Harry went up to the headmaster's office, and got admitted on his third try. He wondered if it was coincidental that this was "Lion Bar" or if Dumbledore just knew way too much about his life. At the top of the stairs, the inner door was open, waiting for him. Dumbledore waved it shut as he entered. Snape was already there. Harry wondered what that signified.

"Thank you for being so prompt, Harry. How was Hagrid's class?"

"Oddly theoretical, but that's probably a good idea."

Dumbledore smiled. "I insisted he put some safeguard in place, and he devised this plan. A good one, I believe. Are you excited about the wyverns?"

"Sort of. I think my Occlumency practice will help. I'm a bit worried about some of the Slytherins. Blaise is quiet, but in that sort of 'held in check' way. Ron might be a problem, too, if he has a bad morning."

"I plan to offer a Calming Draught to any of my house who want it," Snape said. He looked disapproving. "You, too, Harry. Even professionals use them for wyverns."

"I'm set," Harry said cheerfully. He shifted slightly, feeling the weight of the bubble-soap necklace that Hermione had brought him against his chest. He hadn't replaced the Muggle bubble soap, yet, but he planned to before Monday. Unconcerned benevolence might be just the thing, provided he could remember not to pet the pretty wyverns.

Snape looked suspiciously at him. Dumbledore brought his hands together.

"Well, then. Shall we get down to business?" The office door swung closed and flared. The headmaster sat behind his desk. "Sherbet lemon, Harry? No? Ah well. Today's agenda is a single item -- the Ministry has contested my request to be Harry's guardian."

For a moment, Harry couldn't think. Contested? Contested Dumbledore? But then he recalled that Fudge was afraid of Dumbledore. Certainly, Fudge would rather have Harry under direct control.

"I was afraid of this," Snape said, echoing Harry's feelings. "Minister Fudge sees this as his opportunity to control Harry Potter, a most important symbol."

"Yes. I will, of course, defend my position at the hearing. It is scheduled for Friday, October 4, so, again, it buys us time."

"The Minister will fight, Headmaster." Snape said calmly. "He can reasonably say you have no right."

"Yes. If he is successful, we will need to produce you earlier, at the appeal. He cannot contest a blood relative, despite your history, unless Harry himself objects."

"Can we afford to lose my information?" Severus challenged.

" Better than we can afford to lose Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "You have been worrying, recently, Severus, as to the accuracy of what you are told. With the suspicion you have been under, I have wondered if continuing was worth the risk. Your value to us is not entirely in the field, you realize."

"That is certainly not what the Dark Lord keeps me for."

Despite Snape's self-satisfied smirk, Harry thought he looked anxious while they reviewed possible schedules of hearings. Snape's eyes kept following the headmaster when Dumbledore wasn't looking, and now and then they would stray to Fawkes. Although Snape knew his value as Potions Master, Harry suspected he felt that would not be adequate to justify his place with the Order.

Dumbledore was looking at his desk, as if studying an invisible document. "It is easy enough to prove kinship," he said slowly. "I ran a test for that, myself, and suspect you did as well." At Severus's nod, he sighed. "I believe it would be best if we could also prove Herem. Did you keep your copy of the contract?"

Severus hissed air out through his teeth. "I destroyed it when Lily died."

A hint of amusement crossed Dumbledore's features, at that. Harry suspected he was imagining, as Harry himself was, how completely Severus might destroy a thing. The old wizard sighed. "Do you know where James kept his copy?"

"In his vault, I would expect."

"But in what?"

"Oh." Severus seemed to understand what Dumbledore meant. Harry wished he did. "Yes. It was a brooch. A griffin -- just to irritate me."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will look for it."

"Do you have a key to the vault?" Harry blurted out.

"Oh, not that vault," Dumbledore said. "Another one. Unlike the money vault, I have no indication of when you are to get access to it. Considering the family nature of ... This would be much easier if we had ever found James's will."

"Am I likely to lose the money, then?"

"Not that." Dumbledore stood. "James died and his wife inherited -- for a few seconds. Her child, then, inherits, at least for standard property. But with the Potter family heirlooms -- a cousin might make some sort of case. I will continue to look. If I do not find anything, your letter shows intent, I believe."

He looked firmly at Harry. "Now, I have some matters I need to discuss with your father in private."

Harry bit back an objection. He nodded tightly. "Good day, headmaster. Thank you for your time."

When he emerged into the corridor, Harry realized he didn't want to go back to Gryffindor. Since he had come straight from class, he had his school bag with him, with his Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creature texts. He worked in the library, quickly finishing the essay for Hagrid. Since he was in the library, he even looked up and added a few details, such as the use of Wyvern bile in hysteria potions, and the infamous "wyvern defense" in the Mansfield scythe murders. When he was done, he went back to The Limits of Control. It was just as unreadable as Snape had said. Harry was determined to finish it, just to show he could.

He was eventually interrupted by Madam Pince asking if he planned to attend dinner. He ran down quickly. All of the staff and most of the students were already seated. He had to walk across a whispering hall to get to the Gryffindor table, but at least Hermione had saved him a seat. Ron was nearby, but with Andrew and Jack. Ginny and Dean were on the other side of Hermione.

"Where were you?" she asked anxiously.

"Just the library."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No." Harry grinned. "It was just about my independent study. He has a few recommended books for me, that's all, and I was looking things up and got distracted. I didn't mean to worry you."

Hermione looked uncertain. Harry nudged her.

"Wyverns!" he commented quietly. "Isn't that brilliant? You think we can get him to bring in a griffin?

"Harry...." Hermione said despairingly. Harry grinned at her, and she sighed. "I don't even know why I'm taking this class," she admitted. "Everything else I'm studying has professional value, but I think this one is just because I'm afraid someone will get killed if I'm not there."

Harry looked at her.

"What?" she demanded.

"You know how you said I have a 'saving people thing?'" he said, trying not to think of the circumstances of that. "You have a 'keeping people out of trouble' thing. And we both need to learn how to tell when it's useful, and when it's just us being obsessive. If you're taking this class because it's fun, that's fine. You don't need to take it to protect us."

Hermione looked even more tense. "And with you?" she asked. "Are you staying out of trouble?"

Harry smiled slightly. "I have half of Monday's assignments done. I've barely had time for anything else."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione looked suddenly suspicious. "What prompted this?"

"Well, Saturday is lost to Quidditch, so I thought I should go into that with as little outstanding as possible."

"Let me guess," Hermione said, "you haven't touched Potions or Charms."

Harry sniffed. "I did Potions first," he said loftily. "It's about the Wolfsbane Potion, which I know rather well."

"And Zoë was helping you," Hermione said coldly -- "I forgot."

"I couldn't remember the name of the Crystal Radiosis effect, and she answered when I asked Ron -- not that I expected him to answer; I just wanted him to be quiet so I could think." Does she actually know Zoë? I guess if Zoë is Ginny's dormmate, she would. "I also did my Care of Magical Creatures essay, and figured out what to say in the Charms one, when I was studying with Ron. My Defense work is mostly practical, and I already know it. I've ignored Transfiguration, because I think I can do it over the weekend."

Hermione nodded acknowledgment, but didn't say anything. They both ate, Harry with the distinct feeling that she was studying him. He tried to eat politely, and let his attention wander here and there. Malfoy, he noted, was sitting with Goyle and a girl who seemed to be Goyle's. Harry looked for Crabbe and found him further down the table. That seemed odd. Thinking back, Harry couldn't remember seeing Malfoy with Crabbe, this year. A girl further down the Slytherin table had apparently fought with someone. She stood abruptly, picked up her plate, and strode to Malfoy's other side, where there was a bit of space. He appeared to give her leave to sit, and began talking to her almost immediately. She was rather pretty, with short, honey-brown hair. Short hair was odd for a wizarding girl -- Harry scanned the Slytherin table and didn't see any other short-haired girls except for Bulstrode, whom he wouldn't have recognized as a girl if he didn't know.

He looked back at Hermione. She was staring at him, though she quickly tried to hide it. "Help me with something?" he asked.

"What?"

"Is it odd for a wizarding girl to have short hair? It seems to be."

Hermione relaxed as she went into lecture mode. "In a conservative family, adults will have long hair, to the extent permitted by their activities," she explained. "Very long hair, like the Malfoys have, usually indicates a life of leisure. Bill has his hair quite long for a working wizard, and too long for a man from a modern-thinking family -- that's part of what his mum dislikes about it -- he has his hair like an idle aristocrat, then works a dangerous job and dresses in clothes she considers disreputable -- almost too Muggle. Of course, that's more common in other parts of the world -- he's really just cosmopolitan.

"Girls have long hair, usually. Girls only cut their hair if they don't intend to marry, or don't care whether or not they do. Boys always have short hair, unless, somehow, they become the male head of a named family -- Malfoy could grow his hair, now, I suppose, and you could." This thought distracted her, and she looked at him questioningly. "Are you?"

"I don't think I'll grow it much longer," Harry returned. "It is better behaved this way, though."

Hermione snorted. "Honestly, Harry! Everybody knows you're straightening it."

Harry glared at her in indignation. "I am not!"

"I'm not stupid, Harry," Hermione said angrily. "Some hair gets straighter as it lengthens, but not that much, not for an extra two inches."

"I --" Harry caught himself. He couldn't afford to deny the most plausible explanation for the change people seemed to notice most. He let himself look embarrassed. "Oh, all right," he grumbled, ducking his head. "Do you like it?"

"No," Hermione said plainly. She softened it with a slightly apologetic look as she added. "It's attractive enough. Altogether, you've got quite a look, this year, but I wish you were still willing to be you." She gave him a wry little smile as she drew out one of her own unruly locks. "Besides, if you thought your hair was too curly from that tiny wave, what must you think of mine?"

Harry smiled. "I think it's a glorious, willful mane to suit a brave, strong-minded girl." He stroked gently down her hair. "And beautiful. You'd look just wrong with straight hair."

"So do you."

Harry sighed. "Well, it will stay this way for a while," he demurred. He looked down at his hands and twisted the ring on his finger nervously. "We're not eating," he said, looking up at her. "Shall we go for a walk?" Hermione bit her lip. She looked like she wanted to do that, with all it implied. Harry leaned closer. "I could play with your curls," he coaxed, "and tell you how lovely they are -- how beautifully they frame your face --"

"Oh, stop it!" Hermione shouted. She stood up and tossed her napkin down on the table. Half of it fell in her mashed swede. "Just -- you think you're so --!" She lost the words in indignation, and settled for storming off. Harry sat and stared after her. Well, he thought, maybe it was the kiss she was upset about then. But she was looking at me like she wanted to do it again. He suddenly decided that he ought to talk to her. After all, she's a girl, he reasoned. I'm probably missing something that she thinks is obvious -- like that she'd be offended at the thought I'm straightening my hair.

Although somewhat embarrassed to be noticeably following her, Harry got up and left the hall, leaving a wake of whispers. Once outside, he ran, but he didn't manage to catch Hermione. Her bag was in the Gryffindor common room when he got there, so he assumed she was up in the girls' dormitories, but yelling for her from the bottom of the stairs produced no response. No one else seemed to be in the tower.

Harry wandered up the boys' staircase, and poked his head in the first room. It was empty. He went to the window and looked out. The view was a little bit different from his one up at the top of the tower, or the magical one in his dungeon room. Harry walked in and out of the boys' dormitories, and around the common room, trying to find his window, but did not. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard people entering the common room from dinner. Harry decided he didn't want to talk to any of them. He went to his room, grabbed his cloak, and slipped back down the stairs and out through the briefly open portrait hole.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was walking in the dungeons, through increasingly ill-lit corridors. His heart quickened at the sight of a line of light coming out of Snape's lab and glinting off the stones of the floor. He slowed down and lightened his footsteps. The door was ajar, but not by much. He wasn't sure if he could slide through without moving it. He peered inside. Snape was stirring something and muttering under his breath. While Harry watched, he switched to left-handed stirring and pulled out his wand, focusing it on the cauldron as he stirred.

Harry stood outside the doorway for five minutes, watching what was obviously some very complicated brewing augmented by charms work. Finally, Snape took the cauldron off the flame, set it on a cooling rack, and stretched his back and wrists. When he turned back to the ingredients, Harry decided to try the opening. He thought he made it without touching anything, but Snape's head immediately snapped up.

"Who's there?" he called, reaching for his wand, again. Quickly, Harry reached up and pushed his hood back.

"Just me."

"Don't sneak in here like that! I could have dropped something, or --"

"I waited. You were doing something complicated when I got here, and I waited until you weren't stirring anything or holding anything."

"Appreciated," Snape said tightly. "However, next time, please remove your cloak in the hallway before entering. I still could have hexed you; I am rather paranoid and prize it as a survival skill."

"Okay." Harry pulled himself up onto a stool and looked around the lab. "Anything you want help with?"

"Don't you have work to do?"

"I've mostly finished it." Harry looked down. "If you want me to go, I will," he said quietly. "Say that, though."

Snape looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "I'm not sure how much you can help, but stay until curfew, if it won't bore you."

Harry shook his head. "It won't."

"Very well. Go shut the door and throw up a silencing spell."

When Harry returned, Snape's attention was focused on a selection of square jars. Harry watched him run his hand slowly through the air an inch over the row. At the fourth jar, his hand paused, then descended. He opened the container and shook some butterfly wings from it into a mortar, which he handed to Harry. "Grind these to an even dust, and measure out a small scoop."

"Okay."

Snape took something slimy from another jar and began to slice it. "How's your term going?" he asked.

"All right," Harry said, with a shrug. "Gryffindor seems really noisy, now, but I'm sure I'll get used to it, again. Ron keeps asking what I'm upset about when I'm not upset. I think it's facial changes, but I can't tell him that. It's annoying, so then I am upset. Hermione is ... well, Hermione." He discovered he didn't want to talk about how he felt about Hermione, especially as he wasn't really sure. "Colin has a crush on Lavender. It's the first time I've ever felt sorry for Lavender about anything."

Snape coughed. "I see."

"Colin can be very annoying when he likes you. He's nicer than she is, though, so I feel sorry for him, too, in a way, but he's asking for it."

"How are classes?"

"Okay, mostly. My Potions professor still treats me like pond scum."

Snape flinched. "Harry...."

"I know." Harry grinned at him. "You're supposed to tell me that pond scum is a necessary component of the blahblah potion, and therefore far more useful than I am."

Snape smiled slightly and shook his head. "But I'm tired of it." He examined Harry's butterfly wings, which had been reduced to a lovely iridescent blue powder. "That's fine."

"V-- Tom keeps you as a potions maker, right?"

"Mostly," Snape answered, frowning at Harry's name for Voldemort. "I also am expected to spy on Dumbledore, to the extent that is possible. It is widely understood that Dumbledore's barmy conversation is a smokescreen for his tremendous subtlety, so I have somewhat of an excuse for my inefficiency."

"But you didn't seem sure Dumbledore would want you for potions work."

"Dumbledore will keep me here because he has promised me protection. However, I am not sure I will be worth the trouble as a brewer of potions. The Order has far less need than the Dark Lord for potions that cannot be bought, and I dislike the thought of being a charity case."

"I'd think the Order might not want to buy their potions, if they can avoid it. Doesn't that give people a clue about what they are planning, or expect?"

"There is that," Snape admitted. He looked down at his pile of diced slimy stuff. "And I can make some rather unusual potions, and have invented things for him, before."

"There you go," Harry said encouragingly.

"But no one actually trusts me," Snape said intently, still looking at the dice. "And I am not a good instructor for the lower levels -- even I know that." He frowned, finally looking up. "And then, there is Slytherin."

"What about Slytherin?"

"The way I currently run my house presumes that I am trying to maintain relationships with some of the Death Eater parents, and their associates. I have been considering how to handle that when we are discovered. Those children will hate me, or least feel they should, but they may still be the ones I should cultivate, the ones someone needs to cultivate. I may no longer be able to do that."

"I suppose I won't enhance your reputation."

"Simply having a half-blood child -- bypassing the matter of you and your history -- would cause me some trouble."

Harry tensed. "How ideologically impure of you."

"Precisely." Snape stood and wrapped his robes about himself, as if he were suddenly cold. "It will be scandalous. I'm afraid of what the distrust will cause certain of the students to do. Young Malfoy, for example, if he is angered at my betrayal...."

"This is a lot more complicated for you than for me, isn't it?"

Hermione ignored Harry yelling for her, and he did not attempt to come up into the girls' dormitories. She stayed in her room, listening to the silence, then to the sound of people returning. After a while, Lavender came in.

"Ron's looking for you," she announced. "He said he wants to talk."

"Is Harry with him?"

"No -- no one's seen him since he went after you." Lavender's voice went breathy and tender. "Did he hurt you badly, dear? I saw the way he was looking at that Slytherin tart."

What Slytherin tart? Hermione wondered. Trust Lavender to invent a superfluous drama. She hoped she hadn't noticeably flinched. "No," she mumbled, "it was just...." She didn't think she could explain it to Lavender. Fortunately, she didn't need to, as Lavender was all too eager to assure Hermione that she understood.

"Clever of her. I wish I did," Hermione muttered to herself as she picked her way downstairs, after escaping from her effusively understanding roommate.

Ron was waiting for her impatiently. "Let's go for a walk," he said.

Hermione nodded and followed him outside. They walked a while in silence, to ensure no one was near. Finally, Ron stopped at a corner alcove where they could see both approaching corridors, hoisted himself up next to a bust of Thalia the Capricious, and said:

"Spill."

Hermione sighed and pulled herself up on the other side of the bust. "I don't understand him," she said.

Ron punched both fists in the air and crowed. "Yes! We have vengeance!"

Hermione giggled. "Ron, seriously!"

"Well, seriously, I never understood you." Ron looked at her affectionately and smiled. "Okay. What's he doing?"

"Okay. First there's this kissing me thing. He's done that twice, but it seems to just be a way to shut me up. I mean he only kisses me if I'm saying something he doesn't want me to say."

"Have you tried saying something he does want you to say? I mean, no offense, Hermione, but you've been fighting a lot."

"Not all the time. And I was trying to talk to him at dinner today, and he started going off about how beautiful my hair is."

Ron blinked. "Is that bad? I thought girls liked that sort of thing."

"Well I would if he meant it, but I don't think he does."

"Why not?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Because it was just convenient -- another way to distract me. And he's straightened his -- I got him to admit that." Hermione felt miserable. "And my hair is not beautiful."

"Hermione! Look, if you won't trust anyone who tells you you're beautiful, you'll end up with someone who doesn't appreciate you." Ron reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're beautiful, okay? I know it, and he knows it, and he ought to be able to tell you that."

"But..." Hermione felt frustrated, even as Ron's praise warmed her. "Ron, he's just being strange. He looks at me in this odd, calculating way. And he's even more temperamental than he used to be. And there's that ring...."

Ron snorted. "Oh, the ring," he said loftily. "And he has robes to match," he confided. "Fancier stuff than he wore to Diagon Alley -- I saw when I was getting his cloak from his trunk."

"It doesn't seem like his style," Hermione said miserably. And I want to know who gave it to him, she thought.

Ron hesitated. "Yeah," he said, "I thought that." He shrugged. "But then, you've seen what Fred and George wear, these days, and I wouldn't have expected that, either. Harry was talking about how he could spend his money, now, because he didn't have guardians who would steal it if they found out about it, so I reckon he's been doing just that." Ron shrugged again, shrinking down so he seemed smaller at the end of it. "If I had that much money, perhaps I'd surprise people too. Perhaps I'd surprise myself. I mean, I don't go in those sorts of shops...."

"What sort?" Hermione asked curiously.

"The sort with nothing I can afford," Ron retorted, reddening. "So if I did, and I could just pull out a fistful of galleons for anything that took my fancy, I have no idea what I'd dress like."

Hermione thought about that. Harry had money for real, now, rather than just in theory. She nodded. That could change a number of things. Finally, she managed to force out her objection. "It's a girl's ring, though."

"So a Muggle can tell that too?" Ron said. "I thought he might just not know." He shrugged. "Whatever. Seamus ragged him about it and called him a ponce -- just in a teasing way, of course, so Harry got that cool look he does now and said, 'so you certainly won't mind dueling me,' and you've never seen anyone scramble back so quick!"

Hermione found both Seamus's insult and Harry's response upsetting, so this did not amuse her as much as Ron obviously hoped it would, but she managed a smile. Ron frowned at her.

"It's just a ring, Hermione."

"But where did he get it?"

Ron shrugged. "Somewhere in Hogsmeade, I expect." His brow furrowed. "Wait, you mean.... Oh, really, Hermione, you don't think it's from a girl!"

"Well, it seems more likely than he bought it."

"So you think...." Ron looked offended. "You can't think he's got some secret girlfriend, then is running about with that on! I mean, that's not very secret, is it? And he wouldn't, anyway."

"I don't know! Maybe he had a girl over the summer and she died. I mean wouldn't that just be the sort of thing that happens to Harry?"

"Well, look.... If this is getting in the way, we'd better ask him about it."

"Could you?" Hermione asked timidly.

"Why don't you?"

"He'll think I'm jealous."

"Well, you are!" Ron rolled his eyes. "All right. I'll ask. You have to be there, though."

Harry slipped into Gryffindor tower a few minutes before curfew. He had to look around the crowded room for a moment before he spotted Ron and Hermione beckoning him over to a place in the corner.

"Oy, Harry, where've you been?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged and sat in the free chair. "Just walking."

"All evening?"

"It was only a couple of hours." Harry looked at Ron's and Hermione's anxious expressions and rolled his eyes. "Honestly! I just wanted to be alone."

"Well, we're not forcing you to sit with us," Hermione said sharply.

"I don't mind you." Harry looked at her pleadingly, and gestured at the noisy common room. "It's just all this ... noise and people. I'm not used to it. It was quiet, in the summer." He bit his lip.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Hermione. I'll back off, if that's what you want."

"It's not --" Hermione reddened. "You just sound so insincere."

"I do?" Harry wondered if he really did. "How?"

"I can't explain it, just ... it was contrived."

"No." Harry shook his head. "That was just what I wanted to do."

Ron cleared his throat. "Before this goes any further...."

"Yes?" Harry challenged.

"Where did you get that ring?" Ron pointed. "Dean thinks it's from a girl, and if it is...."

Harry stared at him for a moment. A girl? Oh, he means.... Has one of them been warning her off me? Dean, perhaps, or Ginny? He managed not to snigger. "Oh, it is," he said innocently.

Hermione flinched. Ron's mouth dropped open. Harry laughed.

"Well, not directly. But it was my mother's. Professor Dumbledore found it, and asked if I'd like to have it." Harry smiled. "I doubt I'll have any use for an engagement ring for quite a while, so I decided just to wear it, in the meantime. I'm told it matches my eyes." Harry looked down. "Which makes sense," he said more quietly, "as it was meant to match hers."

"Oh," Hermione said.

"Don't tell me you've all been fretting about that!"

"Well, not just that," Ron said. "I mean, you've been a bit odd, this year. Rather tetchy, and a bit ... overly wizardly? I mean, if that makes sense. Old blood, I suppose. Neville thinks it's getting away from the Muggles, but your new robes seem a bit much for just hanging out here, by yourself, and ...."

"Oh!" Harry realized he was blushing, and decided that wasn't bad. "Er ... I went shopping with Remus."

"And?"

"Yes, well.... Apparently, he used to do this for James. I mean, James had more money than taste, and Remus more taste than money, so Remus would buy his clothes and enjoy having an unlimited budget."

Hermione was giggling. Harry liked that.

"So yes, those robes. Snape looked at the red ones and told me I could visit Malfoy Manor in those, if I wasn't me."

Even Ron laughed at that.

"Where did you wear them?"

"Oh, just to dinner."

"And the green ones? Why green?"

"Remus says they show off my eyes."

"Ooo, la!" Ron said. "Perhaps you should keep an eye on Professor Lupin, Hermione. I mean, we shouldn't go leaving Harry alone with him."

"Don't joke," Harry said fiercely. "Remus wouldn't do that."

"Well I shouldn't think so!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Good. I don't want anything of the sort getting talked around. He has problems enough with being a werewolf, and it won't be funny if someone takes it seriously."

"Won't mention it again," Ron promised, wide-eyed.

"Thanks. Sorry about ... being tetchy." Harry rubbed his forehead. "I had a strange summer. All ready for Quidditch tryouts, tomorrow?"