Harry rode on the high of the Quidditch victory all weekend. He awoke Monday morning with
something that felt almost like a hangover; a headache he knew had nothing to do with his scar.
It was simply the headache of having to come crashing down into the everyday world again,
into--
Potions.
First thing after breakfast.
Harry groaned as he trudged down the stone stairs with Ron and Hermione and the rest of the
fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Hermione still wasn’t speaking to him. (She still came
downstairs to run with him in the morning, but pointedly refused to talk to him the entire time.)
This was in sharp contrast to everyone else in the school (all the non-Slytherins, anyway) who
were treating Harry as even more of a hero than usual, for having been captain of the team that
captured such a stunning victory.
Ron had also come in for his share of admiration; Padma Patil, of all people, had wangled an
invitation to the Gryffindor common room from her twin on Sunday, and she and Parvati had
spent a great deal of time with Ron, who looked like he couldn’t believe his good fortune,
surrounded by gorgeous twins who were hanging on his every word. It didn’t hurt that he’d just
adopted an adorable tiny kitten who had quickly become very attached to him. The Patil twins
exclaimed over Argent’s every yawn, every stretch, the way she washed her face, the way she
clawed her way up Ron’s robes to reach him. After the Yule Ball, Harry wouldn’t have been
surprised if Padma had never acknowledged Ron’s existence again, but now he was the star
Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Hermione seemed to be as annoyed with Ron as she
was with Harry; every time she looked up from her reading at Ron and the Patil twins, she was
looking daggers at him.
And Ginny! Another extraordinary thing that had happened on Sunday was that a virtual storm
of owls descended on the Gryffindor table at breakfast bearing invitations for Ginny to join
various boys in walks around the lake or in the gardens. Some of them were boys she’d never
met or talked to. She colored more deeply with each successive letter she read. The owls didn’t
stop once she was back in the common room. They were beating their wings against the
windows, demanding to be let in. Harry knew that if he went to the window and opened it, the
owl would fly straight to Ginny, and he wasn’t wrong once.
He could tell that she was extremely uncomfortable about her new notoriety, however. Handing
her yet another letter, he suggested to her quietly that she send an owl of her own--to Malfoy,
so they could meet in the Potions Dungeon. She smiled at him gratefully; the owls wouldn’t be able to get at her where there weren’t windows. She stayed in the dungeon for much of the
afternoon, and Harry had to fight the urge to check on them. She hadn’t said anything to him
about his kissing her after the game, and he hadn’t said anything to her. It was as though it had
never happened (except for a lingering pain in Harry’s left foot, from Hermione’s reaction).
Harry had also seen Hermione glaring at Ginny.
Thinking of Malfoy and Ginny made Harry think of Snape and his mother, that other
Gryffindor/Slytherin combination. As he walked down to the dungeons, Harry remembered
what Snape had said about her and potions. It sounded like his mother was very much on
Snape’s mind these days, as he engaged in his covert work. It seemed that he was still tortured
about not having been able to save her from Voldemort. Snape probably would have been a
better secret keeper than Pettigrew, reflected Harry. He remembered the trials he’d seen in
Dumbledore’s Pensieve, the hard-faced Death Eaters, and the way Dumbledore had stood and
defended Snape when Karkaroff had tried to implicate him in order to get out of Azkaban. If
only there were some way for him to understand better, to understand what his mother ever saw
in him, understand why Dumbledore trusted him...
And then, as he was unpacking his potions supplies, he had it: The Pensieve. If only Snape had
a Pensieve; if only he would use it to store whatever memories he had of his mum...And then, if
Harry could devise some way to access it, to enter it as he had entered Dumbledore’s
Pensieve....It was risky. And perhaps a bit invasive, like reading another person’s diary. Harry
shook his head. He’d think about all that later. He didn’t even know where to get a Pensieve...
“Potter? Potter!” came Snape’s voice now through his confused thoughts. Harry jerked his
head up. How many times had Snape said his name?
“Yes, Professor?” he said, as respectfully as he could, which wasn’t his usual attitude toward
him. Snape noticed the difference, and looked unnerved.
“Having you been eating Crocus colchicum instead of preparing to make the Snake-Venom
Antidote?”
“Have I been eating--what?”
Snape sighed deeply. “Who can tell Potter why I would ask him whether he’d been eating
Crocus colchicum ?
Hermione’s hand flew up. Her face looked grim. For once Snape did not hesitate to call on her.
She seemed to be trying to sound even more like an annoying know-it-all than usual.
“ Crocus colchicum is a species of the genus crocus that is highly toxic. In ancient Greece,
malingering slaves would eat just enough of the bulb to be too sick to work the next day.” She
gave Harry a hard look from across the room. Harry could tell that Snape saw; a smile curled at
the corners of his mouth. He was clearly enjoying seeing that Harry and Hermione were on the
outs. All right, thought Harry, I’m trying to understand him better why? But then, he
remembered his talking to Sirius about why his mum dumped him for his dad. He’d left
something out; but what?
Snape moved to the front of the class. “Now, usually, you are not required to have Hieracium
venosum , or rattlesnake-weed, in your potions kit, so I have some up here that Professor
Sprout has been cultivating in the greenhouses. Come up in an orderly fashion to get one of the
plants...”
Harry tried to stay focused while he worked. Ron was his partner while Hermione worked with
Neville. He noticed that Malfoy didn’t seem quite well; he was even paler than usual, if that was
possible, with dark circles under his eyes. He kept rubbing his arms when he thought no one was looking. Harry thought about the cold look Lucius Malfoy had given him on Saturday, and
the way he ganged up on his son after the game along with the other Slytherins and Snape
himself. What had Malfoy’s dad done to him? Harry wondered. He remembered him talking
about legal curses that were still very painful...Malfoy certainly looked in pain, just now. Harry
wondered fleetingly what his dad had done to him the other times Slytherin had been beaten in
Quidditch. Then he shook his head; it wouldn’t do any good to think about that. It wasn’t his
lookout if Malfoy’s father couldn’t understand it was just a game.
Just a game. Harry smiled to himself. He never imagined he would think that about Quidditch.
“POTTER!” Snape yelled again, and during the rest of the class, Harry tried very hard not to let
his mind wander. Although, he reflected, I’m probably the last one here who would ever need a
snake-venom antidote....
* * * * *
After classes were over for the day, Harry hurried up to the common room to write a letter to
Sirius, to ask him whether he knew of some way to acquire a Pensieve. Harry told him he
would pay him from his Gringott’s vault. I hope it doesn’t cost ten-thousand galleons, he
thought. What might a Pensieve be worth?
Harry thought about the Pensieve all through dinner. He was feeling somewhat distracted. Then,
when he went for Animagus training after dinner that evening, Professor McGonagall wasn’t
there again. He felt like he’d woken up, looking around for her. Dumbledore wasn’t there
either. Then he went over to the fireplace and saw that she’d left a note on the mantel telling him
to go to Hagrid’s. That’s odd, he thought.
He walked down the sloping lawn to Hagrid’s hut, shivering in the December wind; he hadn’t
brought a cloak. His black school robes whipped around him. When he arrived at the enclosure
where the golden griffin was, Harry was glad that he wasn’t in the habit of wearing Sandy to go
to Animagus training. In fact, Ginny was doing him the favor of wearing Sandy on her arm for
him, under her robes, as she was the only one who knew about the training (and since she
usually found it very difficult to refuse to do anything he asked--he tried not to feel guilty about
that). McGonagall was standing outside the fence, waiting for him.
During the previous Friday’s training session, she had told him that Dumbledore had told her of
his wish to learn to transform into a golden griffin. She didn’t seem surprised. Luckily, the lion
form he’d been transforming into wasn’t all that different; he only needed to learn to produce the
wings, otherwise he was nearly there. That and learning to tolerate the excruciating pain and
maintain the griffin form for more than two seconds.
“Hello, Potter,” she greeted him, also shivering in the cold somewhat.
“Hello, Professor.”
“As your head-of-house, I have some leeway in these matters, and so I am giving you
permission to spend this week sleeping out here with the golden griffin. It is a necessary step in
your training. You need to bond with a specimen of the animal you will be transforming into.”
Harry pulled his robes closer around his body as a gust of wintry air hit him. “Sleep? Out here?
Couldn’t we--take the griffin up to the castle?”
“No. We can’t.”
“Well--but what are the other students in Gryffindor going to think? About me not sleeping in
my own dorm all week?”
“Hmmm...” she said, brow furrowed. Then she brightened. “Ah. You’ve got detention. All
week.”
“Detention for what?”
“Well, let’s say you stay out tonight without permission, ergo, I give you detention for the rest of
the week. During your detention you will, let’s see, you will--”
“Use Muggle cleaning methods to clean every trophy in the trophy room?”
She nodded. “Excellent.”
Harry grimaced. “Ron had to do it once. Wish I’d been with him; for my detention, I had to
help Lockhart answer his fan mail...”
He thought he saw a smile playing around the corners of her mouth, but over the years, she’d
become very good at suppressing such displays.
“Very well, we have a plausible story in hand. Now, Hagrid tells me you’ve had some contact
with the creature--”
“He’s let me feed him, and I’ve flown on his back twice. But I have to make sure I don’t come
down here with my snake...He tried to come after me once when I had her on me.”
“Well, naturally. That’s what a griffin does, Potter. Are you sure about this? Your lion is coming
along. Not that I would have chosen an animal such as a lion to begin with. It’s not very
inconspicuous.”
“I’m sure professor. It just feels so--right.”
She nodded. “I know what you mean. Those of us who are Animagi--we think we are choosing
the animals, but I have always suspected that in a very real way, the animal actually chooses
us.”
“And I’m not doing this to be inconspicuous. I feel more like--more like I’m arming myself for
battle.” She nodded, understanding. Neither of them said the name they were thinking. “I just
have one question, Professor: Isn’t it rather cold to be sleeping outside?” He shivered again.
She smiled. “Did you think this golden griffin was sleeping in the cold? Really, Harry. We aren’t
cruel to animals at Hogwarts. This isn’t Durmstrang. Griffins are from the Middle East and
Northern Africa, originally. They like warm weather. The air inside the fence is magically heated.
Just a little, during the day, when there’s sunlight. You may not have noticed it during your
classes. We make it much warmer at night, when it’s dark. In a way, we do not need a fence or
a wall to keep the griffin in; he doesn’t like to stray from the comfort of the enclosure. When
you flew on him, how long was he in the air?”
Harry thought. “Maybe a couple of minutes, at most?”
“You see? He was anxious to get back to the warmth. And have you been doing the reading on
griffins I was suggesting? Because you must know everything you can. I will be setting you an
examination in one week.”
Boy, Harry thought. No one said there was going to be a written test. But he nodded at her.
“All right, then. In you go. Sleep well.”
She turned to go. “Professor! Has he, um--eaten lately?” He eyed the animal warily.
“Yes. Hagrid assures me that he had two-hundred pounds of raw mutton for his dinner.
Goodnight, Potter.” She turned and started walking back toward the castle. Harry shivered in
the wind and turned to look at the griffin again. Oh, well, he thought. If that’s where it’s warm,
I’d better get inside the fence.
He climbed over and landed on the spongy ground, immediately feeling a warmth envelop him,
making him close his eyes in relief. It was like suddenly being transported to the tropics.
McGonagall wasn’t kidding. He approached the griffin cautiously. He’d never been near it when
Hagrid wasn’t around. I’m supposed to bond with it, Harry thought. He moved nearer to the sleeping animal, looking so much like a lion. He crouched down next to
it, putting his hand on its flank, feeling the warmth emanating from it. There was also a low
rumble traveling up his arm, making his entire body resonate with the purring of the griffin.
Taking off his robe and balling it up like a pillow, he curled up on the ground next to it, feeling its
breath on his back, feeling the purr taking over his brain. He stared into space for some time,
since it was much earlier than he usually went to sleep. He turned onto his back, looking at how
clear the stars were in the night sky, then he closed his eyes and tried to imagine flying through
the air under his own power, tried to imagine being a golden griffin...
* * * * *
The detention ruse seemed to be working. After the initial night outside, McGonagall staged a
scene which consisted of her reaming him out in front of the entire house. Harry grimaced and
tried to look contrite about being out all night. She announced his sentence and left the common
room, a place he’d only seen her a few times since coming to Hogwarts.
“Blimey,” Ron said to Harry after she’d gone. “Staying out all night. What’d you go and do that
for?”
Harry looked at Hermione, who was looking as triumphant as if she had turned him in. Harry
shrugged. “It’s hard to explain right now. Let’s go eat breakfast.” McGonagall had been good,
he thought. Too good; he felt mortified by being called up on the carpet in front of everyone. He
was a prefect, supposed to set an example, and so on.
Each night after that, he walked down to Hagrid’s cabin to sleep in the enclosure with the griffin.
After the first night, he used his Invisibility Cloak, so no one would see him walking across the
grounds, even though it was dark. On Tuesday morning, he’d woken up to find a large paw
draped over him, almost as though he were serving as some kind of stuffed toy for the creature.
By Thursday night, he felt ready to try to transform, including wings.
He closed his eyes, concentrating hard, then feeling the rippling through all the bones in his body
as he changed form, changed appearance. He landed on all fours, his enormous paws standing
on the mossy earth beside the real griffin, and with an effort, he concentrated even harder and
then expanded his wings on either side of him, turning to look at them as best he could, gold and
gossamer and stronger than anything imaginable. He looked at the griffin. It was awake now,
staring at him. Uh-oh, Harry thought. Would it be alarmed? Would it want to fight another
griffin?
The griffin spread its wings too, and took a short run before leaping into the sky. Harry gasped
and collapsed onto the ground; he’d held the form of the griffin for a good two or three minutes.
That was a record for him. Unfortunately, if the real griffin thought he was going to attempt to fly
with it yet, it was crazy. Harry had no interest in coming crashing down from the sky in his
human form, needing to be carted off to the hospital wing for repair.
The griffin wheeled in a circle above him, then came back to earth. It cocked its head, looking
at him, then reclined again, looking sleepy once more. Harry curled up next to it again, as had
become their pattern, and fell into a deep sleep, trying to forget the painful transformation he’d
just executed. He felt more like he had been executed, and someone had botched the job, like
with Nearly Headless Nick. But as he leaned against the griffin, the warmth of the animal and
the rhythm of its inner motor seeped into his body, and he was soon slumbering peacefully, the
pain leaving him, as he dreamed dreams he would not remember....
* * * * *
It was Saturday morning before he received a reply to his letter to Sirius, plus a large package. Hedwig nearly dropped the Pensieve on Ron’s head as he sat next to Harry eating some
kippers.
“Hey!” Ron yelled, spitting out the bite of fish he’d been chewing.
“Eeeew!” Ginny recoiled. She’d been reaching for a piece of toast and the half-chewed bite
expelled from Ron’s mouth had just barely missed her hand. Will Flitwick, sitting next to her,
laughed into his orange juice and wound up snorting it through his nose. Amy and Andy Donegal
held their stomachs, laughing uncontrollably at this chain reaction.
Harry caught the package, immediately understanding Hedwig’s difficulty (and she was far from
being as small as Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon). It was about eighteen inches square and almost a
foot high. Harry shoved the box under the table and removed Sirius’ letter from Hedwig’s leg.
Ron craned his neck to see, but Harry moved so he couldn’t. Ron scowled.
Dear Harry,
Here is the Pensieve. Not as expensive as a Firebolt, but it comes close.
Oh dear, thought Harry.
We can discuss the cost later. You said you wanted to actually meet to talk with me. The
best thing to do would be for you to be in the common room near the fireplace at one
o’clock tonight. Until then---Sirius
He put the letter in his pocket and rose from the table, picking up the Pensieve, so he could take
it up to his trunk. As he was leaving, Hermione stopped him.
“Harry!”
He turned, confused. So she was suddenly speaking to him again?
“Your shoes are untied,” she said. He was holding the Pensieve on his right; she was on his left.
He looked down; both of his shoes were tied securely. He looked up at her again. Hermione
was putting something into her pocket.
“Made you look!” she said in a sing-song voice, turning back to her food. Harry rolled his eyes
and resumed his course. Great. She’s talking to me again for the sole purpose of trying to make
me look and feel like an idiot. He left without a backward glance,
He had been waiting for a reply all week, which felt like it had dragged incredibly, but now the
rest of the day seemed as long as the other five days put together, as Harry watched each
minute tick by agonizingly slowly. He practiced Quidditch with the team, he read The Tempest,
he played chess with Ron...
And, after the brief morning encounter in the Great Hall, he and Hermione gave each other a
wide berth.
Harry was also relieved that he would be sleeping indoors again--although he couldn’t actually
sleep until he’d talked to Sirius. When at last, the few remaining stragglers left the common
room, at about a quarter-to-one, Harry drew a breath of relief, going over to the fireplace and
leaning back in a chair to wait for Sirius.
When he appeared, Harry jumped; he still wasn’t used to this kind of communication. He was
lucky he hadn’t been caught in Snape’s office, he was so surprised when Sirius’ head had
appeared in that fireplace.
Sirius smiled at him. “Hello, Harry. How are you?”
He looked tired, Harry thought. “All right. Thanks for sending the Pensieve.”
“Would you mind telling me why you need one?”
Harry could not meet his eyes. “Well, I’m planning to give it to--a friend. As a present.”
“I see.” Sirius looked dubious. “That’s some present.”
“Well, it’s someone who really needs it. Has a lot of stuff locked up inside his head.”
“How do you even know what a Pensieve is?”
Harry grimaced. “Dumbledore has one. I--accidentally fell into it, and--”
“And are you planning to ‘accidentally’ fall into this one? Does this--friend think his thoughts will
still be his?”
Harry looked at him guiltily. “It’s for Snape.”
Sirius looked shocked. “Now, that I did not see coming. Snape? You giving a Pensieve to
Snape?”
“That’s not all. I have a confession. In October, when you called Snape in his office, I was
there. In my Invisibility Cloak. I heard everything, about the Polyjuice Potion and about--about
my mum and Snape, and the Malfoys, and Death Eater activity near the Weasleys’ village...”
“You were there!” Sirius looked furious. Harry thought he was furious at him, but he wasn’t. “If
you were there, someone else could just have easily--oh, Harry, I’m not meaning to yell at you,
it’s just--security--”
Harry looked down. “I’m sorry. When I slipped into his office, I didn’t know you were going to
call him. I was so surprised I almost screamed when your face popped up in the fire. I’m lucky
he didn’t give me a month of detentions. Please don’t tell him.”
“That Invisibility Cloak--” Sirius was muttering, shaking his head. Harry thought he must be
remembering all of the antics his father had engaged in using the cloak. Harry wished he dared
ask about some of that, but clearly this wasn’t the time.
“Sirius?” he ventured. “When you and Snape use the potion--be careful, okay?”
Sirius smiled at him again. “I promise.”
“I mean--Lucius Malfoy seems pretty ruthless. Even his own son--” he remembered the way
Malfoy had looked on Monday, and shivered. And then he remembered Lucius Malfoy talking
to Cho Chang at the Quidditch match, how she had looked so strange afterward, like she was
in a trance...
He told Sirius about that, and Sirius widened his eyes. “Now that doesn’t sound good, Harry.
What happened after that?” Harry reddened. “Well?” Sirius prompted him.
“After that we--we were--”
“What?” Sirius was getting impatient.
“Snogging,” Harry said in a very soft voice. Sirius suddenly burst out laughing. Then he shushed
himself, still shaking with laughter.
“Sorry, Harry. I’m still getting used to you not being a baby, and here you are a teenager with
hormones running amok. By the time I get used to that, you’ll probably be a grandfather.”
“That’s if I live to graduate from Hogwarts,” Harry said glumly. Sirius looked at him levelly
again.
“Harry. I won’t hear that talk. You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”
“Um, yeah,” was Harry’s eloquent reply. He didn’t feel like going into the Viktor Krum Plan for
Sirius. “I just wish I knew what he was saying to her. I mean, he doesn’t seem to just make idle
chitchat.”
Sirius nodded, deep in thought. “I agree. He had to be doing it for a reason. And you probably
can’t ask her; if she was placed under a spell, she’d be unlikely to remember anything. But you
might want to be careful when you’re with her. Just in case. Make sure you have your wand at
all times. Don’t let your guard down. Now, I know it’s hard to be vigilant and kiss a girl at the
same time--”
“Sirius!” Harry laughed, reddening again.
“I know you’re laughing now, but think about it. A teenage boy--how better to get at him than
going through a teenage girl?”
Harry nodded. “Actually, I have thought about it. You know, Hermione being kidnapped. I’ve
wondered--whether she was placed under the Imperious Curse. Told to--do things--”
Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What sort of things?”
Harry looked away, embarrassed. “I’d rather not say. But it doesn’t matter right now, I
suppose. We’re not speaking.”
“You and Hermione? Why?”
“It’s a long story--” What was he supposed to tell Sirius? That he’d been kissing Hermione,
too? (Well, doing just a little bit more than kissing.) And that she’d tried to mash his foot after
seeing him kiss Ginny? He didn’t want Sirius to think he was completely out of control, running
around kissing every girl in sight.
“A messenger approaches,” Sandy hissed. Harry jerked his head up. A messenger? Who could
that mean?
“Sirius. You’d better go. Someone’s coming. Thanks for everything. And don’t forget what I
said about being careful.”
“You too.” And he was gone. The fire flickered normally once more. Harry sank back into the
armchair, wondering who would walk in on him.
A few minutes later he had started to doze off. Suddenly, Hermione was crawling into his lap,
putting her arms around his neck, pillowing her head on his shoulder. “Harry,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes in surprise, not knowing what to say or do.
“Hermione!” was all he could think of, staring at her, shocked, putting his arms around her
awkwardly. “Why are you--” But she handed him Sirius’ letter. He realized that she must have
nicked it from his pocket when she pulled the shoe-lace stunt at breakfast.
She looked into his eyes intently; she seemed contrite. “I’m sorry Harry. I--I’ve been such a--”
He put his finger to her lips. “No. I should have told you about Sandy. But some of the other
things--I really can’t tell you yet. Sirius doesn’t even know. But you will know. Eventually. I
promise.” His voice became softer. “I’ve missed you.”
She smiled sadly. “Good. Now don’t ever do that again.”
He was perplexed. “Do what?”
She looked down. “Kiss Ginny.” She looked up at him again. “I know, I know. I should be
more mature than that. You were in a crowd of people, she’d just won the game for the team--I
never knew I could just erupt with jealousy like that--”
He smiled at her and tweaked her nose. “My foot will remember that for a while. That should
keep me from straying, eh?”
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god, I didn’t mean to hurt you! I can’t believe I did
that!”
He removed her hands from her face, lifting her chin with his finger. “You can make it up to me
now,” he told her quietly.
Their lips met softly, tentative kiss after tentative kiss, putting off the deeper kiss they each
wanted. Then Harry slowly opened his mouth, bringing his hand up and gently pulling her chin
down, licking her lips and holding her face in his hands, taking his time. She trembled, sinking
her fingers into his hair, pulling him to her, and now they were kissing properly, deeply. They’d
never done this before, a slow, leisurely exploration of each other, no hurrying, no frantic clawing at clothing. Harry broke the kiss slowly and leaned his forehead on hers.
“Promise me something?” he whispered. She nodded. “Next time you’re upset with me, just do
the killing curse or something. Put me out of my misery quickly. I’ve seen what it’s like being
your enemy. Definitely not something I ever want to repeat. No one crosses Hermione
Granger.” He smiled at her. She looked down, starting to cry. “Oh, Hermione, don’t! I didn’t
mean to--” but she couldn’t stop, and now she buried her face in his neck, and he could feel her
tears on his skin.
He stroked her curls as she muttered through her sobs, “I’m so sorry, so sorry--” and when she
was cried out, he heard her sigh. He held her tightly, leaning his cheek on her hair. Her breath
warmed his neck. He felt so tired. He closed his eyes, just for a minute, he thought.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was stunningly bright, a white light glaring in through
the windows. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Harry had sat sleeping in the chair all night,
still wearing his clothes and robes from the day before. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Ron
came hurtling down the stairs, stopping abruptly when he saw Harry.
“There you are! Thought you’d done something stupid again, like staying out all night.”
“Your confidence in me is underwhelming,” Harry replied sleepily.
“Go get changed! It’s the first snow! I’m glad it’s Sunday. I’d be going crazy if this were
Monday and we had to go to Potions right now!” Harry smiled as Ron went to the window,
gazing out at the snowy grounds. That explains the white light, he thought. Ron reminded him
more of a five-year-old than a fifteen-year-old. He went up to his dorm, grinning. He thought of
Hermione and felt a joy bound through him he hadn’t felt in a very long time. They were all right
again. He thought of holding her in the chair, like she was a little girl. When had she gone
upstairs? he wondered. It was a lucky thing Ron hadn’t found them like that. Not that it would
have been too incriminating; they were both fully clothed, merely sleeping. But still...
They spent much of the day outside. It seemed like every student in the school had turned out to
play in the snow like small children. Even Alicia Spinnet had foregone her Head Girl dignity to
engage in a snowball fight with Angelina and the Weasley twins, which ended with everyone
being pelted with self-propelled bewitched snowballs which, luckily, were a lot softer than
Bludgers. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had conjured up ice-skates for themselves and
were racing each other back and forth on the frozen lake. Some Slytherins decided to skate
too, playing Crack-the-Whip, but Harry and Ron got Hermione and Ginny out of the way in
time to avoid injury. Harry was momentarily alarmed by the fact that Crabbe and Goyle and
Crabbe’s “little” sister were all on the ice at the same time; he was afraid it would break under
the strain. But it held up fine, not even hairline cracks appeared. The only person he knew that
he didn’t see was Malfoy.
Later, they all relaxed by the fire in the common room, drinking hot chocolate and toasting
bread and muffins on sticks in the fireplace. They felt warm and cozy and content. Even
Hermione did not suggest doing schoolwork. Ron had noticed as soon as Hermione had come
downstairs that morning that she and Harry seemed to be back to normal, and when Harry
confirmed this, he did not question it, merely looked relieved.
As the time approached for the evening meal, Harry went up to his dorm so he could be alone.
He sat on his bed to write a short note on a piece of parchment.
“FOR SEVERUS SNAPE, FROM A FRIEND.
PERHAPS THIS COULD BE USEFUL FOR YOUR MEMORIES OF LILY.<>”
Harry wrote in upright block letters, in a style as unlike his usual handwriting as he could muster. He folded the note and placed it under the knotted string that was around the box the Pensieve
came in. Then he took his Invisibility Cloak from his trunk and put it in the pocket of his robes.
Harry made it through the common room without anyone taking any notice of him except for
Hermione. She smiled at him, raising his eyebrows.
He mouthed the words, I’ll be right back. She nodded, and he left. Once in the corridor, he
put on the Invisibility Cloak, holding the large box awkwardly with one hand. He made it down
to the dungeons without meeting anyone and entered the Potions classroom.
Harry walked cautiously over to the door to Snape’s office, meaning to place the box gently on
the floor. Instead, it slipped from his grasp and struck the stone floor with a loud thud. Harry
heard a firm tread, then the door to the office swung open abruptly. Snape started to step out
into the classroom, but had to stop, because of the package sitting in the doorway. Snape
narrowed his eyes, looking suspiciously around the room. As always, someone’s eyes going
right through him gave him a strange, queasy feeling. He dared not move or draw breath; if
Snape had merely extended his arm for its full reach, he would have come in contact with Harry.
Snape looked down at the package again. Seeing the note, he stooped to withdraw it from the
string, as though he were avoiding touching the package itself. He read it, then looked around
the room again, frowning. He took out his wand, and Harry was sure he was going to perform
some charm to ferret out a person hiding in plain sight--but instead he levitated the package and
caused it to float into his office. He was obviously still reluctant to touch it. Harry wondered if he
would blow it up, like when the police found suspicious packages lying around airports that
could be terrorist bombs. The office door closed with a bang and Harry exhaled noisily. He
crept carefully back to the corridor and upstairs, dreading every moment that Snape would
know that he had left it, and come dashing up to Gryffindor Tower to accuse him of some
nefarious purpose for doing so. Harry took off the cloak in the corridor, stuffed it back into his
pocket and climbed back through the portrait hole into the common room.
* * * * *
When almost everyone was done eating dinner that evening, Dumbledore stood at the head
table and made an announcement.
“Wasn’t this a nice day? I’m sure everyone had fun in the snow; I know I did.” Harry smiled,
remembering seeing Dumbledore sledding down the sloping lawn and ice-skating. Only a few
other professors had indulged in winter sports, however. Professor Flitwick had helped his
great-nephew and his friends build an enchanted snow fort and Professor Sprout had been using
her wand to make beautiful ice sculptures that looked like some of the more exotic plants in the
greenhouses. McGonagall had convinced Professor Vector to do some cross-country skiing
with her, around the lake. It did not actually seem to involve magic.
“I’ll bet it gave you all good appetites. Winter at Hogwarts! An enchanted time! And wait until
you see the Christmas decorations this year! I hope each and every one of you will sign up to
stay at school this Christmas; for those that do, there will be a treat.” Harry grimaced; he hoped
it wasn’t another ball. That would be so complex, what with Cho and Hermione...and what if
Malfoy wanted to take Ginny? He’d be visiting Ron in Azkaban for the rest of his life, after he
killed Malfoy...
“The day after Christmas is, of course, Boxing Day. And this year at Hogwarts, we are going to
have a traditional Boxing Day observance.” Dumbledore looked around, as though waiting for
the cheering to start. Harry noticed that Hermione was smiling broadly, looking like she would
burst. He remembered her talking to Dobby about Boxing Day, when they were eating in the kitchens. What was all this about? What had Hermione convinced Dumbledore to do?
There was silence. “Ah, yes. Perhaps most of you are too young to remember what people
used to do on Boxing Day. Traditionally, families that had servants switched places with them
on that day. And that is what we will do here at Hogwarts this year on Boxing Day: the masters
will be servants and the servants will be masters.”
Harry’s eyes opened wide and he turned to Hermione. She was positively glowing. The
snake’s prediction! She had said she knew what it meant. It was about Boxing Day!
“So,” Dumbledore continued, “I hope that as many of you as possible will stay to enjoy this
traditional observance of Boxing Day. Each of you may sign up in the entrance hall. Hurry! Only
two weeks to Christmas! Now, enjoy your pudding,” he said, sitting again, preparing to dig into
some trifle.
As they were walking back up to Gryffindor Tower, Ron turned on Hermione. “This was your
idea, wasn’t it? Boxing Day?”
She lift her chin defiantly. “What if it was?”
He sighed with exasperation. “When are you going to learn? The elves like their lives just the
way they are. Just because you feel guilty--”
“Yes I do, Ronald Weasley, and so should you too! So should everyone here! We are all
complicit in the perpetuation of a great injustice! Now, Dumbledore’s convinced them that this
is a traditional thing, he’s gotten them to agree to be the ones who get waited on for one day.
With any luck, once they get that little taste of freedom--”
“What? They’ll all jump ship? Hermione, I like my clean laundry just appearing in my wardrobe.
I like the meals, the warm beds and clean sheets and all the rest. I’ve heard that in some Muggle
schools, they make the students do chores like that. Is that how you want it to be around
here?”
“That wouldn’t happen. Dumbledore will be making the elves an offer at New Year’s: any of
them that want to will be given clothes and their freedom. If they want to continue to work here,
they will get wages and time off. They won’t be property of Hogwarts anymore. I know that
we’ll be lucky if even a handful decide to do it the first time, but I’m hopeful. It helps that
Winky’s gone, of course. I am realistic, you know; I’ve decided that some elves will simply
never want to be free. It’s just not the norm in their culture. But it’s time for an evolution in the
culture...”
“You’ve decided that, have you? You know what’s best for everyone?”
Harry had had enough. He stepped between them. “All right. Hermione and I are okay again,
and now you two are going at it? Is this really necessary? Each of you knows the other doesn’t
agree about this. Can you both just let it drop?” He looked back and forth between the two of
them. Ron backed up.
“This is partly your fault. You’re the one who freed Dobby.”
Harry sighed; now Ron was getting hacked off at him. “He was owned by the Malfoys! They
made him beat himself up all the time!”
Ron shook his head. “Neither of you knows what it’s been like to grow up in a wizarding family
that can’t afford house elves...” He turned and strode up the stairs, two at a time, his frayed
robes billowing out as if to emphasize his words.
Harry turned to Hermione, who was looking crushed. He pulled her into an empty classroom
and locked the door. “Hermione,” he said, holding her upper arms, “you know that what you
did is wonderful, you know that, right? You’ve got such a good heart, you just can’t--” but suddenly he couldn’t go on talking because she had stood on tiptoe and pulled his mouth to
hers. He hesitated for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her, holding her face up to his,
tracing her jaw with his fingers, feeling her shiver at his touch. He broke the kiss and looked
down at her, smiling.
“Just so we’re in agreement. You’re wonderful. Go that?” She nodded, coloring. They left the
classroom, walking upstairs without touching, but Harry felt he was in the warmest embrace
possible. He gave her another quick kiss and a smile before they entered the common room.
She grinned back, with just a shadow of doubt behind her eyes. Harry hoped that loads of
students would sign up to stay for Christmas break. He dreaded seeing the look in her eyes if
they didn’t...
* * * * *
During the next week, Snape spent a great deal of time in his office when they were having
Potions. He would come out at the start of class, give them instructions, then shut himself in his
office again and not emerge until near the end of the class, to check on their work. When it was
just a few days before Christmas break, Harry went over to Neville’s and Hermione’s table to
whisper to Neville, “What do you think Snape has been doing in his office for the last weekand-
a-half?” Neville shrugged.
“I was down here once, doing some extra work, and I knocked on the door to ask him a
question about a potion I was working on. He opened the door and he was sitting with a large
stone bowl in front of him, holding his wand. The bowl had something white in it, but I also felt
like I could see pictures floating in it. It was strange.”
Harry smiled to himself. He was using the Pensieve. After classes, Harry came down to the
dungeon again. He’d had another idea, thanks to the conversation he’d overheard between
Snape and Sirius. He knocked on Snape’s office door, heard him cry, “Alohomora!” and the
door swung open.
“Oh. It’s you, Potter.” Harry stepped into the office, realizing that he had never done so before
except for when he was under the Invisibility Cloak. He took note of the Pensieve on the desk,
but then moved his eyes elsewhere, not to seem like he was focusing on it. “What is it?” Snape
snarled without energy, as though he were too tired to be adequately nasty.
“Well, Professor, I’ve been thinking about this ever since the end of last term...” A lie, but a
hopefully, a convincing one. “Perhaps it would be a good idea for there to be a Dueling Club
again at the school. A real one, run by someone who knows what they’re doing.” Snape looked
at him with a sneer.
“If you think the Headmaster has time to run a Dueling Club--”
“Oh, no. I know he’s--quite busy. I was thinking of you.” He registered the surprise on Snape’s
face. “Not that you’re not busy, too. I didn’t mean that,” he added hurriedly. “It’s just that, if
you hadn’t shown us the Disarming Charm...” He thought again of Voldemort, of their wands
linking, forming the golden cage, the phoenix song...
“Then you and Weasley and Granger wouldn’t have knocked me out in the Shrieking Shack,”
Snape said with another snarl, although it sounded somewhat forced now.
Harry grimaced. “Sorry about that. And thanks for covering for us. I’ve never said.” Snape
looked surprised yet again. He wasn’t accustomed to Harry thanking him for anything. Harry
remembered him saying to Sirius that Harry didn’t even give him credit for saving his life. Harry
also remembered Hermione whimpering, “We attacked a teacher...we attacked a teacher...Oh,
we’re going to be in so much trouble,” when Snape had flown across the room and struck his head against the wall. Snape could have had them all expelled.
“I thought,” said Harry, “it would be a way for the students to be prepared. For what’s to
come. Now that Voldemort’s back.” Unlike with McGonagall, Harry didn’t feel he needed to
avoid saying Voldemort’s name. And unlike many other wizards he knew, Snape didn’t flinch at
the name.
“Well,” Snape said, considering this; or perhaps he was planning to admit that he had been in
the wrong about Sirius; after all, the two of them were working together now, doing undercover
work (you couldn’t get much more undercover than using Polyjuice Potion). But Snape hadn’t
come that far yet. He stood and motioned to the door. “Come out here, Potter.”
Harry frowned. What now?
But Snape had moved some tables out of the way with a flick of his wand. Now he held his
wand out, pointing at Harry.
“What--” Harry began.
“We are going to duel. I want to see how you’ve come along since second year.”
Harry remembered his brief duel with Malfoy during the first Dueling Club. He had used a
tickling charm on Malfoy, but in the midst of it, Malfoy had managed to put a dancing curse on
Harry’s legs. After those spells had been canceled, Snape had whispered the snake-conjuring
charm in Malfoy’s ear, and Harry had discovered that he was a Parselmouth...
Harry took out his wand and faced Snape, trying to be as expressionless as he was. They
bowed, then stepped back, each holding their wands like fencing foils. Harry tried not to blink.
He saw Snape start to open his mouth, point the wand at Harry.
“Expell--”
“Impedimenta!” Harry cried, faster, pointing his wand at Snape, who suddenly seemed to be
moving excruciatingly slowly, continuing to speak his incantation the whole time.
“--i--ar--” he said deeply, slowly, advancing on Harry still. Harry calmly walked around behind
Snape, watching his slow progress with a smile.
“--mus,” Snape finished, as a burst of sparks flew out of the end of his wand, landing harmlessly
on the stone wall opposite. Harry watched him continue to move in slow motion, then decided
that was enough. He pointed his wand at Snape again, saying, “A tempo!”
Suddenly, Snape stumbled, moving at his normal speed again. He looked before him, his head
whipping back and forth, not seeing Harry. Then he spun around, finally seeing Harry behind
him. Harry was trying very hard not to look smug. Snape’s eyes were very wide now. His wand
arm was hanging by his side. He bowed to Harry again, and Harry bowed back. They each put
their wands away.
“Well, Potter. Perhaps you should be the student captain of the Dueling Club.” Snape said this
without emotion, but to Harry this sounded like high praise indeed.
“Me, sir?” Harry felt he risked giving the impression that his voice hadn’t changed after all, it
came out so high. “All right, I suppose,” he agreed nervously. Then he thought better of it.
“Wait--no. We should wait. See who signs up. Decide by having everyone duel everyone else
in the club. See who has the best record.”
Snape gave him another strange new look Harry had never seen: respect. He’d just been
offered the position of captain of the Dueling Club and refused it, suggesting that whoever it was
should earn it, not just have the idea for the club to begin with. Snape was clearly surprised.
“All right, Potter. I’ll see the Headmaster about posting a notice and announcing it at the evening
meal. If you’ll excuse me, I was--in the middle of something.”
“Of course, Professor,” Harry said, nodding. He turned to go. Before leaving the room he
looked back for a second; Snape was looking at him strangely. Harry moved his eyes away
quickly, moving swiftly out the door but trying not to seem like he was running.
When Harry arrived in the entrance hall with Ron and Hermione, preparing to go into the Great
Hall for dinner, they found a throng of students clustered around what looked like a piece of
parchment posted on the wall.
“Oh, good!” said Hermione, smiling. “Some more people signing up to stay for Christmas
break!” She had been sorely disappointed that, thus far, only five students in the entire school
had put their names on the list: other than Harry and Hermione, there was only Ernie MacMillan,
Hannah Abbot and Roger Davies.
But Hermione was wrong; as they pushed their way through the crowd, they could see that
there was a second parchment that had been posted beside the first, saying, “DUELING
CLUB.” Nothing else was written on the parchment. George and Fred Weasley turned to Lee
Jordan.
“You hear anything about this, Lee?” George asked him.
“First I’m learning about it.”
Roger Davies looked annoyed. “I’m Head Boy. Why haven’t I heard about it?”
Harry looked at him. “Because I just suggested it to Professor Snape this afternoon.”
“What?” Ron was incredulous. “Snape? Are you mental? He’ll turn everyone into hinkypunks
or something.”
“Well, I thought he might actually know what he was doing. Could teach us a thing or two.
Hermione, can I use a quill?” She fished one out of her robes pocket and handed it to Harry,
who wrote Harry Potter with a flourish, first name on the list. “It’ll be fun. And useful.”
As Harry was handing the quill back to Hermione, Ron grabbed it and stepped forward to put
his own name down. Hermione was next. Then the quill was being passed from student to
student, as more of them signed their names to the parchment. Harry and Ron walked into the
Great Hall; Hermione waited to get her quill back, then joined them after a few minutes.
After most people were done eating and had started in on pudding, Dumbledore stood. “Good
evening. I hope everyone has had a good meal. I have some exciting news for you all! I have
given Professor Snape permission to start a Dueling Club. An attempt was made to have such a
club several years ago, but it didn’t work out. Given the--current climate--it seems to be a good
time to try this again. Professor Snape, would you like to say anything?” He turned to Snape
with a smile. Snape stood slowly, looking out at the student population with an expression that
reminded Harry of Moody, as though he were doubtful that any student at the school could duel
his or her way out of a paper bag.
“The club will not meet until after the holiday. If you try to put anyone else’s name on the list
except your own, you will not succeed; I have enchanted the parchment so that this is not
possible.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry heard George say softly. “That must be why I couldn’t put your name
on, Fred. You’ll have to do it later.”
“I suggest that any student interested in this activity spend the holiday doing research on
appropriate charms and hexes. Only the first twenty students on the list will be accepted at the
start; then, the four students with the worst dueling records will be dropped from the club, and
the next four people on the list will be allowed to try. There will ultimately only be sixteen
members of the club. But they will undoubtedly be the sixteen best duelers at Hogwarts.” Snape looked around the room, as though doubting that such people existed.
“Also, only fourth years and up may join. Good evening!” He sat down again, looking intent on
eating an apple tart, as though he hadn’t just made an extremely uncharacteristic announcement.
Fred Weasley got up and raced to the entrance hall carrying a quill. He came back looking
somewhat deflated. He sat down heavily again. “I’m twenty-one on the list. I’ll have to wait for
the first lot to be sacked before I can join.” George looked very disappointed for him; it was
unusual for the twins not to be doing everything together. (Well, there was Angelina, but she had
started as a joint project as well.)
Harry smiled to himself, feeling very satisfied. The talk around them was all about the Dueling
Club. He caught Hermione’s eye and winked. He hoped she would get over the whole Boxing
Day debacle; maybe next year, more people would stay...And then he realized that unless
somebody else signed up for Christmas break who was from Gryffindor--
He and Hermione would be alone in Gryffindor Tower.
* * * * *
