Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Fourteen

Calm Before the Storm

Harry lay in his bunk, listening to the sounds of movement in his dormitory as his roommates awoke for the day. It was Sunday, so they had a free day before the start of classes and had all taken advantage by having a lie-in. Harry hadn’t been asleep for hours, but he hadn’t felt like getting up, either. He’d had a terrible nightmare about his captivity at Malfoy Manor, and he’d been unable to fall back asleep. At one point, he’d even considered using his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak to seek out Ginny. But he didn’t want to get her in trouble on their first night back, and he also didn’t want her to think the nightmares were becoming unmanageable. Perhaps Remus talking to Professor McGonagall wasn’t such a bad thing – he could really use some of that Dreamless Sleep Potion to get a good night’s rest once in awhile.

Harry sighed and forced himself to sit up – it was time to start the day. He didn’t think his stomach could handle breakfast, but a shower might snap him out of his daze and make him feel livelier. He pulled back his bed hangings and was startled to find Ron sitting on his own bed, waiting for him. Ron looked like he hadn’t slept well either, and a deep frown creased his brow.

“Morning, Ron. What’s wrong?” Harry asked, his throat feeling dry and scratchy.

“How did you sleep?” Ron asked, staring at Harry intently.

Harry averted his eyes. “Okay.”

“Any nightmares?” Ron persisted.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and still refused to meet his gaze. He had a vague recollection of telling Ron that he’d had a nightmare during the night, but he couldn’t be certain. “Er…yeah. I’m going to go take a shower and wake up properly.”

“Harry,” Ron said, standing as well and grabbing onto Harry’s arm. “Did you dream about being back at Malfoy Manor…about Bellatrix Lestrange and what she did to you…to your shoulder…before sending a Dementor back into your cell?” Ron asked. He seemed determined to get the words out despite his struggles.

Harry took a stunned step backwards, grabbing his shoulder and massaging a phantom pain. “How…” He stopped, unable to continue. He licked his dry lips and tried again. “How did you know that?”

Ron’s shoulders sagged, and he sank back down upon his bed. “I was hoping it was just a weird dream.”

Harry sat on his own bed opposite Ron; he felt drained, somehow, and uncertain what to make of Ron’s knowledge of his nightmare. “Ron?”

“I was there, Harry,” Ron whispered.

“Pardon?”

“I was there…in your nightmare. I had the same dream, only I couldn’t move or speak. I woke up when you did. I think you were sick,” Ron said, his voice barely audible.

Harry was stunned. “What? How?” What is Ron on about?

“I dunno,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. “I was awake when you entered the dorm last night, and I saw you turn in. I was wondering what kind of nightmares you had, because I saw you light your wand.” Harry’s cheeks flamed, but Ron waved it away. “The next thing I knew, I was in that cell, watching that bitch toy with you. Was that real, Harry? Did that really happen?”

Harry nodded, feeling his body tremble with suppressed memories.

Ron swallowed. “I’m sorry, mate.”

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. His thoughts flew too fast to make sense of anything at the moment. He wasn’t certain if he was more uncomfortable with the idea Ron had seen his nightmare, or grateful to be able to acknowledge it. “I’m going to take my shower, then we need to talk to Dumbledore. He’ll need to know about this.”

“All right,” Ron said, nodding. “After breakfast, though, okay?”

“You go ahead down while I’m in the shower; I’m not hungry,” Harry said, heading for the door.

“Harry…not to sound like my mum or the girls, but…you have to eat,” Ron said, an apologetic grimace on his face.

“Not this morning, Ron; I can’t.”

Ron nodded his understanding and headed down to the common room while Harry moved towards the shower.

The shower was refreshing and succeeded in perking Harry up considerably. He padded back to his room while running a towel over his wet hair. He knew he could cast a Drying Charm, but they always made his hair stick out even more than it normally did. It was at least a little bit more manageable when he let it dry naturally. He stored his things in his trunk and climbed down the stairs into the common room.

Ginny was the only person there. She was sitting in a squashy chair by the fire, a pensive frown upon her face.

“Morning, Harry,” she said, smiling when she saw him, but he could see the worry in her eyes.

“Morning,” he replied, sitting next to her and wriggling to make room for the two of them on the chair.

“Ron is still in the Great Hall with Hermione; he told us about your shared dream. What do you think it means?” Ginny asked, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. The warmth of her body was inviting, and Harry leaned closer breathing in the scent of her hair. He rested his head on her shoulder and wished he could simply make time stand still for a while.

“I’m not certain. Last night, Professor Dumbledore relayed a message to me with Legilimency. He said that trained Legilimens could communicate silently. I wonder if I somehow transferred my thoughts to Ron. Although, that doesn’t explain how Ron picked up on them, since he’s never studied Legilimency.”

Ginny’s face remained pensive as she nodded. “What else did Dumbledore have to say last night?”

Harry brightened. “He’s going to get you a waiver so you can learn to Apparate early, just like I did.”

“Really? That’s brilliant. Why, though?” Ginny asked, beaming.

“So you’ll be able to get away in an emergency. In case you hadn’t noticed, knowing me tends to lead to lot of emergencies. After you’ve mastered it, he’s going to arrange for a test at the same time that Ron gets re-tested. It’s really important for you both to have a way to get away.”

The portrait hole swung open, revealing not only Ron and Hermione, but Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, as well. “They were in the Great Hall, so I told Professor Dumbledore we needed to talk,” Ron said, leaning his head towards their two professors.

Hermione rushed over to where Harry and Ginny were sitting and threw her arms around Harry. “Oh, Harry,” she sniffed. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry was astonished, and he had no idea why he was on the receiving end of this rush of emotion. He patted her back awkwardly. “Hermione, are you all right?”

Hermione sniffed. “I’m fine, Harry; it’s you that I’m concerned about.”

Harry felt lost, and he turned pleading eyes upon the headmaster. Dumbledore chuckled for a moment before taking a seat himself. “Mr. Weasley informs me that the two of you shared a dream last night, Harry. Is this correct?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if it had something to do with Legilimency,” Harry said, finally pulling himself out of Hermione’s grip. She sat on a couch next to Ron, but continued sniffling.

“I believe it does. Mr. Weasley tells me that he was concerned about your nightmares right before he fell asleep, and, as you know, we had been discussing this non-verbal method of communicating before you left my office. As I have said before, you are highly susceptible to suggestion. I think you may have projected your dream to Mr. Weasley subconsciously. When we begin your Legilimency sessions later in the week, we shall set up some trials in order to test it. With a bit of practice, you should be able to control it and, perhaps, use it to your advantage.”

Harry nodded. “Similar to what I did against Voldemort.”

“Exactly.”

“But what about these nightmares?” Hermione asked. “He shouldn’t have to relive that night after night. I’ve done some research on the effects of interrupted sleep, and I find it rather alarming. I think we should set up a schedule amongst ourselves to observe when Harry sleeps. If we can notice a pattern of the times these nightmares are occurring, we might be able to wake him briefly before they happen.”

Harry felt the color flame to his cheeks; he really didn’t want to discuss this with all of them present. He had no intention of letting anyone “observe” him sleeping. He felt outnumbered and grew irritated. Ginny took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Granger. I daresay Mr. Potter isn’t very fond of that idea, anyway. I believe I have an easier solution,” Professor McGonagall said, holding up a container filled with a familiar purple liquid. “Miss Weasley, I’m going to place this in your possession. See to it that Mr. Potter takes a dose of the sleeping potion every third night.”

She handed the phial to Ginny. Harry could see Hermione about to protest, no doubt wanting to be in charge of this herself. Harry was stunned and agitated. I’m neither helpless nor an idiot. He turned wide eyes on Professor McGonagall. “I don’t need a minder. I can take it myself.”

“I’m certain you can, Mr. Potter. However, by getting Miss Weasley involved, I’m hoping it will force you to talk a little bit about the dreams that plague you. Professor Dumbledore and I both feel that this spontaneous Legilimency is your subconscious needing to get it out. The only way to take away the power of the dreams, Harry, is to confront them. Miss Weasley seems expert on confronting what irks her, and she appears rather fond of you,” Professor McGonagall said with a brief smile. It was the brief, unusual use of his first name that diffused some of Harry’s anger. Besides, the thought of Ginny having a valid excuse to tuck him in at night was rather appealing.

Ginny smiled and took the container. “I think I’m up to that challenge. I’m happy to have something to do that might help.”

“We’ll all help,” said Hermione, staring at Harry with narrowed eyes. He was flabbergasted. Professor McGonagall had just given Ginny and Hermione free reign to discuss his dreams. He wanted to argue for the sake of his dignity, but seeing the pleased look on Ginny’s face halted him. She wanted to help, and he did need some assistance in making these dreams stop. Talking to his friends about the prophecy had helped him before – maybe it could again.

“Very well,” Professor Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. “I see that I am leaving you in capable hands, Harry. Enjoy your day.” He and Professor McGonagall left through the portrait hole, and Harry turned to his friends.

“So, should I lie down and tell you about my childhood?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What does your childhood have to do with nightmares about being tortured by a psycho-bitch from hell?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Language, Ron,” Hermione hissed. “It’s a Muggle thing. Harry, what else did Professor Dumbledore talk to you about last night?”

Harry’s gaze flickered over each of their expectant faces. I might as well get this over with. “We talked a bit about Lucius Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Ron said, sitting up sharply. “What about him?”

“Remember when you told me you heard the Order mention his name before they started a meeting?” Harry asked. When Ron nodded, he continued, “Well, I also thought I saw him with the Death Eaters on the island.”

“But…he’s dead,” Hermione said. “Tonks killed him.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I thought it was just my head playing tricks on me, since I’ve been thinking about him so much. But Professor Dumbledore said that when they examined the bodies after the battle at Malfoy Manor, Lucius wasn’t there. No one has seen him for certain since, either, though,” Harry said, watching Ron carefully.

“So…the wily old fox might have escaped again, eh?” Ron asked, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. Dumbledore also said we should avoid Hogsmeade visits.”

“Another big surprise,” Ron said dryly.

Hermione frowned. “How can this have happened? How could a body have disappeared with all those Order members there?”

“A body didn’t disappear. They had the right number, only Lucius Malfoy wasn’t one of them,” Harry said.

“He always gets away,” Ginny whispered. Harry squeezed her hand gently, and she returned the gesture with a small smile.

“Did Professor Dumbledore talk to you about anything else?” Hermione asked.

Harry could see that she was anxious to learn if he knew about the spell. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. Does Professor Dumbledore think it will work?” Hermione asked. She was barely able to contain her excitement.

“What are you on about?” asked Ron. He and Ginny both had puzzled frowns plastered on their faces.

“Hermione found a curse that we might be able to use to counteract Voldemort’s immortality,” Harry replied calmly.

Ron’s mouth gaped open. “What? When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ginny took a harsh intake of breath. “Really, Hermione?” she asked.

Hermione turned to Ginny. “Well, it’s still in the preliminary stages, but…it might work. Harry, you have to be in control of the spell. Who is going to be training you?” Hermione asked.

“Aberforth. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ron, still staring at Hermione.

“I didn’t want to get Harry’s hopes up, and I wasn’t certain of all my facts. I sent my notes along with the text to Emmeline for verification. She had access to a wider variety of translations,” Hermione explained.

“Congratulations, Hermione; this is wonderful. No wonder the Institute is so taken with you,” Ginny said.

Hermione’s eyes flew open wide, and Ginny bit down on her lip.

“What about the Institute? They’re interested in you, Hermione? That’s brilliant. What did they say when you said you were going to be an Auror?” Ron asked.

Harry didn’t know what the Institute was, but he could read Hermione’s panicked expression and knew it was something she hadn’t discussed with Ron. He could sense a row boiling and wondered if, like him, Hermione was considering a career path that didn’t involve becoming an Auror. He knew Ron would be devastated if they both backed out of it.

“Oh, they simply sent me some pamphlets,” Hermione said, averting her eyes.

Harry wanted to derail this, so he stood up. “I want to go up to the Owlry and check on Hedwig. I haven’t seen her since Privet Drive. D’you want to play some Quidditch later?”

“Sounds good,” Ron said, instantly distracted by the chance to play Quidditch. “I’ll ask around and see if anyone else wants to play. I suppose you do, right, Ginny?”

“Of course. I’ll go up to the Owlry with you, Harry. I want to send Delilah with a letter to Mum.”

“Delilah,” Harry chuckled, still highly amused by the name she’d given her pet owl. At first, she’d called the owl Fauntleroy before realizing it was a she. Harry had laughed outright when she first told him, and he still couldn’t keep a straight face each time he heard the name.

“Better than Pigwidgeon, like she named mine,” grumbled Ron.

Harry snorted. “Ginny, if we ever have children – I’m naming them,” he said, laughing. He didn’t notice the stunned expression that crossed Ginny’s face as she followed him through the portrait hole.

Harry and Ginny were lying on their backs by the lake, and trying to see shapes in the clouds. Harry had spent some time visiting Hedwig. She’d seemed happy to see him after such a long absence, and she had perched on his shoulder while he pet her. She’d followed him around for most of the day, and, even now, sat on a low-hanging branch above them, keeping one eye open and trained on the pair. Harry had to chuckle; she was acting like a chaperone. Mrs. Weasley had kept a close eye on them on the island, and he wondered if she’d instructed Hedwig to do the same here at Hogwarts.

Harry and Ginny spent the afternoon on the Quidditch pitch, playing a pick-up game with Ron and some of their housemates. Harry was thrilled to get back on his broom; he hadn’t flown on it since the match against Slytherin the previous spring. The thrill he felt from being in the air hadn’t faded in the least since the first time he flew, and he was anxious for Quidditch season to commence.

“Look at that one,” Ginny said, pointing to a cloud. “I can see a broomstick.”

Harry turned his head, trying to see it from the angle she was looking. “I suppose…I think you still have Quidditch on the brain, though.”

“Oh, like you don’t. You looked really good up there today, Harry. Ron was nearly jumping out of his skin to get practices started,” Ginny replied, running her fingers through his hair.

Harry nuzzled his head into her fingers. “I love it when you do that,” he whispered.

Ginny giggled. “I’ve always had a thing for your impossibly messy hair, Harry. I think the reason I started dating Michael Corner in the first place was that his hair was the same color as yours.”

Harry turned to look at her, stunned. “Really? I thought you were over me.”

Ginny smiled, but it was a sad smile, just the same. “No. I think you were the only one who every really believed that. You know I had a huge crush on you my first year,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“No. That certainly added to it, mind. My crush on you started that first time I saw you in the train station. I was instantly smitten with your ragamuffin appeal. It only grew when I learned who you were. And I’ll have you know that you weren’t even the first one of my brothers’ friends on whom I developed a crush. Fred and George had a mate named Andy who moved away when I was seven; I was quite taken with him for a while, too,” Ginny said, laughing as she recalled her younger self.

Harry felt strangely hurt. “So…I wasn’t your first crush?”

“Sorry, luv…but you’ll be my last and greatest. Really, it was Tom who killed the crush,” she said quietly.

Harry was instantly alert. “How do you mean?”

Ginny paused for a moment. “That was the hardest summer…after the Chamber. I felt so out of place with everyone, so ashamed.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ginny. He took advantage of you,” Harry said, anger making his blood boil.

“I know that now. At the time, though…well, let’s just say that crushes and normal things didn’t really matter anymore. I could never go back to being that innocent little girl again – I’d changed. The trip we took to Egypt helped a lot. My mother babied me incessantly, of course, but it felt good to be babied for a while, so I let her. Of course, we had a fair number of rows over it, as well. By the time we returned to the Burrow, I had recuperated and felt ready to return to school. Of course, that’s when we got word that you’d run away, and we were all in a panic again.”

“I never knew any of that,“ Harry said, feeling stunned.

Ginny shrugged. “After we were back at school, I kind of avoided everyone for a while, even you. By my third year, I had my own friends and kept busy. Whenever I saw you, I must admit, I knew I still had a thing for you, although I tried to deny it. It wasn’t a crush anymore. By then, I had real feelings for you, but I decided all we would ever be was friends. So I tried to accept that.”

“Hermione told me you were over me.”

“That’s because I tried to convince everyone of that, and you were daft enough to believe it. I gave up on the idea that you were ever going to notice me, so I moved on with Michael. You were really hung up on Cho at the time, and, somehow, that still hurt. Michael paid attention to me, and it was a nice change.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but I wasn’t ready for you then,” Harry replied. They’d never really talked about this, but something told him it needed to be said.

“I know that now, but it was still difficult at the time. I used to run my fingers in Michael’s hair, trying to muss it up. Looking back now, I understand why,” she admitted.

Harry was rather put out with the idea of her running her fingers through anyone else’s hair. “Well, he obviously didn’t know a good thing when he had it,” he said sulkily.

Ginny laughed harshly. “No. He used to get so mad at me when I mussed his perfect hair. He really wasn’t my type at all.”

Harry felt better, hearing her say that. “No, definitely not one of your better judgement calls.”

“Oh! And you’re one to talk. You and Cho Chang weren’t exactly suited for each other, either.”

Harry chuckled. “I know. I was thirteen, and my hormones were just waking up. She was pretty, and she smiled and didn’t stare at me like a freak; it was a nice change from what I was used to at the time. As soon as we actually started to get to know one another, it all fell apart.”

“I nearly danced naked on top of the Astronomy tower when that happened,” Ginny said, giggling.

“Well, if I’d known that I had a chance of seeing that, I would have done it a whole lot sooner,” Harry replied, smirking.

Ginny smacked him on the arm. “Prat.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for acting like a teenage boy, Gin, seeing that I was a teenage boy at the time.”

Ginny laughed. “You’re still a teenage boy, Harry, and I know for a fact you still let your hormones lead you astray on occasion.”

Harry began nibbling at her ear. “Yeah, but I haven’t noticed you complaining about them anymore.”

“Well, I’m much more fond of your hormones now that it’s me they’re noticing.”

“They always noticed you, Gin. It just took me a while to figure out what it meant,” Harry said earnestly. He rolled over and leaned in for a better angle to kiss her. She parted her lips for his tongue, and they began to snog intensely while enjoying the warmth of the sun and the crinkle of the leaves. They’d been together for nearly a year, and though their physical relationship remained chaste, they had moved on to some innocent exploration.

“Harry,” Ginny said, biting on her lip. “This morning you joked about us having kids someday. Did you mean that?”

Harry stopped kissing her neck, and his body tensed. He pulled back and looked at her closely. He needed for her to understand. “Ginny, I can’t make you any promises. I know I love you, and I always want to be with you…but my life still isn’t my own. Until this is over…until the prophecy is fulfilled…I have nothing to offer you.”

“Of course, you do. I’m not asking for a commitment; I’m just asking about your hopes and dreams. You’re allowed to have them, the same as anyone else. Don’t let Voldemort take that from you, too, Harry.”

Harry smiled and pulled her tightly into an embrace. “Well, I know we’re young…but my parents married right out of school. Remus told me they did. So, yeah…if I ever let myself think about a future, I see a house with you and a bunch of kids. I want a family; I’ve always wanted one. I think I’d like for the oldest two to be twins, so that when they go off to Hogwarts, they’d have a partner…like Fred and George. Then they’d never be alone.”

Ginny smiled a sad sort of smile. “You’re not alone, either, Harry.”

“I know that now.”

“And, if the oldest two are twins so they won’t have to be at Hogwarts alone, then the youngest two should be twins, as well, so one won’t be left behind,” Ginny stated firmly.

“You must have been lonely that year Ron left, huh?” Harry asked.

“I was miserable. Mum and Dad tried, but the house seemed so quiet and empty. Ron kept writing about all the wonderful adventures he was having with you. I was tearing my hair out. I worry about next year, too. After you, Ron, Hermione, and Neville leave, I’ll still have a full year on my own.”

“Luna will still be here with you.”

“I know, but it’s not the same.”

“I know. You’ll be okay, though, Ginny. No matter what happens.”

“Don’t you dare start talking like you won’t be here, Harry. You’re going to be starting on your first year at the Auror Academy, while I complete my seventh year. After that, we’ve both got some dreams to fulfill.”

Harry remained silent; he knew he could promise her nothing, no matter how much he wanted to promise her everything. He knew he would do anything for her, and if he did manage to survive the coming storm, he’d willingly spend the rest of his life making her happy. He’d never wanted any of the fame, the glory, or the celebrity status that went along with his crazy existence, but he did want her. He hoped he’d one day get the chance to show her how much. Ginny grew agitated with his prolonged silence.

“Promise me you’ll be here, Harry,” she whispered desperately.

“You know I can’t promise you that, Ginny. But I’m going to give it everything I’ve got, trying. Do me a favor and keep telling me about our future, even if I won’t answer. I like thinking about it,” he replied.

Ginny hugged him fiercely. This was a request she could fulfill, if that’s what he needed to hear. She had dreams enough to share for a lifetime.

Late in the afternoon, Harry and Ginny decided to head inside and get ready for dinner. They’d visited Dobby in the kitchens earlier, and he’d prepared them a picnic lunch, so they hadn’t seen Ron and Hermione since they’d played Quidditch.

As they were walking along the corridor, hand-in-hand and heading to Gryffindor tower, they spotted a familiar face walking towards them. Her hair was pulled back in its customary plait, and she wore a brightly colored sari as she had on the island, rather than robes. Harry noticed the portraits along the walls watching her as she passed.

“Cordelia,” Ginny shouted before hesitating. “Erm…I mean…”

“It’s all right, dearie,” Cordelia said, laughing. “You’ll need to call me Professor Monroe in class, but Cordelia is fine when we’re socializing. How are the two of you? You both have nice rosy cheeks, so I gather you’ve been outside enjoying this glorious day.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “We played some Quidditch earlier, then went for a walk by the lake.”

“I see,” said Cordelia, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow. “A walk, hmmm. Yes, walking is a pleasant way to spend a free day. Are you ready to start classes tomorrow?” she asked with amusement.

Both Harry and Ginny flushed, well aware that she knew they hadn’t been walking. Both chose to ignore her. “I’m ready,” Ginny said. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to take your class, though. I only got an A on my Potions OWL.” Ginny was actually a very good Potions student, and had considered a career as a Healer. Without Potions, it wouldn’t be possible, however. Harry felt tremendously guilty, knowing the reason she’d done poorly on her OWLs was the fact that he’d been in hospital. Ginny insisted that the Healer idea was more her mother’s than her own, however.

“I see you didn’t hear the announcement at lunch,” Cordelia replied.

“What announcement?” asked Harry.

“As the new Potions teacher, I’ve lowered the acceptance criteria. I’ll take any student who has passed the OWL exam. I’m confident enough that I can pull them up to snuff. Your brother, Ron, has been working with me all summer, and he’s going to be taking my class. I think he’ll be all right by the time he sits for his NEWTs.”

“You mean…I can still take Potions?” Ginny asked, stunned.

“Of course you can, dearie, simply talk to Professor McGonagall about adjusting your timetable. How about you, Harry, are you ready for classes to start?”

“I think so. I’m a bit worried about Defense, though. It’s always been my favorite class, but I don’t know how it will be with Snape teaching,” Harry said.

“I don’t see why it should make a difference. From what Abe tells me, you’re well past normal NEWT level, anyway.”

“I’m certain Professor Snape will try to disprove that theory,” Harry commented dryly.

“Well, don’t you let him, dearie. You know your strengths; use them and don’t back down. From what I understand, he’s going to have the NEWT classes dueling with each other. You certainly won’t have a problem with that.”

Harry grinned. “I’m positive that Snape will have a whole different set of rules just for me.”

“Well, then…be certain those rules work to your best advantage,” Cordelia said, smiling.

Ginny frowned suddenly. “Has the acceptance criteria changed for Defense, as well? I mean, Snape only let students who scored an O on their OWL into his Potions class.”

Harry suddenly realized that Cordelia was the only adult he’d ever spoken with that hadn’t insisted he use Snape’s title.

“He tried, but Professor Dumbledore feels it’s necessary for everyone to have Defense training, considering the fact that we’re at war, so the criteria remains unchanged,” Cordelia replied.

“Bet Snape loved that,” said Harry.

“Listen, dearies, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you both at dinner,” Cordelia said as she walked away.

“You go on ahead, Harry. I just want to stop by Professor McGonagall’s class and transfer into Potions,” Ginny said.

Before he had the chance to answer, he was distracted by Ron, who stormed around the corner with a murderous look upon his face.

“Ron, what’s the matter?” Ginny asked.

“I’ve just come from a blazing row with Hermione. We’re through,” Ron snarled.

Harry and Ginny stood there with their mouths gaping open.

A/N: Okay, folks. I’ve had a new distraction added to my life this week. I was already worried that I haven’t been writing one chapter per week so you might catch up with me. Now my family has had a major upheaval.

We went to the mall on Saturday to buy a new video game for school vacation week. We’ve had yet another snowstorm so we’ve needed some indoor entertainment. Anyway…long story short is that we had to kill some time while we were at the mall. We decided to enter the pet store and let the kids look around. I can hear you all groaning, uh oh.

The salesgirl knew exactly what she was doing. She locked me, my husband, and all three of our little boys in this tiny little cubicle with a Golden Retriever puppy. I didn’t want a dog. I’ve never wanted a dog…but she is very cute. She warmed right up to us and we to her. My husband (who always HAS wanted a dog) started in about finally getting my girl. He picked out a pink leash, collar, and bowl. My resolve wavered, and they saw me weakening. Then, my middle son…this five year old devil with the face of an angel sidles right up next to me and bats his little eyes and says, “If we got her, we’d have to give her a name from Harry Potter.”

I never stood a chance.

So, Ginevra came home with us and has kept me running nonstop ever since. I know you’re all laughing at me, but it won’t be so funny if she slows down the updates. I just wanted to give you fair warning. I am SUCH a pushover.