Harry was lying on his bed in the dormitory with the window open, thinking about everything and nothing, when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came running up the stairs. "Harry!" Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed as Ron clambered over next to her. "We heard you were back early—what happened?"

Looking at the blue sky through the window, Harry murmured, "Same thing that always happens."

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron exclaimed, "what was he after this time?"

"He wasn't really after anything," Harry told them. "He was trying to keep me away from something."

"Was anyone hurt?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. His friends were quiet, then Ginny sat down against the wall under the window. "Were you hurt?"

"Not really." He smiled wanly at her.

She gazed at Harry's face and said softly, "He possessed you again, didn't he?"

Ron and Hermione hissed behind Harry. He swallowed. "Yeah. For a minute, anyway."

Hermione's hand touched his head. "But you stopped it?"

"Not me," Harry said. "Professor Snape. We'd been down in their Magical Research Department…there was an artifact there Voldemort was afraid I'd find. It was…a sort of shield." He couldn't tell them about the Pillar yet. The memory was still too overwhelming. "If I touched it, it'd protect me from him again. He came to try and destroy it, but I touched it and then it was too late. He left when reinforcements came."

"That's all that—" Hermione began, but Ron shushed her.

"If you're tired, we can leave you alone."

"No," he said, though he was tired. "I'm just a little…weird, after getting possessed and all." They settled down close to him then, Hermione rubbing his back. "The whole world's going to know about it, this time tomorrow."

"Oh no," Hermione gasped. "Did the Americans see it?"

"Yes, but they promised to keep it out of the papers," said Harry. He smiled. "They're a little odd, Yank wizards. But I liked them." Ron chuckled. "No, the reason the whole world's about to find out is Percy saw it." Ginny and Ron gasped. "And of course, he headed straight back to the Ministry before Dumbledore could even talk to him."

"That…that…" Harry looked over his shoulder and couldn't help grinning: Ron's entire face was turning red. "That…git If he even thinks about…I'll kill him!"

Ginny shook her head violently. "He can't. He may be a git, but he knows what will happen to Harry if word gets out about Voldemort possessing him. People would go crazy—Percy can't want Harry dead!"

Harry just shrugged at them, but privately, he thought, That's exactly what Percy wants. He yawned and changed the subject. "S'pose, I ought to get some homework done."

"Blimey, mate, you're turning into Hermione!"

"Oh, stop it, Ronald! If you like, Harry, we can do it up here as long as you're awake."

"I'm not an invalid!" Harry griped.

She folded her arms. "Don't get cross with me, you're the one who said you ought to do some homework. And the fact that you've barely moved a muscle in the past ten minutes suggests you don't really feel like going all the way to the library, so I was just trying to help!"

Harry groaned and buried his face in his pillow. "Would you please stop being right all the time?" he huffed out at her.

Answering giggles told him he was forgiven. Someone ruffled his hair again. "Stop petting the man!"

"Knock off, Ron, I'm just mothering him."

Harry flinched. Hard. "Harry? Something wrong?"

Harry sat up quickly and began rubbing his neck. "Just a spasm," he grunted. "All right, Hermione, you've convinced me. I haven't finished my N.E.W.T. Defense homework."

"Harry, shame on you, it's due tomorrow, and you owe it to Professor Lupin to give at least some real effort to his class…" Hermione's scolding echoed down the stairs as she and Ginny went to get their books.

Pulling his own DADA book from under his bed, Ron was grinning after them. "She never changes," he muttered, without losing the smile.

"Were you expecting her to?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Nah, I suppose not." Ron's ears went just slightly pink, but then he gestured to his book. "Have you read the chapter yet?"

"Yeah, that's done, I just haven't done the essay."

"Hah. We're ahead of you; we got it done Wednesday."

"When were you two doing homework together Wednesday?"

"Er…"

To Harry's complete astonishment, the Daily Prophet on Monday did not contain a banner headline that read, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Takes Over Harry Potter's Mind! or something else equally melodramatic.

Having spent Sunday night sleeping badly and waking up wondering if hordes of hysterical wizards would be coming to chuck him into the mental ward of St. Mungo's, the relief was almost unbearable.

"Are you sure Percy saw it?" Ron asked him when Hermione pointed out the damning article's absence.

Harry nodded, baffled. The attack on the American Wizarding Congress was mentioned, but the details were not included. "Professor Dumbledore seemed to think he did. He wasn't happy when Percy ran off afterward."

"Maybe it just scared him," said Ginny.

Hermione shook her head, rolling up the newspaper with a puzzled expression. "If he saw something like that, it'd be his duty to inform his boss—or at least that's how he'd see it," she said hastily, before Ron could get angry. "And even if Percy meant Harry no harm, Fudge wouldn't hesitate to leak that information."

"You think Fudge has it in for Harry?" asked Ron. "I just thought he was a whimpering little—"

"—Opportunist is what he is," Hermione growled. "He may not 'have it in' for Harry, but if it'd make him look good to the public, he'd make a human sacrifice out of him without hesitating." The reference made Harry queasy, remembering being tied to the tombstone by Wormtail.

Ginny patted his arm. "Never mind, Harry. Fudge isn't just a whimpering little opportunist, he's incompetent. It'd take more brains and courage than he's got to hurt you."

Maybe, but he could always just make everyone think I'm nutters again. Hermione was stuffing the newspaper into her book bag and giving Ron a meaningful look. She blushed when she saw Harry watching. "What?" he demanded testily.

"Nothing, sorry. Really, Harry, it's nothing, I promise!" she said, raising her hands defensively. Harry shrugged, but felt increasingly rankled—Ron's ears were red. It was not nothing.

Just then, Neville tugged at his arm. "Hey, Harry, what's the matter with Snape?"

"Snape?" Harry blinked.

"He keeps staring at you," Neville whispered, baffled.

Ron shrugged, going for another helping of porridge. "Nasty git hates Harry, he's always glowering at him."

Neville shook his head. "No, this is different."

Without even thinking, Harry looked up at the Head Table. Snape was indeed staring at him, but it wasn't the usual scowl of loathing that put Harry in the same category as a flobberworm. Not that it was friendly either. Snape seemed…perturbed.

As soon as he saw Harry looking back, the Potions Master got up and left the Great Hall. Dumbledore and McGonagall watched him go, but Dumbledore smiled. Harry looked at Neville and shrugged.

Occlumency that evening provided no answers. On the contrary: Harry was more confused than ever. When he arrived, Snape was sitting at his desk, reading essays. "Shut the door, Potter," he said without looking up. Harry did so apprehensively. Something was very odd. Snape got up, came around the desk, and ordered, "Take out your wand," all without looking at Harry.

Harry was baffled. No snide remarks about the last lesson, where Harry had wound up begging Snape to stop? No threats or taunts about what would happen if Harry's control didn't improve?

No, there was none of that—although when Snape finally did look at Harry's face, Harry thought his stare would be enough to burn right through his forehead. "On the count of three. One—two—three—Legilimens!"

Alex Marshall trembled on the floor of Voldemort's stronghold…Harry wrenched his thoughts to the Pillar room, seeking the safety of his mother's arms…Percy accused him of putting his family in danger…Snape was standing in front of Harry as Voldemort took aim, preparing to fight a hopeless battle…

Harry could vaguely see Snape's face in front of him, and as he, Harry, pulled the memory of the Pillar room to cover the memories Snape was attacking, Snape's eyes suddenly widened. Then all at once, it was as though a tug of war between two memories over Harry's mind suddenly ended. Percy's hurt, angry face in the American hotel vanished, and the Pillar room exploded into Harry's mind with such force that he lost all track of the here and now.

It will be all right…His mother's arms were around him again, fierce, desperate, loving him more than seemed possible, he closed his eyes, never wanting it to end…

Harry crashed to his knees with a gasp, trembling. He looked up and saw Snape standing over him, his face sheet white. From heaven straight to hell, he thought, and tried not to groan.

"Get up, Potter." Harry did, resignedly waiting for the abuse to start. Snape's face was expressionless. "That memory is too emotional to be an effective defense. It has too much power over you."

Snape's voice was utterly flat. It certainly was not friendly, not even that semi-approval he tended to give Malfoy and the Slytherins, but the lack of open hostility alone was enough to startle Harry. He stared at Snape in confusion. "What?"

Snape repeated slowly, "I said, the memory of…the incident in America will not effectively shield you from the Dark Lord."

"So…" Harry struggled to make his mind work. "I should use something else as a shield?"

"That is correct. The shield you used last week was a better choice. The objective is to clear your mind of emotion."

"I—all right." Harry mentally shook his head. He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when the result was that this lesson was actually productive—but he couldn't help wondering if the battle had addled Snape's brains.

Snape raised his wand, and motioned for Harry to lower his. "Again. On the count of three: one—two—three—Legilimens!"

Sirius was laughing at Bellatrix…oh no, not this again…the next jet of red light struck him right in the chest…concentrate, CONCENTRATE!...Harry closed his eyes and struggled to think of the Quidditch tryouts last Thursday…His godfather's eyes widened in shock…come on, come on…He focused his mind on the sunlight flashing on his broomstick as he played Chaser…blue sky…red light…wind on my face…the veil fluttered as though in…NO! Playing Beater, he chased the Bludger toward the Gold Team's goals, faster, faster, and swung as hard as he could—whack!

Panting for breath, Harry opened his eyes, running the back of his hand across them as Snape lowered his wand. "Better," he said.

WHAT is going on here? Harry thought in disbelief.

Snape made as if to raise his wand again, then lowered it. "You have made some progress in defending your mind, but against an outright attack from the Dark Lord, merely focusing upon a distracting or pleasant memory is not enough. You still have not managed to clear your mind of emotion; each time you allow yourself to become distressed, he will penetrate further."

"Yes, sir," said Harry carefully, wanting Snape's strangely-human mood to last.

"That is enough for tonight. Before you go to sleep, concentrate on clearing your mind, as always. Work on it, Potter," said Snape sharply. "After his failure in America, the Dark Lord will be increasing his efforts."

Harry nodded and turned to leave, still wondering why Snape was being almost helpful. He didn't want to risk provoking anything, but…he glanced back. Snape was walking back around his desk. "Sir? Do you think he could come after Hogwarts?"

Snape stopped with his back still turned to Harry. "I have no doubt he is already preparing to do so, in some fashion. Hogwarts is the stronghold of his opposition, and the recent blows to him are seen as a personal insult. It is only a matter of time."

Harry was grateful that Snape didn't turn around then; the words had made him shiver.

Returning to the dormitory, Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting on Ron's bed. They jumped as he entered. "Well?" asked Ron. "How'd it go?"

Harry sat down on his bed and took off his shoes before answering. "Really…really…odd."

"Odd," Hermione repeated, frowning. "Odd in what way?"

"Well…" Harry scratched his head, still puzzling over all the things that hadn't happened during Occlumency. "I think…it went well. I think I'm starting to get the hang of it."

"And that's odd?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head. "It was Snape who was odd."

"Oh bloody hell, what'd he do this time?" Ron snapped.

Hermione huffed in agreement. "Someone really ought to remind him there's a war on. He should be working with you, not against you. What's he done now?"

Harry huffed out his breath, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" they chorused.

"Well…I sort of blocked him at first, but he told me I wasn't doing it right. And he said what I ought to be doing. Then we tried again, and I blocked him, and he said that was better but I still needed to do better if I want to block Voldemort. And then he let me go." The story sounded strange to Harry even as he told it.

Ron and Hermione were quiet for a moment. "Blimey," Ron muttered. "That is odd!"

Hermione dangled her feet over the edge of Ron's bed, staring at Harry as if she thought he was touched in the head. "He didn't…insult you?"

"No."

"He didn't yell at you?" Ron demanded.

"No."

"He didn't sabotage you and then blame you?" Hermione pressed.

"No."

"He didn't act like he thinks you're an overgrown flobberworm?" Ron exclaimed.

"No."

"Harry…" Hermione pulled her feet back up and rested her chin on her knees, looking highly agitated. "Are you sure that was Snape? I mean…well, Crouch fooled us before…"

Now that was a thought! Harry frowned, thinking back. "I don't know…he was acting odd from the minute the Pillar was destroyed. The first time I saw him after, he looked almost…afraid." He shook his head.

"Maybe your getting possessed gave the old git a scare," said Ron. Then his eyes widened. "Or maybe…he's the one possessed!"

"No," Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead. It still ached, and his scar hurt, but he didn't feel nearly so drained and weakened in his mind as he'd used to. "Dumbledore was there, for a long time. He'd have noticed. And I…don't think I'd miss it if Voldemort was possessing someone else—if it hurts half as much."

Hermione and Ron's faces fell. "It hurts you?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry nodded. "A lot. And one of the Americans said something about my eyes changing color."

Hermione let out a little squeak of horror, and Ron cringed. "What color?" asked Ron, looking revolted.

It struck Harry in a bit of shock that neither of his friends had ever seen Voldemort. They didn't know what he looked like. "Red," he told them. "Voldemort's eyes are red." Hermione covered her mouth, and Ron scooted close to her, putting a hand on her back. Harry changed the subject. "Anyway, that rules out Snape being possessed, so I can't imagine why he's suddenly so…"

Ron leaned forward. "Are you trying to tell us Snape was nice to you?!"

Ginny had been coming up the stairs just then, but at hearing Ron's words, she froze, open-mouthed, then turned and made as if to head back down the stairs. They all had to laugh.

"Come back, Ginny," Harry called.

She did so with exaggerated hesitance. "What's this about the sky falling?"

"No, Snape wasn't exactly nice." They all laughed harder, and Harry found himself relaxing. Was it really worth getting all worked up about—well, perhaps it was a bit earth-shattering, but his agonizing would cast little light on it. "He just…wasn't nasty either."

"Very odd," murmured Hermione.

"Maybe he's just had a change of heart," suggested Ron. Then he grinned, and they all collapsed on beds and floor, laughing hysterically.

Hermione laughed so hard she wound up collapsed across Ron's lap, unable to get up, and Ron was draped over her back. Ginny was flat on her back, shrieking and kicking her heels into the floor. Harry laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.

Life was a bit odd for Harry around Hogwarts over the next few days. He opened up the Daily Prophet with great trepidation each morning, with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hovering over his shoulder, wondering if this would be the day the story of his possession by Voldemort would be announced. What Fudge was waiting for, he couldn't imagine.

"He must know," Harry muttered on Wednesday during breakfast. "Why hasn't he even been to question me?"

"Maybe Percy didn't tell him after all," Ginny offered in a voice teeming with hope.

"No chance," said Ron darkly. "No chance. I don't like this. It feels like they're waiting for you to do something, Harry."

"Maybe proof," said Hermione. "Or maybe they're talking with the Aurors about what to do."

"Maybe Dumbledore stopped him!" Ron was happiest with that idea (as was Harry.) "Convinced or threatened him somehow."

"Who threatened who?" It was the twins, coming for their N.E.W.T. make-up work.

Harry shook his head vigorously at Ron, who told them, "Sorry, can't say just now."

"Oh, go on, we can keep a secret!" Fred insisted.

"Aren't we the souls of discretion?" demanded George.

Hermione snorted loudly. The twins shot her simultaneous wounded pouts and held them until she broke and started to giggle. Ron looked annoyed. "Flirt with someone your own age."

"What?" exclaimed George. "Hermione thinks we're charming, don't you?"

"Errr…" Hermione turned redder than Ron on his worst days and refused to look up. Ron glowered at the twins until they headed for the Head Table to meet Professor Flitwick, then he looked at Hermione. "Oh, stop it!" she exclaimed.

Harry shook his head in disgust. He had given up on asking them what they and the rest of the Weasleys were conspiring about—every time he turned around, they were whispering furtively, then breaking off and blushing when they saw Harry. Ron and Hermione flatly refused to say anything, and though Harry had questioned Ginny, she insisted it was for Ron or Hermione to tell him. The twins just sniggered and elbowed each other and winked at him. It was incredibly aggravating, so now he just glared at Ron and Hermione whenever they did it.

Everyone in this ruddy place is going absolutely positively stark raving MAD!

Last night's Occlumency lesson had gone well again; Snape had waited longer between each attempt to give Harry time to clear his mind of emotion. Harry hadn't quite managed it—he had lasted about five seconds into Sirius's death before he'd had to use his wand to end it. But at least he was able to end it now, although Snape was still quick to remind him that if he should come under attack by the Dark Lord, Harry would most likely not have his wand handy.

But it was a far cry from the near-gleeful way Snape had launched into the most painful of Harry's memories followed with a dose of beratement for his father's various failings. Not that Harry minded Occlumency lessons without abuse; it was just…strange.

And Potions was even stranger. As far as Harry could tell, Snape's public behavior toward him had not changed much; he still pretended Harry was invisible all through class—or at least through class until the day he was forced to pay attention to Harry.

Halfway through class, Harry was slowly pouring dragon's blood into his Cut Healing Potion when he was struck by a wave of dizziness so intense that he nearly pitched over into the cauldron. Instead, he managed to grab the nearest desk to steady himself, but dropped the entire vial of dragon blood into the potion in the process. The cauldron sent flames shooting into the air—fortunately, they went up rather than out, which narrowly prevented Harry and Hermione from being burned.

Snape stormed over, shouting a dousing spell as Harry righted himself. "POTTER! What the devil are you doing?!"

Hermione had her hands over her mouth in dismay. Harry muttered, "Dropped the vial of dragon's blood, sir."

Across the room, Malfoy snorted with laughter, and Snape scowled. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for carelessness with supplies, Potter, and that's a zero for today—for you and Miss Granger, as she did not have the good sense to keep the valuable ingredients out of your hands!" Then he stalked off, and Hermione sat down at her desk and buried her face in her arms.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered to her.

With a sigh, she sat up, staring at her notes. "It's all right. I saw you sway. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just a dizzy spell. It's gone. Maybe it was the fumes."

She gave him a droll smile. "Well…at least he's back to his old self again!" Harry blinked, then couldn't help but grin.

That evening, when Harry went wearily down to Occlumency, bracing himself for the Return of the Old Snape, the Potions Master pounced on him the minute he closed the door. "What happened in Potions today, Potter? Dropping an entire vial of an extremely valuable ingredient into a cauldron seems a bit extreme even for a student of your native clumsiness. Was this merely yet another stunt to get attention?"

Harry, startled, snapped back, "I got dizzy! It was an accident."

Snape snorted. "Dizzy."

"I had…to grab…the desk…" Harry said, trying and failing to count to one hundred.

Turning away, Snape replied, "I thought as much."

His casual tone made Harry furious. "Then why did you take points for me being careless if you knew I wasn't?!"

"Number one, Mr. Potter, you were being careless, pouring the blood directly from the vial rather than measuring it into another vessel and pouring it from there—and Miss Granger was careless for failing to instruct you in that regard."

"For someone who hates 'insufferable know-it-alls,' you certainly seem to want her to be all-knowing," Harry shot back.

Snape went on as if Harry hadn't spoken, "Number two, you failed to mention your moment of dizziness when I demanded an explanation of you." He met Harry's astonished, indignant gaze, and finished, "Number Three, from now on, you will report any episodes of disorientation, pain in your scar, and any dreams that do not involve your precious Quidditch as soon as they occur, or I will find other ways to take points from you. Is that clear?"

"You—"

"Potter! Is…that…clear?"

Through clenched teeth, Harry ground out, "Yes…sir."

"Now. Clear your mind."

It appeared they were both back to their old selves: Harry couldn't seem to block a thing.

And life went downhill from there. While Snape never quite reverted to torturing Harry with memories of Sirius and Cedric and Uncle Vernon, he certainly had little patience with Harry's difficulty clearing his mind. On days when he and Snape didn't fight, Harry usually managed to push him out either with a memory he pulled up himself or with a curse. The rest of the time, if Harry was at all agitated at the start of Occlumency, he was lucky to get off a Stinging Hex.

However, Harry found that he did not have to report many dreams to Snape, as quite a few of them lately did seem to involve Quidditch.

Ron took his Captain duties seriously, and apart from regularly-scheduled practice, he often nagged Harry, Ginny, and any other team members who looked like they weren't busy (and even those who were) to come on unscheduled rounds when they were supposed to be studying. Harry was all too happy to join in, but Ron also tended to pester him with diagrams of flight strategies and rumours he'd heard about the other House teams when they were doing homework.

Thus, Harry very often had Quidditch on the brain, which was fine with him. The enlarged Gryffindor team was practicing well, but the episode of dizziness in Potions was only the first of an increasing number that started to worry both Harry and his friends. During Herbology the day after, his head began to swim so badly while he was walking in the greenhouse that he lurched into a Giant Spicularboium and got himself incredibly stung. That sent him to the hospital wing, but he chalked it up to tripping over his own feet, though he did tell Professor Lupin during Curse Defense that afternoon. Lupin would pass it on to Dumbledore and Snape if it mattered, and Harry strongly preferred to report any "incidents" to him.

The dizzy spells got worse over the next few weeks. Harry never actually fainted, but there were a few times where he wound up flat on his back on the floor, helpless to move until the world stopped spinning. The worst part was that no one could seem to figure out what was wrong.

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a Vitalizing Potion, thinking that it was perhaps some lingering effects of the Draught of Living Death and all the excitement of late, but that didn't help, because Harry walked into a wall during Transfiguration the next day. She then took the shotgun approach and prescribed potions for everything from concussions to inner ear infections, with no success. Harry kept up with Occlumency, dutifully (and occasionally desperately) clearing his mind of as much emotion as he could before going to sleep, but that didn't help.

The worst attempt to diagnose the problem was when, at Dumbledore's suggestion, Snape attempted to probe through Harry's mind to see if Voldemort were somehow using Legilimency to affect Harry physically. They never found out, because every time he got through a certain number of memories, Harry would find himself panicking and push him out. Naturally, Snape was not pleased.

During the first Hogsmeade weekend around Halloween, Harry found himself in the Three Broomsticks with Ron and Hermione and the DA, discussing forming themselves into an official club. "We should probably change the official name to 'Defense Association,'" Hermione laughed. "I don't think it'd help Fudge's nerves if we stayed 'Dumbledore's Army.'"

Everyone laughed. "Not that the need's so desperate now, what with Professor Lupin being back," said Terry Boot. "But it'd be a nice way to keep practicing."

"Maybe Professor Lupin could be our sponsoring teacher," said Ginny. "We need one to give approval for us to form an official club."

Nibbling on a cherry from her drink, Hermione frowned, "It's a good idea, although Professor Lupin gets enough scrutiny from the Ministry as it is for his condition. I wouldn't want to invite more trouble for him."

Ron shrugged and took a gulp of butterbeer. "Maybe Professor McGonagall could sponsor us, then. No rule says Professor Lupin couldn't still help."

"Would we still meet in the Room of Requirement?" asked Cho Chang. "I liked that place."

"I don't know if we still 'require' it now that we're legal," said Ernie MacMillian, sitting on the edge of a table. "But we could maybe use the Dueling Room, or fix up an empty classroom with the things we need."

Hermione pulled out a quill and an official-looking parchment. "This is the application form to organize a new club."

"Do we have to sign it this time?" asked Zacharias slyly. Cho blushed while everyone else laughed smugly.

Grinning, Hermione said, "Well, we do need to submit the names of club members to show how many people are interested…but I promise—Wizard's Oath, if you like—I haven't done anything this time!"

They all laughed harder. Ron mock-wiped his eyes. "You're an inspiration to us all, Hermione!" Hermione blushed as the rest of the group voiced their agreement, some applauding.

Harry was quiet through most of the meeting. As glad as he was of the idea to get together and practice Defense, he knew they would want him to teach again, and he wasn't all that certain he wanted to.

Between the dizzy spells (he'd had one at Honeydukes today, and then another at Zonko's) and the catastrophes that had resulted from his visions, and Smythe-Wellington's class, he was suffering from a severe lack of confidence in his own defensive abilities. But when the form came round, he put his name down too, and Hermione took it with satisfaction. "I'll talk to both Professors McGonagall and Lupin, and see which one wants to sponsor us. And find out about the location."

"And now we can just post group meetings on bulletin boards like normal people!" laughed Ginny.

"Aw, I rather liked those fake Galleons!" said someone.

They got permission, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin both sponsored them, giving the club extra legitimacy, although most of them still referred to the group as Dumbledore's Army. Their meetings now mostly centered around practicing whatever they had been learning in their assorted Defense classes each week, but the close camaraderie of the previous year still lingered like an unspoken promise among them all.

Quite a few younger students joined as well, and while Harry avoided taking up his old role as instructor of the group, it was his suggestion that the older students team up with younger ones to help them out. At first they used an empty classroom, but their ranks soon swelled to almost sixty members, and they were allowed to use the Dueling Room for practice.

Harry also discovered that he himself was far worse at the practice than he'd used to be, because his dizzy spells made his partners avoid hexing him, and he never knew when he might suddenly lose his balance and pitch right over.

The week before the Gryffindor Quidditch team's first match, against Hufflepuff, Harry was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't field Ginny as Seeker, and finally asked Ron about it when they were doing homework in the common room. "I'm not going to drop you just because of some ruddy dizzy spells," Ron told him. "Not from our first match, it's not fair after you got banned all last year!"

"I know," Harry said in frustration.

"I have faith in you, mate, just like Angelina wouldn't let me quit."

His scar was hurting again. Aggravated, Harry rubbed his rebellious head and finally just put it down on his arms. "We can't find the cause. Until we do, I don't know how to make it stop."

"Well…unless it gets really bad, you're playing," said Ron. "And if you get dizzy during the game, just wave at me, and I'll call a time out."

"All right," Harry sighed. Then he grinned, "Just don't be so busy watching me that you forget to guard the rings."

"Right!" They both laughed.

Harry glanced around. "Where's Hermione? Isn't Arithmancy over by now?"

Ron's ears turned red. "I…er…reckon she's in the library."

"But I thought she was going to help you with your Curse project."

"Oh, she will…that is to say, she'll come 'round…" The redness spread from the tips of Ron's ears down across his cheeks to his nose. "Okay, we had a big argument, and she's mad at me." He avoided Harry's gaze. "It was about Quidditch; she thought you shouldn't play too—but I think you should!" he said desperately. "We need to show the other Houses we're back in force, and that means having you and Ginny in the positions you play best!"

Laughing, Harry slapped his back. "All right. But make sure the others are able to watch for a time out signal too. I'd rather not fall off my broom during a Wronski Feint."

"You don't fall that often!"

"No, because I've got just enough time to sit down before I fall down. Didn't you see me in Specialized Defense this morning? Smythe-Wellington thinks I'm a complete wanker!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, she was pretty worried. She knows it's not normal for someone to keel over more than twice a week," said Ron. "And at least that made her lay off you about the way you draw your wand."

Harry groaned, remembering how Smythe-Wellington had called him a would-be Muggle gunslinger with his wand-drawing and made him do it over and over again in front of the class until she liked it. Then the dizzy spell had hit, and he'd barely been able to stand for the rest of class. "Maybe she is just doing her job, but she definitely thinks I'm not cut out to be an Auror."

"Well…" Ron couldn't deny it. Smythe-Wellington did not appear to think much of Harry's chances. "At least she thinks Malfoy's worse than you!"