Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 16: A Life in Transition

For the first time since he arrived at Hogwarts, Christmas Break passed relatively uneventfully. Now that Harry was safe inside the wards of Dressler Manor, Daphne seemed to be even more relaxed. It didn’t hurt that he was still riding high from the pounding that Slytherin had put on Ravenclaw during the resumed Quidditch match, Harry’s Serpents outscoring the Ravens 120-10 before Harry brought it to a merciful end.

While they didn’t stay over, as they had previous Christmases, Tonks, now a certified Auror, and Andromeda, both stopped by Dressler Manor frequently to visit Harry and Daphne. Tonks was finally making enough money to rent her own flat, and she seemed to have become even more stubborn and insane as a result. Still, there was one thing that was guaranteed to please her: Harry’s rapid progress with his Metamorphmagus training.

Harry had been able to change his hair and eye color without a great deal of effort, though he still had trouble with certain colors and shades. Tonks’ mirror, that showed the viewer what they wanted to look like, was extremely useful. However, Harry’s ‘big sister’ had finally decided to move on from such simple skills. They had begun with trying to change the length of his hair, and it had been several days before he’s developed any kind of consistency. He overdid it twice, and every last hair on his head fell out. Tonks had to help him fix this, even as she cackled with glee and snapped photographs that Harry was sure would show up again at the most inopportune moments imaginable. Like his wedding day or a first date.

Still, that wasn’t all the progress he’d made with his eccentric older sister, (who would often play the part, arriving with black hair and green eyes.) He also tried to learn to change the shape of his eyes, something that didn’t seem particularly useful, but that Tonks assured him was a crucial step to learning how to change his body shape and manipulate his bone structure without doing serious harm to his body. Most of all, he, Daphne and Tonks were pleased to discover that his massive intake of new power didn’t seem to be affecting his progress or proficiency with his latent talent. Tonks promised, on her last day at Dressler Manor, that they’d begin working on changing facial features the following summer. However, she also insisted that he pass an ‘exam’ in which she would direct him to change one or more things about his appearance. She even found a pair of glasses and pretended to write notes on a clipboard. Daphne had to leave the room because her laughter was so distracting. He passed most the test, and Tonks gave him a longer hug than usual when she returned to her flat. She also promised to listen for any change in Scrimgeour’s attitude towards Daphne.

That hadn’t been everything going on during the Christmas holiday. Daphne had finally begun training him in earnest, beginning with refining what he already knew. Physical training would begin next summer. Daphne and Harry spent hours in her training center perfectly his spell casting. Despite his belief that he’d ‘mastered’ spells such as the Disarming Charm and Stunning Spell, Daphne showed him he still had a great deal to learn. She helped him perfect his wand movements, corrected his pronunciation and showed him how to cast spells with greater efficiency and conservation of both movement and magical power. She showed him how to vary the strength of spells by determining how much power he would need, and focusing on the intended result.

The other thing she did was coach him in dueling. She showed him a variety of starting positions, along with some of her favorite evasion techniques, and preached over and over the concept of “fire-and-maneuver,” which she swore by. Harry learned more in those sessions than he had in any of the books he had read. Being taught by the Grey Maiden really had no parallel.

Daphne was a natural instructor, and Harry didn’t think it was just because he was her ward. She was strict and decisive, gave clear instructions and rewarded success with praise, but refused to accept failure, insisting that he repeat a step until he had mastered it. As for the spells he thought he’d ‘mastered?’ Daphne accepted nothing less than perfection. She was not cruel, she merely took advantage of Harry’s competitive drive until he was physically exhausted and magically strained.

The end result was that Harry became more confident in his dueling abilities than he ever had been before. Daphne had the real-life experience to illustrate all of the uses and shortcomings of almost every spell in existence. She told him that improvisation was a skill one was born with, it was not something learned. She knew this quite well; thinking while fighting was not one of her strong suits. Harry wasn’t even sure he’d be able to pass on half the knowledge he’d accumulated over the break to his friends.

Still, the entire break wasn’t merely comprised of training of one sort of another, though it certainly seemed that way. Training wasn’t tedious or something he wanted to avoid; he was an eager student and relished a chance to learn from the best. And Daphne was, with the possible exception of her mentor, Alastor Moody, the best pure duelist in Britain. Others might have more power, such as Voldemort or Dumbledore, or more brute strength, but while Daphne was powerful in her right, it was the grace and fluidity of both her strategy and movements that made her so deadly.

Harry was also aware that Daphne was considerably less merciful towards her enemies. She would kill without second thought and torture without hesitation, as long as she judged it the best course of action and necessary to reaching her goals. That ruthlessness was a part of her, and Harry had been forced to accept that. Still, it was no surprise that she had been demonized by Death Eaters as Dumbledore’s answer to Bellatrix Lestrange or Evan Rosier.

Harry flew often, though usually to unwind from a stressful day or to clear his head. He was concerned about how he was going to proceed with Blaise. He had decided that he liked the boy a great deal and thought he could be a great friend. His knowledge, Harry knew, had to be a bonus. He wasn’t completely sure he agreed with Hermione’s assessment of his situation, but he knew that he had shot too high in the first place. There had been no further communication from either him or Daphne Greengrass, reinforcing Harry’s belief that things were going to be proceeding slowly for the time being.

Another thing constantly on his mind was his feelings for Ginny, feelings that he had a chance to contemplate for the first time in a while. The end result was the same; he simply couldn’t understand exactly what it was he was feeling. Ginny made him more cheerful with her very presence; even the thought of her could lift his spirits. That sort of thing was driving him absolutely insane because he could not decide what it was he felt. He’d considered speaking with Tonks, but the thought of the sure embarrassment and humiliation that would undoubtedly ensue before any useful advice quickly killed that idea. Nor did Harry have any desire to consult Hermione or Daphne. The former would probably just compound his confusion and he wasn’t sure Daphne would be of much help in this regard. It would also bring back painful memories he had no desire to force her to relive. At least the urge to kiss her had departed for the time being…

Besides that fare bit of soul-searching, he’d done his homework, of course, not that it was much of a challenge. With the exception of McGonagall’s assignment to write an essay which compared and contrasted the difficulties inherent in object-creature Transfiguration and creature-object Transfiguration, most of his other classes assigned light reading, or, in the case of Ancient Runes, reviewing the information they had already learn. The Transfiguration assignment required a great deal of research, and he and Hermione ended up sending a draft of the other’s essay to critique. It was always interesting to see what obscure information his bookworm best friend would insist he include. She also tended to be ridiculously anxious, despite the fact that most of her work was not only the best in the class, but better than that of the majority of the students a year ahead of them.

The other assignment that gave him some difficulty was from Snape. He’d been able to compose an essay on the uses of Aconite easily enough, but Snape had also sent him and Elisha Moon ingredients for a complicated Healing Potion that he wanted them to brew over break. As it turned out, it took just short of two weeks to brew properly. That potion currently resided in a vial in his trunk protected by Daphne’s Unbreakable and Climate-Control Charms. Harry was pretty sure it was a bit off, but it was an extremely challenging assignment. Not that that would matter to Snape, of course.

He’d also spent time utilizing the Dressler Family Library. Specifically, he’d been reading up on pureblood traditions and more information about goblins. On the subject of the former, Daphne seemed to have at least a working knowledge of the major Dark pureblood rituals, as she seemed a bit concerned by what Greengrass had told him about the Halloween Ritual. She’d helped him find a good amount of literature that was both informative and easily understood by someone who knew as little as he did. Harry had focused on the holidays for both Light and Dark Wizards, and the traditions, rituals and intricacies of the celebrations and ceremonies. He hoped he knew enough to be able to draw upon his knowledge the next time he needed to.

There had been a few interesting events, however, mostly related to Sirius Black. First, Daphne had been outraged when Fudge had flat-out refused to use Dementors to search the Forbidden Forest. Then he had announced that despite the fact that the Dementors had gotten loose on the Grounds during the previous Quidditch match, (an event that had sparked anger from many in the wizarding community,) the Aurors that were supervising them were being re-assigned to investigate rumors of secret meeting between suspected Death Eaters in the North. Daphne had commented sarcastically that, “I suppose we can take solace in the fact that His Majesty has actually acknowledged that we didn’t capture or kill all of Voldemort’s supporters.”

The second had come on Christmas Day. Harry had sent his own gifts off three days earlier: A book on the history of Wizard-Muggle relations and a package of Sugar Quills for Hermione; new Quidditch gloves for Ginny; and a photo album of Harry using his metamorphic abilities for Tonks. This last one containing the most bizarre combinations of hair color and length, eye color and shape, and facial expressions that he could think of. It was ridiculous and childish, but then again, so was Tonks. He had a feeling that those photos would also reappear at inopportune moments, but he supposed that he’d have to deal with that when the time came.

His gifts included a green and black Weasley sweater, homemade fudge, and a book of photographs apparently taken by Colin Creevey from Ginny; a book containing biographies of the most powerful witches and wizards in modern history from Hermione; another book on Metamorphmagi from Tonks; and a set of adjustable combat robes from Daphne. Those he expected, but there was still one package left, one that Daphne had been surprised to see. The fact that there was no card was the first surprise and possible cause for concern. The second was that it contained a Firebolt; a state-of-the-art racing broom that made his trusty Nimbus look like an antique. It had been a race as to whether Harry would give it to Daphne to examine or she would grab it herself first.

His guardian had performed more tests than Harry could imagine, but was absolutely flabbergasted to discover that the broom was completely harmless. There was no doubt as to whom it came from, of course; Daphne explained that Sirius would have been able to access his family’s fortune quite easily and with no questions asked, but how he’d managed to order it and have it sent through the wards of Dressler Manor was puzzling. In addition, Daphne swore she couldn’t remember seeing it delivered.

Harry had been thrilled by the prospect of riding the new broom, and as much as he was attached to his Nimbus, he had read the advertisements in the Prophet as much as any Quidditch-obsessed boy or girl in Britain. After all, he could give his old broom to Ginny, or, if she resisted accepting charity, he could at least lend it to her on a case-by-case basis. Both of his friends had expressed concern when he had Owled them, but Hermione seemed to be just confused about how Daphne had failed to detect any built-in jinxes. Ginny was more enthusiastic about the broom itself. She thinks about Quidditch as much as I do…

Though he did have some lingering doubts, he still argued with his guardian to be allowed to keep the broom. Daphne had finally given in, though not before riding it herself. There were no incidents, but it was clear that she still wasn’t happy with the entire thing.

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Daphne was quite wary of Zabini’s family, and for good reason. His Songstress mother possessed an extraordinarily rare power, with beauty that could captivate any man, beauty she could use to manipulate men into giving her exactly what she wanted. This despite the fact that she was rumored to be quite advanced in years, though these rumors could never be confirmed. Songstresses, in addition to having flawless voices, could use their music to inspire a beaten army to victory, or dishearten a hardened foe. Yet, somehow, she had managed to escape the war entirely. Blaise’s father was less well known, being the seventh of Arabella’s husbands, and the only one to survive five years of marriage with the woman. The others had died of unknown causes, though it was also rumored that she had poisoned them and collected their fortunes.

Harry felt the woman’s son approaching from behind him before he spoke. He did not turn to face him, instead, focusing on the Sleeping Draught sloshing around in the cauldron in front of him. He was in a small classroom, checking up on his latest project assigned by Snape during their special lessons. Beside him was a piece of parchment on which he was taking notes about the changes from the previous day. He’d show it to his Head of House during that night’s Occlumency lesson.

“Potter, I think it’s time that the two of us had a talk,” Blaise drawled from over his shoulder. His tone wasn’t arrogant or demanding…well, no more arrogant and demanding than Blaise’s usual tone of voice, but Harry could hear an unexpected urgency in his voice that made him pause.

“I suppose it is,” Harry replied, checking his instructions and then giving the boiling mixture three counter-clockwise turns. He tried to block Blaise’s presence out of his mind; he needed full concentration for this. The Black boy behind him seemed to recognize this and remained silent until Harry had finished his task and used his wand to lift the cauldron off the fire. He had exactly fifty minutes before he would need to reheat the potion, add two more ingredients, and perform a series of stirs. He should, baring any problems, be able to turn in the completed potion tomorrow. He wasn’t sure what Moon’s timetable was, and he doubted that Snape would give extra points for completing his assignment before the budding Potions Mistress, but it couldn’t hurt…assuming his potion met the high standards that Professor Snape expected.

He turned slowly to face Blaise, who was leaning slightly against the dungeon wall. The boy’s face was expressionless, though his dark eyes followed Harry’s. “What is it that you’d like to talk to me about, Zabini?” Harry asked slowly.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Not on first name terms anymore, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure we ever should have been. We were never really friends in the first place. We both were more intent on getting something else out of our relationship than simple companionship. You wanted information, I wanted advice and influence. Perhaps that is a situation that might create an alliance, but it’s hardly the basis of a stable friendship.”

Blaise nodded. “I can’t argue with you there. Truth be told, I was surprised that you trusted me so easily. I was rather shocked when you blurted out Granger’s little secret, and took me into your confidence like that. Did that have anything to do with the fact that you two didn’t speak for about a week.”

Harry met his eyes, and nodded. Blaise gave a non-committal shrug. “If I was your friend, I suppose I should say that I’m sorry for driving a wedge between you two. Since I suppose I’m not, and I never was…”

“Forget it,” Harry said firmly. “It’s behind both of us…why did you seek me out like this? I understand why you wanted me alone, but it took you quite a while.”

Blaise shrugged again. “I honestly thought you’d come to me first. I guess I was wrong.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Harry admitted.

Blaise nodded. “I’m sure.”

There was a long, awkward pause. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to leave, or to offer a chance at a true relationship. Harry was embarrassed that he had allowed his ambition to run away with him, and Blaise simply felt guilty for taking advantage of Harry’s inexperience.

Finally, Blaise broke the silence. “Well, I suppose there are only two things that can happen now. Obviously, you’ve thought better of trying to gather allies at this time, and you have no reason to trust me. Still, either we go our separate ways or we try to become real friends. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked you, Harry. It has nothing to do with who you are, or any directions from my parents. You’re quite intelligent, and you’ve got an honest nature that one doesn’t see very often from people in this House.”

Harry considered this. Blaise wasn’t trying to flatter him; it actually sounded as if he truly admired Harry. While Harry felt that perhaps Blaise was exaggerating his honesty, a compliment was a compliment, and he’d made it without any evident exterior motive. He could respond in kind, though he really didn’t know Blaise well enough to do so convincingly. He settled on a different response. “I’m willing to give it another shot as well. But I need to know that if I tell you anything important, it will stay confidential. If you can’t do that, can’t keep secrets from your parents, then this conversation is over, and we can simply go our separate ways. What I say to you is intended for your ears only, not for the ears of anyone related to you.”

Blaise nodded stiffly. “It would be difficult,” he admitted. “My parents follow everything I do, and expect me to report what I’ve learned from the other students. If they get suspicious…”

Harry shook his head to show that he didn’t care about that. “I need to know if you can do it. Yes or No, no excuses or exceptions. I don’t take kindly to betrayal, Blaise.”

The boy was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. “I can do it.” He shook his head, smiling slightly. “This is so awkward,” he said, mostly to himself. Harry shared that opinion. “I’ll help you with whatever I can, as long as you make sure to talk to me, I do get lonely sometimes.”

From the tone of his voice, it was clear that he was trying to amuse Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived smiled back at him. “I’d like that. If you don’t mind, I’ll try to keep you away from Hermione; she really doesn’t seem to like you.”

Blaise laughed. “That’s for sure. I suppose I was quite an arse to her, but I don’t think my behavior is responsible for her attitude towards me. I think I represent something to her that she really doesn’t like. So she takes it out of me.”

“You aren’t exactly innocent either,” Harry reminded him. “You bait her often, and I don’t like that. Hermione is my best friend, close to a sister, really. She is much closer to me than you are, and therefore, much more important. If I have to choose between you, there really is no choice. You’d lose every time.”

Blaise nodded, understanding. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused, as if considering whether to ask a question or keep his mouth shut. He chose the former. “What do you think Weasley thinks of me?” he asked curiously. “She doesn’t show her emotions nearly as much as Granger, though she obviously wasn’t comfortable with my presence…can’t say I blame her, mind.”

Harry thought for a moment. “I’m not sure what Ginny thinks of you. She was obviously upset that I shared Hermione’s secret with you, but I think she’s waiting to find out more about you. She’s not one to quickly pass judgment.”

Blaise nodded. “No, she isn’t…at least, that’s my impression of her. I know some of her friends in Slytherin, or I’m at least on friendly terms with them. Grunitch and Quinn aren’t fools, I’ll tell you that. Grunitch is a sharp one. Quinn knows when to talk and when to keep her mouth shut.”

Harry nodded. He hadn’t realized that Blaise conversed with Slytherins from the year below them. In fact, he didn’t really know anything about whom Blaise associated with. That needed to change. “I got the same impressions,” Harry told him. “I think Ginny can learn a lot from them.”

“You really care about her, don’t you, Potter?” Blaise asked. “Almost as much as Granger. At least….well, her I can understand; you two were pretty much alone during your first year. But Weasley? She sort of threw herself at you during her Sorting and you’ve been friends since…at least, that’s what it looks like to me.”

Harry had to hold back a snort as he remembered how Ginny had soaked his robes with anxious tears after being Sorted into Slytherin. It was impossible to know if her fears had been justified, as it was her association with him that led to the strife between her and her brothers. While perhaps to one inside Harry’s close circle of friend, the episode would not have been humorous, from outside, Harry could imagine how ridiculous it must have looked for Harry to be forced to console some girl who he’d never met until that day. And stranger still to see the look of promised pain and suffering that Harry had turned on Draco Malfoy when the boy had opened his mouth to mock the Boy-Who-Lived and his new companion.

He realized Blaise was staring at him, and kept his tone level and steady only with conscious effort. “Ginny is a close friend, nothing more,” he assured him. He refused to say anything else until he trusted the boy more.

Blaise shook his head. “I know that, Potter,” he replied. “What I wanted to know was how and why.”

Harry gave him a questioning gaze, almost a glare. “And why exactly should I tell you that? Just because we’ve clarified our relationship doesn’t make me any more apt to tell you some of my closest secrets. I made the mistake of trusting you without reason once; I will not make it again.”

Instead of protesting or simply giving a resigned shrug, as he might expect, Blaise instead gave him a small, satisfied smile. It was at this moment that Harry realized that the boy had been testing him. He shook his head. “I’m not that stupid, Blaise.”

The boy grinned. “Good thing, ‘cause I was starting to wonder if I’d really gotten you. Can’t say I would have been really impressed with that.” He extended a hand. “Let’s do this the right way.”

Harry extended his own and grasped the other boy’s hand firmly, meeting Blaise’s dark eyes with an intense emerald gaze of his own. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Harry’s ‘new’ friendship with Blaise Zabini seemed destined to stick around a great deal longer than the first. Rather than both boys spending time with each other because of ulterior motives, they helped each other out and provided companionship when it was possible. Harry helped Blaise with some difficult Potions assignments; Blaise helped him understand some of the more complicated pureblood rituals. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny continued to make use of the Room of Requirement, but Blaise was barred until he could prove himself trustworthy. Blaise appeared determined to prove that trustworthiness, and neither violated their unspoken agreement nor informed Filch of the location of the Room.

Other than that, the months following his Christmas Break seemed to pass in a flurry of everyday activity. Sirius Black hadn’t been heard from since that Halloween, and most seemed to believe that the threat had passed. Harry knew better, but that didn’t stop him from allowing himself to relax outside with his friends. Once the snow had melted, the weather that spring was excellent, with much warmer temperatures and calmer weather than the miserable autumn months.

In addition to Quidditch, which Ginny and Harry practiced both with the team and on their own, they would often visit Hagrid or simply relax in a small clearing near the lake, doing homework or discussing the day’s classes. They made heavy use of Harry’s new Firebolt, a broom that he kept in his voice-locked trunk in order to prevent theft. Malfoy couldn’t stand the fact that another student had a broom that was better than his, and Harry wouldn’t put vandalism or theft past the pompous boy. However, despite the fact that the Firebolt clearly handled better than the Nimbus 2000 he was so fond of, it simply didn’t feel as natural. Harry had become an expert at turning every potential shortcoming of his Nimbus into a strength, and the Firebolt was almost too perfect. Despite Pucey’s urgings, he told his Captain that he’d use the Nimbus in the actual matches. The boy finally gave in after Harry gave the broom to him and proceeded to fly circles around him with his older-model broom. Harry always took pride in using superior technique and tactics to simply using raw speed or miniscule turning radii.

On the academic front, Harry was beginning to see the curriculum becoming much more specific and detailed, while it lessened the focus on the general skills that had characterized Harry and Hermione’s first two and a half years at Hogwarts. Transfiguration and Potions had already progressed into more advanced individual study; Charms, Herbology, and Astronomy were more focused on learning the theory that would be essential to later studies in those courses.

History of Magic, which had been getting steadily worse from the first class he’d attended, was another matter altogether. Not only was the class still comprised entirely of a sleep-inducing lecture by the monotonous voice of the ghost teacher, Professor Binns, but Harry was also frustrated by the lack of a clear chronological progression of their studies. They had started the year studying Medieval and Renaissance-era goblin rebellions and giant wars. They were still studying Medieval and Renaissance-era goblin rebellions and giant wars. In between, they had dabbled in Ancient Egyptian Magic and learned a bit about the Roman and Greek Wizards. Moreover, not only was it obvious that Binns’ favorite topic was goblin rebellions and giant wars, but the rumors of ghosts having perfect memories were clearly exaggerated. Frequently, Binns would re-teach a lesson he’d spent several class periods on just a week earlier. He would jump between centuries, and his tests demanded a wealth of knowledge he simply didn’t provide. Harry did a great deal of independent reading when a subject interested him, and he could proudly say that he might be the only Slytherin able to sit through a week of Binns’ lectures and not fall asleep once. Hermione was quite possibly the only Gryffindor, though because she did nothing but take notes for the entire period and was in a different class than Harry, such estimates weren’t always reliable. Not that it really mattered, of course.

The other thing that made academic work during Third Year different was the beginning of elective courses. Harry was taking two, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures, while Hermione took those two plus Arithmacy. Ancient Runes wasn’t exactly as Harry had envisioned it, though he was nonetheless determined to continue in the course. Professor Ogola was a Black African woman from Kenya who had attended the Magical History Institute of Cairo. While she had focused on Antiquity and Ancient civilization, there was a wide consensus that she would much better History of Magic teacher than Binns. Unfortunately, the much, much younger woman was in her early thirties and in just her second year of teaching at Hogwarts, and Binns had seniority.

The first year of the class, however, was focused more on understanding and becoming competent in the universal system of writing: runes, that was prevalent across most Western magical cultures. While they obviously differed by area, the basic tenants of grammar, spelling and meanings remained the same. Professor Ogola had promised that they would be covering the actual civilizations that used the Runes beginning in Fourth Year and continuing into N.E.W.T.-level classes.

Hermione reported that Arithmacy was, as Blaise had rather rudely predicted, focused primarily on math operations and functions that she already had a much better grasp of than her wizarding classmates, (or her fellow Muggleborns, for that matter.) However, as she had hoped, they also did side-work involving the magical properties and cultural significances of certain numbers.

Care of Magical Creatures had hit a bit of a wall since Harry had been sent to the Hospital Wing by a rampaging hippogriff. Fearing (with reason) that another such incident could get him sacked, Hagrid was much more wary of bringing in any creatures that could, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered dangerous. He’d told them more about Flobberworms than Harry knew existed, and bored them with almost every second of it. It was all the more painful for Harry, who constantly tried to impress upon Hagrid that he was blameless in the incident with the hippogriff and that he’d probably be better served having the class learn about and work with “more interestin’ creatures.” Hagrid would hear none of it. Still, they did manage to learn about Fire Crabs, Bowtruckles and even owls, specifically, how magical owls differed from common wild owls. Harry learned that ‘owl gatherers’ would go into the wild all over the world and perform tests to pick out owls that were imbued with natural magical ability, catch them, train them, and sell them to the general wizarding public. As self-serving as the process seemed, Harry learned that it was necessary to separate magical owls from normal owls, because magical owls had a tremendous natural advantage other their non-magical brethren that could greatly upset an ecosystem.

Transfiguration continued to be an extremely challenging class. They had covered an enormous amount of theory work that dealt with almost anything that could be turned into something else. The practical application had been limited to existing small, similar objects or living creatures. That was going to change, beginning the following year. McGonagall explained how her most advanced N.E.W.T. Transfiguration students were currently conducting a project in conjunction with Defense Against the Dark Arts students in which they either conjured solid objects to be used as shields or Transfigured other objects to such a form, and test them against a variety of advanced and powerful spells. McGonagall even gave a brief description how, during the Siege of Hogwarts, she had literally Transfigured the ground beneath Death Eaters into liquid, then, as they fell into these small ‘pools,’ she would return it to solid ground. The implications and utilities of such skills were not lost on Harry. It was clear that McGonagall could be a feared and respected combatant even if she had only a working knowledge of other offensive spells. Harry could imagine how she might conjure boulders to crush Death Eaters beneath them, animate the stone gargoyles and statues and even change the robes of a Death Eater to stone and freeze them in their tracks, wearing, quite literally, stone garments. Harry knew he’d never reach that potential or ability, but a N.E.W.T.-level education in Transfiguration could serve him well in coming conflicts.

On the social front, Harry was doing his best to act his own age. Seeing as very few of his classmates were doing the same, it was rather difficult. As much as he tried to think otherwise, it was as if every conversation or exchange that he had with one of his fellow Slytherins was a social test; an examination to prove whether or not Harry belonged in their social class. He tried to avoid the traps Greengrass had so easily sprung on him, spending time around his classmates, listening instead of talking, trying to learn as much as he could about what they spoke of. At the same time, he tried to make it less of a priority by spending time with those who would accept him as an equal much more readily. He, of course, spent the majority of his time with Hermione and Ginny, but he would also engage others in conversation from time to time. One of the students he spoke to often was Susan Bones.

Susan personified the positive aspects of the Hufflepuff House. She was hard-working, dependable and cautious, without being as cowardly as the inaccurate stereotype. The reputation of Hufflepuffs also included the belief that they didn’t hold strong convictions and tended to bow to the more assertive Houses. If one judged all of Hufflepuff by the character of Susan Bones, such an assumption would never be made. Susan was a mature, confident young woman, and as the niece of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Head, Amelia Bones, she was quite well known.

Harry also tried to engage Neville Longbottom, and was mostly successful. He’d been spending much less time with Ron Weasley and the other Gryffindors in his year, socializing more with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The effects were obvious. While his shy nature at first held him back, Neville, when he didn’t feel the need to conform to gain acceptance, was a very talkative and intelligent individual, if still wary of taking strong opinions that went against the majority. Hermione continued to be on a very friendly basis with most of the Ravenclaws, though Harry didn’t find as much in common with them. Though he worked hard and had a desire to learn, he simply didn’t possess the same academic drive as the others. Harry figured it was mostly because he was looking towards the future as his motivation, while Hermione and the Ravenclaws had more of a desire to learn for the sake of learning. Nevertheless, he remained on friendly terms with the likes of Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Lisa Turpin and Daphne’s distant relative, Michael Crawford.

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The boy was an idiot. A complete and total idiot. A mindless, Gryffindor-ish, ignorant, impulsive idiot with no concern for anyone but himself and his family…excluding his sister, of course… at least most of the time.

Ginny had nearly hexed her older brother in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room, and had to be forcibly restrained by the twins. Hermione, on the other hand, had slapped him hard across the face and shoved him into the fireplace when he’d made a grab at Crookshanks. Fortunately, there had been no fire burning at the moment. Harry, at least for the time being, would have preferred that it had been burning. Strongly.

McGonagall had been beside herself when she’d discovered the two Gryffindors surrounded by crowd of enthusiastic observers, with Harry standing off to the side, his wand leveled at the youngest Weasley boy’s temple. Ginny, as already mentioned, was straining against the arms of Fred and George, probably intending to use the Bat-Bogey Hex and then pummel her brother’s face flat.

The entire altercation had begun when Hermione had taken Harry and Ginny into her Common Room so they could use a book she’d gotten from the library to study for their respective Charms tests. Harry felt such outside reading wasn’t necessary to ace the examination, but he wasn’t going to fight Hermione. The entire situation had degenerated when Ron, standing on one of the staircases leading to the dormitories, had loudly declared that Hermione’s ‘monster’ had eaten his rat. As proof, he held his blood-speckled sheets aloft in one fist. He had then demanded that Hermione get rid of that ‘bloody animal’ before he disposed of Crookshanks out one of the windows.

Hermione, understandably, had drawn her wand and nearly hexed the boy on the spot. He’d unfortunately run downstairs before she could. As the crowd gathered, they had exchanged a number of pleasantries. Hermione had been screaming at him by the end of it. Harry had been about to intervene, possibly with a Stunning Spell, when the Head of Gryffindor House had arrived. She had undoubtedly seen his wand before he had a chance to re-holster it, and her stare had been sufficient to cease Ginny’s struggles against her brothers.

She had been given a number of greatly varying reports on what had happened, including a mostly incomprehensible one by a soot-covered Ron Weasley and a far more concise one by a tearful and apologetic Hermione.

Then she had made her decision. Both Ron and Hermione were banned from the remaining two Hogsmeade weekends, and given 10 days of detention to be split between her and Filch. And Harry and Ginny were barred from the Gryffindor Common Room…permanently. She also ordered the two Slytherins to participate in four of Hermione and Ron’s ten detentions, said she would be sending a letter home to all of their parents, as well as, of course, a message to Snape. Finally, she declared that any future problems between the two Gryffindors would be dealt with harshly. To everyone in the room capable of independent or creative thought, that implied suspension or expulsion. It was remarkable how quickly Hermione’s face had gone from bright red to deathly pale. Ron had been similarly frightened, likely envisioning his next encounter with his mother. Harry had heard enough about Molly Weasley from her daughter to understand the source of his fear.

That said, with Ginny trying to console a horrified Hermione somewhere in the castle, Harry had no sympathy for the youngest male Weasley. He walked through one of the corridors near the Divination Tower, thinking and trying to extinguish his anger. He had an Occlumency lesson that night, and Snape would not be pleased if Harry was unable to manage his emotions because of some “juvenile disagreements.”

He continued to make steady, if slow, progress in his work with Snape. The man showed little patience and expected a lot, and Harry understood that. He did the reading he was assigned; he practiced before he went to bed, and had actually had fewer nightmares since he began working with the man. Still, he was unable to hold off Snape’s attack for more than fifteen seconds, and it strained him a great deal to perform even this task. Snape was relentless, but Harry understood that he had to be. Still, he wished Snape would give him a break once in a while.

So immersed was Harry in his thoughts that he quite literally collided with Sybil Trelawney, the Divination teacher. The surprise caused her to drop the glass bottles she was carrying, and they shattered as they hit the floor. The woman was unnaturally thin, and though her bulky robes and shawl concealed just how thin she was, combined with her over-sized glasses, they made her resemble a beetle. She did not appear particularly upset by the destruction of her sherry bottles. Her glassy eyes shot upward towards his partially-hidden scar, and her eyes widened. “Harry Potter,” she said, almost in reverence, her voice an excited whisper, “I have foreseen this meeting between us.” Harry blinked. He’d heard that the woman was a fraud and didn’t want to believe it, but this was a bit more than he’d been expecting.

Harry drew his wand, intending to clean the mess on the floor. But as he did so, he noticed that the woman had suddenly stiffened, her eyes darkening. She opened her mouth to speak, but when she did, it was clearly not her own voice.

…THE RETURN OF THE DARK LORD DRAWS CLOSER…THE DARKNESS HAS BEGUN ITS RISE ONCE MORE…SOON, WHEN THE MOON SHINES FULL IN THE SKY, THE SERVANT WILL RETURN TO HIS MASTER…THE TRAITOR, THE DARK ONE, AND THE BETRAYED SHALL MEET ONCE MORE…ON THE NIGHT THE MOON SHINES FULL IN THE SKY, THE SERVANT WILL RETURN TO HIS MASTER…

Harry watched, frozen in surprise, as the apparently not-so-false prophet collapsed, falling unconscious to the wet floor, and lay still. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, Harry would swear that she was dead.

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