at Draco and Hermione, and was a little surprised to find Draco appearing awkward, whilst Hermione briskly demonstrated the Conjuring Charm, and encouraged him to repeat it, whilst a practically snarling Pansy Parkinson looked on. After a few attempts, Draco managed to produce a small purple pansy, which seemed to please the Slytherin girl of the same name stood next to him, and allowed a clearly relieved Hermione to leave them to it. Before she managed to, Draco grabbed her upper arm and forced her to face him, saying something that made Hermione glare at him angrily.

"Ooh, that Malfoy!" Hermione huffed, as she rejoined Harry and Ron, the latter of who looked aggressively across at Draco.

"What did he say?" he half asked, half demanded of Hermione, rolling up his sleeves. "I'll make sure he doesn't open his mouth again, the little..."

"Language, Mr. Weasley!" a shocked Professor Flitwick warned him as he passed. Hermione shook her head.

"Nothing that matters- he's just a stupid little boy," she seethed. Harry patted her arm comfortingly.

"You said it," he added, and Hermione calmed down and flashed them both a smile.

"I suppose it was worth it to see that cow Pansy get so angry," she replied, mischievously.

Later in the evening, Harry found himself sitting in the magnificently decorated Great Hall, with many excited first year Gryffindors asking Hermione lots of questions about the enchanted ceiling and whether the bats were alive, and would they land in their pumpkin soup, which she answered thoroughly and with patience.

"Aren't you lot just hungry?" Ron moaned to the giggling first years.

"Ron!" Hermione chided. "They're just hungry for knowledge."

Ron howled with derision at this.

"Oh, Hermione," he gasped, between sniggers. "That was cheesier than this pie I'm eating!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Which, I suppose, would be a cheese pie?" she asked, darkly. Ron's laughter subsided.

"Actually, it's cheese and onion, but you get the idea," he replied.

Harry had to admit the Hall did look spectacular as usual. Huge glittering cobwebs hung across the ceiling, which some of the smaller bats had managed to get caught in for a few moments. There were candles lining the walls, suspended seven feet into the air with flames that glowed each of the house colours in turn, and a smattering of gigantic pumpkins with a myriad of funny faces carved into them. Harry particularly liked the one that looked as though it was about to throw up, and imagined that, were Fred and George Weasley still at school, it would have had the pumpkin seeds and flesh arranged strategically around the gash of its mouth to complement the effect. Tucking into his soup, he wondered if the House ghosts would make an appearance this evening. They seemed to be a bit wary of being anywhere in the vicinity of Professor Beauchamp, which Harry was surprised that so few people had noticed.

He felt a small tap on his shoulder, and looked down to see a tiny first year boy, whom Harry recognised as Brian Anderson, stood next to him,

"Are you going to be the seeker on the student Quidditch team this year?" he asked. Harry managed a smile.

"Well, I hope so. I have to beat the Slytherin seeker to the position though," he replied. Brian grinned.

"Good luck. Do you know if we'll have house teams again? I'd been looking forward to trying out- I practice with my dad, and he reckons I could be a chaser!" he exclaimed, enthusiastically.

"I hope so. Maybe next year we will be able to play as four houses rather than one," Harry replied.

"Cool," Brian answered, satisfied with Harry's response, before sitting back down and continuing to eat his pie and vegetables.

Ginny came to sit down at the table, having walked in with Colin and Luna.

"Hey," she greeted them. "We've just had our usual fun Potions lesson, haven't we?"

Colin and Luna nodded in sarcastic agreement, the latter doing so in a slightly more wistful fashion. Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that some of the Ravenclaws were pointing at Luna, then turning and giggling between themselves. Harry found he felt rather annoyed by them on her behalf, and turned to face Luna.

"Do you want to sit with us?" he asked. Luna seemed shocked.

"Okay," she replied, and sat next to him. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, but greeted her in a friendly manner.

"What happened in Potions, then?" Hermione asked Luna, by way of starting up a conversation. Luna jolted her head to face her.

"Oh, nothing much. Snape was a little offhand with us, but that isn't unusual. What's unusual is that he seems a bit jumpy," she replied, absently. Ginny looked at her,

"You think?" she asked. Luna nodded. Hermione frowned.

"Well, it's possible it may have something to do with Beauchamp," she replied. Ginny and Luna suddenly looked interested.

"Ooh, why?" Ginny asked. Luna smiled shrewdly, and looked directly at Hermione.

"I did think they had some kind of relationship going on. He acts oddly around her," she replied, her words causing Ron to blanche slightly and pull a revolted face.

"Eurgh! Beauchamp's way too young for him!" he retorted, pushing his plate away. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, and Hermione leant forward and quietly explained her vampire theory to Ginny and Luna, who seemed intrigued.

"Wow- I suppose it's possible," Ginny replied. Luna looked askance at Hermione.

"I doubt it. Daddy says vampires can't channel magic."

"What if they started out as wizards or witches? I read up on the subject, and couldn't find anything to support the theory that they lose their magical ability as a result."

Luna rolled her eyes, but in a benevolent manner.

"Hermione," she replied. "You need to learn that the answer to all life's problems will not be found locked up in a book!"

Ron smothered his giggles by pretending to drink some pumpkin juice, and Luna looked a little pleased. Hermione bristled, and fought to keep her voice under control.

"Well," she asked, "what do you think it is, then?"

Luna shrugged.

"Dunno, but I reckon Professor Snape will be the first to find out," she replied, knowingly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, both feeling slightly nauseous at Luna's insinuations.

At that point, a large, fairly old looking owl swept haughtily into the Great Hall, brushing past the bats that appeared to shriek collectively and fly to safety in a corner of the room, causing a group of Hufflepuffs to cover up their soup as they flew past. The owl swooped over to the High Table and dropped a rolled up parchment neatly into Professor Beauchamp's lap. She offered the owl some water that she tipped out of her goblet into a nearby saucer, though Harry thought he heard her say something about it probably preferring one of the bats. It was at this point he managed to see the parchment, and it looked oddly familiar- metallic silver seals were not a common way to seal parchments. He watched Snape and McGonagall, who were sitting either side of her, peer over at it, only for her to stuff it quickly into a pocket on her robes and glare at them both reproachfully. Glancing around, she suddenly got up and walked out of the Hall, the other teachers appearing surprised by her behaviour.

"Wow, she wanted that to remain a secret," Ginny commented. Luna smiled dreamily.

"Maybe she has a lover?"

"Maybe she has a secret," Harry responded, darkly. Ron and Hermione looked over at him.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry leant over to them.

"That parchment. It looks familiar," he replied.

"How so?" Ron asked.

"Remember when you asked me where that tenth parchment from Sirius' reading was? Well, I think we've just found our answer," he replied, getting up to follow Beauchamp out of the room. Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Harry, wait- you don't know for certain..."

"I know she's got a parchment identical to the ones we received at Sirius' reading, and I know she's desperate for nobody else to see the contents, and I know I want to know what the hell is going on!" he retorted, before wrenching himself out of Hermione's grip and walking away from the table before she could protest.

He imagined Beauchamp must have gone to her office, which he knew from Lupin's extra classes a few years previously- not to mention his numerous detentions with Umbridge last year- was only two floors up from the Great Hall, so he broke into a run and pelted up the stairs, almost crashing into a suit of armour that tapped him on the shoulder in indignation. By the time he had got to her office, however, the door was firmly shut. Not to be put off, he tried to open it, and the handle didn't turn. He muttered a curse under his breath, and felt around in his pockets for something he could throw at the door- if it had an Imperturbable Charm placed on it, he could at least be certain she was in the room. At last, he found a screwed up piece of parchment, which he opened up and recalled as being his first marked Potions essay of the year. Screwing it back up and flinging it against the door, it bounced off without touching the heavy oak wood in a manner characteristic of something having been flung at an Imperturbed door. This level of secrecy from her distracted him from his original plan of finding out about Sirius at all costs.

Leaning against the door in frustration, Harry was able to make out Beauchamp's voice. Clearly, the Imperturbable Charm guarded against magical eavesdropping, but not against someone who decided to stand very close to the door. It sounded as though she was talking to herself, but Harry realised she must have been using the fire in her room to communicate. Briefly considering the moral ramifications of listening in on his teacher's conversations, he pressed his ear against the door and managed to catch snatches of conversation.

"Well, it appears that way, Al. It's definitely from him... I'm kind of sad about it, actually; he was all right for a psychopath... I didn't say he should have been put in there, did I? I just said he was... No, I don't believe Fudge was right in locking him up, nobody deserves that, and I believe what Black said about being falsely imprisoned... Good, good. Is she still refusing to eat anything yellow?... I thought she might. Still, it's better than her refusal to touch anything green in case it tainted her- I think we're making progress... Oh, I think I got away with it, but he was really pissed off- he had the nerve to change my lesson plan! I sorted him out though... No, no, no, don't worry, Al, he didn't find out. However, I found something out about him... Well, let's just say it turns out the star midfielder appears to have transferred... Yes, he is, and he's teaching here... He could be, I don't know. You haven't given me a lot to go on- tall, thin with a slightly contemptuous voice? From that description, I could be your man... He must do, it doesn't take much to find out during the interview, does it? 'If you'd be so kind as to lift up the sleeve of your left arm'... Yeah, it was a joke, you know... I'll endeavour to do so, don't you worry. Actually, did you get any more info from...?"

Harry felt his hand go numb, and moved it from the oak door. Silence greeted him from the other side of the door, and he felt his pulse rate quicken.

"Hold on, Al, there's someone at the door... I don't know how long for, it's probably just a student... Yeah, I'll speak to you later."

Harry tried to run, but before he got the chance to pull away, the heavy oak door opened, and Professor Beauchamp was stood in the frame, scrutinising him.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" she asked, her voice perfectly amiable. Harry gulped and tried to think up a suitable excuse.

"Erm, I was looking for my textbook. I think I may have left it in your classroom," he replied. Beauchamp looked at him incredulously.

"And you're looking for it now, whilst missing a perfectly good Halloween Feast?" she asked. Harry's eves narrowed a little.

"As are you," he replied. Beauchamp smiled.

"Touché," she answered, shutting the door. "I'll just let you into the classroom."

He struggled to keep up with her long strides, but managed to follow her down a flight of stairs and round to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, which she opened with a simple 'Alohomora'. He entered the room and made a good show of examining all the desks and crawling under the tables, before emerging with no book in his hand.

"Can't have been here" he said, apologetically. "Sorry to have wasted your time, Professor."

"No problem, Harry," she replied. He made to walk back to the hall when she called after him.

"What was the name of the textbook?"

Harry froze.

"Erm... I think it was '101 Methods of Death and Disembowelment and How to Avoid Them'. I'm not certain, as it was Hermione's. I borrowed it off her, and you know what she's like- study, study, study," he laughed, nervously. Beauchamp raised her eyebrows slightly at him.

"Oh, okay. I'll let you know if I see it," she replied, locking the classroom door behind her with a spell from her wand. Harry rushed back to the Hall, wondering what on Earth he had just heard. None of it explained how, or why, she seemed to know Sirius. 'No, I don't believe Fudge was right in locking him up, nobody deserves that, especially when falsely imprisoned... I believe what Black said about being falsely imprisoned'- who else could she have been talking about? She clearly believed he had been innocent too, but why? And why were Beauchamp and her confidante so interested in Snape?

What perturbed Harry more, however, was the 'No, he didn't find out' that Beauchamp had assured her mystery friend of. Despite Luna's scepticism, Harry now suspected that Hermione had been right about Beauchamp all along.

Chapter Twelve: Memories

It was a cold November morning, when frost lay on the ground, that Harry and Ron trundled down to the Quidditch pitch.

"I didn't think we'd have to get up this early on a Saturday for a while," Ron grumbled, watching his breath make ghostly swirling patterns in the air as he spoke. Harry grinned.

"Ah, well- you didn't have Oliver Wood as captain," he replied. "He would have had us practicing instead of sleeping given half a chance."

"And I thought Angelina was bad," Ron grimaced.

Truth was, Harry hadn't minded having to get up this early. It gave him chance to send a letter to Lupin with Hedwig as soon as physically possible. He hoped beyond hope that Lupin would have any idea as to whether Sirius knew Professor Beauchamp- they had been such good friends, Sirius must have told him something, at least. Hedwig had been most unimpressed at being sent off to fly so close to her own bedtime, but Harry hoped Lupin would reply speedily, and that Hedwig may well bring him a reply by the time he had finished practise.

They saw Roger Davies in the distance, waving at them, and they broke into a brisk walk, feet crunching the frosted blades of grass in a rather satisfactory manner.

"Hello, lads!" Roger beamed. "You're keen! First ones here, you know." He looked at his watch. "The others should be arriving soon..."

On cue, the pitch began to fill up with a myriad of coloured robes. Harry recognised Zacharias Smith, who smiled broadly at him, and Crabbe and Goyle, who didn't. There were a few others present; a girl who Harry thought he recognised as Laura Madley in bright yellow robes, chatting to Justin Finch-Fletchley, who also gave Harry a wave once he spotted him. A group of Ravenclaws were conversing with Roger, of which Ron pointed out Mandy Brocklehurst to him. Draco had arrived, and was standing with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry realised, to his horror, that he and Ron were the only Gryffindors present.

"I hope we both get through," he said to Ron. "We can't have fewer that two Gryffindors on the team! That would be a travesty!"

Ron nodded.

"Especially if they had a load of Slytherins," he replied, through chattering teeth.

Suddenly, they heard a whistle blow, and realised Roger Davies was signalling for attention.

"Right, guys," he announced, slightly officiously. "Today is the day we separate our first team from our reserves. Now, I want you to form two teams, and we will play a Quidditch match. The team who wins will not necessarily be picked as the first team, as I will be watching for individual skills and teamwork! Now then, take your positions!" he instructed, picking people at random and throwing each team together. Harry found himself on the opposite team to Ron, with Crabbe and a Ravenclaw girl he couldn't place as Beaters, Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchley as Chasers, and Mandy Brocklehurst as Keeper.

Roger strode over to the trunk containing the required Quidditch balls, opened it and flung them up into the air. The Snitch rushed out of sight, and the Quaffles and Bludgers sprang to their conventional positions. Roger flew up to the two teams on his broomstick; whistle in hand as though it had been glued there since he became Captain.

"Right, on my whistle, I want a good clean match- best of luck to you all!"

He blew on the whistle, and the game began. Harry kept an eye out for the Snitch, carefully scanning the horizon for signs of fluttering movement. He saw a flicker of something and nearly dived for it, but fortunately he spotted it was a sparrow before he embarrassed himself.

A Quaffle spun past his head, making him swerve and almost knock his glasses off his face. Harry could see that Zacharias was rushing after it. Soon he deftly caught it and threw it to Justin, who fumbled a little but caught it as well, and flew off, avoiding the two opposing Beaters who were now chasing after him. He managed to pass back to Zacharias, who aimed it into the Quaffle hoop guarded by yet another Ravenclaw girl he didn't recognise. It arced around her and landed through the hoop, and Harry had to admit Zacharias had style- he doubted whether Oliver Wood could have saved that goal. Roger shouted something along the lines of "10-0!" by which time it had changed to "10-10!" as Ron missed an admittedly difficult save courtesy of Laura Madley on the opposing team. To his credit though, Harry thought, he had saved all the average shots lobbed at their Quaffle hoop, not to mention a quite tricky one, shot at him by a Ravenclaw girl Harry thought was called Alison.

Suddenly, a Bludger came at him out of nowhere, leaving him with very little time to duck. Harry contemplated spinning upside-down on his broom to avoid it, but just as he realised that he wouldn't have enough time to complete the manoeuvre without getting hit on the head, a bat stuck out in front of him and smashed the Bludger towards the opposing team. Harry shook his head to alleviate the shock,

"Thanks- that was really quick," he said appreciatively to the person attached to the bat. On looking across at them, he was stunned to see it was Crabbe.

"We're playing to win, Potter," he replied, without a trace of a smile, before flying off. Harry was amazed. Partly from Crabbe missing an opportunity to see Harry humiliated, partly because it was the first time he could recall having ever heard the boy speak. He had a gruff voice that perfectly suited his physique, Harry absently thought, until he glanced across at Draco, perched on his broom at the other side of the pitch, and realised from his thunderstruck expression that he was also surprised to see Crabbe miss an opportunity to see Harry humiliated.

At that point, both Harry and Draco appeared to stare at each other. In actual fact, they were both staring at the Golden Snitch, which had flitted into view and was now flapping, almost mockingly, between the two of them. Draco started to speed towards it on his broom just a fraction of a second faster than Harry did. Despite Harry's superior Firebolt, Draco was going to get there first, Harry could tell. Judging by the smirk on Draco's face, he could tell as well. Nevertheless, Harry sped forward, determined to at least try. The Snitch spun around a little, but stayed where it was, somehow seemingly unable to move. Draco's hand was almost on it; around the same time Ron saved another goal and smacked the offending Quaffle across the pitch.

Draco looked up at Harry, his arm outstretched, with a look of triumph. This look of triumph was soon replaced by a look of astonishment as the offending Quaffle Ron sent zooming across the pitch smacked him clean across the jaw and sent him reeling off course. Harry nipped forward and grabbed the Snitch, ending the match with his team 150 points better off.

Both team members flew down to the ground of the pitch expectantly, where Roger Davies was ticking off boxes and frowning. After a few agonising minutes of doing so, he eventually looked up.

"Right," he said, officiously, "After much deliberation, from watching your playing out there, I have decided upon a First and Reserve team..."

The groups of players collectively held their breath.

"The First team will consist of the following: Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle."

The aforementioned boys grinned at each other, and at Draco, who managed a smile.

"Chasers, after myself of course..." Here, the crowd groaned in mock derision. "Madley and Smith."

"Erm, which Smith?" a voice Harry didn't recognise piped up. Roger looked a little confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, there are two Smith's out here who were playing as Chasers," the same voice replied. The crowd groaned again.

"Oh, my apologies, Alison- I meant Smith from Hufflepuff."

Harry saw Zacharias punch the air and hiss, "Yes!"

Alison Smith looked furious, and glared at Roger, who shrugged repentantly.

"Right, Keeper: Weasley," Roger continued, and Ron looked as though he had just taken a Bludger to the stomach.

"Me?" he managed to wheeze, in disbelief. Harry grinned, and slapped him on the back.

"How many other Weasleys are out here?" he asked.

"And finally," Roger announced, "Seeker: Potter. Congratulations, guys; the rest of you, commiserations, it was a really difficult decision as you were all brilliant, but you will all be on the Reserve team. I will send details round to all of you concerning out first practise, which I would imagine will be sometime at the beginning of next term."

The crowd began to wander off, a few people on the team coming up to congratulate Ron and Harry, with the exception of Crabbe and Goyle, which suited Harry fine. His stomach had done enough flips of shock in that match, on top of waiting to find out if he made the team, that he felt congratulations from those two would have sent him catatonic with astonishment.

"Wicked! We both made the team- go Gryffindor!" Ron sang, whilst managing to do a little celebratory jig.

"Yeah- it's a pity Hermione didn't get to see this," Harry added. Ron grinned.

"Yeah, she'd have loved to see Draco get hit across the face with a Quaffle! I'm so proud!" he exclaimed, piously.

Draco walked past them, then turned on his heel as he heard Ron's words.

"I bet you'd love to show off to that Mudblood," he spat. "You and your Muggle-loving family are a disgrace to the wizarding world!"

He pushed Ron, which had little effect but to make Ron stumble a little and glare at Draco.

"Shut up, Reserve boy," he mocked. "Your dad's more of a disgrace to the wizarding world than mine- my old man's never ended up in Azkaban."

Draco balled up his fists in anger. Harry merely looked across at him.

"Anyway, what do you care if Ron's showing off to Hermione? Jealous?" he asked sardonically, ignoring Ron's protestations of not showing off to Hermione in the slightest. Draco continued to glare at him, but Crabbe and Goyle, who had been watching from a meter or so away, had walked back up to them. Crabbe put a hand on Draco's shoulder and shook his head.

"Leave it, Draco," he muttered, pointedly. Draco gave the two Gryffindors one last nasty look before heeding his advice and leaving the pitch.

"Well, that was odd," Harry remarked. Ron shrugged.

"They are odd. Here, Harry," he asked suddenly, "have you ever heard Crabbe or Goyle speak before?"

Harry shrugged and recounted the episode on the Quidditch pitch, which caused Ron's eyes to widen.

"Blimey, they really wanted to get on the team!" he replied.

"Where is Hermione, anyway?" Harry asked. Ron's facial expression changed to one noticeably darker.

"I heard Lavender giggle that Hermione got an owl from Bulgaria," he said, though Harry imagined it was through gritted teeth.

"Viktor Krum?" he asked. Ron nodded,

"Who else would it be? She's probably spent the last two hours reading, analysing, dissecting and making notes on his letter. Honestly," he grumbled, "she's as bad as Ginny. Why can't they just stick to nice, suitable guys?"

"Ron," Harry sighed, "you turn over protectiveness into a branch of magical study. I know you won't ever like any of Ginny's boyfriends, but what about Hermione's?"

Ron merely shrugged, and walked off towards the school, forcing Harry to jog to keep up with him.

They found Hermione curled up in the common room, scrutinising a lengthy piece of parchment, a perturbed expression on her face. Harry saw from the lack of Hedwig that Lupin had yet to reply to his letter, and wondered if he'd been a little optimistic as to the speed of owl post. Ron sat down next to Hermione in a manner clumsy enough to distract her from her reading.

"Well, did Vicky send you an interesting letter?" he mocked, causing her to glower at him.

"Viktor, Ron. How many times do I have to correct you?" she replied, coldly. Harry suppressed a laugh.

"Don't you want to know how we got on at Quidditch today, Hermione?" he asked, teasingly. Hermione blushed, and then put her hand to her mouth in horror.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I was going to come and see you too, but I just..."

"You just got distracted by Krum. It's okay, we understand where we come on your list of priorities," Ron huffed. Hermione shot him a glance.

"Don't be so stupid, Ron. How did you get on?" she asked. Harry beamed.

"We both made the team," he replied. Hermione beamed and clapped her hands together.

"Oh, congratulations! I knew you'd both do it!" she exclaimed. Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

"Liar," he retorted. Hermione's expression faltered.

"I'm going to ignore that, Ron, and instead explain why I was so caught up in Viktor's letter. He managed to answer quite a few of my questions concerning Professor Beauchamp," she replied, in a conspiratorial whisper. Harry and Ron sat closer to her in interest.

"We're all ears, Hermione," Harry said, with Ron nodding in agreement. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Well, he's known Persephone for years, since he first started at Durmstrang. She was dating the Quidditch captain, and playing position of Beater, and persuaded this bloke- I think Viktor said his name was Ioan- to let him play Seeker when he was in his first year, and she was in her third. Anyway, they were pretty good friends throughout their time at Durmstrang, they had kept in touch since she left after taking her O.W.L.s. He said she never really told him why she had to swap schools, except that her aunt, who was raising her, told her that she had a place to study at Beauxbatons, and that it would be good for her to improve her language skills- apparently she can speak five different languages," she rattled off, clearly interested in her subject matter.

"Okay," Ron replied, impatiently, "What else did he say?"

"Sorry," she said, before returning to the point in hand. "Anyway, they kept in touch via owl whilst she was at Beauxbatons. She told him that her aunt and Karkaroff had some huge argument in his office just before she was moved from the one school to the other. Viktor also mentioned that Karkaroff seemed a bit wary, almost frightened of her, towards the end of her O.W.L. years. She was a bit of a troublemaker, he says- apparently she once charmed someone's Potions essay so that it contained the phrase 'I blow goats' at random intervals, which of course wouldn't show up under a spellchecker charm."

Harry glanced across at Ron, who looked as though he had already made a mental note to see if he could replicate said charm in time for their Transfiguration lesson that day.

"Does he know what happened to her after she left Beauxbatons?" Harry asked.

"Yes and no," Hermione replied. "They are in touch even now, but she was evasive as to her line of work. The only job he was aware of was the one she's taken here, as she asked him about Hogwarts, knowing he'd visited. That's not what's interesting, though."

Hermione left the statement hanging, waiting for a response.

"What was?" Ron asked, wide-eyed.

"Viktor says she suffers from amnesia," she finished.

"Amnesia? What is it she can't remember, then?" Harry asked. Hermione smiled grimly.

"Anything before she was about six or seven. According to Viktor-" Harry noticed Ron pull a face at this. Hermione, however, didn't. "The earliest memory she has is of waking up in a hospital bed with a bunch of flowers in her hand, and asking the shocked healer nearby for a sandwich. Everything after that is pretty clear, but anything before, she can't recall a single detail."

Ron's eyebrows collided at the top of his head in surprise.

"In her hands? Why wouldn't she have the flowers in a vase on her bedside table, like normal people?" he asked. Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"I've no idea, but Viktor was clear in the letter that she woke up with them in her hand," she replied. Harry scratched his head absently.

"Interesting," he commented, as Ginny entered the common room.

"What's interesting?" she asked. Harry gave her a truncated version of Hermione's admittedly slightly rambling account of Professor Beauchamp's school days.

"Whoa. Do you think she's had a memory charm put on her? It would explain what she was doing in our Potions class today."

Hermione looked up at her in curiosity.

"Huh?"

"Well, she came in a couple of times, borrowing stuff off Snape. I managed to sneak a look at some of it whilst going to collect some hellebore plants. She had some Jobberknoll feathers..."

"A key ingredient in memory potions," Hermione thought aloud, "so she's trying to cure it?"

"Wouldn't you?" Ron replied, incredulous. "If I lost a huge part of my memory, I'd want to remember it!"

"Would you?" Harry asked, not quite looking at Ron. "What if it was something awful? Perhaps there's a reason she's been made to forget her younger years."

"I would have said it was her being turned, if she is a vampire, except that six years old is far too young for it to have happened- otherwise she wouldn't have aged this far," Hermione added, absently glancing at her watch. She jumped up in shock.

"Oh, my! We've got Transfiguration in a few minutes!" she exclaimed, grabbing her bag. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Oh great, more lessons with Malfoy," he groaned. "I'm telling you, he was being a right weirdo during Quidditch... did I mention I almost knocked him off his broom when I saved a goal?"

Ginny smiled.

"Cool! Did you make the team?" she asked. Ron and Harry nodded in the affirmative.

"What was Malfoy doing this time?" Hermione asked, as they left the common room. Harry sighed and recounted the events after the Quidditch trial. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Odd. How very odd... you don't suppose his father being sent to Azkaban has sent him a little, you know..."

"Doolally?" Ron suggested, then laughed. "Now that would be priceless!"

They reached their Transfiguration classroom fairly quickly, but only just before Professor McGonagall, who ushered them in with an air of impatience.

"Come on, come on," she said, briskly, as they hurried to find their seats. Harry had to walk past Draco, who managed to sneer at him even during that brief moment.

"He's really scraping the barrel with threats now," Ron commented in a whisper. Harry sniggered as he sat down.

"Right class, today we shall be looking at replication spells. Now, who can tell me what you might use a replication spell for?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione's hand, predictably, shot up.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Replication spells are ideal for something as simple as creating an extra chair for someone who has unexpectedly stopped by, to confusing an opponent in a Wizards' Duel if you are able to replicate yourself. The replicated item will only last an hour or so, though."

"Well done, Miss. Granger, five points to Gryffindor for the correct answer, and I feel you deserve another five points for showing such applied knowledge," McGonagall replied, clearly pleased by Hermione's answer. Pansy nudged Draco and whispered something to him, which caused him to snigger and look in Hermione's direction. Harry saw Ron glare back at him.

"One of these days," Ron hissed to Harry, "I'm going to throttle that git!"

McGonagall clapped her hands for attention, and the entire class sat up even more rigidly than they had been to begin with.

"You will each find on your desks three objects, an inanimate object of some sort, a variety of plant, and a species of animal. Don't look across at your classmate's desk, as they will certainly have different items to you," McGonagall warned, looking in Ron's direction, who feigned umbrage at her words.

"The basic descriptive method for replication is in your textbooks, which I'm sure you've all read in time for this lesson. I will be here if you need to ask any questions. Now, carry on," she finished, and the class began pointing their wands at assorted quills, snuff boxes, flowers, mice and snails.

"Wow, this is actually really fun to do!" Hermione exclaimed, as she pointed her wand at the frog on her desk until she had around six lethargically hopping along, which she quickly used 'Finite Incantatum' on to stop them escaping and knocking her ink pot over. Ron stared sadly at his pot of nasturtiums, which he had managed to make change colour from red to yellow.

"Well, it's something," Harry commented, encouragingly. After all, it was better than his own attempt; he'd managed to splice his quill into two halves, and after that hadn't dared to risk trying the spell out on his mouse, which had squeaked in fright and hidden in Hermione's robe pocket on witnessing the quill incident.

McGonagall started inspecting the class.

"Well done, Miss Granger... Oh dear, Mr. Potter, what in Merlin have you managed to do to that quill?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm really not sure, Professor," he replied, apologetically, which caused Hermione to start helping him to fix the problem almost instantaneously. Ron managed to make his pot of nasturtium duplicate just before McGonagall turned away.

"Well done, Mr. Weasley," she added, with a warm smile that suggested she was pleasantly surprised at his success, before turning to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, may I have a word?" she asked. Harry gulped and nodded, following her to her desk. Surely he couldn't be in trouble for not managing that spell- he'd only tried it the once.

She beckoned him to sit in a chair next to her desk, and he obeyed.

"I trust things are alright, Mr Potter?" she asked in a stern tone, yet Harry could detect the concern in her voice.

"Yeah, things are fine? Why wouldn't they be?" he replied, confused. Professor McGonagall took off her glasses and wiped them on a piece of linen cloth,

"Alb... Professor Dumbledore has informed me of a certain-" she appeared to be choosing her words carefully, "situation concerning you that he told you about last term. I just wanted to know... If it's affecting your schoolwork, I'll understand."

Harry felt a flush of anger in the pit of his stomach, which he fought to quell. She was talking about the prophecy, but why ask him about it now, of all times? He could only assume she though his difficulty in this one spell was the symptom of Voldemort and that damnable prophecy.

"Professor," he replied, fighting to keep the vexation in his voice to a minimum, "yes, I am aware of the... situation, and it is not affecting my studies! I just had difficulty with this one spell! I usually have to try a few times before I get these things right, I'm not Hermione!"

McGonagall put a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"I wasn't suggesting this particular situation at all. I merely wanted you to know that I do understand you're under a lot of pressure at the moment, and if you need any extra help at all, I'll be only too happy to give you it."

Harry knew she meant well, but her words angered him. He wasn't some sort of charity case, someone to be pitied; he just had a prophecy to fulfil.

"Thanks," he managed to say, and surprised himself by how sincere it sounded. "But really, I'm okay."

"Have you told your friends?" was McGonagall's quick reply, glancing across at Hermione and Ron.

"Not yet, but..."

McGonagall's eyes widened, and she leapt off her seat.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy! What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" she barked, storming towards Ron and Draco, who were stood up straight, eyeballing each other. Harry saw that both Ron and Draco were trying to throw punches at each other, but were being restrained by Hermione and Pansy, respectively. Ron was so tall, however, that Hermione had to stand on her tiptoes to keep him pulled back. At one point, Ron pulled his right arm forward towards Draco so sharply, Hermione was lifted off the floor. McGonagall had to stand in between them, a firm hand on each of their shoulders, to physically restrain them.

"I don't know what you both think you're playing at, duelling like Muggles in my classroom, indeed!"

"But Malfoy..." Ron began, but was cut off by Professor McGonagall.

"Silence! Both of you! Ten points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, and I want to see you both in my office tonight for detention!"

"Professor..." Draco tried to explain, but McGonagall gave him such a cold stare that he shut right up.

He and Ron glared at each other, then sat down.

"I bet if McGonagall knew what Malfoy had been saying, she wouldn't have been so eager to give me detention," he huffed.

"What happened?" Harry asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It was just Malfoy being Malfoy," she replied, but Ron looked at her in horror and interrupted.

"You didn't hear what he said, Harry," he added, angrily. "He was so rude to Hermione! Called her... well, I don't really want to repeat what he called her, but it was well nasty! You'd have thought 'Mudblood' was bad enough..."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who had coloured up.

"Well, yes it was rather unpleasant," she replied, clearly unwilling to go into details. "But he was just trying to make you angry, Ron!" she remonstrated. Ron glowered at an oblivious Draco.

"Yeah, well he did better than he wanted to," he seethed. "One of these days..."

"Mr. Weasley, I shall forget I heard that if you carry on quietly with today's work," McGonagall whispered sharply in his ear.