Harry Potter and His New Standards

A/N: THANK YOU to reviewers: neha_dkulkarni, infratuatedemma, hermione512, JeaniyTheScienceGuy, Eerie, Melissa Wood, Ann, SlowFox, yohannayork, Hermoninny, peach brandy, Ophira, FirePheonix, wrenbirdy, Srox4690, Sparkles, eloisamuggle, Kilkieran, NecessaryEvil, MadAboutHarry, Katie Weasley, Phire Freak, Kenshin42, Lilia, gilaesther, Gryffinpuff, Aarmen Bloodmoon, and Tricky_41.

I've been trying to maintain chapters at somewhere around twenty pages (on Microsoft Word)... so tell me if you think they're, say, too long/too short.

Chapter 24--Girls and Imperius: How to Cope

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

*()%()*

When Holly was under pressure--or in this case, panicking--it was often hard for her to make decisions that, at most times, would be rather simple. She danced on her toes slightly, bouncing up and down whilst looking around frantically before she could more properly feel the weight of the Invisibility Cloak on her arm. Oh!

She flung it over herself, like what would be done if you decided to be a ghost on Halloween and fully deserve the sweets given to you for Trick or Treating--without the chunks of fabric snipped out for eyeholes. After years of no better costumes, she'd mastered how to move with something flung over herself and dragging on the floor.

Screw the clasp.

The door handle was turning while Holly backed into the corner, doing her best not to bump up against the grimy wardrobe. The port swung open with a short creak, and Snape's profile appeared, looking more sour than usual.

Appearing to be angry or not, Holly had a mild shock at seeing how aged he looked. She'd only just been getting used to the Snape in the pensieve, who'd actually had the air of youth hovering around him (extreme stress and strain hanging about or not). This Snape was just... well, old.

He slid into the office, glaring around as though it'd been left a complete disaster. Okay, retard, no one's here... now you can leave and think about it later... But, he didn't leave. Snape was practically sniffing for the one who'd come into his office, uninvited, and left the door unlocked.

Holly fixed the cloak, holding it up with her hands so, if forced to move, she wouldn't get caught in it and fall. She'd just wait until he left again, or something.

In three strides, Snape was at his desk. He looked at his bag and put his hand on it, like he was checking if it still had the same volume. Holly mentally praised herself on instinctively putting everything (but the single potion vial) back into the bag--in the opposite order of when she'd taken it out, even!

Next Snape was yanking open drawers--and, of course, he didn't forget to check the one on the bottom, left-hand corner where the cloak had been. He paused for a moment, eyes narrowing to the point they were just two dark, horizontal slits on his face. "Potter," he spat.

That man did have a way about jumping to conclusions.

After mumbling something about McGonagall and Gryffindor, Snape was off though the office door, not bothering to lock it on his way out.

Holly exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath for quite some time. Finally she looked down at the Marauder's Map, and saw that Snape was taking the long way to Gryffindor... but probably quicker to McGonagall's office. Oh my God, I need to get back!

Cursing her moment of hesitation, Holly bolted out of the office, into the empty classroom, and back into the passage. She ripped off the cloak, since it was slowing her down, and ran down the hallway at top speed.

Centripetal force never did her good, she knew, and as Holly rounded the corners, she wouldn't slow down. Slowing down is what you did in cars. When you ran, you used your hands to avoid getting hurt (even if you did happen to scrape up your palm). On any turn, she'd push a hand against the wall that inertia was carrying her towards to straighten herself out, and keep going.

Reaching the end of the passage, she threw the cloak on once more. Moving as fast as she could without her legs being visible, Holly darted past the prefects and their lights in their assigned corridor. Slamming the heel of her hand against the correct brick, she slid into the second secret passage before the port was even fully opened. She scurried along until she heard the entrance shut behind her, and then broke out in full speed again.

Holly had more balance and grace when running than she did walking, truth be told. She had to think when she walked, concentrate on what she had to avoid, how not to trip, and how to move so that she wouldn't bash into anyone. But running came naturally. When Holly ran--she flew. Maybe it was an effect of heredity... one of the few gifts she got from having an unpunished school rule-breaker for a father and a bespeckled girl with long legs for a mother.

But, when it came one to multitask at full speed... that was Harry's area, not hers. The cloak was off again.

Stairs... she was no good at stairs. Holly had to slow down to ascend the steps that spiraled up to the seventh floor, but guaranteed herself that she was so far ahead of Snape it was ridiculous to think he could ever catch up without Apparating to the spot.

At the top of the staircase she threw the cloak on again, and slid though the hole in the wall, out from under the bookshelf, and to the portrait. "Anthochaera!" she said breathlessly, loud enough that the Fat Lady would awake but quiet enough so that the Gryffindor Prefect wouldn't hear her.

The woman in the portrait jerked awake, staring around with puffy eyes. "Who's there?" she asked, looking at the empty space that was Holly. The Fat Lady squawked, "Who is it? I refuse to open unless I can see the giver of the password!"

Holly figured that the portrait need not see the stolen Invisibility Cloak, so she stepped out of the painted woman's range of vision, took the cloak off, folded it in half, and stuck a few inches of the hem in the elastic of her pajama bottoms. She slid back into the Fat Lady's view, wearing a dew-drip smile. Holly tried her best to cover up how hard she was breathing, but chances were that it didn't work well.

"It's just me," she stated, hoping this would go as quickly as possible.

Maybe portraits didn't have conscience, or perhaps the Fat Lady just couldn't be fooled. Holly, being used to people immediately falling in love with her smile that could be best described as The Epitome Of Sweet Innocence (only used when hoping to win someone over), was surprised when all she got was a moment of hesitance from the Fat Lady before she narrowed her eyes.

"What're you doing outside of your dormitory?" barked the portrait, "Do you have any idea what time it is, young woman?"

Holly's smile vanished to reveal quite an ugly look. "Yeah," she snapped, "I do. Midnight... give or take half an hour. Anthochaera." She glanced over her shoulder, and there was no prefect, no Snape, and no McGonagall.

"Where have you been? Curfew was hours ago, Miss Black."

"Doesn't matter. Anthochaera." Holly responded.

"Let me rephrase, I demand to know where you've been. Its my duty to keep watch on the students that enter and exit this common room," replied the Fat Lady stoutly.

Holly took a deep breath, her eyes starting to widen with impatience. "I demand that you do your duty in opening up when I give you the password before I rip you apart with--my--fingernails! Anthochaera, God damn it!"

The Fat Lady looked as though she was torn between being dubious or threatened. Either way, she swung forward, and Holly chanced a last glance over her shoulder before clutching the cloak in her hand again and hurrying through the portrait hole and into the common room.

*()%()*

"Great!" said Hermione upon Holly appearing inside the room, "You have the cloak? We found the p-"

Holly, being Holly and relatively disrespectful of her peers, cut Hermione off. But, she supposed it was for a good reason. "Snape--Snape's coming, I think. He came in just before I left, saw the cloak was gone, said-" she twisted her face into a pig-like look, "-'Potter', and took off to find McGonagall."

Hermione had been tuned in just long enough to hear Holly add an additional 'hi' to Ginny with a vague wave, and have it returned, before she went into Nervous Guilt Mode. It never failed, whenever Hermione felt that she just might be getting in trouble, all her organs rearranged themselves into what was, presumably, a daisy shape; and her heart started to flutter. The only thing worse than getting into trouble was failing a test (in her perspective, anyway). Hermione never thought about things like death and war, because beyond school there was so much reality that, even though she understood it completely, it had never really--applied to her. Her friends and family were still alive and well, and Voldemort--hating Muggles and the Muggle-born of the magic community or not--wasn't about to be after her!

But in that, she was wrong.

By the time she'd felt that presence of dread start building inside of her, the rest of the people standing in the common room were getting up, pushing in chairs, and exchanging hustled directions.

"We've been in here the whole time, since Harry got back, alright?"

"Kay. Oh, here's the map-"

"Thanks. What about the cloak?"

"I'll keep it... you don't want Snape finding you with it. That'd be-"

"Bad. Right..."

"How 'bout I take it?"

"Good idea! Hide it in the bottom of your trunk-"

"I will."

"Hermione," said Ron pulling some of her senses out of Guilt Mode, "Hermione, you should put that book somewhere out of sight." He motioned towards Impigergra Veneficus, which was still open to the page headed The Dominatinis Potion. "Snape's made up rules about books before--and since that one is on potions... he'd probably know where it came from, which would cause us a lot more problems."

After comprehending what he said she shook herself mentally and ordered all her thoughts and senses to arrange themselves correctly. "Yes... yes I'll do that."

"We've been in here since I got back, remember," Harry said as Hermione closed the text and picked it up.

"Yep." Soon the girls and guys were splitting up, going behind either door that hid the steps leading up to their dormitories.

Ginny turned off a door earlier than Holly and Hermione with the cloak held tightly in her fist behind her back. She poked her head into the designated fifth year girls' dormitory, and since the other two were asleep, draped the Invisibility Cloak over her arm and entered without it hidden.

Hermione was following her taller compeer as quickly as she could, granted she had a huge book cradled in her arms. At the top of the staircase, Holly pushed the room's door open, gazing inside. "They're both asleep," she declared in a whisper, turning back for a moment before entering their sleeping quarters.

There were two lanterns in the room that were still glowing, but dimly. Hermione strode over to her four-poster, knelt at the foot of her bed, opened her trunk, and began moving various objects out of the way so she could bury the book at the bottom of it.

Holly, on the other hand, had taken off the sweater she'd pulled over her pajama top earlier and crawled under the blankets on her bed. She picked up the little neon-orange book that was her journal and dipped the quill in the inkbottle... starting to scribble more.

"Y'know," Hermione commented quietly, standing up with her toiletry bag and nightgown in hand, "you should really go to sleep..."

"Yeah, yeah, just le'me finish."

"Fine," she whispered back, "I'm going to go freshen up." Holly gave her a what's-the-point? look that she chose to ignore, and left the dormitory for the nearest girls' lavatory.

*()%()*

"Where's Benny?" Ron mumbled, digging through the sheets on his bed.

The situation in the sixth year boys' dormitory was much the same as that in the sixth year girls'. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all sleeping... Neville for sure, anyway. His snores filled the room at their usual volume... loud enough to keep you awake, quiet enough to allow you to fall asleep (with a bit of concentration).

Harry, who had stripped down to flannel trousers and a white tee shirt for bed, turned to look at him. "Sorry?" he murmured.

Ron glanced over his shoulder and straightened up. "Nothing." Harry was never the one to be suspicious, or, to the best of Ron's knowledge, show when he was dubious (if he trusted you, anyway). And, like then, it was normal for Harry to just overlook it.

Harry went back to his own business, probably hiding the Marauder's Map in his trunk and quickly, and Ron turned and bent over, starting to dig through the blankets tucked around his mattress again. He still couldn't find Benny!

"Hurry up and get in bed, Ron... if they're going to search dormitories, ours is first!" He heard the slide and click of metal on metal as Harry latched his trunk shut (no one ever bothered with the straps unless they were going somewhere with it).

"I know." Ron sighed and put out the lantern, climbing under the covers of his four-poster and drawing the curtains shut. He heard Harry do the same. His foot hit something at the foot of his bed. Ron silently got himself on his knees and dug through the blankets, to the very end of the mattress where he managed to fit his hand around something plushy.

Extracting it from the depths of his bed, he held the thing in front of him. Squinting in the dark he made out the shape of his old, stuffed bear--patterned like a patchwork quilt. There you are, he thought.

Ron laid back down, letting his head sink deep into his feather pillow, clutching the plush thing against him with one arm. If anyone found out that he still slept with a teddy (What? It was habit!), he'd die.

*()%()*

Holly finished off her journal entry with promising that she'd go over full details of what happened from when Ron came into the dormitory on, and with a complicated set of wrist-twists, signed her name at the bottom of the page.

From her closer set of friends, The J's, she'd received three diaries along with something more of their choice. This one she'd gotten from Jennie, according to the note written on the inside cover, anyway.

Holly liked journals, actually. Rereading your memories was always fun, seeing how your handwriting, life, and attitude have all changed. She wasn't sure that, say she died, she'd want anyone else reading it (even less so if she were alive)... but it was good to leave something saying that there was a Holly Black, people knew her, and she mattered.

In this particular entry, though, she'd been writing about her meeting with Professor Sutorlond--the school's Quenya teacher.

She hadn't gone into full detail, but his room was one of the several that were designed about the same throughout the castle. It was small and rectangular, with two windows on one wall, a bookshelf, blackboard, and counters on either of the longer walls. She'd glanced around at the objects on the counters, but hadn't found anything very... Elf-like.

But, what intrigued Holly, was the writing on the chalkboard. Flowing script--his studied form of Elvish, presumably--footed by a translation (or, a half translation, as they'd only been rewritten with "proper" letters, not into actual English words). It just made her feel like she was getting herself into a new and interesting culture... one so unlike her own, it was hard to imagine what it was like.

So, he'd asked her to have a seat, and being there were no extra chairs in the room, she sat in the desk nearest him. Sutorlond had a way of making Quenya sound more interesting than it had struck her at first, and made her feel more at a need of learning it. So, in the end, she'd negotiated herself into a deal that starting the next week: Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays Sutorlond would teach her to speak Quenya. She was going to be alone, Ginny didn't want to do it... claiming she'd be too stressed out over O.W.L.s and Quidditch (did season even go that long?). But, that was Ginny's problem, not hers.

She was getting herself a head start into a language she was supposed to start the next year--and all it took was some intelligent, well-worded arguments and a few innocent smiles.

Holly placed her diary into her trunk, took out her contacts, put out the lamp, and snuggled herself into bed. In a month she'd at least know how to ask if they would all speak English for her benefit, right?

*()%()*

He was just drifting off (when tired as he was now, nervous or not, it was simple for him to fall asleep), slipping into a good dream when.... Well, at first he thought it was an angry mountain troll who thought one of the boys inside the room had taken its club. Something was pounding on the door, anyway, and Harry sat bolt upright. After the initial rush of adrenaline was gone, he felt the weight of drowsiness working him like gravity.

He'd only just made an exasperated noise and pulled open his curtains, starting to grope around for his glasses when the door swung open, revealing Snape and McGonagall. The Deputy Headmistress's hair was in rollers, and she was wearing robes that had obviously been only just thrown over a nightgown, and Snape was in his traveling cloak again--a lantern in hand. "Professor McGonagall?" muttered Harry sleepily, choosing to not acknowledge Snape, "What're you doing in here?"

She looked aggravated. "Professor Snape has an interesting claim, Potter, and I'd like you to verify whether or not it is true."

Ron had popped his head out through his curtains and came to join Harry standing on the floor for his own Ron-like support. He didn't really say much--but you knew he was there for you... watching your back (or the top of your head, either way). Dean was looking around, too, but both Seamus and Neville remained asleep (or unseen, anyway). "Wha' choo do now, Harry?" he asked, squinting at him almost like the light of Snape's lantern was too bright.

"Nothing, Dean," Harry answered. He looked back at McGonagall to clear that he was ready to tell her that he had been out earlier that night, Snape had taken his Invisibility Cloak, but he hadn't stolen it back.

"I understand that you were running about earlier tonight, under your father's old Invisibility Cloak, correct?" Harry nodded and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, not bothering to right her in any way. "And Professor Snape... ran into you?" He nodded again. Ron still hadn't said anything, and Dean was silent from his post on his bed. McGonagall sighed. "After escorting you to his office, he confiscated this cloak of yours?"

"Yes, what's the point of this?" Harry asked. He didn't want to sound like he was defying authority, so he kept on drawing out his words... like he didn't really have a monitor on what he was saying.

Snape heaved in a deep breath. "The point is that you reentered my office once I'd left and retrieved this cloak of yours, believing it would go unnoticed," he barked. He looked like he was going to add more... accusations with no foundation or a little bit of his daily Potter slander, but he didn't have the chance.

"What?" responded Ron, "He'd been in the common room complaining about losing the cloak, just because he went down to see Hagrid, for ages. I don't think he had time to steal back to your office for it." Harry made a mental note to thank Ron for his lie (it was a sad thing, but they seemed to get better at it as they got older) whilst he nodded in agreement. It may not have been wise to mention Hagrid, but at least the story matched.

"Where did you go?" inserted Dean devilishly, looking at Snape with a sleepy smirk. Gryffindor bravery never failed Dean.

"That isn't of your concern," growled Snape in quick reply to Dean before turning back to Harry and Ron. "Potter, you're the only one who knew that cloak was hidden in my office-"

Harry dared to cut him off. "Most likely-" Except for Lucius Malfoy, "but I'm sure if someone else were to find an Invisibility Cloak lying around... they might snatch it."

Professor McGonagall took a breath to say something, but Snape got there first. "A believable statement, but not a credible testimony," he stated. "Who did you send, Potter? We'll search every dormitory in this tower if I feel compelled to do so!" Harry could feel Ron rolling his eyes behind him.

"I didn't send anybody to get my cloak!" he replied, fighting hard to keep his voice down. This was at least half-true: Harry didn't force Holly to go and get it! "Search me, if you have to. It's not here, and I'd really like to know where it is. It's mine."

McGonagall still couldn't get a word in. "Sorely miss it as you may, whether I find its whereabouts or not... you aren't getting it back, Potter."

"For a planned time frame, anyway," agreed McGonagall.

"If you find it, let us know," Ron said. "But, really, it's late... and we have Charms first thing tomorrow-"

"-and it's our last day of review before our test," Harry added.

"...so I really want to be alert for it, y'know..."

Snape opened his mouth to reply, not looking convinced at all by these statements, but McGonagall finally beat him to it. "I understand that... and it delights me to see my House students anticipating an exam for a change. But, I'd like to ask you once more--for Professor Snape's benefit in clarification--did you or did you not enter his office and take your Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry was sick of answering questions in his defense. "I swear I didn't."

Snape muttered something to McGonagall and she replied equally softly. Snape frowned, and his elder colleague returned a look that made him sigh (or grunt), defeated, and look away. "Sorry for bothering you, Potter, Weasley, Thomas."

Harry had forgotten about Dean being awake and listening. "Dean," he corrected. Harry was well aware that he, Dean, knew that several teachers chose to address the students by their surnames... but he corrected McGonagall on this quite often.

She allowed him a sleepy, tight-lipped smile and agreed, "Dean, then. Goodnight, boys." Through this, Snape remained standing stiffly, glaring in the general direction of Dean's West Ham poster.

"See you tomorrow afternoon, professor!" Dean closed brightly. Both teachers turned and left, leaving Harry wondering how that went through so smoothly. He hadn't convinced Snape it wasn't him who'd taken the cloak--but that wasn't his goal, it was just to stay out of trouble. And that he'd managed to do rather well.

He quietly thanked Ron for the assistance in covering with a typical loyal but nonchalant shrug in return, and was about to lie back down and sleep (finally) when Dean's voice interrupted his train of thought. "An Invisibility Cloak, eh?" Harry grimaced. "Lucky for you I really don't know how that would work, or I might've been miffed you never told me..."

*()%()*

Harry managed to pay Dean off with the story that his Invisibility Cloak was the only thing (other than the Marauder's Map, sort of--but he hadn't mentioned that) that he'd inherited from his father, and he would have given it to he and Seamus to use if it weren't so precious to him. He'd added, for the point benefit, that the two of them never seemed to be caught anyway, and possessed enough stealth that they didn't need invisibility to get away with what they were doing. This passed with Dean, and he promised not to tell Seamus or Neville about it.

Dean hadn't asked for the full details of Harry's adventure and whether he really knew where the cloak had ended up, and he was grateful for that. Because Harry had stressed over the thing long enough--and it didn't help much when McGonagall told him that afternoon that she'd deducted twenty-five house points. She said that although Snape had chosen not to take away points at the time, it was most likely that he didn't have a term long enough to figure out a fair amount. So, being the professor she was, McGonagall marked down half of the normal number of points she took for catching a student out of bounds after curfew. This was supposed to be generous, he sensed, so Harry didn't argue.

The next two days went by well, on the basis that Harry didn't have to suffer through Potions until Friday. No one new had started to hate him, there hadn't been a single press clipping about him for the Slytherins to quote mockingly, he didn't lose any more house points, and his grades were being maintained at an average.

Harry had the feeling Snape had gone to talk to Dumbledore, but he didn't get any further word on it. All he knew was that his cloak was safely tucked away somewhere in Ginny's dormitory.

Hermione told Holly about the Dominatinis Potion when they were getting ready on Wednesday morning, and she hadn't any theory as to what they could do about it or how they could research it further. Other than Percy, they didn't have much for a close connection to the Ministry. The majority vote was that they couldn't give the book to Dumbledore, because he'd know what section of the library it came from, and not to mention whom the blame was to be placed on for harming the caretaker's cat (Mrs. Norris was still in the infirmary). "Besides," Ginny had reminded them, "the Ministry probably knows what they're dealing with, but are managing to keep it from the Prophet so far."

Holly had had some other information for them. First, she'd stolen a vial full of potion from Snape's bag, and could report the contents of the knapsack. A robe, a bunch of sloppily written notes ("You couldn't read them!?" Hermione exclaimed. "No! I'm not in Ancient Runes to decipher shit he wrote!"), and another vial. After being angry with her comrade for a few minutes, Hermione realized that the fact Holly knicked something else made Harry look a little less guilty--as far as the Invisibility Cloak saga went. "Maybe when he saw that was gone, Snape thought that someone had come in looking for that potion, and took the Invisibility Cloak just because it was there!" she concluded breathlessly.

"I already tried telling you that," Holly muttered between her teeth. But her comment had gone unnoticed.

Along with this news, Holly explained that she'd snuck a peek into a pensieve she found in a cupboard. Unlike Harry, Holly hadn't been forbidden to report parts of what she'd seen in this professor's basin full of memories. He was transfixed, listening to the three scenes she'd witnessed.

A Death Eater meeting, where Voldemort plotted his movements to kill the Potters. But first he needed confirmation of their whereabouts, and he sent Snape to do the job.

Inserted after this memory was one that Harry had actually heard about. His dad saving Snape's life at his own risk... after an extremely dirty trick that Holly's father had played on him, Snape.

The last one she was in was Snape nervously reporting to James, Lily, and Sirius that Voldemort was after them... and that they needed to go into hiding immediately. Part of what got Harry, though, was that he and Holly were both in this memory--as children. She told him that he, Harry, had started crying after her baby-self had (being scared silly of Snape), and in the process of crawling hurriedly towards his mother he'd bashed his head on the coffee table. His mother had called him "handsome" and picked him up, stating that it was the second time he'd hit his head that week.

Snape had made sure they all went to Hogwarts, because no one could Apparate or track them there.

So, if Voldemort was sending two Death Eaters after Snape if he didn't return... this had to be the thing he did "at great personal risk" to win over Dumbledore's trust.

"But," Hermione said, "if Voldemort did have the right address... how would the Fidelius Charm work to hide them?"

Holly shrugged. "It's magic. I have no idea."

He, Hermione, and Ron had to explain what went on in the second memory to her, and why it was probably placed in between two that were much closer to each other time-wise. That was the happening, or at least one of them--Harry had never found out exactly how many times his father had risked his neck for Snape--that put their Potions master in James Potter's debt. It was common knowledge that Snape hated Harry, as he had hated James... and probably Lily as well. Holly said that it seemed like Snape was struggling with telling them Voldemort's plans for them.

It was either he saw James and Lily Potter off--finally--and would never have to put up with their supposed saintliness again, or repay the favor of saving his life by saving theirs. If he had succeeded, he wouldn't have needed to worry about the Potters' well being again... but he didn't. Thus the basis of what he'd done for Harry all the way back in first year. And, through his attempts to get he and his friends expelled, maybe Snape was trying to save him again in third year--with the whole Sirius Black: Escaped Convict affair.

No, Harry reminded himself, he just wanted to see Sirius put away for good, along with Lupin just for kicks.

So, replaced with nervousness about his Invisibility Cloak, every time Harry saw Snape these next two days... he thought about what Holly had testified to regarding his pensieve. In some way or another, Snape was probably always watching him--not only so that he could bust him on breaking school conduct, but also just in case he was in some form of danger.

So did Snape have some sort of soft spot for Harry? Certainly not. But, if ever in need, chances were the professor would have his back covered, however--subtle--this caring tendency may be.

*()%()*

Thursday night before dinner. Harry was looking forward to ascending the steps to the Astronomy tower and looking at the stars with Cho. That is--looking at the stars through telescopes in order to do homework. With Cho.

But Holly reminded him that, before this, he was subjecting her to an Unforgivable Curse in order to test her Cretionis Charm.

He didn't realize until just then what he had casually suggested a couple days earlier, like it was something someone did every day, was illegal. He, Harry Potter, was going to break wizarding law--right under Albus Dumbledore's nose. This wasn't conjuring up a patronus against a boggart with his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher...

"But," Holly countered as they came to the Entrance Hall, "you aren't hurting me. I don't think. It's just a test, really." This was true... Moody--well, Crouch--had done it. Harry wasn't even sure if he had power enough to make the spell work.

"I know. But... it's still against the law," he replied quietly.

Standing just inside the Great Hall, they scanned for somewhere to sit at the Gryffindor table. "It's only illegal," Holly stated, "because someone figured it out and started using it for evil."

"Suddenly you're sounding excited to do this."

Holly didn't reply. Her eyes were still raking over the heads of people sitting at their designated house table. Her shoulders dropped slightly. "No Ron and Hermione," she murmured.

"Where do you s'pose they are?" inquired Harry. Holly shrugged. "Er--I'm going to sit with Dean and Seamus."

"Me too. I'm not in the mood to talk to Kylie Bell today, she's a bitch."

"Oh?"

Dinner was of the usual... some sort of meat, a form of potatoes, a vegetable, rolls, and desserts. They had a meal on those lines at least every other day, and it did tend to get sickening. Never once had the house-elves sent up pizza, cheeseburgers, or anything else that might appeal to adolescents craving something you can dab grease off of with a napkin.

But Harry had learned: the people of the magical community ate, well, big.

There was no sign of Ron and Hermione throughout all of dinner, and Harry was half-thankful that Dean and Seamus said nothing of it. Perhaps they sensed Holly's tension on the topic, or maybe they just didn't notice. Either way, eating was an interesting affair when spent with those two. Then again, Dean and Seamus had a way of making everyday happenings an adventure in its own.

Seamus chimed, "I call the last meatball!" with his mouth so full you could only just make out what he was saying through the accent and the food. He had four of them on his plate already, dripping in gravy, and a half-eaten one on his fork.

"What?" breathed Dean, aghast. "The last--meatball? No! It's mine." There was one fat meatball left sitting on its golden plate, right in the middle, surrounded by little puddles of chunky gravy.

"Sorry. Already called it," Seamus stated shortly, shrugging casually.

Dean was born to perform Shakespeare. At this he looked as though his heart had been shredded into pieces. "But--but--I've only had two!"

"So? I've only eaten three and a half." He shoved the rest of the meatball that was speared on his fork into his mouth. "Four."

"Exactly," pointed Dean, "you've had twice as many as me! Besides, you have four more on your plate!"

"I'll let you have one," offered Seamus, "Here you go." He stuck his fork in one and slid the meatball off on Dean's plate.

"No! I don't want your rabid bacteria, meatball hog. Take it back!" Dean pushed his plate towards Seamus. "Your saliva was all over the tongs of that fork. Take the meatball! Quick! Before it touches my potato!"

Seamus protested in a whiny voice, "No, Dean, it's a gift!"

"Take it back! Please! I want the last one!" Dean nudged it with his fork, rolling it back onto Seamus' dish.

"No, see, now your fork's touched it. So I get the last one..." He stabbed the meatball again and started to move his arm towards Dean's plate, but he caught him in the arm.

"The hell you do. Your fork has touched that meatball two times now. So there's more Seamus germs on there than Dean germs," Dean stated while holding Seamus' arm away from his plate. "Look at that meatball, all alone on its golden platter... its calling out to me, Seamus! It says that it wants to be carefully devoured and enjoyed by me!"

Seamus struggled to get the meatball on Dean's plate, as his friend was pushing back. "Nu-uh! I saw it first. Take--my--meatball..."

"Never!"

With a casual flick of his wrist, Seamus slipped the meatball off his fork, and it fell into Dean's goblet... splashing them with water. "Look at what you've done."

"What I've done? That's it... I'm going to lick the meatball," Dean stated in resolve.

Seamus' eyes widened in horror. "No!"

They struggled against each other, trying to hold the other back whilst reaching for the final meatball on his own. Holly and Harry had been watching silently this whole time, eyebrows raised. Who could possibly make such a big deal over... a meatball?

While they were half-wrestling each other, Neville came and sat down by Harry (although there was more room by Holly--but Neville seemed to be scared of her, frankly). "Ooh! I love meatballs!" And, with his fork, he picked up The Last Meatball and bit off half of it. "Mmm!" he said, grinning while he chewed it.

Dean and Seamus froze, grasping each other's wrists and/or forearms. The boys stared open-mouthed at Neville who happily chewed away, dishing himself some corn. Beside him, Holly's shoulders started to shake. It wasn't' long until she made a squeaking noise that alerted the rest of them she was laughing.

"I hate you," Dean told Neville, who still had no clue what was going on, "I almost had it."

*()%()*

"What?" asked Ron, his eyes popping involuntarily.

Hermione had insisted they take on the library for a little revising for their Charms exam (scheduled for Friday after Potions), and for the first time ever... she'd led them off topic. Ron had tried, time and again, to get Hermione to forget about school and just talk with him. Never had it worked though... Hermione's top priority was maintaining over 98% in each class, it seemed. Ron knew that if he, or any of her other friends were ever in trouble, Hermione would drop all of her books and come running--but at times he doubted it.

Like kings blinded by their riches--Hermione was blinded by her studies.

But this time there were apparently other things on her mind. Ron had been busy doodling a Golden Snitch on his "notes" when Hermione looked up from her book and interrupted his sparking ideas on a brilliant Quidditch play.

"I think we should go on a date," she repeated, slower this time. Ron managed to get his eye width to recede back to what was considered normal size. "I mean, that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do..."

"Yeah," agreed Ron, "but--er--we've only been... y'know... together for, like, four days."

"I know that!" she replied brightly, never allowing her calculations to be doubted.

"Besides," he allowed himself a nervous-sounding laugh, "there's really nowhere to go around here. I mean, unless you'd fancy a tour of the Forbidden Forest or another walk around the lake." Or they could waltz in the library--she might find that to her liking.

"Hogsmeade," she said. "I mean, there has to be somewhere nice to eat around there. And if there isn't, we could always settle for the Three Broomsticks."

"Or the Shrieking Shack," Ron muttered in addition. She raised an eyebrow. "Low prices and privacy guaranteed!" he assured her, smiling weakly. For the first time all night Hermione laughed. He sure wished she did it more often--so he knew that at least she thought he was funny. "But, Hermione--the next Hogsmeade weekend is over a fortnight away and... well..." He squirmed in his chair.

"Yes, yes, keeping it secret," she sighed, shaking her head slightly. Hermione didn't look too thrilled with that concept, but he did his best! And, although he wasn't ready to let her know... his entire dormitory already knew about it. (But he only told Harry--God knows how Dean, Seamus, and Neville were informed.)

Then again, so did hers. She hadn't told him, but even the mirror knew about it! He'd seen the looks worn by Parvati and Lavender when they (he and Hermione) had left History of Magic together that afternoon.

"About Hogsmeade, though," she continued. "I talked to Professor McGonagall earlier this term after a prefects meeting. She says that next year, depending on our classes' academic accomplishments and behavior, that the sixth and seventh years may have every weekend to visit the village, if they wanted to." She beamed at him.

Ron turned this over in his mind a couple times before saying. "Right... but that's next year, Hermione, not next term, and not next week."

"I know that, Ron." He waited for her to elaborate. "But it couldn't hurt... going there, just this once."

"Trying to get me to break school rules again, eh?" Ron scowled. "I think you're trying to put me in jail and be granted to all of my inheritance!" She grinned and shoved at him across the table. "You are, aren't you!?"

There was an audible "Shh!" from over by Madam Pince's desk. Hermione put her fingers to her lips and giggled quietly.

"Fine," Ron whispered, "I'll borrow Harry's cloak and we'll go to Hogsmeade for dinner Saturday night. Alright?" Hermione smiled and nodded, looking back down at her Charms text.

Ron held back a sigh, and looked down at his half-finished drawing of a Snitch. He wondered, vaguely, exactly what he was getting himself into.

*()%()*

Harry poked his head inside the door of Classroom 4B. "All clear--c'mon."

Holly followed him into the room, and he lit the torches with his wand. "Um... should we move the desks or something?"

This was the first time Harry had been in an empty classroom with a friend--"practicing" how to deal with upcoming tasks. But this wasn't the Triwizard Tournament... it was fighting against Voldemort. Dealing with a war unclaimed but present.

"No," he answered, "I think we're good. Without the Charm first." Warily, Holly unclasped the hook on her chain and slipped the necklace off, lying it down on the nearest desk like it were a precious crystal. Then again, it probably was precious to her. She turned around to face him and dropped her arms at her sides. "Right, um..." He raised his wand, hesitating.

"What?" she asked, looking confused. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he replied quickly. "Well... yes. I mean, I'm putting you under with an illegal spell and--"

Holly shook her head and waved her hand a little, shushing him. "You were the one who was all 'You need to know how to fight Imperius' on Tuesday. So I agree to it, and you're chickening out on me now." She sighed over-dramatically.

"Well I thought it was a good idea at the time--"

"Shut up, you're making me nervous. Just do it!"

Harry held up her wand, and on his impulse's command he said, "Imperio."

A rush of some sort of savage power went through him as he saw that it worked. Holly's face relaxed and her shoulders dropped. Eyes unfocused, she stared forward. It was one of those times when Harry realized the power he had, being a wizard. Only sixteen years old or not, at the time it looked like he had complete control over his godsister, by the force of magic.

No alarms were going off, and no teachers were drawn to the spot.

Influence and energy were pulsing at his fingertips, and in the back of his mind Harry knew he'd crossed a line. With one incantation... he had the word over everything a person did. Whether it was temporary or not--suddenly he knew why it had been a choice spell amongst witches and wizards in their time. You couldn't use the word enough, and there was no better description: it was power. And power, he knew, was addicting.

"Um..." He may as well have some fun with it. Besides, they had a Cretionis Charm that fixed injuries, didn't they? "Do a back flip."

She complied wordlessly (for once) and effortlessly. She didn't even use her hands. What awed him was that Holly had been standing, completely stationary. In a split second her knees came up and she turned over with top gymnast form and quality. "Whoa," he said to himself, trying to think of something else that he'd like to see someone do on word. Holly had resumed her position... standing at rest, face blank.

He thought about another gymnastic move he'd either seen or heard of. "Try a round-off."

Obediently she did what he said, again--twisting into a perfect cartwheel and following it up with a front flip. There was no way that under normal circumstances she would have been this flexible. "Okay, blink... you're making my eyes water." She shut her eyes and reopened them once. "Let's see a snippet of Riverdance."

Hands on her hips, she clicked her toes and heels on the floor, kicking here and there. Through his laughs, he could see that it looked coordinated enough. "Imitate a pig." She got down on all fours and snorted, gingerly crawling forward, and rubbing her nose on the ground. Harry started laughing so hard he had tears welling up in his eyes. The very image made his ribs rattle. "Okay--okay--you can stop..." Holly stood back up and looked straight ahead. He wasn't exactly sure how to put a stop to the effects of Imperius, but Finite Incantatum did the job.

Harry was still heaving, rubbing his aching stomach, when Holly snapped out of the trance with a jerk. "Oh--my--God," she said, "what'd you make me do?"

He managed to regain his composure after a moment. "N-nothing..."

"Okay, I've just decided I don't want to know." Holly rubbed the top of her head and shut her eyes. "I guess I didn't do too well against it, huh?"

"No," he confirmed, "you didn't. Try it with the Charm on... we'll see what happens."

Holly nodded and grabbed the necklace. She put it on, slipping it between her shirt and collarbone.

"Ready?" She nodded again, taking a deep breath.

"It felt really weird. I don't even remember what happened." Harry watched her for a moment, waiting. "Go ahead, then."

He said the incantation again, and her eyes went blank. "Skip around in circles." She started up again, hopping gingerly in a round path... and it was a moment before she slowed down. Her skipping changed to a bound walk, and she looked like Winky had from back around the time of the Quidditch World Cup in fourth year. She struggled, but showed no realization of what she was doing. Holly only stopped moving completely for a moment before resuming her high-kneed skipping.

Harry let her continue, and at half-minute intervals, about, she went back to walking, stopped moving for a second, and then started to skip again. He took the curse off of her and resumed his questioning.

"Did you feel anything different that time?"

Holly looked down at the floor beside her a moment, thinking, before shaking her head. "No."

Harry sighed and started to pace. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

He explained to her the change in her act, and how she didn't look like she knew what she was doing--even when fighting it. "So," he said, "what we need to do is get you working on will power. It's not that hard to throw off the curse... just... I dunno how to explain it."

"That's a hell of a lotta help," Holly murmured, rolling her eyes. She was a lot more tolerable when under Imperius.

"Just... listen to that little voice inside. Or something." Holly nodded, resigned, and removed her necklace again, placing it on the same desk, in the same spot.

"Okay."

He submitted her to the curse several more times; taking breaks to inform her of her progress. Holly didn't have quite so strong of a will as Harry had supposed. It took her quite a while, as her development was slow. But, she improved with each try... and although each progression was small... it was something.

It was about half an hour before Harry told her "one more time" and said the incantation.

"Pretend you're a bird," he said. Holly's shoulders twitched, but other than that she didn't move. "Just do it--pretend you're a bird..." Her eyes started clearing, but soon the dreamy look was falling over them again, but he could see her fighting. She was squinting slightly, and he could see her jaw was clenched. "Pretend you're a bird. Now." Holly's eyes shut tight and her shoulders tensed as she tried to turn her head away from him.

"No!" she exclaimed. Her eyes opened again, clear of the clouds.

Harry didn't need to remove the curse... she'd thrown it off for the second time that night. He dropped his wand arm and smiled. "Did I do it?" she asked excitedly.

"Yeah," he answered. "See, it's easy."

"Maybe it's easy for some people," Holly fired back. "Are we done?"

Harry nodded. "I think so. Er--good job."

"Thank you..." she replied. Holly snatched up her necklace and fastened the clasp around her neck. "How long before you need to go to the Astronomy Tower?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, but he acted like he didn't notice.

"An hour and... forty minutes," confirmed Harry, checking his watch. "Are you going back to the common room?"

Holly shrugged. "Dormitory, more likely." She pushed the classroom door open while he put out the torches. "Did you get any of those history notes?"

Harry looked at her and let out a short laugh, "No!"

"Why did I even ask?" she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.

*()%()*

Harry gathered up his things, dropped them into his bag, and slung the book-bag's strap over his shoulder. He had to tiptoe out of his dormitory... Neville and Dean were already sleeping, Seamus was haphazardly studying for the Charms exam, and Ron was down in the common room--thumping someone at some late-night chess, presumably.

Indeed he was--his victim being a tousle-haired Brandon Emerson. Ron was looking smug... his opponent was being slaughtered.

"Going to the Astronomy Tower," he told him.

"Have fu-unnn!" Ron replied in a singsong key.

Harry snorted. "Oh yeah. Astronomy is my life."

"You have an hour in there, mate. Don't waste it on astronomy." He winked, and Harry could feel himself going a fine shade of crimson. It didn't take much, did it? Ron laughed and waved a hand as a sign for Harry to go.

He did, gladly, escaping the quizzical look he was getting from Brandon.

Harry exited the common room through the portrait hole, and started down the corridor. He ran into a few prefects, and had his pass in hand for the expected occasion. One of them was Hermione, marching a corridor with Padma Patil.

"Astronomy?" she barked, shining him with her lantern.

He held up a hand to block the light. "Yeah..."

The light receded and Hermione smiled. "You may pass." Harry snorted and walked on, hearing her call "Enjoy yourself!" after him. He held up a hand to show that he heard her, but didn't turn around.

Finally he reached the astronomy classroom, and (naturally) Cho was already there--standing with Professor Sinistra at her desk. "We're mapping out the stars in galaxy eight," Cho told him. He grinned.

"I'm thrilled." Professor Sinistra laughed.

"Do you have your materials?" she questioned, looking up at Harry.

"Yep." It was so much easier being informal with this professor. It was like talking to Hagrid--but different in the respect Harry knew much less about Sinistra.

"Get to work, then," she told them, lightly pushing on their backs... guiding them in the direction of the door. Cho laughed--one of those sounds that, Harry could admit, sort of made your heart light. "I'll come up when you're done."

When they were up in the tower, spreading their materials out on the floor, Cho was the first to break the silence. "So... what've you been doing tonight?" She was kneeling on the floor, setting out her things neatly and in a specified order, no doubt. Conservative thing she was...

Harry shrugged. "Not much. Studying for our Charms exam tomorrow." What was he supposed to say? 'Oh nothing... watching my friends fight over a meatball, submitting my godsister to the Imperius curse...'

"What does it cover?" she asked, looking up at him with hematite-black eyes. Maybe it was the light, maybe not... but Cho's eyes had never looked that brown to him. They were just very, very dark.

Good question, thought Harry. It wasn't that he didn't know what the test was on--it was that he wasn't sure how to categorize them. "Er, basic--" he chewed on the tip of his tongue, "basic--protective... charms. Yeah."

Cho made a little noise of comprehension and nodded. She was reading him like a book--he knew it. Harry watched her, waiting for her approval of his story. Cho, sensing his eyes presumably, turned her head and looked up at him over her shoulder. Her more classical grin--toothless but bright--upturned her features. "Sounds like fun."

He smirked down at her. "Maybe for you." Cho giggled and turned back to her things, gingerly setting her inkbottle and quill in between her star chart and astronomy book. "Do you have your compass? I couldn't fine mine in my trunk, and I was running late."

Harry looked at the back of her head for a moment, blinking to get that through his head. She turned around to glance at him again, awaiting his answer. "Cho... you were here before me."

"Well, I have my watch set seven minutes ahead... I forget sometimes." She smiled a little. "So, do you?"

"What?"

"Have your compass," she clarified.

Cho had definitely caught him off his guard... again. "Oh--yeah, I have it, um, right here..." He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out, holding it in between the tips of his fingers, triumphantly. "Found it."

"Okay, you plot the stars that orbit the east, I'll do the ones on the west." It was an honor, if you wished to put it that way, that a prefect--in Ravenclaw, no less--trusted him to do half her paper. So it sounded... petty. But, really: Harry had never been ranked a top student... and he scraped up eight O.W.L.s. It gave him the ride on the title 'Average'--which was definitely a first for him in the magical community.

But, doing half of Cho Chang's paper, he tried extra hard to mark each dot on his parchment with precise placement... and even aimed to make each of them perfectly circular. All so that when she copied them, Cho would be impressed (at least subconsciously) by his expertise in that subject. It was pathetic, but he couldn't help it.

They didn't really talk much... and just spent the time in the tower that night looking through their telescopes, taking notes, then transferring them to the parchment. She and Harry didn't talk much, but he knew that she wasn't avoiding him--or any such thing. If he had a question, pertaining to the subject or not, she'd answer it. It was nice having Cho there. She was a distraction, maybe, but better being stuck in the Astronomy Tower with her than with, say, Malfoy.

It didn't seem like long at all when Professor Sinistra was standing in the doorway, telling them that they may go back to their dormitories and that she had a second year class coming in for their weekly Basic Astronomy session. Harry and Cho put away all their things and quietly descended the spiraling stairs.

They didn't talk much until the corridor point where they had to split up was visible. Cho cleared her throat, and for one of the few times Harry had ever heard it, her speech wasn't clear and thought about. She actually stuttered a bit. "So--er--tomorrow night, then?"

Harry stopped himself before he let the universally known noise for dumb confusion: "Huh?" When it came back to him he wondered how he'd ever forgotten--it'd been in his head all day. "Oh--flying--yeah... 7:30 outside the Quidditch pitch, if I remember right?"

"That's what I remember writing down--" A day planner... well that didn't surprise him. "--and to come armed with a cloak charmed with a strong Heating Spell and my broom. I got a new one, by the way. Birthday present--right after the season recess started." She beamed up at him. "I got to fly it a few times, anyway."

He couldn't resist. "Hey, that's great! Y'know, you could probably get collectors plates for your Comet by now..."

She hit him lightly in the arm. "Shut it, you!" He laughed. "My 260 was in perfect condition--"

"Uh-huh."

"--and it flew just fine! I just thought it was time for a new one. So my parents owled me a Cleansweep 50."

Harry dug through his memory for the facts presented by an article he'd read about these in Quidditch Illustrated. "Aren't those a limited edition?"

"Yep!" Cho replied, "If they proceeded in order, they'd only be on Cleansweep 9, so they're making this one for about six months. It's no Firebolt... but can definitely compare to the newer Nimbus makes."

"Nice," he remarked. There was nothing like a girl who knew her Quidditch.

They'd reached the Separation Point, and turned to face each other. There was something nice about being taller than other students were, finally--then again, Cho only dwarfed a majority of the first and second years. None older. "So--tomorrow outside the Quidditch pitch... 7:30. I'll be there."

"So will I--I'm looking forward to it." She smirked nervously, and Harry immediately felt a blush starting at his collar. Again.

"Me too." He made a small sighting noise involuntarily, and immediately after was about ready to kick himself in the groin. "G'night."

"'Bye, Harry." Cho flashed the radiant smile that had Harry hooked since third year. She turned, causing her hair to whip a bit, and walked away... holding her books tightly to her chest.

The blush was evident now, he could feel it, and he watched her for a moment until turning himself. Harry walked towards his own common room's secret entrance--grinning to himself and feeling foolish.

*()%()*

The next morning, even Harry woke up with a smirk. "That's what I remember writing down--and to come armed with a strong Heating Charm and my broom. I got a new one, by the way..."

The rest of the guys were already awake--he could hear each of their voices, and their feet shuffling about. Dean was talking at the time.

"...and she thinks I should be studying for mid-terms?" he made an impatient noise, "Those don't start until the week before Christmas! It's November the sodding twenty-eighth!"

"Twenty-ninth," corrected Ron's voice from somewhere on the other side of the room.

"It isn't really that long, Dean," Neville countered timidly. "I mean, I would've started studying ages ago..." he cleared his throat quietly, "if I hadn't forgotten about them."

Seamus spoke up, "You're not the only one, 'Villain--I forgot I had to go to classes for the first three weeks of December, actually." He could feel his roommate's shrug from there. Harry pulled back the hangings on his four-poster and rolled out of his bed.

After grabbing his glasses and slipping them on, the first thing that came into focus was Ron, who'd evidently crossed the room in a few of his long-legged strides. "Hey, I was just gonna wake you up..."

"You might still want to do that," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What time 's it?"

Neville chided his minimal bit of humor, "Time for you to get a watch." Harry didn't bother to tell him that he had a watch, and allowed Neville to snicker to himself. He lazed over to his trunk and picked up the clean set of Gryffindor robes emblazoned with a patch of a signature golden lion with a reddish mane, on a background of a shield of some sort--he'd never looked too hard--with the title 'Gryffindor' curving beneath it. If that hadn't been evidence of the house he was in, there was a thin strip of red along the hem of his sleeves and the lowest hem of the robe, the tie, and the coordinating half-inch line along the collar of the vest. From the house tables to the wardrobes... sometimes it felt like the school urged you to not fraternize with those from other houses.

And if that was the case--he didn't really give a damn.

Out of nowhere, Ron made a frustrated noise and ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his head somewhat violently and leaving his red locks more untidy than ever. "I knew there was something I was forgetting! Arrghhh..."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

Ron sighed. "Hermione wants to go on a date," he wailed. His head was hanging to the side and his eyes were shut in terror.

"Where?" Harry asked incredulously. He'd never thought much about it--but there really wasn't much selection for Hogwarts students to go out for the night.

"Hogsmeade..." he replied. "I'll need your cloak Saturday, so we can get off the grounds," he muttered in addition to Harry. He nodded.

"What's so bad about that?" inquired Neville.

"I'm broke," Ron told them, torn between angry and sad. "Dates cost money."

"That's not dating, it's prostitution," said Dean, looking at the ceiling as if he were surrounded by lesser-mortals.

Seamus, who was tightening his diagonally striped tie, had a contradiction. "Dating is prostitution," he stated, "'Cept you don't always get what you paid for."