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⚡︎
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟏𝟑
ɪᴛ's ᴀʟʟ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴜᴄᴋ

"Cᴏᴜɢʜ ᴜᴘ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ,
ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ɢᴏʟᴅ
ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ . . ."

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, Harry was once again stricken with dream of long corridors, empty hallways and locked doors. He awoke with a start once more, his forehead prickling with pain. Nothing that he wasn't used to of course. It took him hours to fall asleep once more, the silence of the dormitory sounding ever so loud to him.

In the morning, he hurriedly got dressed for the day, already not looking forward to it. Hermione and Tasmin had made no mention of Harry giving Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks after their original suggestion. Harry's detentions with Umbridge were finally over (he doubted whether the words now etched on the back of his hand would ever fade entirely); Ron had, had four more Quidditch practices and not been shouted at during the last two; and all four of them had managed to vanish their mice in Transfiguration (Hermione and Tasmin unsurprisingly had actually progressed to vanishing kittens), before the subject was broached again, on a wild, blustery evening at the end of September, when the four of them were sitting in the library, looking up potion ingredients for Snape.

"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, "whether you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"'Course I have," said Harry grumpily. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us —"

"— I meant the idea Ron, Tasmin and I had." — Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look; she frowned at him — "oh, all right, the idea us two had, then — about you teaching us." Hermione continued, referring to Herself and Tasmin. Harry did not answer at once. He pretended to be perusing a page of Asiatic Anti - Venoms, because he did not want to say what was in his mind.

The fact was that he had given the matter a great deal of thought over the past fortnight. Sometimes it seemed an insane idea, just as it had on the night Hermione and Tasmin had proposed it, but at others, he had found himself thinking about the spells that had served him best in his various encounters with Dark creatures and Death Eaters — found himself, in fact, subconsciously planning lessons. . . .

"Well," he said slowly, when he could not pretend to find Asiatic anti - venoms interesting much longer, "yeah, I — I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" asked Tasmin rather eagerly.

"I dunno," said Harry, playing for time. Tasmin deflated at the boy's response. Harry sent the girl an almost apologetic look. He didn't want to get her hopes up, He then looked up at Ron.

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," added Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure that Harry was not going to start shouting again.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?" Harry questioned sharply.

"Yes, Harry," said Hermione gently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full - grown wizards can't, Viktor always said —"

Ron looked around at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck; rubbing it, he said, "— Yeah? What did Vicky say?"

"Ha Ha," said Hermione in a bored voice. "He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang."

Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously.

"You're not still in contact with him, are you?"

"So what if I am?" asked Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. "I can have a pen pal if I —"

"— He didn't only want to be your pen pal," said Ron accusingly.

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, "Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?"

"Just you, Tasmin and Ron, yeah?"

At that, Hermione fell silent. A slight pink blush forming on her face once more. She then turned to Tasmin who decided to speak up.

"Well," she began, " . . . now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please. . . . But we really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against You - Know - Who — oh, don't be pathetic, Ron," she huffed once she saw the not too happy look on her friend's face. "— it doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

Harry considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you three would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Tasmin rather seriously. "Look," she leaned toward him; Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forward to listen too, as well as Hermione, "you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.

"Because," replied Hermione, speaking up for the first time in a while and returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to, do you?"

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 been rather looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying that they did not want him to come — but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. What were they going to do if the great black dog came bounding up the street toward them in Hogsmeade, perhaps under the nose of Draco Malfoy?

"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears with him, Tasmin and Hermione. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that lunatic house elf of his."

Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.

"The trouble is," she said to Harry, "until V - Voldemort — oh for heaven's sake, you two — comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one . . . I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."

"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up," said Ron bracingly. "Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."

When Harry continued to look worried, Tasmin said, "Listen, Ron, Hermione and I have been sounding out people who we really believe might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade today."

"Right," said Harry vaguely, his mind still on Sirius.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "You've got enough on your plate without having to worry about Sirius too."

She was quite right, of course; he was barely keeping up with his homework, though he was doing much better now that he was no longer spending every evening in detention with Umbridge. Ron was even further behind with his work than Harry, because while they both had Quidditch practices twice a week, Ron also had prefect duties. However, Hermione, who was taking more subjects than either of them, had not only finished all her homework but was also finding time to knit more elf clothes with Tasmin. Harry had to admit that pair were getting better; it was now almost always possible to distinguish between the hats and the socks that they had knitted.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. After breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. With a slight pang, Harry remembered that if it hadn't been for Sirius, he would not have been going at all.

When Harry reached Filch, the caretaker gave a great sniff as though trying to detect a whiff of something from Harry. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and Harry walked on, out onto the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.

"Er — why was Filch sniffing you?" asked Ron, as he, Harry, Hermione and Tasmin set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates."I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs," said Harry with a small laugh. "I forgot to tell you . . ." He then began to recount the story of him and Filch back at the owlery, and how Cho had defended him so boldly.

To his slight surprise, Hermione found this story highly interesting, much more, indeed, than he did himself.

"He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who had tipped him off?"

"I dunno," said Harry, shrugging. "Maybe Malfoy, he'd think it was a laugh."

They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left onto the road into the village, the wind whipping their hair into their eyes.

"Malfoy?" said Hermione, very skeptically. "Well . . . yes . . . maybe . . ."

And she remained deep in thought all the way into the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

"Where are we going anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh — no," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit . . . you know . . . dodgy mind you . . . but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

They walked down the main street past Zonko's Joke Shop, where they were unsurprised to see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture upon it of a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy, and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy, though as Harry stepped onto it he realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

"Lovely spot." Ron muttered apprehensively as he glanced around the small, dingy pub.

Their attention faded from their surroundings to the bar. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty gray bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Harry might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents; in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

"I don't know about this you three," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

They cast an appraising eye at the veiled figure, particularly Hermione though.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double - and triple - checked the school rules. We're not out - of - bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No," said Harry dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barman sidled toward them out of a back room. He was a grumpy - looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

"What?" he grunted.

"Uh . . ." she stopped, giving the man a glance. "Four butterbeers, please," Tasmin requested as politely as she could.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up four very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar, small dust particles flying everywhere from the impact. Harry could of sworn he saw a bug or two creeping out of the loosely closed bottle when the man wasn't looking.

"Six Sickles," he said.

"I'll get them," said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The mysterious man's eyes landed on Harry's s at for a fraction of a second before he looked away. Tasmin pulled Harry away from the scene rather roughly by his arm. The quartet then made their way to the farthest table away from the bar and sat down. Harry and Tasmin next to each other, opposite Hermione and Ron (Ron didn't look too chuffed to be seated next to Hermione in such close proximity, although neither did the latter).

"You know what?" Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here, I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try firewhisky —"

"You — are — a — prefect Ronald!" Hermione snarled.

"Oh," said Ron, the smile fading from his face. "Yeah . . . I knew that."

"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his butterbeer and taking a swig. Tasmin grimaced and pushed her bottle further away from her towards Ron. He only looked mildly disgusted at the amber - coloured drink and pushed it back towards the girl opposite from him.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated disrupting the duo's bickering of 'I don't want its' and 'you have its'. She then turned to check her watch, and then looked rather anxiously toward the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is — oh look, this might be them now —" she said.

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

Among the crowd, was Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with (Harry's stomach did a back flip) Cho and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy that she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch - Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot; Ginny, followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," Tasmin replied while looking up from her butterbeer (of which she still has not touched).

"Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?" Hermione asked the boy. Ron groaned but complied

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly he had never seen his pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred with a grin, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly. "Could we have . . . twenty - five butterbeers, please?"

The barman scowled at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these . . ."

Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting some kind of speech, at which he rounded on Tasmin and Hermione.

"What have you been telling people?" he said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"We've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that Tasmin added quickly, "You don't have to do anything yet, we'll speak to them first. Don't worry yourself Potter." Harry felt himself relax slightly at the girls' comforting words. A sudden voice broke him out of his thoughts however.

"Hi, Harry," said the voice, beaming and taking a seat opposite Harry.

It was Neville.

Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak; his mouth was exceptionally dry. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish - blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look that told Harry plainly that, given her way, she would not be here at all. Noticing this, Tasmin gave the girl a glare, clearly not happy with the girls' behaviour towards her friend.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron, Tasmin and Hermione.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well — er — hi." She stuttered out rather anxiously. "So . . . you all know why we're here today. We need a teacher . . . a real teacher, one who's got real experience in defending themselves in the dark arts." Hermione looked over to the group, no one said a word. "One who actually knows what they're doing." she added. A scoff rang out across the room.

"Why?" Asked a Ravenclaw named Terry Boot.

"Why?" Ron asked the boy incredulously. "Because You - Know - Who's back you tosspot!" He spat back to the oblivious boy.

Hermione nodded at Ron's comment.

"Well, that's the plan anyway —"

"— Where's the proof that's he's really back? If we're going to be defending ourselves, I think we at least need solid proof that he's back." said a Hufflepuff boy in a rather heated voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it —"

"You mean Dumbledore believes him." He pointed to Harry with a hate - filled look.

"Who are you?" Ron questioned with a glare.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You - Know - Who's actually back.

"Look, if you don't even believe Dumbledore's word, then why bother to show up to listen to Harry. You might as well show yourself out, if there's anyone who feels the same you know where the door is." Tasmin spoke up while gesturing to Zacharias Smith, then to the frost - covered door. Tasmin was always quick to defend Harry and she never knew why. He's my friend, that's why she constantly told herself. Though even she found herself unable to believe that after time. Friends don't get jealous when their friend talks to another girl. Friends don't act as close as Tasmin and Harry do in such a short amount of time.

"It's okay, Tasmin," said Harry.

It had just dawned upon him why there were so many people there. He felt that Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people — maybe even most of them — had turned up in the hope of hearing Harry's story firsthand.

"What makes me say You - Know - Who's back?" he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening in. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag; it was becoming steadily dirtier.

Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You - Know - Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know —"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face, determined not to look at Cho. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out now."

He cast an angry look in Tasmin and Hermione's direction. This was, he felt, all their fault; they had decided to display him like some sort of freak and of course they had all turned up to see just how wild his story was. . . . But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high - pitched again. "So . . . like I was saying . . . if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to —"

"— Is it true," interrupted Luna Lovegood, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yes," Tasmin answered while standing up now rather proudly. Though she had never seen it herself, she heard from the likes of Ron and Hermione that he could perform one. Obviously having done it at the beginning of the year.

"In third year he fought of about a hundred dementors at once." said Ron.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Dean Thomas, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry and a couple of people laughed. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And he killed a basilisk with the sword, in Dumbledore's office." Neville added to Harry's list of achievements.

"Er — yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

"Not too mention all of the tasks he had to get through." Tasmin continued while looking slightly at Harry, he had a slight smile on his face as he made occasional glances at Cho Chang. Tasmin felt her heart ache slightly at this.

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself.

"And last year he really did fight of You - Know - Who in the flesh." Hermione added while she too glanced at Harry.

"I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I nearly always had help."

"He's just being modest." Tasmin dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"No I'm not." Harry said, forgetting his previous anger for the girl. "Look," said Harry, now standing up and looking upon the sea of heads. "It all sounds great when you put it like that but it's different out there, okay? Facing this stuff when you're in school, you can just get up and try again tomorrow. But when you're out there, watching a friend die right before your eyes, or are a second away from death, you don't know what that's like . . ." Harry finished. Everybody had rather solemn looks on their faces, even Zacharias Smith had not said a word since Harry's mini speech.

"You're right Harry, we don't." Hermione spoke softly, reaching out for her best friend's hand, "That's why we need your help."

"So he's really back?" A young Gryffindor asked.

Harry looked over to him before nodding. "Yes." Was all he said in response.

"𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 next few days we should come up with some places to practice in." said Harry while they walked across the Bridge back to Hogwarts. The ground consisted of the twins, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Harry, Ron, Tasmin and Hermione.

"The Forbidden Forest?" Neville suggested.

"Not bloody likely." Ron scoffed, not having any good experiences with the Forest.

"Shrieking Shack?" Ginny asked.

"Too small." Harry denied.

"Harry? What happens if Umbridge does find out." Ginny asked rather hesitantly.

"Who cares?" Hermione spoke up. "I mean, it's sort of exciting isn't it? Breaking the rules."

The group all laughed. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" Ron questioned with obvious amusement laced in his tone.

"Anyway," Hermione began as she walked a bit ahead of the group behind her. "at least we know one positive thing that came out from today." she finished with a small smile on her face.

"Yeah?" asked Harry.

"Cho couldn't take her eyes off you could she?"

Harry listened to his friends' words and felt his heart warm ever so slightly at the thought. Cho was finally noticing him. Maybe it wasn't as one - sided as he thought.

Harry, Ron and Hermione immersed themselves into another conversation about places they could proactive without Umbridge finding out.

Tasmin signed to herself silently, of course she had noticed Cho's longing glances at the boy who lived, she just hoped nobody else would pick it up. But of course Hermione noticed, she is particularly perceptive Tasmin noted. She suddenly felt a light hit on her left arm, looking over, she noticed it was only George. Her thoughts that it could of been Harry diminishing quickly. "Oh, it's just you?"

George sighed dramatically at this, a hand over his heart in mock heart. "Just me?" He asked the girl. "Well I'll just go then —"

Tasmin laughed slightly at his antics and pulled him back by his arm once he started to walk away. By now, they were walking back to their common room, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fred were up ahead of the duo, and Luna was nowhere to be seen, presumably having already gone back to her respective common room.

"There we go," George grinned down at the girl. "I've been missing that smile of yours Barlow." He added. Tasmin laughed once more. She didn't think anyone could cheer her up as fast as George Weasley had just done (apart from Harry of course, but she'd rather not talk about him right now).

"— I didn't say I didn't want you here Weasley. I just —" she stopped. "I just thought that you was —"

"— You thought I was Harry?" He interrupted.

"Yeah . . ." she trailed off, slightly disappointed.

George didn't say anything, that was until he finally did. "So, what's on your mind Barlow?" He asked the girl, genuinely concerned for her. He'd seen the glum look on her face ever since they had left the pub, which only deepened when a certain Ravenclaw was brought up.

"Well, have you ever liked someone before? Like genuinely liked someone? Like — Like you can't smile until you see them enter the room, or laugh until they say something, anything. Even if it's not even remotely funny at all." she asked the red - headed boy.

George looked at the girl before frowning slightly. "Yeah, I have to say that I have." he replied.

"Really?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Who is it?" she asked him.

George hesitantly replied, "Oh, not someone you'd know."

"Oh, okay." she said not noticing his lingering gaze on her.

"Hey do you want to maybe —?" George began but didn't get a chance to finish as a voice rung out from down the hallway they were currently walking down.

Tasmin looked down to see that it was Harry, Ron and Hermione calling her over, now being done with their conversation. "Oh, sorry George. I better get going." She looked at him regretfully. "Maybe later yeah? I'd like to know what you were going to ask."

George nodded once more, feeling his heart ache slightly. He sighed as he watched the girl run off after her friends.

"That was painful to watch."

George turned around only to be met with a face identical to his. "How long have you been standing there?" He asked his brother.

"Long enough to know that you fancy a certain Gryffindor." Fred spoke, coming out from behind the pillar he was stood behind. "Don't let mum know though, you know what she's like. You'll never hear the end of it." Fred warned him.

"WELL I think that went quite well given the circumstances." grinned Hermione while she sat down in their usual designated spot by the fireplace.

"That Zacharias bloke's a complete twat," muttered
Ron, who was glowering into the fire hatefully, as if it was the fire's place.

"I don't like him much either," admitted Hermione, "but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really — I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny —"

"— He's WHAT?" said Ron, outraged, "She's going out with — my sister's going — what d'you mean, going out with Michael Corner?" Ron was so angry he could barely form coherent sentences.

"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think — well, they're obviously interested in learning Defense, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on —"

"— When did this — when did she — ?"

"— They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year." said Hermione composedly.

"Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded furiously.

"The dark one," replied Tasmin smiling lightly, her talk with George already being long forgotten by her brain.

"I don't like him," said Ron at once.

"Big surprise," said Hermione under her breath.

"But," said Ron, "I thought Ginny fancied Harry!"

Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.

"Ginny used to like Harry," she reiterated. Tasmin looked up at that, just how many people fancy (or used to) Harry. Unfortunately, she found herself not falling a victim to that category. "but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course," she added kindly to Harry once she saw the grim look settle upon his face.

Harry, whose head was still full of Cho's parting wave, did not find this subject quite as interesting as Ron, who was positively quivering with indignation, but it did bring something home to him that until now he had not really registered.

"So that's why she talks now?" he asked Hermione. "She never used to talk in front of me."

"Exactly," Hermione confirmed with him.

"Ron," she said severely as she turned to face him, "this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake."

"What d'you mean, who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything . . ."

Ron continued to chunter under his breath. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and turned her attention to Harry and asked him, "And talking about Michael and Ginny . . . what about Cho and you?"

"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly.

It was as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold — had he been that obvious?

"Don't think I haven't seen the way she's been looking at you and vice versa. We've all seen it." she added while shrugging. Hermione then got up and made her way to the girls' dormitory to change.

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