He frowned. “Not even close. It’s harmless stuff. Inconvenient, I’ll grant you. I hope you have
been keeping up with your O.W.L. preparation...”
“Of course,” Hermione assured him. “And Aberforth was teaching for the last three weeks...”
He sat up straighter now, frowning more deeply. “Aberforth Dumbledore?” Now he grimaced.
“Well! Thank goodness I’m awake now!”
Harry was perplexed. What did the other teachers have against Aberforth? Was it that
‘inappropriate charms on a goat’ thing? He’d noticed in the three weeks Aberforth had been
teaching that the other teachers avoided him like the plague, and Professors Sinistra and Vector
appeared to be staring venomously at him and whispering behind their hands at mealtimes.
Snape definitely did not like him; Harry heard him deliver more than one cutting remark in his
direction. Even though he was Dumbledore’s brother, even McGonagall and Sprout looked
askance at him. Now Flitwick, it appeared, was none too pleased to hear that Aberforth had
been covering his classes. Boy, Harry thought, people in the wizarding world can sure carry a
grudge for a long time...
Harry and Hermione bade Flitwick goodbye, and when they were in the corridor outside the
infirmary once more, they couldn’t help but grin foolishly at each other. Hermione slid her arms
up around his neck and he bent down to kiss her; they were each free! Cho and Viktor were
together, she and Flitwick were unharmed and feeling just fine, and as the kiss deepened and
Harry pulled her closer to him, he thought that he couldn’t remember when he’d had a better
day.
“Ahem!” came a familiar throat clearing. As Harry jerked himself away from Hermione, he was
ready to face--
Aberforth Dumbledore. When Harry saw it was him, and not his brother, he heaved a sigh of
relief. Aberforth looked mildly amused at the scene he’d interrupted. “Hello Harry, Hermione.
You’re--blocking the door to the infirmary.” His eyes twinkled so like his brother’s that Harry
wondered whether they were twins. Albus Dumbledore a twin! Why had it never occurred to
him before? The differences between them were superficial; hair length, the cut of the beard,
Aberforth’s tan...It made a certain amount of sense. Harry wondered, however, when he would
ever get up the nerve to ask either of them. Certainly this was not the time.
“Are you sure,” Hermione asked Aberforth diplomatically, as though he hadn’t just caught her
exploring Harry’s tonsils, “that you want to go in there? Professor Flitwick seemed a bit--
agitated to learn that you’d been teaching his classes.”
Aberforth looked merely amused. “I daresay he would be. I don’t intend to let him get to me,
Hermione. I’ve developed a pretty thick skin over the years.” Harry and Hermione stepped out
of the way and Aberforth opened the door of the infirmary. Then, before closing it, he turned to
them again.
“Well, this will probably be goodbye. From what you say, Flitwick will want to get right back to
teaching his own classes tomorrow.” They each said goodbye to him; Harry felt he really would
miss him. He was so easy to be around, having all of Dumbledore’s easygoing qualities, but
none of his authority as headmaster.
“Good luck on your O.W.L.s,” he said to them finally. “And Harry--” Harry turned to him
again. Aberforth winked one blue eye. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he closed the door to the
infirmary.
Two seconds later they heard Flitwick cry, “Aberforth Dumbledore, what have you done to my
classes?” Harry and Hermione smiled, walking away down the corridor, refraining from laughing
until they’d gone a respectable distance. Then, as they went back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry
puzzled over the last thing Aberforth had said. “I’ll see you soon.” But he was leaving, he’d
said. He thought of saying something to Hermione, changed his mind. Oh well, thought Harry.
He probably just meant he was going to the ceilidh or something. Harry was starting to look
forward to that more and more himself. He smiled at Hermione, walking beside him. They
would actually be going together, almost like a couple. This would be a good weekend. If there
were no Death Eaters.
* * * * *
After classes on Friday, Harry, Ron and Hermione went to the library together. Harry and Ron
were doing research on a History of Magic essay which Hermione had already finished (they’d
been putting it off, as usual). Harry and Ron wanted to be done with it before the Hogsmeade
outing, if possible. Hermione was reading more about Scotland’s wizarding past, trying to get
some idea of what the ceilidh would be like. Finally, she had gleaned everything she could on
the subject.
“I’m going back to Gryffindor Tower. I want to see if Ginny can help me drape my tartan
correctly. I’ll see you two at dinner, I suppose?”
Harry looked down at the three inches he’d written so far for his three-foot essay; Ron had
written even less. Harry sighed. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have these done by then.”
She smiled at him. “Well, at least you’re making a start, finally. You can always finish on
Sunday.” But after she left Harry thought, When Sunday? During Dueling Club? Or the
prefects’ meeting? He was starting to feel just a bit overextended. At least Ron didn’t have to
go to the idiotic prefects’ meetings. But if Harry told him how lucky he was, he would just think
Harry was patronizing him again, complaining about being rich, famous Harry Potter. Harry
sighed. He was feeling like he was walking on eggshells with Ron more and more often.
After a little while, they heard a group of students come into the library and sit on the other side
of the bookcase behind which Harry and Ron were seated. They didn’t seem to be in the library
to study.
“I heard Susan asked him,” came a familiar voice; a little like Parvati’s, but with more of an
edge to it. Must be Padma, Harry thought.
“Didn’t you ask him, Mandy?” said another voice. Harry thought it might be Niamh Quirke.
Which would mean these were Ravenclaw girls, gossiping in the library. Mandy would be
Mandy Brocklehurst.
“Yes,” Harry heard Mandy’s reluctant admission. “But he also turned down Alicia Spinnet and
Katie Bell, I heard.”
Harry had been hoping against hope that they might be talking about someone else. But as soon
as he heard this, he knew it was no good. He looked at Ron, measuring his meager essay and
frowning; had he figured out yet what they were talking about? He wished he could perform
some sort of silencing charm without Ron noticing.
Unfortunately, the girls went on. He heard Niamh’s voice next. “So is he going or not?”
“Yes. With Hermione Granger,” Padma answered her. Ron’s head jerked up. He looked at
Harry with wide eyes. Harry widened his eyes as well, acting as though he hadn’t previously
known who they were discussing.
Harry and Ron heard Niamh snort in derision. “Like I couldn’t have seen that coming.”
Padma said, “Parvati said they’re going as friends.”
Another snort from Niamh. “Your sister had better watch herself. That Ron Weasley’s
probably going to throw her over as soon as Harry Potter’s done with Hermione Granger. He’s
just the type, isn’t he, to wait for his famous friend’s cast-offs. He’d probably be with Cho
Chang already if she hadn’t taken up with Viktor Krum, and don’t get me started on him...”
Padma chimed in, “Oh, I agree about Hermione Granger. I mean, he went to the Yule Ball with
me, then spent the whole time ogling her. He’s been panting after her for years, but he was
really so obvious that night. Classic dog in the manger...”
Harry dared to glance at Ron. He had never seen him so angry. His face was almost as red as
his hair, and his nostrils were flaring; his jaw was clenched, as though he had to try very hard not
to spit out a hateful retort to what they had just said. Instead, in what Harry felt was a great
show of self-control for Ron, he threw his things into his rucksack and prepared to storm out of
the library. Harry threw his things into his bag as well, and also rose to leave. Ron stopped
before going, glaring at the girls, who were startled to see him. Niamh had been about to say
something else, but looked like she changed her mind when she saw Ron’s face. He too looked
like he might say something, then turned and left, steam practically coming out of his ears.
Harry remained, staring them down, breathing through his nose, also feeling the anger roiling
through him. “In future,” he said to them formally and stiffly, “I would recommend not gossiping
about people who are sitting less than ten feet away. In fact, not gossiping at all is something you
might try.” They looked back at him, Mandy terrified, Padma still looking alarmed at the way
Harry and Ron had seemed to materialize from nowhere. Niamh alone was trying to maintain
her composure, staring back at him. He looked her in the eye now.
“See you in Dueling Club, Niamh,” he said softly, hoping it sounded like the threat it was. When
he saw the change in her expression, he knew she understood. Yes, Niamh, he thought. Be
afraid. You have no idea...
Actually, he hoped he could calm down a bit by Sunday, if not quite a bit sooner. He stormed
out of the library, having trouble seeing, he was so angry about the thoughtless things they’d
said. He felt that if he’d stayed any longer, the three of them would have been floating on the
ceiling, like Aunt Marge tripled. He looked around the corridor. Ron was gone. Harry strode
quickly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, hoping that was where he’d headed.
When he reached the corridor where the portrait of the fat lady was, Harry was almost run over
by Neville, who looked disheveled and disoriented. His eyes were wild. He gripped Harry by
the shoulders and shook him slightly.
“Harry I’m going to make a potion, but I’m out of Eupatorium fistulosum---do you have
any?” Unfortunately, at the same moment he mentioned the plant, Sandy said something about a
bull and a fish, and Harry’s head felt split in two. He was confused, sputtering his reply.
“What? No. Why don’t you go ask Professor Sprout?”
Neville hit his head dramatically. “The greenhouses! Of course! I could kiss you!”
Harry backed up, taking Neville’s hands from him. “Please don’t. I have to go--” but Neville
hadn’t waited to hear even this brief sentence; he’d already run off. Harry stared after him. Boy,
he thought, every time I turn around, Neville’s trying out a new personality. Now it’s scary
raving lunatic. Great.
Shaking his head, he climbed in the portrait hole after giving the password. He had thought
about stopping to ask Sandy to repeat what she’d said, but he was in too much of a hurry.
There was no one in the common room but Lavender, sitting in an armchair near the stairs as
though she were pulling guard duty.
“Hey, Lavender,” Harry said by way of an off-handed greeting as he passed her, preparing to
climb the steps to his dorm, where he hoped Ron might be.
“Harry!” Lavender said abruptly and very loudly, almost in a panic. “Don’t go up there!”
Harry stopped, turned around and looked at her with his brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“Well, um--” she paused, looking like she in fact wanted to tell very much, but he had to earn
the right to be told, or show how much it mattered to him.
Just then, Ginny and Hermione came down the stairs from the girls’ dorms, chatting about the
ceilidh. They stopped abruptly when they saw Harry glaring at Lavender. But he needn’t have
worried; Lavender had a larger audience now, and a choice one at that.
“Well,” she said to Harry, speaking far louder than necessary, so even if Ginny and Hermione
had wanted to avoid hearing her, it would have been very difficult. “Ron came storming in here,
looking really hacked off. Parvati and I were just talking. He grabbed her and stood her up.
Then he kissed her, and I mean kissed...” she paused for dramatic effect. “Then he whispered
something in her ear, and after that she was practically dragging him to the stairs going up to the
boys’ dorms. But he wouldn’t let her walk; he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.”
Lavender looked triumphant, delivering this news, particularly to Ron’s two best friends and his
sister.
Harry wanted to do violence to her even more than he had wanted to hurt the Ravenclaw girls.
But then she went on, making matters even worse.
“I daresay tomorrow, she’ll need to go see Madam Pomfrey for some Prophylax--”
“Oh!” Hermione cried, her face horrible to behold. Harry had never seen her look like this. She
ran to the portrait hole and was out of the common room before he could think.
SMACK! Harry turned. Ginny had stepped toward Lavender and slapped her across the face.
Lavender stared at Ginny in shock, her hand to her cheek. Because of the redness that
appeared now where she’d been struck, it suddenly occurred to Harry what a beige person she
was; beige hair, beige skin, beige eyes, even. She was so completely ordinary; she could blend
into the wallpaper seamlessly in any modern doctor’s office. She was so ordinary that that in
itself was almost extraordinary. But not quite.
Lavender looked back and forth between Ginny and Harry; she would find no quarter there,
she could tell. Finally, she pushed past them and ran up the stairs to her dorm. Harry heard the
door slam. Well, she wouldn’t be disturbed. Hermione had run off, and Parvati was--Harry
swallowed painfully as he remembered--preoccupied. He didn’t look at Ginny. He started
toward the portrait hole.
“Leave her alone right now,” Ginny said suddenly. “Give her time.” He looked at her for half a
minute, marveling at how she’d grown up, both inside and out. But he didn’t agree with her on
this.
He shook his head and went through the portrait hole. When he was in the corridor again, he
looked around frantically. Where could she have gone? She had too much of a lead. He could
go back for his map--but that was in his dorm. Damn!
He leaned against the wall, then sank down onto his haunches. Maybe Ginny was right; if she
wanted to be with someone, she would have waited for me. She needs time. We all need some
time...
Harry put his head in his hands, trying not think of Ron and Parvati up in their dorm, and also
trying not to think of Hermione thinking of it.
* * * * *
