Despite his pleas and assurances to Madam Pomfrey, Harry's body turned out to be far less fit than he'd claimed it to be, after two months of total inactivity. With Ron and Hermione carrying the small bag of his things from the hospital wing, he managed to walk slowly with them to Gryffindor Tower. But by the time they went through the portrait, Harry was growing worried that he wouldn't make it up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory, and his friends were looking at him with concern.

"Harry, you're sure you're ready to start classes?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he panted, leaning against the wall. "Just a little out of shape."

"You look ragged, mate," said Ron. "Sit down first before we go up. Everyone's going to swamp you in a minute anyway."

Sure enough, Katie Bell glanced their way a moment later and let out a shriek louder than the one she'd uttered when Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. "HARRY!"

Harry barely had time to fall into an armchair before he wound up in the center of a squealing, shrieking, yelling, whooping, (and in some cases, sobbing) mob of Gryffindors.

"Oh, Harry, thank heavens you're all right—"

"You're okay, then, Harry?"

"Madam Pomfrey let you OUT!"

"Is it true Snape rescued you?"

"Did You-Know-Who hurt you?"

"Where've you been?"

"What happened!"

"I heard they poisoned you—"

"OY!" Ron bellowed, bringing the ruckus to a stop better than Hermione's pleadings at them to give Harry some space. "He just got out of the clutches of Lord Voldemort—" (nearly everyone shivered) "—so let's not smother him now, eh?"

With collective muttered apologies, the entire population of Gryffindor House stepped back as one. However, they still hovered anxiously around Harry. "All right, Potter," growled Seamus Finnegan's voice from somewhere by the fireplace. "Spill it!"

Harry blinked at them and looked over at Ron and Hermione, who shrugged helplessly. He took a deep breath, and finally said, "Well, I'm back."

"Harry! Wake up, you're going to miss breakfast!"

Harry was jolted out of a deep sleep with vague, unpleasant dreams. His eyes felt scratchy and his whole body felt heavy. "Ron?" He rubbed his eyes furiously. "Why didn't you poke me?" he mumbled, realizing he'd overslept.

"I did," said Ron, looking miffed. "You fell asleep again." He sat down on the edge of the bed as Harry went fumbling for his clothes and glasses. "You all right, mate?"

"I'm fine," said Harry, stumbling to the bathroom. "Just tired. You go down without me."

"No rush."

By the time Harry had splashed some nearly-scalding water on his face to wake up, gotten himself dressed, and come back to the boys' dormitory, Hermione was there waiting with Ron. "Should one of us hold your bag for you?" Hermione offered.

"I can do it myself!" Harry snapped, and she flinched. He sighed irritably. "Sorry. I'll just never get back into shape if I don't try."

"But you don't want to wind up back in the hospital wing either," said Hermione. "I read about the aftereffects of that Draught—if you relapse, you could be sick for days."

Harry compromised by putting a Shrinking Charm on his bag and carrying it in his pocket. It was a relief, because just picking up the books one at a time had made his arms shake. "Right. Let's go, then."

They trooped out of the dormitory; Harry was forced to take it frustratingly slow on the stairs. "We may have to eat quickly at breakfast," said Hermione.

Ron shrugged, "Don't think it'll be too great a problem. And even if we're late for DADA, I doubt Harry'll get into trouble today."

Harry thought of another detail that hadn't occurred to him until now. "By the way, who's teaching Defense this year?"

Ron and Hermione paused on the stairs to look at him in surprise, then exchanged amused glances. "Blimey, I guess we forgot," Ron chuckled.

"Well, who is it?" Harry repeated, baffled by their expressions.

Grinning sweetly, Hermione skipped a few stairs ahead of them. "Oh, you can wait and see."

The Great Hall went very quiet as Ron and Hermione came in with Harry in tow. "This will be good," Ron muttered at him as he followed them to the Gryffindor table.

"Harry!" a voice finally cried, and that set off a great stampede of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, with Ginny Weasley at the forefront.

Harry managed not to get knocked over as they mobbed around him, and demanded to Ginny, "Where've you been?"

She laughed, "Oh, I was in the Common Room last night, but you were surrounded, so I didn't want to bother you."

"You never bother me," he replied easily, and gave her a hug. "How have you been?"

Ginny heaved a sigh. "Same as everybody else: a complete wreck. But better, now that you're back." Harry was startled by how much older she looked; she'd grown quite a bit and was now almost Hermione's height. And in her face were the same shadows of recent and prolonged grief and worry that he'd seen on so many of his friends. In his memory, it hadn't been that long since she, with him, had faced off with some of Voldemort's nastiest Death Eaters. What innocence she'd still had after Tom Riddle finished with her was now long gone.

Ginny back away to let Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott say hello to Harry, then suddenly stood on her toes and mouthed something at him, her eyes wide in warning. Harry blinked, but before he could call her back to get her message, he spotted what she'd seen: Cho Chang pushing past the Creevy brothers. Oh…right. He mustered a smile and waited for her to approach.

"Er…hi, Harry," said Cho, and it relieved him a little to see that she was as nervous as he was.

"Hi, Cho," he replied awkwardly. She didn't look quite so desperately sad as she had fifth year, but she didn't look happy again either. "Ah…how are you?"

"I'm all right," she said. "Just wanted to…tell you how glad I am that you're…safe. We've all been so worried."

"Thanks," he said. She gave him a little smile and shuffled away through the crowd, then Harry was distracted by getting pounced on by Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot of Ravenclaw.

By the time he finally managed to sit down, breakfast was nearly over. "Shouldn't you eat a little more?" said Hermione as he nibbled some toast.

"Not very hungry," he replied.

"You're going to need your energy," she persisted. "Just have some…"

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "Don't nag the man!"

"I'm just—"

"I'm fine!" Harry snapped.

With a scowl, she returned to her eggs and muttered, "Then don't complain if you faint in the middle of Defense."

Before Harry could retort, a voice said behind them, "Don't worry, he won't be participating in any demonstrations today."

Ron and Hermione both grinned broadly. Harry turned in surprise. "Rem—Professor Lupin!"

And so Harry discovered that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was…not so new at all! Once-again-Professor Lupin walked to the front of the D.A.D.A. classroom to thunderous applause from nearly all of the sixth year N.E.W.T. Defense class. Realizing that they had no less than three classes with Remus this year made Harry the happiest he'd felt in a very long time.

And the rest of the students were just as happy to see Professor Lupin as Harry was—well, not quite, perhaps, but they were thrilled. "Finally!" cried Dean Thomas, flinging out his arms as if ready to embrace Lupin. "We haven't had a decent D.A.D.A. Professor since you left!"

"What about Moody?" protested Lavender Brown.

Harry grinned, "He was all right, if you discount the fact that he was working for Voldemort!" About half of the class, now comprised of students from all four houses, flinched.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," muttered Hermione. "When will people get over that silly stigma?"

"Silly stigma!" exclaimed Terry Boot. "We're talking about You-Know-Who—"

"Actually," said Professor Lupin loudly over the brewing storm of an argument. "Hermione is correct. We are talking about Lord Voldemort." He smiled as several of them shivered. "As it happens, one of the items on this year's N.E.W.T. Defense curriculum is psychological preparation. Can anyone take a guess as to what that's about? Yes, Hermione?"

"Preparing ourselves psychologically means learning to not let our emotions—such as fear or anger—get in the way of our ability to defend ourselves against dark magic."

"Precisely. Five points to Gryffindor. And while we're on the subject, can anyone tell me what the speaking of Lord Voldemort's name has to do with this—someone else this time, forgive me, Hermione."

The class tittered. Lupin smiled, and Hermione blushed, but she didn't look too terribly put-out. Harry and Ron pondered raising their hands, then decided against it. At length, Neville slowly raised his hand. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the bearer?"

"Warm, Mr. Longbottom, definitely warm," said Lupin, rubbing his hands together briskly. "And how would that be detrimental to our ability to defend ourselves against a dark wizard if we ever ran across him? For another five points."

Neville chewed on his lip. "Because fear…makes it hard to think straight. And if you can't think…you can't really fight."

"Excellent, Neville, another five points to Gryffindor." The Gryffindors beamed at Neville. Professor Lupin nodded and went to the chalkboard. "Now, as a preliminary assignment, we are going to deal with this particular fear, by facing it head-on. Therefore…one of the primary rules of this class, Advanced General Defense Against the Dark Arts, is this: we shall refer to all sources of dark magic, be it a dark creature, a curse, or a dark wizard, by it's proper…name," he said as he wrote out VOLDEMORT on the board.

Turning back to them, he smiled knowingly at the expressions of horror on some of the students' faces. "Now, I am aware that this will take some getting used to. Therefore, this first week, we'll consider it practice. Whenever you are in this classroom, you will defend yourself against fear of Lord Voldemort—" he took note of those who jumped, "by using his name, and not 'You-Know-Who.' Beginning next week, just to add a little incentive, it will be a point off the house of anyone caught referring to Lord Voldemort with anything other than his name. The following week, five points, and so on. You cannot overcome or even confront your fears face-to-face without first doing so in your mind," he said firmly over the rebellious murmurs. "And among other things, this class is going to teach you to do just that."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione smiled broadly at each other. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad year after all.

At the end of class, all three of them lingered—although getting to talk to Remus turned out to be a little easier said than done, because a good number of their classmates wanted to pause at his desk and tell him how glad they were to have him back. Grinning even more broadly, Harry, Hermione, and Ron hung back and watched as Remus's normally-careworn expression took on a glow of pleased confidence. "D'you suppose he realized how much we missed him?" sighed Hermione. "At least this year we're going to learn Defense the proper way."

As Lavender and Parvati filtered out the door with Mandy Brocklehurst and Stephen Cornfoot of Ravenclaw after adding their welcomes to the group, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way up. Remus broke into a wide smile and stood up to shake each of their hands. "Ah, Harry, Ron, Hermione, it's wonderful to see you back in class. And I'm quite grateful for the votes of confidence."

"Obviously we're not the only ones," said Ron, jerking his head at the door where Remus's supporters had just departed. "It's good to have you back. We could really use a competent teacher."

"That's just how Professor Dumbledore put it," laughed Remus, shaking his head. "Apparently, now everyone's so worried about Voldemort that a little old werewolf teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts doesn't seem so threatening. That and the fact that I was the only candidate this year. It's true!" he grinned as they all stared in astonishment. "Well, all right, I take that back; I suppose you did have one other viable candidate in the oh-so-deeply-missed Dolores Umbridge, who is apparently desperate for work—" then he laughed harder than ever at their expressions of horror. "I'm only teasing; don't panic."

Harry sighed. "It doesn't really matter why, I guess, as long as you're here."

Remus's brown eyes turned solemn, and he said, "I'm not going anywhere, Harry, never fear."

As Harry felt a hard lump take over his throat, Ron and Hermione came to his rescue. "We've got Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon. Is Hagrid back yet? He wasn't at breakfast."

"He's been getting his assorted magical creatures ready," said Lupin. "It's his first advanced class; he's very excited." Then he frowned. "Though I wonder if you ought to be walking all the way down there, Harry."

Harry groaned, but Ron sniggered. "I could give you a pig-a-back ride!" The resulting mental image set them all laughing.

"I haven't had a chance to see Hagrid yet," Harry said to Lupin. "He'd feel better if I made it to his class on the first day."

Lupin shook his head. "If Madam Pomfrey's released you, there's nothing I can do but caution you to take it easy. Living Death is a powerful potion, and it's not possible that you're fully recovered. You look peaky even now."

Harry sighed, but nodded. "I promise, no riding hippogriffs or wrestling cave trolls for at least a week."

"That's all I ask," said Lupin with a perfectly straight face, then they all laughed again. "Now be off with you and eat a good lunch before that class!"

"I keep telling him!" Hermione complained as they went out the door.

"Oh, Harry?" Lupin beckoned him back to the desk while Ron and Hermione hovered in the doorway. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and drew him close. "Just so you know," he said softly. "No matter what…if you need to talk anytime, anytime at all, come to my office."

Despite his insistence to friends and teachers that he would be fine, by lunchtime, Harry was beginning to feel dragged out, and that heavy sensation was returning to his bones. He thought about skipping lunch and slipping up to the dormitory for a nap, but decided to go to the Great Hall in the hope of seeing Hagrid.

Unfortunately, not only was Hagrid not in the Great Hall, but as usual, Ron and Hermione noticed Harry dragging his feet. "I don't think you should go to class this afternoon," said Hermione. "You look completely exhausted."

"I'll make it," Harry muttered, shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth. He still wasn't hungry, but he hoped it would perk him up.

Ron checked his watch. "We've got break for an hour before class. Maybe you should go back to the Tower and lie down for a bit."

"Suppose I could," Harry said, though the thought of walking all the way back to the Tower made him want to groan. He forced down a little more food, but he had his head propped on his hand to keep himself somewhat upright. And there was the danger of a teacher noticing, and him being hauled back to the hospital wing. Just get through classes, he told himself. Then you can skip the evening study session and go to bed early.

But there was still the question of getting back to the dormitory. In his state, it would take twenty minutes just to get there, and that wouldn't leave much time for a nap. So Harry decided he'd find himself a quiet spot in the library and just put his head down—as long as Madam Pince didn't catch him. Yawning, he got up. "I'll meet you out front when it's time to go," he told Ron and Hermione.

He walked to the library, but found it rather busy with students looking up books for early semester essays. Frustrated, he wandered around until he stumbled (literally) into Ginny, who was reading about Vanishing Charms for O.W.L.s. "Hi, Harry!" she said in surprise, and moved her books aside at the table. "Do you need some room to work?"

Glancing around, he admitted sheepishly, "Sleep is more like it. I wanted to put my head down for a bit before class. The Tower's a long way to walk."

Ginny's eyes widened in concern. "Are you all right?" she asked in a way that immediately raised his hackles.

Don't be cross, don't be cross, she's just being nice! He forced himself to nod. "Madam Pomfrey said I'd get tired easily the first few days. It'll pass."

With a grin, she cleared off the table. "I'll stand guard then in case Madam Pince turns up."

"Thanks!" he said with feeling, and they both chuckled. Neither had forgotten how much trouble they'd been in when Madam Pince had caught them eating Easter Eggs in the library last year.

Ginny scooted her chair around so she could see if anyone came into their section, and motioned him to his, so Harry gratefully set his bag down and put his head in his arms. Within seconds, he was dead to the world.

The red light of Bellatrix Lestrange's curse hit Sirius right in the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

Harry released Neville, though he was unsure of what he was doing. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…

And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as if in a high wind then fell back into place…

"Harry? Harry, the bell just rang." Someone was gently shaking his shoulder.

Harry jerked his head up, his stomach churning, his hands trembling, and a cry still rising in his throat. He stifled it and blinked at a startled Ginny. "Oh…class. Right. Thanks."

His throat was painfully tight. Now this was all too much like that moment last Easter, when he'd wanted nothing more than to talk to Sirius… "Harry? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," he gasped, gulping in deep breaths. "Just…bad dream." Her eyes softened with understanding, and she moved toward him, but he stepped away. Hugs from Weasleys seemed to break him down faster than anything these days, and he didn't want that to happen. He mustered a smile to avoid hurting her feelings, and she nodded and patted his shoulder instead. "I've got to meet Ron and Hermione. We have Hagrid this afternoon."

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed heartily, glad to change the subject. "He'll be delighted to see you. Just don't wear yourself out."

"I'll do my best," he chuckled, and waved at her as he hurried out of the library.

When Harry met Ron and Hermione at the front entrance, they were pleased to find him more alert (if still yawning quite a bit.) However, it was all Harry could do to keep up his appearance of fitness, because the walk down to Hagrid's hut took longer than he ever remembered it taking, and by the time they got there, he was winded.

"Oy! Harry! You okay?" asked Michael Corner, noticing Harry leaning slightly on Ron when they arrived.

Harry debated between ignoring the mutterings or telling them all off. He decided on neither. "Yeah," he laughed, making a joke of it. "Just a little out of shape." It worked; Michael and the other staring sixth years grinned.

All, that is, except Draco and his entourage. "Look at it. The great Boy-Who-Lived can't even walk without someone carrying his bags for him."

Ron dropped Harry's arm and his bag, but Harry pulled out his wand. "A little out of shape, but as you found out Saturday night, I can still hex you in my sleep!" His hand holding the wand, he was relieved to see, was quite steady.

Malfoy scowled, but didn't try to go for his own wand, and Hermione said sweetly, "Oh, don't feel bad, Draco. For the first time in your life, there's something you can beat Harry at—even if it's only a footrace."

Dean and Seamus let out great snorts of laughter, and Parvati and Padma Patil began giggling loudly. "What happened Saturday night?" asked Neville.

"Malfoy tried to pay a little visit," said Harry with a shrug, sitting down on a tree stump. "Had to hex him before he was convinced I didn't want good wishes in the middle of the night."

"Good wishes, my—" Ron muttered something that made Hermione swat him, then Hagrid's door flew open.

"Harry! I didn't think yeh'd make it!"

"Here I am," Harry laughed as the half-giant ignored the rest of the class and ran down to throw his arms around him. "Wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Hagrid blushed, "Nice of yeh, so soon after…anyway. Welcome, everyone, ter Advanced Care o' Magical Creatures! We're dealin' with some pretty wild beasts this year, so I 'ope yer all ready!"

"Blimey, what's his idea of 'wild?'" Ron muttered.

"Righ'. Follow me, then! Oh…" Hagrid frowned. "Harry, 't's a bit of a walk. Yeh migh' need a lift."

Harry felt blood rush to his face and heard his classmates' laughter (loudest from Malfoy) at the thought of Hagrid carrying him off to wherever they were holding their lesson today. "Er…no, thanks, I'll be fine."

"Sure?" Hagrid shrugged. "Well, we'll take it slow. Foller me then, all o' yeh!"

Though Hagrid did lead them slowly along, talking about the winged horse that he'd kept tethered to this tree or the Kneazles he'd raised in that pen, Harry was hard-pressed to keep up. He forced a cheerful smile, pretending he didn't mind having to lean against trees (or Ron) every few moments or the thin sheen of sweat on his face and his shortness of breath. "Bloody hell, Potter's turned into an even bigger weakling than Longbottom!" Malfoy whispered loudly to Blaise Zabini.

"Sure you don't want a lift, Harry?" Ron asked. "I'll carry you on my back so you'll have your wand hand free to hex Malfoy!" Walking in a protective knot around them, the sixth year D.A. members sniggered.

Harry grinned. "I'd be too heavy for you."

"Oh, go on, try it!" giggled Neville.

"It'd be rather fun to see Malfoy's face," Hermione said slyly.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then Harry handed his bag to a helplessly giggling Dean. Ron crouched. "One, two, three—whoooaa!" he staggered crazily when Harry jumped onto his back. The D.A. dissolved into laughter as they managed to get upright, but tottered around like a top-heavy suit of armor.

Hagrid looked back at them and grinned. "Got that lift after all, Harry?"

"Such as it is!" Harry yelped as Ron nearly careened them into a tree. "Come on, I can't weigh that much!"

"No, but you've got a hand over my face!"

"Oh, sorry." Harry moved his hand away, and Ron finally got his bearings and began galloping along like a horse, causing shrieks of laughter. From all the bouncing and laughing, Harry himself could barely breathe, and somehow he doubted that this was making him use up any less energy—but it was lots more fun. "Onward!"

"You look like a chess knight!" yelled Dean.

"Get your wand ready, Harry! Knight to Black King!" Ron cried gleefully, and bore down on Malfoy. "Charging!"

At Malfoy's flabbergasted expression at the suddenly-eight-foot-tall Harry-Ron creature bearing down on him, Harry laughed so hard he could barely point his wand to deliver a Leg-Locker curse. The few Slytherins in the class shouted in outrage and went for their wands, but they were vastly outnumbered by D.A. members.

"All righ', all righ', enough o' that!" said Hagrid, who had been watching with amusement for several minutes. "Pipe down, pipe down. Blimey, Harry, yer almost as tall as me now! Back to the ground with yeh." Giggling helplessly, Harry managed to get off Ron's back without crashing them both into the dirt. "Have a seat. All of yeh have a seat. Stay well back there."

Settled on a patch of grass, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged apprehensive looks. "Anyone care to place a wager?" muttered Ron.

"I don't," whispered Harry. "We could each bet on the worst thing we could think of and he'll come up with something worse." They all sat up and paid attention as Hagrid started his lecture.

"Now, this class bein' advanced and all, I figure yeh ought ter be learnin' 'bout controllin' and protectin' yerself from dangerous creatures, not the nice fluffy little things I've been showin' you in past years." Even Hermione couldn't quite hide her expression of disbelief. Hagrid ignored their gapes and continued, "Now, I got me permission from the Headmaster, so don't go complainin' that this is too hard. If yeh think so, yeh can always drop the class." He smiled at them. "But so long as yeh follow me directions, yeh should do fine."

"Bloody…hell…" Ron muttered.

With that ominous-but-cheerful warning, Hagrid said, "Now, I'll be right back," and vanished into the woods, giving them all just enough time to start really worrying.

"Maybe he finally got a dragon," said Hermione.

"Dragon eggs?" suggested Harry. "For each of us to raise?"

Ron frowned. "You'd think I'd have heard from Charlie if that were it."

"Maybe it's a basilisk," said Hermione dryly.

"Don't even joke about that," said Harry. "Then I would drop this class."

"One enough for you, eh, mate?" Ron jibed.

"More than enough." Harry yawned. "Whatever it is, it better be interesting—and noisy—or else I'm going to get sleepy again."

"Blimey, at this rate I'm going to be piggy-backing you all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, aren't I?"

"Sod off," said Harry cheerfully, and leaned against the bole of a tree, closing his eyes. It was very pleasant. If Hagrid doesn't get back soon, I might really—

A tree-shaking roar and a sound like a blowtorch brought him bolt upright, wide awake, and scrambling to his feet, along with everyone else. The sixth years all huddled in a knot of anticipatory alarm as something came crashing back through the trees. "Think you were right, Ron," said Dean. "About the dragon."

Hermione squinted through the heavy undergrowth, then her jaw dropped. "Oh, Merlin's beard," she muttered.

"Hermione? Translation, please?" said Ron's shaky voice behind Harry.

"Er…well, you were partly right, Ron," Hermione said. "In fact, you were…one-third right."

"What!"

A blast of fire set some tree branches ablaze, but Hermione threw a dousing spell at it while hastily backing up. Out of the trees on a heavy chain leash led by Hagrid came one of the strangest, most intimidating-looking creatures Harry had ever seen. At first, he couldn't see what Hermione was referring to. Although it did breathe fire, it looked nothing like a dragon. In fact, its head was that of a lion. Its forelegs and middle body, down to the front hooves, were like a…a deer's? A goat's? And its hindquarters and tail…oh, that was what Hermione had meant.

Its rear end was most definitely that of a dragon.

"Stand back there, stand back!" Hagrid warned, pulling hard on the leash as the creature made to prowl around the clearing they were in. The students did not need to be told twice. "Now. Anyone care to guess what this is?"

No one raised their hand. Merely a class full of horrified, open-mouthed gazes stared back at Hagrid. "You don't even know!" Ron hissed to Hermione in astonishment.

"Oh, I know," Hermione murmured, leaning away from the thing. "I'm just hoping I'll wake up."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, of all people, yeh oughtta know!" said Hagrid.

Swallowing convulsively, Hermione spoke very softly as if trying to keep from attracting the creature's attention. "It's a Chimaera."

"A what!" exclaimed half the class.

"Speak up, there, Hermione!"

"A Chimaera!" she repeated louder, and everyone flinched as the creature turned its lion's head toward them.

"Right yeh are, Hermione. Spectacular, isn't she?" Hagrid nodded at the Chimaera with obvious appreciation. "Devilish hard to get eggs, but I got lucky at last with this beauty! Already grown, but needed a home."

"I won't ask what happened to her previous home," said Hermione faintly.

Hagrid wrapped the chain around a tree and tossed the Chimaera a whole dead sheep, which he'd been carrying over his shoulder. Harry had been thinking that a body like that must make it awkward for the Chimaera to move fast—but watching it leap upon the carcass and tear the thing to shreds in seconds, he realized he was mistaken. "So, Hagrid," said Parvati, trying not to look at it. "What exactly are we going to learn to do with this thing?"

"Same thing I just showed yeh—to keep it, feed it, move it—without getting' yerselves killed!" Hagrid looked very pleased with himself, and their horrified reactions. "Count yerselves lucky. I hear Lord You-Know-Who's got himself a cockatrice." Hermione let out a squeak of dismay. "Coulda found meself one o' them, with a little work, but the Chimaera's more readily available."

"Hope you mean relatively-speaking," Harry said.

"Well, yeh. Now. Hermione. Care ter assist me with a short demonstration?" Hermione's jaw dropped and she looked frantically at the rest of the class. "Sorry, woulda picked someone else, but yer the only one who knew what she was."

Predictably, curiosity got the better of Hermione. "How do you know it's a she? The lion's head has a mane."

"Good thinkin', five points ter Gryffindor!" said Hagrid, and the Gryffindors exchanged gleeful glances. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a nightmare after all. "All Chimaeras have a mane, but yeh can tell females from males by their tails. Same as dragons—females have a barbed tail fer fightin' enemies away from their nests. Come on, now, Hermione, don't be shy."

"W-what do I do?"

"Jes' come 'ere, I won' let 'er hurt yeh! Now. I guess yeh know the legend?"

"Bellerophon? Yes. He attacked the Chimaera with Pegasus and killed it."

"Right. But what the legends don't always tell is Chimaeras got a blind spot. They can't look directly behind 'emselves 'cause of their goat shoulders." Hagrid beckoned Hermione closer. "Now this one knows me, so she's gonna want ter keep 'er eyes on you. All yeh've gotta do is keep directly behind 'er."

Hermione was eyeing the barbed tail. "What about that?"

"'Nother good question. Gotta keep outta the tail's range. Don' worry." Hagrid said, untying the chain from the tree. "I'll keep a good grip on 'er. Ready?"

"Er…"

"Right! Behind 'er now!" Hagrid trotted the growling, protesting Chimaera into the clearing; Harry and the others scurried to what they hoped was a safe distance.

The Chimaera, as Hagrid had predicted, immediately set her eyes on Hermione, who scampered directly behind the creature. "Careful!" Ron yelled as the Chimaera went berserk, pulling against Hagrid's leash and trying to look over her shoulders to see where the stranger was.

Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers, but she kept her wits—as Harry and Ron knew she would—and by the dint of much scrambling, managed to stay in the Chimaera's blind spot. On the other hand, that made the Chimaera more agitated, and Hermione was sweaty-faced and panting by the time Hagrid called a halt.

"Well done, Hermione, well done! Ten points fer Gryffindor!" he said as he tied the Chimaera back up again.

Malfoy muttered something about "bias," but Harry ignored him. Watching Hermione's little Chimaera dance had made him dizzy. He patted her shoulder as she rejoined the class, keeping his other hand on the tree next to him. The rest of the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs were applauding enthusiastically as Hagrid led the Chimaera away.

"What's her name, Hagrid?" asked Neville when he returned.

"I don' rightly know, Neville," said Hagrid. "Only got 'er last night. Any ideas?"

"Hellfire!" suggested Dean.

"Hera!"

"Brunhilda!"

"Fluffy!"

"Already got a Fluffy, sorry, Seamus," said Hagrid. "Fer homework, everyone's ter write down the proper way to approach a Chimaera—not just avoid 'er like Hermione, but to approach—an' suggest a name! Best one gets twenty House points!"

"He's getting good at this," whispered Ron.

As Hagrid dismissed the class, he noticed Harry leaning heavily against the tree. "Be along with yeh, Malfoy! And yer friends! Shoo! All right there, Harry?" he asked, coming toward him.

Harry wished he could manage to stand up straight, but every time he tried to move away from the tree, he swayed in the other direction. "Just a little light-headed."

"Hmm. Why don' yeh come sit down fer a bit before headin' back. It's a bit warm out here," said Hagrid, offering a supporting hand.

Harry felt rather cross, wishing Ron and Hermione weren't hovering over him as if he might shatter like glass, but admitted to himself he wouldn't get far on his own. He heaved a sigh, getting a swat from Hermione, and said, "Thanks," and let Hagrid lead them to his cabin.

The walk tired him. A lot. By the time they went up the steps and inside, Harry was shaking slightly with weariness. "Harry, you don't look well at all," said Hermione quietly as Hagrid ushered him over to what probably served the half-giant as a loveseat, but for Harry was more than long enough to lie down on.

"Don't feel so well," he admitted, and dropped his head onto the arm of the small sofa, pulling up his feet.

Hagrid was watching him with an uncharacteristically solemn expression as he brought over a glass of water. Harry sipped it gratefully. "Think maybe I should call Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Yeh may 'ave overdone it today."

"No," Harry said quickly, gulping another mouthful of water. "Really, Hagrid, Hermione, I'll be fine. I just need to lie down for a minute."

Ron was standing by the door, biting his lip, but suddenly glanced at the window and yelled, "Hey! Malfoy!"

"Oh, fer the love of…" Hagrid stalked to the door. "I told the three o' yeh ter get back! Ten points from Slytherin! Go on, off with yeh!" That was enough to give Harry, Ron, and Hermione a brief pause; even when Malfoy's lot were at their worst, Hagrid seldom dealt out real discipline.

Ron was helping Harry out of his robe, and Hermione methodically removing his House tie and loosening his shirt collar when Hagrid came back with a damp cloth. "Just about had my fill o' that lot," he growled at them. "After what that Lucius character did ter Harry…" he shook his head and began bathing the sweat off Harry's face. Harry's ill mood was rapidly draining away—along with most of his interest in what was happening. He was simply too tired. "I can sit with him if the two o' yeh need ter get back fer anythin'," Hagrid told Ron and Hermione as Harry laid his head on the sofa cushions.

"Is it all right if we stay?" asked Ron immediately.

Hagrid grinned at them. "Sure, it is. Pull up a chair. You go on an' sleep, Harry. Yeh need it."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry mumbled, and let his eyes drift closed.

"Harry? Can yeh hear me? Can yeh open yer eyes?" A worried, vaguely-familiar voice penetrated Harry's dark dreams, dragging him unwillingly out of an incredibly deep, heavy sleep. The place he was waking up to was not nearly so pleasant; he felt cold, damp, and weak. Shivering, he tried to sink back into the darkness. "Blimey," muttered the voice. "I can't wake him."

"Let me see, Hagrid," said another voice, and a cool hand touched Harry's forehead.

"He feels warm ter me."

"He's burning up. We need to get him to the hospital wing right now."

"Madam Pomfrey's going to kill him! Go ahead and say you told us so, Hermione."

"Oh, shut it, Ron! I've no intention of saying any such thing!"

"Enough o' that, you two! I gotta fetch Madam Pomfrey. Yeh'll stay with him?"

"Of course. Hurry, Hagrid."

"Righ'. I'll be back!"

Harry's whole body was achy and weak. He badly wanted to go back to sleep, but the voices refused to be quiet, and now someone was sponging his face with a wet cloth. "Come on, Harry, open your eyes!"

This reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what. All he knew was it scared him. "No…" he moaned and flinched away. He didn't want anything strange-tasting in his mouth. He remembered that, and that he didn't want it.

"Shh, it's okay, Harry. Everything will be okay. Ron, fetch his cloak. He's shivering."

"Is that a good idea with him so hot?"

A warm layer of dry cloth was laid over Harry, but he still shivered. "I don't know if it's helping. Ohhh…why couldn't Snape have got him out sooner!"

"Never heard you talk about a teacher like that. You were the one telling Harry—"

"I know, I know. It's just…right now…seeing him like this…I'm mad at Snape for not rescuing him sooner, at the Aurors for not stopping him from getting kidnapped, at Sirius for dying right when—"

The sound of that one name reached through the fog of fever like a bright, hot light that burned Harry, and he flinched. "Oh! Harry, Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't know you…Harry?"

"I think it was just hearing the name. He doesn't seem to know us."

A hand stroked back his sweat-soaked hair. A very quiet voice murmured, "And I'm angriest of all at Dumbledore for letting all this happen in the first place."

"Blimey. I've never heard you talk like that before."

"Now you have. I'm angry at everyone. He shouldn't have to go through this, Ron. It's not fair. Aren't you angry?"

There was a long silence.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. But I'm angry at me."

"You?"

"Yeah. For not doing more. I feel like I haven't done him any good."

"Oh, Ron—"

There was a loud thunk then more voices came into the room. "Oh, honestly, Mr. Potter, I am never letting you out of my sight again!"

Harry cringed; the voice reminded him of someone, and the memory definitely wasn't pleasant, but one of the first voices said, "Madam Pomfrey, please, he's del—"

A hand touched his forehead again, then his cheeks and neck. "Calm down, Miss Granger, I won't eat him. He needs to be brought back to the hospital wing immediately."

"'Ere, I'll carry him."

The next thing Harry knew, he was being swept into a pair of huge, burly arms and cradled against a massive chest. He moaned and struggled weakly. "It's okay, Harry! It's just Hagrid. Let him take you."

For a few moments, Harry fought the arms holding him; he couldn't distinguish that moment from yet another distressing memory. But once the strength to struggle left him, it reached his groggy, confused mind that this situation was different. He was being moved gently, not bounced and wrenched like before, rather like floating this time on the supporting arms. And they were holding him close, gently, so that he didn't fear he would fall. "It's all right, Harry. I've got yeh. Just relax."

So he did, with his head propped upon a big shoulder with a bushy beard tickling his face, and slept again.