Monday morning Harry was looking forward to classes with the hope that a regular schedule would help calm everyone’s nerves. Tensions were high at Hogwarts; everyone seemed to be looking over their shoulders and jumping at shadows. Many of the students clearly expected that some sort of attack was imminent despite the fact that since the Dark Mark had appeared, life had been relentlessly mundane.

The teachers were prowling about more than usual too, keeping a watchful eye on their nervous charges. The Aurors had taken until late Sunday to finish examining the Quidditch pitch and the surrounding area, but their investigation had been inconclusive. There was still no evidence of who might have summoned the Dark Mark and this caused another spike in anxiety among the castle’s residents. At least the reporters had left.

“Hey, Ron! Your dad’s in the paper,” Seamus announced, interrupting Harry’s reverie.

“What?” Ron said.

“Yeah, have a look.” Seamus passed the paper to Ron as both Ginny and Hermione huddled around to read over his shoulder.

“Listen to this,” Ron said.

“Ministry spokesman, Arthur Weasley, yesterday echoed the Minister’s call for an end to Muggle-baiting. He referred to the prejudice against Muggles and Muggle-borns as “the same superstitious fear that has allowed You-Know-Who to return to power.”

“We can’t continue to hide from what we don’t understand,” Weasley said. “We can’t pretend that the Muggle world doesn’t exist. My children go to school with children from Muggle families. Some of my children may marry Muggles or Muggle-borns. There is no shame in it and I say that as a pure blood wizard from one of the oldest families. Until we rid ourselves of this fear and prejudice we will never be free of the evil that You-Know-Who embodies.”

“Pretty good, don’t you think?” Ron said, grinning broadly.

“It’s about time someone spoke out about what Voldemort stands for,” Hermione said. “Your father’s right, Ron; hate and prejudice are the real dangers. As long as they exist, wizards like Voldemort will exploit them to gain power.”

“It was really brave of your dad to say those things,” Neville said. “You must be really proud of him.”

Ron and Ginny both beamed

Harry looked back at his breakfast feeling oddly melancholy. It must be nice for Ron and Ginny to have someone they could be proud of. Harry didn’t have that. He certainly wasn’t proud of the Dursleys. He wasn’t even proud of his own father anymore, not after all that he had learnt about the arrogant bully James Potter had been as a boy. He pushed that thought away and concentrated on his food until it was time to leave for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry rose along with the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors and headed for the entrance hall.

“Harry!”

Harry turned to find Eleanor Branstone pushing her way through the crowded hall towards him.

“Harry, I’m glad I caught you,” Eleanor said, coming up to him. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did on Saturday. If you hadn’t brought Madam Pomfrey up to the stands, I don’t know what would have happened to Alice.”

“Is she going to be all right?” Harry asked, genuinely concerned for the young girl.

“Yes.” Eleanor hesitated and bit her lip. “Her neck was broken. She would have died, but Madam Pomfrey was wonderful! She gave Alice a Nerve Regeneration draught and she says Alice is going to make a full recovery.”

“That’s terrific!”

Eleanor smiled. “Yes, I’m so grateful! Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate your help.”

“It was nothing, really,” Harry said, blushing slightly at what he considered undeserved gratitude. “If you want to thank someone, thank Professor Snape. He’s the one who made the Nerve Regeneration draught.”

Eleanor’s smile faltered and she looked at Harry askance. “Professor Snape?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered frowning slightly in confusion at the girl’s reaction. “I heard him and Madam Pomfrey talking about it.”

“Oh,” Eleanor said, still looking at Harry oddly. “Er, okay. Anyway, I’ll let you get to class. Bye, Harry.”

Eleanor turned away and Harry wondered at the girl’s strange behavior. Snape had done as much to save her sister’s life as anyone, yet she didn’t seem at all grateful to the man. Harry shrugged and hurried to join his friends.

When they arrived at the lake for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry noticed that Professor Ryan looked uncharacteristically serious.

“Follow me, everyone,” Ryan instructed as soon as all the students were present.

He offered no explanation, but struck off across the grounds leaving his bewildered students to follow. But curiosity turned to apprehension when it became obvious where Ryan was headed. Harry quickened his pace and came up along side his teacher.

“Professor, are we going to the Quidditch pitch?”

“That’s right, Mr. Potter.”

Harry glanced behind him and saw the other students exchanging nervous glances.

“May I ask why, sir?”

“I’ll be happy to explain that to the entire class as soon as we get there.”

Harry fell back to walk with the rest of his classmates and soon they had arrived at the pitch. Ryan stopped beneath the closest set of hoops and motioned for the students to gather around.

“Is there anyone here who wasn’t at the match on Saturday?” Ryan asked.

No one raised their hand, so Ryan continued.

“Good. You’ve all made tremendous progress at dueling this year. You’ve even learnt to put aside your personal feelings and work with people you don’t like. So, the little prank we saw here on Saturday comes at the perfect moment to discuss our next topic: strategy and tactics. Let’s start, though, by discussing logistics.

“Mr. Malfoy. If you were going to cast Morsmordre as it appeared in the sky Saturday, where would you need to be located?”

Malfoy paled slightly but responded with his usual bravado.

“Well, I wouldn’t do it from the stands where I was sitting. Everyone would see me.”

“Good point! No one could have cast that spell from the stands without being seen or heard.”

“They couldn’t have been on the pitch either,” Dean said. “They certainly would have been seen there.”

“So they must have been just outside the stadium, then,” Ron concluded.

Harry shook his head. “I went up to have a look and I didn’t see anyone running away.” He tried not to glare at Malfoy.

“Maybe they were wearing an invisibility cloak,” Neville said.

“That’s one possibility,” Ryan said.

“It could have been an Animagus,” Hermione said.

“That’s possible also, though Animagi aren’t common.”

“Voldemort has at least one in his service,” Ron said.

“Maybe they used Polyjuice Potion,” Harry suggested.

Malfoy froze and shot Harry a startled look.

“What good would that do?” Seamus asked.

“If someone were to take the appearance of one of the students, they could blend into the crowd without being discovered,” Harry said, studiously ignoring Malfoy.

Harry didn’t know exactly how Malfoy had managed it, but he knew this was close enough to rattle the Slytherin.

“That’s a clever idea, Potter. But don’t forget, the impersonator would need a strand of hair or fingernail clipping from the person he or she was imitating.”

“I’m sure there are ways to arrange that,” Ron said.

“I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Weasley,” Ryan agreed with a slight smile. “All right then, let’s talk about the more important question,” Ryan continued. “Why? Why would Voldemort expend the resources to add a bit of excitement to a Quidditch match at Hogwarts? What did he accomplish?”

“He did it for the same reason he attacked Gringotts,” Hermione said. “He wants to make people afraid. He wants everyone to believe that no place is safe and that his reach extends everywhere.”

“It does,” Malfoy said. “The sooner people realize that, the better off they’ll be.”

“You mean, the more people Voldemort can frighten into submission, the better off he’ll be,” Hermione retorted.

“You mudbloods will be some of the first he makes an example of,” Malfoy sneered.

Hermione’s expression darkened but before she could reply Ron had his wand pointed at Malfoy.

“Say that again,” Ron said. “I dare you to!”

“Defending your girlfriend, Weasley,” Malfoy scoffed. “Pure blood traitors like you are even worse than the mudbloods. Believe me, your kind will be the first to pay.”

“You're sick, Malfoy,” Ron said in disgust.

“That’s enough, both of you!” Ryan snapped. “This isn’t a debating club. I’m here to teach you how to defend yourselves in a war regardless of which side you may take, and part of that is being able to anticipate your enemy’s next move. Your homework for next Monday is to analyze the political and social causes and ramifications of Voldemort’s rise and the influence his strategy and tactics have had on the latter. I want at least three feet.”

The whole class stared at Ryan speechless and the usual mischievous twinkle returned to Ryan’s eyes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve already told you that most battles are won up here,” he said tapping his temple. “I expect your best effort. Dismissed.”

---

“The political and social causes and ramifications of Voldemort’s rise,” Ron repeated miserably as they headed back to the castle. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“It means what caused Voldemort’s rise and what has been the result of it.”

“Well, how should we know?”

“He wants our opinions, Ron,” Hermione explained patiently. “There isn’t really a right or wrong answer so long as we can show that we’ve thought about it.” Hermione was clearly looking forward to the assignment.

“I really don’t see how three feet of parchment is going to be enough, though,” she said.

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at Harry.

“I’m glad there’s no right or wrong answer,” he whispered.

They got to the entrance hall and were about to go in to lunch when a familiar, sarcastic drawl stopped them.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Snape said, surveying the class. “No mud. No one’s soaked to the bone. And not one of you is in need of a visit to the hospital wing. Can this really be Professor Ryan’s Defense class?”

“We were discussing the strategy and tactics behind the appearance of the Dark Mark,” Ryan said, coming into the hall. “The class actually came up with a fascinating theory on how the culprit managed to get away unseen. They think someone might have used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate one of the students. What do you think, Severus?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, warily and flickered towards Harry for the briefest instant.

“It could have been,” he conceded.

“But I wonder how they might have got hold of a strand of hair from one of the students? It seems to me they would have needed inside help, don’t you think?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed even further. He clearly knew exactly where this was going and was in no mood for Ryan’s insinuations.

“Possibly,” Snape said in a dangerously silken drawl. “If, in fact, your theory is correct. I don’t suppose you actually have any evidence?”

“None whatsoever,” Ryan said good-naturedly. “It’s pure speculation.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you to your fantasies,” Snape said. He turned to walk away, but only managed three paces before Ryan stopped him.

“Snape,” Ryan called. “You are the only one at Hogwarts who possesses the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion, am I right?”

Snape slowly turned to face the Defense teacher. He looked ready to strangle the man, but managed to maintain his composure.

“Yes,” he said, making the word sound like a threat.

Ryan smiled. “Thank you, Severus,” he said amiably. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

The Defense professor turned away and strolled into the Great Hall. Snape glared after him resentfully, then turned and stalked off towards the dungeons.

Harry stared glumly after his teachers. He had watched the scene unfold with growing frustration. Ryan had used his suggestion about the Polyjuice Potion to bait Snape which had never been Harry’s intention, but then Ryan never missed an opportunity to needle his colleague. It seemed the two men couldn’t be in the same room without snide remarks being exchanged. However, while Snape was contemptuous of Ryan’s teaching abilities, Ryan’s comments always amounted to thinly veiled accusations about Snape’s loyalties.

Harry found the constant insinuations irritating. In fact, he was beginning to find Ryan’s joviality grating. He didn’t trust the man. It was an open secret that Ryan was after Snape’s position as Head of Slytherin, and he was clearly doing all he could to undermine Snape in order to get it.

Harry followed the rest of his classmates in to lunch. He glanced at the head table where Ryan was regaling his fellow professors with some obviously amusing story. They all laughed heartily and Harry felt a fresh surge of indignation. Couldn’t anyone see what this man was doing?

“Well, that’s another round to Ryan,” Ron said as they sat down. “Honestly, I don’t know why Snape doesn’t just run when he sees him coming.”

“I don’t know,” Neville said. “I’m not sure making an enemy of Snape is the wisest thing to do.”

“Ryan can take care of himself,” Ron said. “And it isn’t as if he doesn’t have any friends,” he added, nodding casually in the direction of the head table.

“He does seem to get on really well with all the other teachers,” Hermione commented.

“Not to mention the students,” Seamus added.

Harry reached for a sandwich and tried to ignore the conversation.

“I really do hope Dumbledore decides to make him Head of Slytherin,” Lavender said.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Maybe then they’d be hiring a new Potions teacher next year instead of a new Defense one.”

“Do you think Snape would really quit?” Neville asked.

“It’d be nice,” Dean said.

“Ryan’s a better teacher and he certainly fits in better,” Pavarti said.

“Yeah, well if he’s so wonderful why is it he goes out of his way to insult Snape every chance he gets?” Harry asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

“Snape’s a git,” Ron said, as though this was a definitive answer and no other reason needed to be offered.

“Well, at least Snape didn’t accuse Ryan of casting the Dark Mark,” Harry replied.

“Ryan was just saying what everyone else was thinking,” Seamus added.

“Really?” Harry said. “That’s funny. It had never occurred to me that Snape might have had anything to do with it! Can’t any of you see that Ryan’s only trying to undermine Snape for his own gain?”

“So what if he is?” Dean asked. “He’s the best Defense teacher we’ve had in ages! And he treats all of us decently. Ron’s right, Snape’s a complete git!”

“Snape may be a git, but at least he’s not stabbing anyone in the back!” Harry said in disgust. He stood up, threw down his napkin and stalked away.

He was halfway across the entrance hall when Ron came running up behind him.

“Harry, wait!”

“Why?” Harry said not checking his pace or looking at his friend. “So you can tell me how brilliant Ryan is?”

Ron grabbed his arm and Harry spun around to face his friend.

“Harry, what is your problem?” Ron demanded. “Why are you defending Snape?”

“Well, no one else seems inclined to!”

“Why should they? This is Snape we’re talking about.”

“He didn’t cast the Dark Mark and you know it!”

“No, he’s just the one who gave Malfoy the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion! You’ll notice he hasn’t mentioned that!”

“You know he can’t turn in Malfoy.”

“All I know is that if he isn’t a Death Eater, he’s doing a really good impression of one.”

Harry’s hands clenched in frustration and he was very close to punching his best friend when Hermione came hurrying up to them.

“Harry, what is wrong with you?” Hermione demanded in an urgent whisper. “Are you trying to get Professor Snape killed?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“He’s supposed to be on Voldemort’s side. Remember? How do you think it looks for you to be defending him? Malfoy’s not stupid, Harry, and if he gets suspicious…”

Hermione didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to. Harry felt his stomach drop.

“I told everyone that you were just upset because, after everything you’ve been through, you can’t bear the thought of another of Voldemort’s supporters here at school. They all seemed to believe that, so it should be all right.”

Harry sighed in relief. “Thanks, Hermione. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I went off like that. You’re right. I ought to know better.”

“I know it isn’t easy, Harry, but you have to be careful!”

“So, just to be clear,” Ron interjected. “You both trust Snape?”

“Yes,” Harry and Hermione both answered without hesitation.

“Well, I only hope you’re right,” Ron said, obviously not convinced.

---

Harry arrived for his lesson with Snape promptly at seven o’clock, feeling slightly apprehensive. It had been a month since he’d walked out on Snape and after their confrontation Saturday evening, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the Potions Master. But he needn’t have worried. Snape acted as though Harry had never quit his lessons and made no reference at all to Harry’s breakdown in his office. Harry was immensely grateful for this, though of course he didn’t tell Snape that.

Snape greeted Harry in his usual terse fashion, wasting no words as he rose from his desk.

“Let’s see what you can do with Legilimency.”

Harry nodded and drew his wand.

“Put that away - you won’t need it.”

“But I’ve never tried Legilimency without a wand,” Harry protested.

“Don’t be absurd, Potter,” Snape said. “You’ve read Mr. Malfoy’s thoughts as well as my own and who knows how many other of your unsuspecting classmates’? The fact that you didn’t intend to is beside the point.”

Harry sighed. He slipped his wand back into his pocket and stood facing his teacher uncertainly.

“Well?” Snape drawled.

“Well what?” Harry asked.

“You need to initiate the spell, Potter.”

“How?”

“You need to focus your thoughts while calming your mind just as you have always done. But use your mind to direct the energy instead of your wand. Now look me in the eyes and open your mind. What did I have for breakfast this morning?”

“What?”

“Breakfast, Potter! It’s the simplest of memories, requiring no interpretation.”

Harry stared at Snape feeling slightly panicked. Simple or not, he had no idea how to read Snape’s memories without a wand.

“Potter, I won’t waste my time with you if you aren’t going to even try!” Snape said impatiently.

“I don’t know how!” Harry replied in exasperation.

“And clearly you aren’t serious about learning,” Snape sneered.

Harry flushed angrily. “Yes I am!”

“No you’re not, and spare me the earnest protestations! You’re afraid to take responsibility for your own mind! It’s so much easier to be a victim, isn’t it! Or do you simply enjoy being privy to the Dark Lord’s thoughts?”

If there hadn’t been a desk between them, Harry would have punched Snape.

“Do you think I’d spend one minute here if I didn’t want these visions to stop?” he said furiously. “I’m doing my best! Why don’t you try helping me instead of criticizing me? Give me a hint, at least! You’re the one who’s wasting time or do you just like watching me fail? It seems to me if you really wanted –”

“What, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, leaning across the desk. “Don’t look away! If you’re not afraid then prove it! What do I want? What am I thinking right now?”

“That you’re going to teach me Legilimency if it kills us both,” Harry answered.

The hint of a smile played across Snape’s lips.

“A slight exaggeration,” he said. “But close enough. Now pay attention to your mind. Can you feel the sharp awareness, the focused openness? That’s the sensation you have to be able to create at will. Now, tell me what I had for breakfast.”

Harry could see the memory clearly. “Toast with jam and tea,” he said without hesitation.

“There, you see, you can do it,” Snape said. He stepped back and the memory was gone, the connection broken. Snape was perfectly composed and Harry stared at him with dawning understanding.

“You were baiting me,” Harry said indignantly. “You made me angry on purpose.”

“I do everything on purpose, Potter,” Snape answered without apology. “It was the quickest way to overcome your reticence and show you the proper technique. Learn to perform Legilimency on your own and I won’t need to provoke you.”

Harry glared at his teacher. He was angry with Snape for manipulating him and even angrier with himself for allowing it. But he had to admit that Snape was right. It had been the quickest way to show him how to open his mind.

“Now try again, and see if this time you can manage it on your own,” Snape said.

Harry took a deep breath, relaxed and tried to recreate the proper mental state. He met Snape’s eyes and reached out mentally. All at once he was plunged into an ocean of memories and emotions that swirled around him. He felt as though he were drowning and struggled to pull away.

“Steady, Potter,” Snape said, breaking the mental connection. “Try again but this time, maintain some control.”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry used the Oclumency techniques he’d learnt to erect a barrier in his own mind then reached out once more. It was the same sensation he’d felt the first night he’d broken into Snape’s mind with murderous intent, but he wasn’t angry now and he’d had months of training to help him make sense of what he was experiencing. This was both more intense and more richly nuanced than the Legilimency he’d performed using his wand and Harry was fascinated despite himself. He could sense not only memories, but the mind behind them. Snatches of thought and emotion bombarded him, but slipped away before he could identify them. Harry reached deeper to try to follow these elusive phantoms.

“Potter!”

Harry stumbled into the work bench and grunted in pain as he slammed his elbow against the hard wood. It had been a long time since Snape had given him such a strong mental shove and Harry was genuinely surprised at his professor’s violent response to him. Harry straightened up rubbing his elbow and glared at Snape.

“What?” he demanded. “I thought the whole idea was for me to look into your mind!”

“Look, not take up residence! Honestly, no wonder you can’t disassociate your mind from the Dark Lord’s! Try again and this time, have a little self-restraint!”

Harry sighed. “Yes, sir.”

---

Over the next several weeks, life gradually returned to normal at Hogwarts as the memory of the Dark Mark faded, along with fears of any further attacks at the school. Harry continued to spend most of his free time on the Quidditch pitch, but more often than not, Ginny accompanied him now. Ron even showed up for extra practice from time to time with Hermione along to cheer them on.

Malfoy had been keeping a low profile and Harry took satisfaction in believing that his harassment of the Slytherin was the cause. Malfoy certainly seemed to eye him warily whenever he thought Harry wouldn’t notice.

Meanwhile, Harry’s lessons with Snape had fallen into a routine that was both frustrating and comfortable. Harry was frustrated because his progress at Legilimency seemed agonizingly slow. He was anxious to learn and could now reliably reach into Snape’s mind without using a wand. Unfortunately, he had almost no control once the connection was made; he could make little sense of most of the churning memories and emotions he encountered and was only rarely able to break the bond himself.

Remarkably, Snape didn’t criticize him for his failure and actually seemed more or less satisfied with his progress. Whether Snape was reserving his criticism because he feared Harry might quit again, or simply because he expected no better of his student, Harry didn’t know and didn’t care. He and Snape hadn’t shared such an easy rapport since before Christmas and Harry was surprised to discover how much he’d missed that. It probably wouldn’t last, but for now, the lessons were comfortably relaxed.

---

“Potter –”

“I don’t know!” Harry snapped. He broke eye contact with Snape and turned to pace across the office. Harry was having a particularly frustrating evening. All his efforts seemed futile and he felt like screaming.

“I can’t tell if you had sausage and eggs for breakfast, or cereal and fruit, or something else entirely. You eat breakfast every morning! How am I supposed to sort today from yesterday from last week?”

“With practice.”

Harry rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm when he spoke. “Thank you, Professor. I can’t tell you how much that helps.”

“Potter, what is wrong with you?” Snape asked in exasperation. “Legilimency is very advanced magic. Grown wizards have spent years studying it. Are you really so arrogant that you expect to master it in a few weeks?”

“Of course not. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“You aren’t doing anything wrong,” Snape said. “You simply aren’t doing enough right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Snape sighed. “Potter, do you know what the purpose of this exercise is?”

“To see if I can read your thoughts,” Harry answered.

“No. It’s to teach you control. You could, at this moment, look into my mind and find any number of dramatic memories I’ve accumulated in my life. But that would do nothing to teach you what you need to know. Requiring you to distinguish between subtly different memories forces you to discipline your mind. That is what is required in order for you to block your visions. If you’re going to control your mind in your sleep then it must become second nature to you while you’re awake.”

Harry considered what Snape had said and had to admit that it made sense.

“But how do I do that?” Harry asked.

“Perusing another’s mind is an art. Few people will oblige you by thinking of precisely the memory you wish to see and nothing else. Therefore, you must learn to sift the useful information from the chaff. Most memories are not terribly unique and even those that are can still be virtually impossible to place in time. Alone, it’s difficult to glean anything from them. But memories are highly associative. Finding the right associations will give meaning to what you see.”

“How do I find the right associations?”

“Time and practice will teach you which clues to look for.”

“How much time?”

“That depends on you, but impatience will not help speed the process.”

It was Harry’s turn to sigh. He felt thoroughly discouraged. “I just don’t think I have years to learn this.”

“Potter, do you honestly think I would have promised to teach you Legilimency if I thought for a moment it would take years to do so?” Snape asked.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at that. “No, sir, I suppose not.”

“I think we’ve done enough for tonight,” Snape said. “Besides, you have a Potions essay due tomorrow that I’m certain you haven’t started yet.”

Harry rolled his eyes in mock annoyance as he turned towards the door.

“That’s the problem with having a teacher who can read minds,” he said.

Snape smirked at him. “I assure you there is no Legilmency involved. I am well aware of the amount of effort you devote to my class. Not that I think more diligence would improve your marks.”

Harry paused with his hand on the door handle. “You know Professor, one of these days I might actually study and surprise you.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Good night, Mr. Potter.”

“Good night, Professor.”

Harry pulled open the door and nearly bumped into Draco Malfoy. The two boys gaped at each other in surprise.

“Come in, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said evenly. “Potter was just leaving.”

Malfoy glanced at Snape then back at Harry who quickly pushed his way past the Slytherin and headed down the hall. Harry waited until he heard Snape’s door close, then stopped and glanced back towards the office. It was deathly quiet in the deserted corridor and Harry was sure he could hear his heart pounding. For just an instant as he’d looked into Malfoy’s eyes he’d seen a dawning suspicion that chilled him far more than the dank cold of the dungeons. He hoped fervently that Snape had seen it too.

---

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room and was met by an unusual sight; Neville was in one corner with his Mimbulus mimbletonia. Harry hadn’t realized how big the plant had grown. It was at least four feet high. Some soft music was playing and Neville was humming along, though vaguely off-key. He was misting the plant with something that even from a distance didn’t smell particularly pleasant. Harry noticed that everyone was giving Neville a wide berth. Harry decided this was probably wise and went to join Hermione and Ginny by the fire.

Hermione was curled up on the sofa, somehow balancing both Crookshanks and her Arithmancy textbook in her lap. Ginny sat in a chair by the fire, reading as well. Harry took the chair opposite Ginny.

“What’s Neville doing?” he asked.

“Administering the tonic he and Luna made,” Ginny answered with a scowl. “You’d think they could have made it smell better.”

“It smells even worse in close quarters,” Hermione said, laying aside her book to pat her cat who was butting his head against her for attention. “Ron, Dean and Seamus all swore they’d hex Neville if he brought it back into your dormitory.”

“Good,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose at the odor wafting over from the opposite side of the room.

The portrait hole opened and Ron came in. He paused long enough to glower in Neville’s direction then came over and sat down next to Hermione. Crookshanks, who had been purring loudly in pleasure, pricked up his ears and leapt out of Hermione’s arms. He meowed loudly and went to prowl by the fireplace.

“I swear that cat hates me,” Ron said.

“He’s probably just jealous,” Ginny said.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come around,” Hermione assured Ron as she snuggled close to him. Then she turned her attention to Harry and lowered her voice.

“How are your lessons with Professor Snape going?” she asked.

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’m worried about Malfoy, though. I bumped into him on my way out of Snape’s office tonight and I’d swear he suspects something.”

“Do you think he knows Snape’s not really teaching you Potions?” Ginny asked glancing around to make sure no one was listening to them.

“No,” Harry said, leaning in towards the others and dropping his voice. “Not yet, anyway. But we can’t afford for him to find out. If it got back to Voldemort that Snape has been teaching me Occlumency and Legilimency, it wouldn’t be good.”

“Does Snape know that Malfoy is suspicious?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Probably, yeah. He definitely knows that Malfoy could be a threat to us.”

“Well then, I doubt you have much to worry about,” Ron said leaning in as well. “Snape’s spying on Voldemort, after all. If he couldn’t handle the likes of Malfoy, I don’t think he’d have lived this long.”

“All the same, make sure you don’t show any support for Professor Snape in public,” Hermione warned Harry. “If Malfoy really is suspicious, you can’t afford to slip up there.”

“Right,” Harry said.

“One good thing is that Malfoy isn’t exactly subtle,” Ginny said. “You probably know more about what he’s thinking than he knows about you and Snape.”

“Malfoy’s nothing but an arrogant, foul mouthed braggart who thinks he knows far more than he does,” Hermione said. “You’re smarter than he is, Harry. So is Professor Snape.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Harry said.

“You know I love it when you insult Malfoy,” Ron said affectionately, giving Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Mrowr!” Crookshanks meowed loudly, swishing his tail and pacing in front of the fireplace.

“Oh, be quiet you!” Ron said.

---

Talking with his friends had helped to calm Harry’s fears. Hermione was right: Malfoy was sneaky, but he certainly wasn’t smart enough to get the better of Snape. Harry would keep an eye on the Slytherin, but he wasn’t going to let worry overwhelm him. He’d learnt his lesson there.

Harry devoted the rest of the evening to his Potions essay, determined to prove to Snape that he could do well when he put his mind to it. By the time he crawled into bed, he felt content and happily listened as Neville enthusiastically told them how much better his Mimbulus mimbletonia was doing since he’d begun its “therapy”. Harry shared a skeptical grin with Ron then rolled over and drifted off to sleep.