Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Author’s Notes: Well, 143 games of FreeCell later and here’s the next chapter. As always, a big thank you to those who took the time to review and I hope you don’t mind when I send back rambling responses in a few cases. Also, thanks to Diogenes for answering that question so quickly.

Chapter Twelve

Underneath the heading and dominating the page were two black and white photos. The first showed a wizard who was easily identifiable as Sirius start to fire a barrage of spells at an unseen opponent before repeating the action as the photo looped itself. The second depicted fiery mythical beasts emerging from a burning haze as a line of houses was engulfed in flames.

Harry quickly read the article.

Amiternum, Italy. Two days ago the magical town of Amiternum erupted into a burning crescendo as uncontrolled Fiendfyre destroyed everything in its wake. The conflagration left twenty three dead and the town in ruins. The cause of such flagrant destruction lies at the wand of one man – Sirius Black.

A notorious Death Eater, Black left Aurors baffled last year when he became the first man to escape the island prison of Azkaban after being incarcerated there for killing thirteen Muggles and Peter Pettigrew on November 1st 1981. How he managed the break out is still unknown, though many suspect Dark Magics learnt from You Know Who himself. He managed to escape the hands of the law for months on end before being captured at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In an embarrassing turn of events for previous Minster of Magic Cornelius Fudge, he miraculously broke free and was last spotted in Dover during the month of July.

Many had speculated as to Black’s goals in escaping. Criminal psychologist, Victoria Lightbody, who is currently liaising with the Aurors on Black’s case described how You Know Who’s defeat will still feel very recent due to his prolonged exposure to Dementors. She believes that Black’s presence at Hogwarts last year was motivated by vengeance as he sought to take revenge against the Boy Who Lived – the cause of You Know Who’s downfall – who is currently studying at the prestigious school.

But failing to hurt the Boy Who Lived, Black fled the country. “He failed at getting to Potter so now he’s following through with his second main goal, which, judging from previous Death Eater behaviour such as the likes of Black’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, would be seeking out He Who Must Not Be Named,” stated Lightbody. At Lestrange’s trial the dark witch proclaimed adamantly that You Know Who would return.

Italy itself is a conflicted region; a trend that has lasted for centuries. Black’s presence there in Amiternum, a well-known hub of Dark activity, suggests to many experts that he’s seeking out followers and trying to build a power-base for, as Lightbody put it, “What he perceives is his master’s
eventual return.” Current theories believe that something went wrong and Black showed exactly why he was You Know Who’s second in command.

The actual events that took place are still overshadowed with confusion and a disbelief at what happened. Eye-witnesses have stated that the altercation broke out in the local pub with many residents describing the appearance of the Grim, the omen of death. Fighting broke out in the pub before spreading into the street where residents feared for their lives as Black battled an, as yet, unknown opponent.

Carmina Torvelli, a singer at the pub, retreated upstairs to escape the flying curses and saw the whole thing unfold from the safety of a window. She spoke of Black duelling against a man she described as “small with not much hair” while a crowd watched on eagerly. Three other people were said to have begun fighting against Black, though little is known about them.

After a period of fighting, Black was said to have chased after his small opponent and before leaving the underground town through the Runesgate that leads to the Roman ruins above ground. It was soon after his departure that locals noticed flames licking at the bottom of the pub. Despite efforts to control the fire, water did not affect the building flames. It wasn’t long before the conflagration had engulfed the pub and the surrounding buildings with smoke reducing visibility. As the fire twisted into a towering inferno, fiery creatures burst forth spreading the fire throughout the underground town.

Experts suspect that Black released Fiendfyre, one of the most dangerous and hard to control spells in existence, just before leaving the area. He was no doubt attempting to cover his tracks and guessed that the blaze would be blamed on combatants hailing from a different part of feuding Italy. The use of such a deadly spell as Fiendfyre correlates strongly to the events at the Quidditch World Cup which were plagued with Death Eater activity.

Details surrounding the wizard duelling Black are sketchy at best. His standing up to Black parallels the duel that took place between Black and his school time friend, Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was mercilessly cut down by Black with only a finger being found just over thirteen years ago. Whether this heroic wizard met the same fate remains unclear, though another eye-witness mentioned the other wizard loosing an arm during the conflict.

The fractured Italian government is for once united in their outrage at Black’s attack and have added to the bounty already on his head, raising it now to four and a half thousand Galleons. Britain’s Head of International Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch, has Portkeyed over to Italy with a team of highly-trained Aurors to help coordinate a search for Black. It is thought that he might still be in the area trying to rally supporters to his Death Eater cause. Britain has also pledged a generous fifteen thousand Galleons to help rebuild the ruined city.

On the home front, newly instated Minister of Magic Amelia Bones has decided to increase Auror training and intake to cope with “threats that may come to pass”. Critics of this move have accused her of scare-mongering but the Minister answered her opponents with a statement reading that she would prefer to be ready for any possible threat to Britain’s shores than to be underprepared for possible future events. It is a bold message on the Minister’s part and many have remarked that this action reveals just what direction Bones wishes to take Britain. She seems determined not to let the events at the Quidditch World Cup repeat themselves.

Finishing the article, Harry’s eyes turned to the teacher’s table hoping to see Dumbledore’s reaction. But the headmaster wasn’t present.

“He’s probably at a meeting to do with this,” said Hermione when Harry kept staring up at the high table. “He is Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” sighed Harry before dropping his voice. “It’s just - why was he even in Italy?”

“Seeking Wormtail,” said Hermione as she leaned across the table. “The description matches up and it’s the only explanation.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that one out on my own,” he told her somewhat testily. “I’m not a total idiot, you know. It’s just he was supposed to be in hiding. He wasn’t supposed to be chasing Wormtail across Europe. He was supposed to be staying safe.”

“Well, he was a bit off his rocker when we met him,” said Ron quietly.

Harry then noticed that several pairs of eyes were looking in his direction. Hermione also seemed to have noticed the heightened interest in their section of the Gryffindor table as she suggested that maybe the Great Hall wasn’t the best place to discuss such things.

“Yeah,” agreed Harry before looking at his watch and moving to get up.

“Hey, mate, where are you going? We’ve got a free morning.”

“Library,” said Harry a bit vaguely, making a quick gesture to the main door. In the corner of his eye he noticed that Padma was heading for said door.

“Ah, nothing interesting then,” said Ron and went back to eating his bacon and eggs.

Feeling strangely relieved that Ron wasn’t about to tag along, Harry bid them goodbye and made his way out to the Entrance Hall where Padma was waiting for him.

“Mandy and Terry are still eating and Lisa’s waiting about for them, so I thought that we could go and save them some seats,” said Padma after her initial greeting.

Harry considered mentioning the Room of Requirement as a place to study but quickly discarded the idea. He didn’t really know Padma’s friends and, well, the Room of Requirement was something that only he and Padma knew about, and he wanted it to stay that way for a while.

They quickly fell into step with each other as they made their way towards the library.

“So, what did you think of Terry and Mandy?”

“Well I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Mandy but Terry seems OK,” said Harry.

Padma grinned. “We only really became friends with him after he fell out with Anthony at the beginning of third year. I sometimes feel a bit bad since he’s nearly always surrounded by girls, especially since Michael sided with Anthony.”

“I’m sure it’s not that much of a hardship.”

“Are you saying my company’s not a hardship?” She looked at him expectantly, an impish gleam dancing in her dark eyes.

He made a big thing of musing over the question. “Tolerable, I suppose,” he said eventually before breaking into a grin.

She nudged him good-naturedly and they shared a laugh.

There followed a slight pause as Harry pulled on a brass candle holder fixed to the wall. He then gestured for Padma to proceed ahead of him as the wall slid open to reveal a rickety staircase.

As they climbed single-file up the creaking staircase that twisted in a square-shaped pattern, Padma hesitantly brought up a topic he had sort of hoped to avoid. “I read the article about Sirius Black.”

“Oh,” was all Harry could say.

“It just seems really strange to think that he was trying to kill, well, you. I never really thought about it last year.”

“Thanks,” said Harry dryly; “It’s nice to know you care so much.”

Padma stopped at a corner to turn round to hit him lightly on the arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. You make me sound horrible. It’s just that it seems like there’s quite a few people out to kill you and you never seem at all fazed by it. It’s just strange when you think about it.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” said Harry, his brows creasing together in thought as they continued up the stairs.

“Oh, well,” said Padma with a reassuring smile as they slipped through a tapestry on the fourth floor. “I’m sure the Aurors will capture Black soon. He’s in Italy so it’s not like he’ll be coming after you again. I really shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry distractedly as they entered the library. His mind was still focused on what she’d said. There really were people out there who wanted him dead. Somehow, despite everything that had occurred over the last three years, that fact had been lost in a haze of near misses and unravelled mysteries. Thinking back, he realised just how lucky he’d been to avoid a sticky end. But what would happen when that luck ran out? Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The library was mostly deserted and they quickly commandeered a round 5-seater table that was hidden from Madame Pince’s view by a several stacks filled with books. Harry, who usually sat on the other side of the library with Ron and Hermione, approached the books after he noticed that they lacked the usual leather bindings of the library’s expanse of textbooks.

“These aren’t textbooks,” said Harry as he scanned the line of titles. The Adventures of Blodwin the Bloodthirsty, A Dwarf Called Reginald, Aspasia Arkendale: The Lost Child, Wands, Love Potions and the Occasional Stuffed Vulture Hat, Warlocks Are From Mars, Witches are from Venus, The Tales of Beedle the Bard...

“Of course they’re not,” she shot him a strange look.

“What? So the magical world has novels and stories?”

“What did you think Lockhart’s books were?” piped up a male voice from behind. Terry, Mandy and a blond-haired girl he knew to be Lisa Turpin had finally turned up.

Mandy turned to Terry, a look of shock on her face. “Are you saying that Lockhart didn’t defeat the Wagga-Wagga werewolf?” Her voice was filled with exaggerated surprise and her eyes were theatrically widened.

“Well, they might have encountered each other, but to find out what really happened you’d have to check the adult version. Those howls the villagers heard weren’t the cries of a dying werewolf, more like a-”

“Terry!” Padma interrupted before he could finish.

Terry grinned as they all settled down into their chairs. “Well, you get the picture. I wonder what happened to dear old Lockhart. I miss re-enacting scenes from Gadding With Ghouls.”

“He’s at St. Mungo’s,” said Lisa quietly. Her pale face was dotted with red blotches that showed a serious case of acne. Unlike poor old Eloise Midgen, she hadn’t tried to charm the spots off and so her nose was still dead centre. “My mum’s a healer there and he’s in a long-term ward for patients with permanent spell damage. They can’t really figure out what happened to him beyond knowing that a memory charm of some sort was involved.”

Harry shifted slightly in his seat. Lockhart’s condition was something he knew intimate detail of.

“Shame,” commented Terry, “I rather miss the drama of his lessons.”

“But at least we’re learning something useful now. I think Abravan’s doing a pretty good job, though he is a bit strange.”

“Strange?” asked Harry as he turned to look at Mandy. He had his own reasons for speculating about their newest Defence professor, but he doubted their concerns stemmed from the same thing.

“Don’t you ever get the feeling that he’s always a bit distracted?”

“No,” answered Terry plainly. “That’s just you imagining things.”

Mandy elbowed him. “Well I didn’t imagine the scars lining his arms. You can’t tell me that’s not a bit dodgy.”

“Something,” said Terry with great seriousness, “is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

“I don’t get it.” Padma was looking rather befuddled in a rather endearing way. “What does Denmark have to do with anything?”

Terry heaved a melodramatic sigh. “I’m lost on you people.”

Mandy lifted her eyes heavenwards. “Maybe we ought to actually do some work. I’ve got to finish this stupid translation for last thing.”

“You do Ancient Runes, then?” asked Harry.

“Unfortunately. Be glad you didn’t pick it; it’s the worst subject going. I only picked it since my uncle’s a ward builder so I figured it might run in the family, but no such luck.”

“Well actually I’m sort of learning it in my own time and I’m finding it really interesting. At least it’s nowhere near as bad as Divination.”

“Not sure about that,” Mandy disagreed. “At least Trelawney seems like a laugh.”

“A drunk, more like.” Harry was remembering the empty sherry bottles hidden away in the North Tower.

Mandy looked like she was going to respond when Lisa leaned across the table to deliver a warning: “Pince is heading this way.”

By the time the sour-faced librarian had made her way over to them they had become the very picture of hard-working students. Textbooks were lying open and quills were scribbling away on lengths of parchment. Pince’s eagle eyes looked over them, her pinched face drawn into a frown. But she said nothing and after a few minutes of observation strode off.

“God I hate that woman,” said Terry once she was out of ear shot. “She looks more miserable than Pansy Parkinson and that’s saying something.”

“Well she does have to put up with Malfoy on a regular basis,” contributed Harry. “I’m sure prolonged exposure has some negative side-effects.”

“True, true,” said Terry softly before grinning. “We only have to look at Crabbe and Goyle to realise the long term effects.”

“You two are terrible,” said Padma, throwing a discarded scrape of parchment at Terry. “I’m sure they’re nice people once you get to know them.”

Terry gave her a sceptical look. “Indian Ink, I don’t think communication would be possible. You can’t honestly think they’re entirely of the Homo sapiens variety. There’s just too much gorilla involved. Whether it was a tragedy of birth or the results of experimenting gone wrong, I can’t say for certain, but I can’t truthfully class those two as people.”

“You’re horrible,” said Padma as she held back a smile. “And don’t call me Indian Ink; you know I hate it.”

As the others settled into their work, Harry leaned closer to Padma asking, “Something to do with the Giant Squid incident?”

She nodded. “Something I’m sure I’ll never live down. Now let’s get on and do some work since I have once again left everything to the last minute.”

They shared a brief smile before they began to concentrate on their homework with only the occasional glances in each other’s direction.

It was a different studying environment to what he was used to. There was no Ron to offer endless distraction with his moans, no Hermione telling them to get on with it and always getting up to cross reference something or other. Instead, there was a more relaxed quality to the whole thing.

Padma also proved to be extremely helpful when it came to explaining grammatical points in Ancient Runes which he had moved onto once he had finished his Defence essay. She was more patient than Hermione as well as being a lot more understandable. While Hermione threw in a bunch of jargon, Padma went for simplicity and always made sure he understood before moving on. He also happened to find listening to Padma a far more pleasant experience.

“I hope I’ve been some help,” said Padma with a self-conscious smile. It was a few minutes before half ten and they were all beginning to collect their bits and pieces as they prepared to depart for their next lesson.

“You really have. And I really appreciate it.”

They were both standing up now, their bags still resting on the table. Padma tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and Harry searched his mind for something to say. “Er – what have you got next?”

“History,” she said with a groan. “You?”

“Potions. But after lunch I’ve only got single Herbology and then I’m free. Well, except for in the evening with Quidditch practice. Are you free too, or...?” he trailed off.

“Sorry, my afternoon’s filled with lessons.” She looked very apologetic. “I’m free last thing tomorrow, though.”

“I’ve got Defence last thing. And Quidditch practice.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose it’ll have to be Astronomy on Friday then.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, wishing to say more but unsure what exactly to say. They stood there for a moment, their eyes flickering away before returning to look at each other.

Just then, Terry popped up next to them; something Harry didn’t know whether to be annoyed at or relieved by. He looked between them before clasping his hands together. “So, when shall we three meet again?”

Padma turned to look at Terry. “What?”

Terry sighed. “I was wondering when us lot would be meeting up again.”

“Oh, well I’ve got Muggle Studies and Runes after Defence this afternoon, but Harry’s free.” She looked back at him.

“Really?” said Terry. “Well I’ve got a free afternoon. You can show me the kitchens.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” said Harry distractedly as he turned to face Terry. “When are you free?”

“Defence finishes at quarter to two and then I’m free as a bird. What about you?”

Harry absent-mindedly pushed his slipping glasses further up his nose. “I finish Herbology at that time. How ‘bout I meet you outside the Defence room?”

“Yeah, fine. Anyway, we all better be going since next lesson starts in another few minutes.” Terry was glancing down at his watch.

“Really? Bugger. I better get going since I’m in the dungeons next.” He grabbed his bag. “I’ll see you both later, OK. But now I’ve really got to go.”

They all made hurried goodbyes and Harry walked quickly out of the library, saying a brief farewell to the dawdling Mandy and Lisa. As soon as he exited the library he started to race along the corridor as he hurried towards the dungeons for his Potions lesson.

But despite all his rushing he still found himself entering the Potions classroom late. A fact which Snape was only too happy to point out; “Ten points from Gryffindor for lateness!” he snarled. “It seems we must add on a lack of punctuality to the growing list of your inadequacies. Now sit down.”

Harry slid onto the bench next to Ron while a few of the Slytherins sniggered amongst themselves. The two best friends shared a look over Snape being his normal self before concentrating on the task at hand – making a Fever-Reducing Potion from the instructions scrawled on the black board.

“He’s a right git,” said Ron quietly as he diced up the crocodile heart.

“I know. I was only a couple of minutes late. But I suppose it’s a more valid reason than heavy breathing.” Gryffindor had lost five points before Christmas for such a reason.

Hermione, who was sitting on the other side of Ron as she partnered up with Neville, turned to look at them. “I’d stop talking about it if I were you. Snape won’t hesitate to give you a detention if he hears you.”

A shadow cast over their workstation. “How very astute of you, Miss Granger,” came the silky voice of the Potions master. “How do your friends put up with such an insufferable know-it-all?”

None of them spoke to answer. “Well?”

“I thought it was rhetorical, sir,” Harry ground out.

“Are you actively trying to get a detention, Potter? I never realised you liked my company so much.”

This time Harry held his tongue. He knew from past experience just how slippery a slope wordplay with Snape could be.

“Five points from Gryffindor for disruption and sheer cheek in the face of your superiors. Now return to your work.” He then strode away, his black robes fluttering behind him.

Hermione gave them a pointed look that translated as “I told you so”.

“You really are an insufferable know-it-all at times, Hermione,” said Ron to which she elbowed him before continuing to instruct Neville on their potion.

000

Come quarter to two, Harry found himself standing outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione and Ron had disappeared off to the common room with the red-haired wizard giving him an odd look when he mentioned where he was going.

The first people out were Terry and Padma. She gave him a small wave and grin before rushing off with Mandy and a few other Ravenclaws to get to Muggle Studies. Terry moved to stand by him as the rest of the class filtered out.

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,” said Terry quietly as Draco Malfoy walked out of the classroom accompanied, as usual, by the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy’s pinched face showed some surprise as he noticed Harry’s presence. His lips twisted into a smirk. “Well, Potter, this is a surprise. How magnanimous of you to bless me with your presence twice in one day. But where’s Weasel-Bee? Don’t tell me you had a lovers’ tiff.”

“Get stuffed, Malfoy; I’m not in the mood to put up with idiots like you.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” crowed Malfoy, a malicious glint entering his grey eyes. “I forgot that you saw just what Sirius Black is capable of today. Shame he couldn’t finish the job the Dark Lord started.”

Sirius? Draco Malfoy was trying to frighten him with the threat of his godfather! Harry had to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

Malfoy had obviously misinterpreted his reaction as he continued his taunts. “I heard they were friends – Black and your father. I even heard that it was Black that betrayed your parents. He was practically responsible for their deaths.”

Harry put on a bored expression. “You seem remarkably well informed. I wonder who told you all this, hmm? Your father doesn’t happen to have a white mask by any chance, does he?”

A pink tinge spread across the Slytherin’s pale face.

“Hit a nerve, have I?”

Malfoy pulled out his wand and Harry reached for his own. A hex was on the tip of Harry’s tongue as he waited for Malfoy to make his move.

“Densaugeo!”

“Expel-”

“Protego!” The blue beam that had spouted from Malfoy’s wand fizzled out when it met the magical barrier. Harry looked to his side where Abravan stood, his wand outstretched from casting the Shield Charm.

“Potter! Malfoy!” Abravan’s large blue eyes peered out from under his bushy eyebrows as he gazed from one to the other.

“He started it,” said Malfoy quickly.

The Defence professor’s brows wrinkled together in a frown as he looked at the Slytherin before he gestured for them both to follow him into his office next door.

Harry had visited this office under two of its previous occupants. Under Lockhart’s tenure the walls had been plastered with beaming, winking pictures of the fraudulent Lockhart. The previous year, when Professor Lupin had lived here, you were more likely to come across a specimen of some fascinating new Dark creature procured for a lesson.

The first thing that leapt out at Harry was how disorganised the office had become. The shelves were half full of books, the other half having been haphazardly scattered over the room. The desk was littered with parchment scrolls, broken quills and other odd ends.

More surprising than anything, however, was an envelope lying half-hidden under what appeared to be someone’s homework. In the corner of the plain white envelope was a Royal Mail paid postage stamp. Slightly beneath this and edging towards the left of the envelope was a small see-through area where a computer printed address could be viewed:

Mr Hamish Glen Abravan

Carfax Hall

Whitby

North Yorkshire

YO21 1QE

“Mr Potter?” prompted the professor.

“Yes?” Harry noticed that Abravan’s long sleeves had slipped back slightly on his right arm when the professor had replaced his wand into its holster. He could just make out some strange scar-like marks on his arms. Mandy had been right.

“Well, lad, what’s your story? He there says it be your fault,” he said as he waved in Malfoy’s direction.

Harry was just about to start explaining what had happened – and how it was all at Malfoy’s instigation – when something occurred to him. “Didn’t you hear what happened from the classroom?” Then, as an afterthought, he quickly added on a “Sir”.

He rather thought that Abravan smiled at that, but he blinked and the professor’s face was back to being neutral. “That as may be, but I was hoping for some entertainment.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that so he remained quiet.

“Well, I haven’t be having the time to give you a detention, so I suppose it’ll have to be points. Twenty points from Slytherin.”

“And?” said Malfoy after a pause.

“’And’ what, lad? You were in the wrong.”

Malfoy’s face twisted into a scowl. He looked like he wanted to say something more but after looking at Abravan’s impassive face he apparently decided against it. Instead he got to his feet and strode out of the office.

A deep sigh had Harry turning away from the door to look back at Abravan. The Defence teacher swiped a hand through his greying tufts of hair. “I’m too old for all this.”

He then seemed to remember Harry’s presence. “You can be going, lad, though perhaps in less dramatic a fashion.”

Harry rose to his feet and made his way over to the door. Before exiting, though, he turned back to Abravan.

“Can I be doing something for you, Mr Potter?”

“I was just wondering what that spell was that you used against Malfoy.”

Abravan eyes widened before his bushy eyebrows crinkled together. “That, my lad, is a basic shield charm. Something you should have learnt years ago. It seems to me you’re even further behind than I originally thought. I’ll be sure to go over it next lesson.”

Harry turned once again to leave when Abravan said his name. “Piece of advice: there be no point in disarming your opponent after a curse is sent your way.”

Harry nodded before leaving the office and making his way over to where Terry stood waiting. His mood was ponderous as he considered what Abravan had said, as well as the realisation that their Defence teacher lived in the Muggle world and received bank statements. He had collected Uncle Vernon’s post enough to recognise such a letter.

“I saw Malfoy storm out a few minutes ago. What happened?” asked Terry, effectively knocking Harry out of his reverie.

“What? Oh, yeah, Malfoy just got points removed. But no doubt Snape will probably add them back on for some stupid reason.”

“Sounds about right. Now I think it’s time you lead on to the freely given food and the tea-cosy wearing elf.” He did an elaborate gesture for Harry to proceed in front of him. “You know I think there could be a poem in there somewhere. Ode to tea-cosy wearing elf.”

Harry just grinned. “Wait till you meet him.”

000

Later that day Harry slumped into a chair next to Ron. He had just returned from an exhausting Quidditch practice where Angelina and Alicia had badgered him with questions about Padma.

“Good practice?” asked Ron as he looked up from some piece of homework.

“Wet,” replied Harry. “It started snowing on us but Angelina made us continue on for another half hour. Be glad you got to stay in the warmth.”

Ron gave a tight smile at that and Harry quickly changed the subject as he suddenly recalled Ron’s failed attempts at joining the Quidditch team. “So where’s Hermione?”

“Sleeping. She said she had a bit of a headache or something. It’s all that reading she does. Scared Neville away earlier when she started on about some potion law. No wonder he’s getting tutoring from a seventh year instead of her. I swear that girl is mental when it comes to work.”

“Yeah, but that’s what defines Hermione, isn’t it.” There was a slight pause. “Is she alright about the whole World Cup thing or is she still... well, you know...?”

Ron shrugged. “She doesn’t really talk about it anymore. I think she realises that she couldn’t do anything at the time. But you know how girls are emotional about stuff.”

He suddenly seemed to remember something. “Oh, yeah, before I forget – Parvati was asking about you.”

“Parvati?” questioned Harry.

“Yeah. She was asking me what you thought of her sister.”

“Really?” He tried not to sound too enthusiastic despite the smile that was threatening to stretch across his face. “What did you say?”

Ron shrugged, more focused on his essay than Harry. “Just that you spent quite a bit of time with her. She seemed a bit put out that I didn’t know any more than that.”

“Did she say why she was asking?”

“Nah. I didn’t really think about it and I was playing a chess game against what’s-his-name in the year above. He’s a pretty decent player so I had to be on my guard. He almost had me at one-”

“So she didn’t say anything about Padma?” interrupted Harry who didn’t care about some chess game.

“Not really. She just wanted to know what you thought about her sister. Don’t ask me why, though.”

Deciding that Ron had no useful information to offer, he got to his feet. “Right, well I’m going to head off to bed since I’m knackered. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I’ve just got to finish this bloody essay or Hermione will have my head.”

They bid each other goodnight and Harry traipsed up the staircase to his dormitory. Dean and Seamus were still downstairs and Neville’s curtains were sealed shut.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Harry looked over at the window nearest him. An eagle owl was pecking at the glass pane with its beak.

Curious, he opened the window before yelping slightly as the owl flew over to him and dug its talons into him as it landed on his arm. Cursing the bird, he noticed a folded piece of parchment tied to one of its legs. Harry then realised what owl it was.

“I s’pose I can’t be too angry with you,” he told the bird as he untied the letter. “You can go off to the owlry now, you know.”

The owl hooted at him before taking off and flying out of the still open window.

Shivering at the icy wind drifting in from said window, Harry quickly latched it shut before settling himself on to his bed. His hands quickly unfolded the parchment and read Sirius’s short reply.

Sighing at the brevity of the content, Harry tucked the letter beneath his pillow. He was too tired to think about the incident in the Slytherin common room right then. All he knew was that something strange was going on at Hogwarts even if no one else seemed to realise it. That, and Padma Patil might just like him.