Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

Chapter Five: The Stow-Away

"Go on then, let's have a look!"

Harry, Hermione and Ron all compared their class schedules after Professor McGonagall handed them out over breakfast.

"Damn," Ron muttered, "of course we'd have Potions with the Slytherins. Why can't they put us with the Ravenclaws. . ."

"Well, we have History of Magic with them, that's why," Hermione answered promptly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "It was a rhetorical question, 'Mione."

"Oh, and look! Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is someone named . . ." she held the paper closely to her face, "Professor Simon Gray." She blinked. "He wasn't at the fest last night, was he?"

"No. . ." Ron shook his head as he shoved a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. "Too bad it's not another witch! I could get used to this!"

Hermione made another groan of disgust, and they quickly finished their breakfast before making a break for their first class of the day-- which just so happened to be potions.

They joined the Slytherins in the familiar dungeon, neither house so much as making eye contact with the other. Usually the complete cold shoulder came when the battle for the House Cup was at its highest, but here on the first day of classes, the two houses had already reached that breaking point.

Draco Malfoy, sitting in between his two oaf-like friends Crabbe and Goyle, was the only one giving the Gryffindors any type of attention. And it was that same, curious, twisted smile-- the smile that Harry had wanted to slap off his face for four long years.

Professor Warwick entered the room at that time and immediately, every boy in the chamber snapped to attention, sitting perfectly straight. She walked-- no-- she flowed to the front of the classroom, her robes billowing behind her with the same airiness as her platinum hair. She turned to face the students and folded her arms, absolutely silent, staring down each and every one of them.

It was an uneasy silence and it seemed like it was going to last forever.

And then, she finally opened her mouth to speak. "Before any of you ask-- no. I am not part Veela."

She flashed a winning smile as the boys laughed happily at her joke. Hermione spun around to face Ron and mouthed triumphantly, 'five sickles!'

"I am, however, your Potions master for the time being and shall try my best to be every bit as efficient as your dear Professor Snape."

Ron coughed loudly, gaining a snigger from several other Gryffindors.

Professor Warwick raised a brow. "Perhaps we should first learn a potion to cure nasty coughs, should we Mr. . ." she glanced down at her roll sheet, "Mr. Ronald Weasley, is it?"

The Slytherins liked this, and let out a series of muffled laughs.

Professor Warwick turned to them immediately, her eyes wide. "And after that, we'll brew a remedy for those wretched giggles. You'd like that wouldn't you, er . . ." her eyes flickered down to her roll sheet. "Mr. Draco Malfoy, correct?"

Draco stared at her. She smiled once again. "Malfoy? You aren't Lucius' son, are you?"

Draco stiffened.

"I went to Hogwarts with him. Let him know that Ariah says hello, will you?"

Shutting up Draco Malfoy was all that was needed to gain the approval of any Gryffindor, even at the expense of one of their own.

Professor Warwick was a pleasant tempered witch, but anyone thinking they could take advantage of her disposition soon found out that she had absolutely no problem with handing out both scathing sermons and detention notices.

Hermione thought she was absolutely brilliant.

After lunch, the three trudged up the staircase to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the Ravenclaws and took their seats. Hermione was going about the business of arranging her parchment and ink so as not to miss a beat of the professor said.

Now, Harry was a bit nervous about just who his new Dark Arts Professor would be. In the four years he'd attended Hogwarts, only one of them turned out to be someone he could trust-and even he turned out to be a werewolf! There was Professor Quirrell in his first year, whom Harry discovered to be nurturing Voldemort back to power. There was Gilderoy Lockhart in his second year --- enough said. His third year he had Professor Remus Lupin who was a fantastic teacher and was nearly able to capture Lord Voldemort's servant Peter Pettigrew--but Snape, who'd loathed Remus since adolescence, saw to it that the school board found out about Remus being a werewolf and he of course resigned. And then, last year, there was 'Mad-Eye Moody'--who really wasn't Moody at all! A Death Eater named Barty Crouch had been taking a potion to appear to be the Professor so that he could help set up a plan that would both bring Voldemort back to power and bring Harry back to Voldemort--a plan that he succeeded in.

So needless to say, Harry was on pins and needles as the classroom waited for their new Professor to arrive. Given his past history, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if the new Professor was Lord Voldemort himself!

Harry shuddered at the very idea just as the door to the chamber flew open.

A tall and slender man, dressed most elegantly in rich, gorgeous black robes strode past them to the front of the class. His brown hair was cut rather short and neat-every hair in its proper place. He wore large silver spectacles, that were perhaps a bit too large for his face, for they magnified his eyes much the way Professor Trelawney's did hers. A thin pencil line of a moustache was the finishing touch on this striking face. . .

And Harry, staring at him from his seat up in the front, had the gnawing feeling that he knew him from somewhere.

"Good morning class!" Came a voice, considerably higher than Harry would have imagined from such a tall man.

He looked visibly nervous and fumbled with some papers he'd placed on his desk.

"My name is Professor Gray and I should like to welcome all of you to your fifth year! You made it!" He swallowed and then continued, trying very hard to sound as composed and collected as possible. "I attended Hogwarts as well, of course. A Gryffindor, actually."

Happy murmurs came from the Gryffindors.

"And I must tell you, that out of all seven years, my fifth year was my favorite. And I think it was actually mostly due to this class! There's so much to learn this year-and several, erm, surprises along the way." He cleared his throat. "A--and I also have been educated on the rumors that many here feel this position to be. . . cursed?"

More murmurs from the students.

"Well, I must admit, the past several years doesn't give one much confidence. But. . . I'm willing to take my chances."

Harry was staring Professor Gray intensely. . . yes, there was most definitely something about him that seemed familiar to him. Oh, well, perhaps it had just been in casual passing. . .

Professor Gray opened his textbooks, "Class, if you please, open to the index-right there on the first page, yes. There are thirty four chapters in this book-all of which are very important of course, even though to be quite honest, well, most of you are never really going to come across Moorish Syads that Chapter Seventeen mentions, as those have long been banished from the wizarding world. Nor will you be likely to rendez-vous with the Gauraneese Mauler Bat that Chapter Twenty-Six focuses on unless you find yourself alone in a dark cave in the middle of night in the Gaura Valley in Transylvania-and if you ever are, well, of course it would be your own silly fault in the first place for even being there."

The class laughed in agreement.

"No, we have more important things to deal with than fierce creatures whom none of us will ever really come across. Much more. . . pertinent things to deal with. . ."

Everyone leaned forward.

"Let me ask a personal question and, please, anyone feel free to answer. When you think of the Dark Arts, what is it that scares you the most?"

Silence.

"Oh come now, over the past four years you've learned much about the arts. What is it that frightens you the most?"

A memory suddenly whipped into Harry's mind of Voldemort's red eyes, that high-pitched laugh, his cold and bony finger upon his cheek. . .

To everyone's surprise, it wasn't Hermione that raised her hand first.

"Yes- er. . . Mr. Longbottom, correct?"

Everyone turned to face Neville. His face was ghostly pale. "Well. . . death."

Professor Gray's expression didn't change. "Death," he repeated. "Unfortunately, Mr. Longbottom is quite correct in his fear. Dark Wizards differ from yourselves and myself in many ways-the most obvious of which is their utter disregard for life both wizard and muggle. Killing is their most common weapon, this is true. But someone else answer me this: does this mean that you should spend your lives locked up in a dungeon, scared to step outside?"

Harry felt himself raising his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter--it is Mr. Potter, isn't it?" Harry nodded. "Well. . . no, it shouldn't." He remembered what Remus had said only two weeks ago. "Because being afraid just means that you understand what's ahead of you. And courage doesn't mean that you're not afraid, it just means that you're ready to face it."

There was a terrific smile that flashed across Professor Gray's face, and then he quickly brushed it off.

"Precisely, Mr. Potter. I know that . . . given recent events. . .there is a lot of fear gripping the magical community. But this, in a nutshell, is why we're here in this class. So that we can understand what may be ahead of us and therefore be able to face it and deal with it."

Professor Gray was most definitely passionate about his subject and spoke every word as though it sincerely meant the students' very lives. "So, forgive me for I'll be skipping several of these chapters--oh yes, we'll cover them--but I just want this year to be focused on the more important things."

The class dismissed not too long afterwards, everyone leaving in a sort of daze.

"Well," Ron breathed, "I, for one, am now completely depressed. Made it sound like the end of the world was coming."

"He did not, Ron," Hermione protested. "He was really, rather brilliant. Don't you think so Harry?"

Harry was in a sullen mood after the class, but would have hardly called it depressing. "It was sobering, that's for sure."

"Absolutely," said Hermione. "Professor Gray is wonderful-I think we're going to learn an awful lot with him this year."

"Oh Herm, you just fancy him, that's all."

"What ever would give you that idea!" There was a flush to her cheeks.

"Because that is exactly what I said about Professor Warwick after we left her class."

**

Hermione had been devastated over her not being selected as a prefect. It wasn't the exact feeling, but a bit similar to how Harry had felt about not being named the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Oliver Wood had graduated two years prior, but this was to be Gryffindors first Quidditch season without him since last year was preoccupied with the Triwizard Tournament. That meant that a new Captain had to be appointed.

Now, Harry wasn't the sort of person to pat himself on the back, but if there was one thing he was certainly proud of, it was the fact that he was a damn good Quidditch player. He was of course, happy for their new captain Angelina Johnson, but disappointed nonetheless.

Angelina, as it turned out, was just as uncomfortable over the assignment. The first morning of practice, the week after school began, she told Harry so, privately.

"You know that I really think it should have been you."

"Angelina, you're the best Chaser that we--"

"And you're the best Seeker in the entire school! It really should have been--"

"Look, what's done is done. You're going to be great as Captain! I know it!"

Angelina opened her mouth to protest again, but Harry would have none of it. "Come on. We're a team. And, most importantly . . ." he paused, smiling at Angelina. "We're going to beat Slytherin again!"

Angelina laughed, and the two walked off on the playing field. Fred, George and Katie Bell were waiting for them, shouted the Gryffindor cheer and then sped off up into the air.

Harry's Firebolt hadn't missed a beat -- three months away from it, and it was still just as deft and skillful as ever. Now, Harry thought as he rose and dove through the air. Now I'm really home.

Harry walked towards the great hall, more than ready for lunch, his heart still racing from his ride on his Firebolt.

Two arms grabbed hold of him and pulled him back behind a pillar-- Ron and Hermione both were wide eyed.

"We," said Hermione, "have a problem."

Harry's stomach churned. "Exactly what do you mean by 'problem'?

Ron grimaced. "As in something that could get us all expelled if we don't fix it."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What is it?"

Ron stared at Hermione, looking as though he was ready to burst from anger.

Hermione took a breath, "Right. This morning before breakfast I was getting dressed and I went to pull my shoes out from my closet when I heard something. Something hidden in amongst my clothes. So I looked through all my clothes and . . . and . . ."

"SOPHIE!" Ron blurted, coming unglued, "SOPHIE BANBURY was hiding in her closet!"

Harry gulped. "Impossible..."

"Apparently not!"

Hermione looked frantic. "So I pulled her out and demanded an explanation. She was just standing there clutching her jumper for dear life, terrified, stammering--"

"What did she say!" Harry roared.

"Said she was sorry-- oh so sorry. Said that she couldn't help herself-- that Harry and her mother and I were yakking away at the gate and the urge just overcame her-- she opened up my trunk and slipped right in--"

"WHAT" Harry cried-- he could hardly believe his ears! "Oh my-- if Dumbledore-- no, if McGonagall knew about this-- oh Hermione!"

"I didn't do anything! Sophie did!"

"Still, you do look like a Muggle Smuggler, Herm." There was more amusement in Ron's voice than anger when he said this-- and Hermione was not very pleased.

"Oh just shut up! The both of you! You've got to help me get her out of here!"

"How can we possibly get a Muggle out of Hogwarts when it's hard enough as it is to even get one in!"

Harry groaned. "Okay-- where is she now?"

"Well, she's in my closet of course! She's got to keep hidden. . ."

"Well, Ron and I will come right up and talk to her."

"Great," Ron muttered. "The bloody girls' dormitory. I can see it already: McGonagall catches us in the girls dormitory with a muggle."

"Ah, but we won't get caught!" Harry smiled at Hermione. "It's okay, Herm. We'll figure this out. Ron? Let's go and get my cloak-- Herm, you wait for us at the door to your dorms."

All three turned and made a dash for Gryffindor.

"But -- what -- about -- lunch," Ron panted as they blitzed up the staircase.

"We have to act now, while everyone is out of their rooms."

Harry yelled the password "magnus sungam" at the Fat Lady. He threw open his trunk, pulled out his fathers' invisibility cloak and pulled it over himself and Ron, then made a break for the girls' dorms.

"Can't bloody believe this," Ron was saying as they ran. "What the hell was she thinking!"

"Obviously she wasn't thinking." Harry was still in disbelief. "I mean. . . she's a muggle! What could she possibly have thought--"

"Keep it down!" Hermione scolded. She was standing at the door, waiting, and pulled it open. "I could hear you all the way upstairs!"

Still hidden beneath the cloak, they followed Hermione towards her dorm.

"Hey," Ron said, "it looks just like ours!"

"Well of course it does! What did you think it looked like?"

"I dunno-- more. . . . girly. Lots of pink and daisies and all that--"

"Really, Ron." Hermione knocked on the closet door. "Sophie? You all right?"

There was a squeak in reply and Hermione pulled open the doors.

Sophie looked a wreck: her hair was sticking up in all places, much the way Harry's did, her clothes wrinkled, her eyes red with fatigue.

"Come on out, Sophie," Hermione coaxed. She did so, very cautiously.

Ron threw the cloak off him and lay right into Sophie. She yelped, most likely never having seen an invisibility cloak, and took a step back as Ron shouted at her.

"Are you flipping mental? What were you bloody thinking? Do you know how much trouble we could get into for this? Do you know how much trouble Hogwarts could get into with this? My Dad works for the Ministry of Magic, and if they find out that Hogwarts has allowed a Muggle onto the property, who knows what they'll do!"

Sophie had tears in her eyes. Harry's heart softened and, still clutching the cloak close around him, he stepped forward.

"Sophie, calm down. It'll be all right."

She yelped again, her eyes still wide in horror. Harry remembered what he must have looked like to a muggle-- his body half invisible.

"Oh." He threw the cloak off and Sophie relaxed. "It's just . . . you can understand why we're upset, right?"

She nodded.

"And your parents, Sophie," he continued. "Roger and Imelda must be beside themselves. Why did you do it?"

"B-because I. . . I. . ." the tears came again. "I wanted to be like you! All of you! I spent my whole life wanting to go to Hogwarts, and be as great a witch as my Mum was. I know. . . I know I'm a disappointment to her . . ."

Harry had to smile. "That's ridiculous and you know it. You're not a disappointment-- your parents love you!"

Hermione nodded. "Exactly."

"But I'm a--"

"Your Dad is a muggle as well and I'm sure that he doesn't think it's so very terrible. My parents don't!"

"Your parents are both Muggles?"

"Yes!" Said Hermione brightly.

Sophie burst into tears. "You mean to say that you're a witch and both your parents are Muggles, while I'm --"

"Oh this is just silly," Ron snapped. "Listen Sophie, I'm sorry that you're unhappy. I really am. But you can't stay here! We're going to have to get you home." He took a breath. "You lot? We're gonna have to tell Dumbledore."

"No!" Sophie shrieked, "Please let me stay! Don't tell Mr. Dumbledore! Oh, my mother would be in such trouble!"

"As much as we'd like for you to stay," said Harry, "we can't. If we did, all of us: you me, Ron and Hermione, would all be out of school.

"It's not fair to any of us," added Hermione.

Sophie was bawling. . . but she understood. After a moment she was reduced to shrivels every now and then.

"Right. Of course you're right. I'm . . . sorry. I didn't want to put anyone in danger, and certainly I didn't want to risk your being expelled. I just lost my head. I'm sorry."

"Well, thank heavens for that."

Harry whipped around to see none other than Professor McGonagall in the dormitory, her arms folded, leering over her glasses.

Everyone gulped.

McGonagall eyed each one of them and then said, "This way, please."

The four walked out of the girls' dormitory in silence, Sophie looking particularly terrified. Harry's heart went out to her: if McGonagall could scare him out of his wits, how much more so to a Muggle!

She led them wordlessly, up a winding staircase-- wonder evident in Sophie's face as they passed the portraits. (One bade her 'good day' which made her collide into Ron). Albus Dumbledore's office was a place that Harry and Ron had seen much more of than any other student at the school Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, writing away, and he looked up and upon seeing them, gained that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"My, my, Minerva! This sets a record I believe for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley! The second day of school! It's usually a week before I see you-- and this is with Severus gone!" He chuckled happily as he stood up.

Sophie, who stood next to Harry, subconsciously grabbed Harry's arm when she got a good look at Albus. Harry had to admit that to a muggle, seeing Dumbledore with his long, brilliant white hair and beard, and his purple robes-- it would be a bit intimidating.

"And this must be our little stow-away," he said pleasantly.

"How did you know?" Harry breathed-- and then quickly realized what a stupid question that was. Albus patted the head of a barn owl that looked somewhat familiar. It was Mrs. Banbury's owl, to be sure. Albus picked up a letter, cleared his throat and read:

To Albus Dumbledore
Hogwarts Headmaster

Dear Sir:
I am writing to you in a state of panic. Sophie, my only daughter and a muggle has disappeared and I have good reason to believe that she is at this very moment on your campus . This at least gives me some peace of mind, knowing she is of course safe in your institution. Please write to me the minute you receive this owl and let me know if Sophie is indeed there and when I may come to take her home.

Yours most sincerely,

Imelda Banbury,

Ministry of Magic - Special Investigations.

Sophie kept her gaze at the floor, not able to make eye contact with anyone.

"However. . . this has put us in a most awkward position." Professor Dumbledore took his seat once more, folded his hands, and peered overtop his spectacles. "I take it that Miss Banbury hid herself in one of our Hogwarts school trunks, am I correct?"

"Yes. Mine," said Hermione.

"That is a very lengthy train ride to be cooped up inside a trunk. Ten hours, I believe the train ride is. Especially tedious is it inside a Hogwarts trunks which, incidentally, are all airtight. "

Harry's heart skipped a beat. What had Dumbledore just said?

"That's right, Miss Banbury. Those trunks are all specifically designed to be absolutely airtight. There is no possible way that any non-magical living being could survive more than twenty minutes inside one of them. And you survived ten hours."

Sophie had lifter her gaze up to meet Dumbledore- the shadows of smile beginning to appear.

"This being the case only leaves one conclusion to draw: that Miss Banbury does possess some degree of magical potential."

"So she's not a squib then?" asked Ron.

Professor Dumbledore laughed softly. "She never was a squib to begin with, Mr. Weasley. You see, a squib is someone who comes from an all wizarding family, and yet has no magical powers. A muggle is classified as someone who has at least *one* parent who is a muggle, and has no magical powers. Sophie's father is a muggle, therefore her lack of magical powers classified her as a 'muggle' as well. When you look at it that way, it's just a simple matter of genetics. However, in Miss Banbury's case, she is neither a muggle nor a squib." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. "No, she is a witch." He laughed. "Although a very, very late-bloomer, I should add!"

Sophie was positively beaming! Harry, Ron and Hermione were smiling as well, delighted with the news!

Dumbledore continued. "Now, it being the case that Miss Banbury is now too old to be admitted as a student here, with her blessing, I should like to send back home where she will participate in a correspondence class. I am certain that your mother will be delighted to tutor you, as will Mr. Potter here, whenever he is home."

Harry knew that he was being volunteered, but knew better than to ever appear ungrateful for anything Dumbledore said or provided. He merely kept quiet. "Good," said Dumbledore. "I shall write your mother immediately, and if all goes according to plan, you will be on your way home by tomorrow morning."

Sophie broke out into a smile, her eyes still red from all her tears. She nearly choked out her words, too overcome with emotion. "Sir, I cannot thank you enough . . ."

Dumbledore pat her on her head, "then best not try to, eh?" he turned to Professor McGonagall, "Minerva, I trust you'll see to Miss Banbury's sleeping arrangements for tonight?"

McGonagall nodded. "I was thinking perhaps the fifth floor--"

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, "Wonderful idea, Minerva!"

"She can't stay with us in the girls dormitory-- just for tonight?" Hermione almost looked mournful.

"No room, Miss Granger. And. . . well, it's best we put her up in her own chamber. And now Sophie, your friends will be needing to return to their classes. . ." Dumbledore stood up and walked slowly towards the door, Harry and the rest walking with him.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, "won't we be seeing her before she leaves?"

"Most unlikely, Miss Granger. Mrs. Banbury will probably arrive for her just as you're in the middle of your defense against the dark arts class. . . which reminds me. . . Mr. Potter, may I have a word? Minerva, please take Miss Banbury to her quarters directly and see that she's comfortable, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, I expect Hagrid is wondering where you are right about now."

They bade their farewells to Sophie, Hermione looking upon her with an especially maternal glint in her eye (Harry reckoned that Hermione now viewed Sophie as a disciple of hers). Sophie followed Professor McGonagall, looking back behind her with a weak smile, visibly nervous about being alone with the imposing Professor McGonagall, and Hermione and Ron filed past Harry, looking every bit as curious as Harry felt.

Dumbledore closed the door once everyone had left and Harry looked up anxiously.

What have I done this time? Dumbledore was beaming at him from overtop his lunar spectacles.

"So you think you'll enjoy your classes this year, do you?"

Harry nodded cautiously. "I hope so, Sir."

"Your new potions master is only temporary. You see, I've placed Snape on an. . . assignment for me. Just in case you were worried as to his whereabouts-- I realize that last you saw him he left quite abruptly. But hopefully he won't be too much longer--"

Harry did all he could to keep from yelling 'tell him there's no hurry. . .'

"--And your defense against the dark arts professor. . ."

"Oh, yes!" Harry piped up immediately. "We all think he's brilliant!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. Quite . . ." he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know. . . it's a funny thing about him. I could just swear that he reminds me of someone."

"Yes! That's exactly what I thought too!"

Dumbledore was nodding, thoughtfully. "Yes. . . actually, I rather think that he looks as though he could be related to your Godfather, Harry."

"Sirius?" Harry repeated blankly.

"Yes, Sirius. The same face , you know? As a matter of fact. . . if I didn't know any better, I'd say that it is Sirius. But that's if I didn't know any better."

"But you do know better, right Sir?"

Dumbledore said nothing. His smile, however, broadened.

"Right, Sir?"

He kept his smile. "It's getting late, Harry. I've kept you from class long enough."

** *