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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. The rest of this they wouldn't want to own, so we'll call that stuff mine.

Holly Polter

Chapter: Orientation

During the busy summer following Riddle's reconstitution, all of the secret passages out of Hogwarts had been pointed out, marked, protected and trapped by the staff, from written guidance provided by Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. The two had claimed, without admitting much, that they had an unusually deep and thorough knowledge of the castle and grounds. This rare act of forthrightness on their part now blocked Holly from a simple exit out of the castle to the village where those selfsame troublemakers now awaited her.

The weather was sufficiently bitter and windy that Holly didn't think changing into a bird would be worth the flying. Brooms didn't work any better for her than wands did. This didn't surprise her, as they operated on similar principles- layers of enchanted wood wrapped around a filament that had been well-traveled by magic and, by the usual predictable but inexplicable alignment of stars, imbued with a basic sentience. These sentiences in this world replied to all her requests with a distinct 'I'm not listening to you' silence.

As she hadn't arranged the trip with the Headmaster, the Floo was out (and she wasn't entirely sure that would work for her, either), and the interesting thing about her Vanishing act was that it had limitations similar to standard Apparation. Without the destination-finding capabilities of a wand, Holly could only go to where she'd already been (and that only if she knew where she was, relative to it), somewhere she could clearly see, or to get back to Harry. In this world she'd never been to Hogsmeade. Of course, she could see the trail to Hogsmeade from any number of windows in the castle towers, but vanishing from within Hogwarts to a place outside the gates might end up very messy for her, and for certain would strip away her clothes in the process.

It was left to her to walk down to the village like a muggle. The trudging didn't bother her- what felt wrong was doing it without winter clothes. Any attempt of borrowing a student's cloak or boots was smartly admonished by one house-elf or another; each insisted that she should not interfere with their laundry duties. It was apoint of pride that clothing was reunited with their owners in THIS castle.

Instead, Holly had wrapped herself in two layers of work robes- one each from Ginny and Harry, as they'd specifically handed her these garments in the past. The elves knew. So, with Harry's taped-up trainers and those robes covering a thin blouse and skirt bought when she and Harry had gone shopping in August, Holly ventured forth to trudge her way through the snow out beyond the castle's walls and along the lane to Hogsmeade. By the time she was thumping a bare fist against the door to the half-cottage leased to one David Edge, she was frozen bluer than a drowned corpse.

Sirius opened the door with acordial, "Yes, what can I-- GYAAHH!"

"F-f-f-f-f," was all that Holly could get out before she lost the capacity to move.

Sirius called to Remus and together they lifted Holly and brought her inside. After a bit of banging and cursing, they set her meat popsicle of a body against the mantle by the hearth fire. Once her jaw had unfrozen enough for her teeth to chatter, Sirius gave her sips of hot tea.

By her fourth mug Holly was sufficiently recovered that she raised the topic of her visit; "Did you find a disguise for me? And please tell me it's warm."

Their matching grins induced ashudder having nothing to do with the cold.

Lupin brought out a battered valise. Opening it on the settee to inspect the contents, Holly had only one comment polite enough to be voiced; "While I praise your attention to detail, I'm not going to wear the hair shirt."

~oOo~

I dread this.

Of course, Neville had said that to himself before every Potions class over the last four years. Why should this year be any different?

First year was horrible. Second year was more horrible because despite everything, he'd somehow passed the first year final and so Professor Snape treated him worse. 'I won't accept ignorance or ineptitude as an excuse for your catastrophes any longer,' he'd said. Neville calculated that the only reason he made it to third year potions was that the second year exams had been cancelled. Harry's name was praised by many for that side-effect of those mad adventures of his. Third year ended with another barely passing grade for Neville, mostly because of a few tips he'd gotten from the kind Professor Lupin.

If fourth year went a bit smoother, it was only because Harry was twice as much the target for Professor Snape's ire as ever, him being a celebrity again and all. Neville had convinced himself that it wasn't the concepts in Potions that were ruining him- it was the execution. Such a good word to describe his twice-weekly torment. Like approaching execution it was, waiting for each class.

And how shall I be suffering for you today, sir? Choking on fumes? Poisoning? Burned by acids? May I just die from fright this time?

The students had queued up for class and Neville had begun his calming mantra; /This/is the last year. No more Potions. This is the last year.

Instead of seeing the familiar figure of Professor Snape, a short woman in black woolen robes and a matching mantle approached. She walked with the tap-tap-tac, tap-tap-tac of hard soled shoes assisted by a hiking stick tipped with a metal cleat. Her face was framed by white linen, hiding her hair. The other oddity to her appearance was a set of green-tinted goggles that reflected the torchlight, making her eye colour equally unknowable.

The professor, for who else could she be, opened the door to the Potions room and gestured with her stick for the students to enter.

"I am Professor H. E. Polter," she announced once they'd settled into their seats. "Your usual professor of Potions has been struck ill, so I will be substituting for the week." She stalked around the front of the room, pausing to aim those disconcerting lenses directly at each student for a beat before moving on."It is my understanding that Professor Snape runs a disciplined classroom. I expect you to attempt to behave as well or better under my tutelage. Given that you aren't adults yet, a few lapses are likely. Nonetheless, break the rules and there will be... /consequences/."

The smoky tone of her voice at the end sparked Neville's memory. Seamus must also have recognised her, as he blurted out, "Oh, my God, you're --"

"You will NOT," Professor Polter boomed as she whirled around to glare at Seamus. The boy reeled back in his seat, pursued by the professor who leaned in until a bare inch separated their noses. She said, "... take the Lord's name in vain in my presence." The professor then straightened her stance and reverted to her calm but exacting lecture voice. "This is the only additional rule you must abide by while in my classroom. Do we understand one another, Mister...?"

"Finnegan, Madam- I mean Sister- I mean Professor!"

The professor scowled at him amoment more. "Mister Finnegan, see me after class," she said with arather ominous finality. The Slytherin half of the room tittered.

Perhaps this wasn't Harry's tutor. Even so, Neville's mood soared at the prospect of learning Potions from anyone other than Professor Snape.

"The syllabus says that you are to begin brewing a Befuddlement Draught," continued the stout but clear-voiced woman. "Of course, you all will have read through the instructions in your textbooks, so --"

Hermione raised her hand. Predictable, really, in a reassuring way.

Despite having her back turned towards Hermione, the professor stopped short and said, "You have aquestion, Miss...?"

"Granger. I just wanted to point out that Professor Snape doesn't alert us ahead of time which potion we'll be working on, often jumping around from the order that they appear in the book. He usually has the instructions written on the blackboard."

Professor Polter looked over at the wood-framed slate at the front of the room- there were only leftover smears of chalk dust to read. She turned back to the class and said, "I doubt my handwriting would improve on the instructions in your textbook; page one-hundred-eighty-six. Raise your hand if you've read through the instructions for today's potion."

Most of the Slytherins raised their hands. On the Gryffindor side only Hermione's hand was raised.

"One point for Gryffindor. Twelve points for Slytherin."

Hermione protested,"That's not fair!"

Professor Polter smacked her walking stick across Hermione's worktable as if swatting a fly, making the startled witch jump in her seat. "Do you usually get more points than others in this class, Miss Granger?"

"No, I never get points in Potions."

"Then you have no reason to be upset by getting more than ever before. See me after class as well."

Hermione shrunk back into her seat, face scowling and flushed.

"Now, before we begin I'd like to draw your attention to the table on page one-hundred-ninety. This is an index of extraction techniques known as Gershwin's Index. Can anyone tell me why this would be included in the description for this potion?"

Whether Hermione was still fuming or truly did not know, she hadn't raised her hand. If that wasn't surprising enough, after a minute lacking any other volunteers, Draco Malfoy actually offered an answer:

"Er... we use two different methods to prepare the roots. One time it's to squeeze out juice, the second to dice the remains."

"Exactly -- three points for Slytherin. The table indicates the quality of the product produced by its resulting Arithmantic Index. The extracted goo is a five whereas the drained and diced roots are a four. Can anybody guess why that's important?"

Hermione burst out, "Oh!Because the index-four roots interact with the peat, which is an index-four base material!"

The professor turned around to face her and then said, "What, are you twelve? Raise your hand, wait to be called on, then perhaps you'll get credit for your insight. Two points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

"But --"

"Three for the right answer, minus five for the outburst."

The morning went that way. Every time a Gryffindor spoke up, the student was told to stay after class. By contrast, the Slytherins were given points for speaking so long as it was related to the class. Zabini whispering to Malfoy and Parkinson cost them three points, but overall it wasn't too different from one of Snape's classes, with one exception; Neville wasn't half as nervous.

At least to begin with.

He couldn't get the ingredients to line up for dicing. The cauldron flame wouldn't increase when told, unless it was to take his four previous attempts as a sum that nearly ignited the cuff of his robes. He noted that his marl berries looked different than everyone else's, then realised that the text said mulberries. He remembered reading mulberries when he first went for ingredients, so why did he think it was marl berries when he was looking at the jars?

He was waving aside the excess bile-coloured fumes rising from his cauldron when Professor Polter dropped ametal lid over it, cutting his brewing short. She ordered him to douse the flames and put away all his materials. And to stay after class. Neville imagined waves of disappointment radiating from the stern professor, and realised that he was the only one who would be yelled at for his work rather than just for talking out of turn.

Class ended. The Slytherins left (all quite pleased with themselves), and the professor closed the door behind them. She then turned to the remaining Gryffindors and said, "I will say this once. I'm not here to play favorites or to help Gryffindor win the House Cup. I'm here to teach. Anyone want to guess what the first lesson was?"

Harry answered, "We should read about the potion before trying to make it."

"Exactly," she said while pushing the goggles up onto her forehead, though it seemed done mostly to rub irritation from her eyes. "Most people don't start a spell without thinking about what it's supposed to do. Same thing with potions. Prepare, then execute. Read the whole recipe through until you know how the process should go. As for knowing which potion is coming up, there's a half-dozen Slytherins who already knew what was coming, so it can't be that difficult a secret to uncover."

Her eyes opened wide and she smiled at them then; the effect transformed her. She'd morphed from resembling a regular in his gran's Whist club into someone who was barely past Hogwarts age.

With a nod she added,"Now, say what's on your minds."

"You're her!" Seamus blurted out, "You're Harry's tutor!"

The professor blushed but smiled a bit wider. "Yes. For those who haven't met or heard of me before, I'm Holly Evans. This nun's habit is my disguise, though I don't imagine it'll fool anyone outside of the Ministry for very long."

"You're going to Hell for that," muttered an unusually acidic Hermione.

"I'm going to Hell for much more than this, Miss Granger." The woman then turned to ask Seamus,"Are you offended by my costume?"

"At first I was shocked, but now it's just kinky." He earned a couple head slaps for that, but he was still grinning.

As you're an Anglican, Hermione, this is at most disrespectful. Did you really expect different from me?"

"No."

"Then we're good. You lot need to call me Professor Polter if you see me wearing this kit or carrying the stick, at least. Now, get on. I have others students to torment after the break."

Everyone shouldered their bags and headed out of the classroom.

"Longbottom," the professor called, "a moment more, please."

Neville dipped his head down, feeling a flush of shame. He stood by his worktable, no doubt looking like awilting sunflower. Once they were alone, the short witch stood before him and tilted her head around until their eyes met. Her gaze drew him in; eyes larger than most, quite lovely and a bit familiar. The green in them reminded him of lush leaves after a rain shower.

"You're not dyslexic nor colourblind," she said, "so something else isgetting in the way of your success here. What do you think it might be?"

"I get n-nervous," he said.

"The ingredients don't care if you're nervous," she reassured him. "The cauldron is indifferent. Everything about potions is about the process. First this, then that, in this way. You wouldn't fill a hole with water, then add soil, then add sand, then set the plant on top, now would you?"

Neville mumbled in agreement.

"You can trust in the words on the page, at least as a safe starting point. Follow the instructions. Make hash marks in your book as you complete each step." His flash of dread over the idea of desecrating a book must have shown, as she revised her suggestion, "Or rewrite the instructions in your own hand ahead of time and stick it in the book so that you can read it clearly. This isn't merely homework; rewriting the instructions will get you familiar with the steps. Also, ask others to watch your back so that you'll know there's no cauldron tampering."

A long moment passed as she stared at him, awaiting something. What could she possibly want from him? Why would she even be trying? Neville drew upon his limited courage and said,"It's not worth it- you helping me. I'm just useless."

"Mr. Longbottom? Hand me your wand."

"My wand?"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom. You use a wand to control the flames, stir the rod and separate the ingredients, and my guess is that every swish or flick of yours is doing something you never intended."

He held out the wand. Professor Polter took it from him, then wrapped a thick chamois cloth around it. After a few rubs, she held it up close to her eyes.

Neville stammered, "I-I'm sorry it's so dirty, I--"

She then took the wood in both hands and started to bend it in half.

"Stop!"

The professor relaxed her hands. "You're right, it should be you who does it." She then gave the wand back to him, along with an expectant stare.

"I... I can't break it. This is my FATHER'S WAND!"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, and that is exactly the problem. Your father still lives and you have never defeated him in a duel. No matter how compatible you might have been, that wand will never obey you. /Never/. It is, in its way, your much older brother. In fact, that wand knows your father much better than you ever will. It defies your orders so as to humiliate you, just like a bitter big brother would."

If words could steal his soul... it felt like those came close./ My wand... hates me?/

The professor walked around to sit at the front desk. She very quickly scribed out a letter which she then handed to him. "Please read this," she said, the sound shocking him from his reverie, "then send a copy along to your parent, guardian... whomever it is that pays for your supplies. Come see me when you receive a reply. Off you go."

Neville stumbled out of the room. Halfway back to Gryffindor tower, he noticed the parchment still clutched in his hand and read it:

To those for whom it should be a concern,

Mr. Longbottom's wand was damaged today in a class-related incident entirely outside of his control. As awand is an essential piece of school equipment, a representative of the school will be escorting Mr. Longbottom to London this Saturday to acquire a replacement. It is my hope that the new one will better suit his disposition and capabilities, as the damaged one appeared to be openly resisting his efforts to learn magic. It almost seemed like it wasn't intended for him.

If you have any questions about the incident or my recommendations, please contact me by your preferred method.

With Regards,

Associate Professor H. E. Polter
Hogwarts Potions Department
9th December, 1995

But his wand wasn't broken.

Neville pulled it out and held it up. A rushing sound filled his ears. It was the first time he'd really listened to his wand when he connected to it, and the sound was mocking, even bitter.

A moment later the noise cleared. He looked down into his hands to find the wand had been broken in half, splinters from the fractured wood nettling the inside of his fingers. The sound of it snapping came back to him as a memory of the moment.

(snap)

That's right, you bastard. You had more of him than I ever will, but it's NOT MY FAULT HE'S GONE!

The rush of anger came back like a tide, and he gleefully broke the two pieces into four, the four into eight and then wrestled the fragments apart to strip out the fibrous core. On his way back through the Gryffindor Common room, he pitched all the remains into the lit fireplace, not even bothering to watch it burn. Nonetheless, he could feel a kind of ease settling into his bones with every crackle and loud pop sputtering behind him.

Now he just needed to get someone else to duplicate the professor's letter for him. That parchment meant quite a bit, and he wanted to read it a few more times. (Not to mention it was the only proof excusing him from wand work for the rest of the week.)

~oOo~

"Though some of you have no doubt already met her," announced the headmaster at the next morning's staff meeting, "I would like to officially make notice of the addition of a temporary instructor to cover some scheduling problems." The headmaster gestured towards Holly, "... Associate Professor H. E. Polter. Though she is considered a squib, I expect you to treat her with the same respect due to any professor here at Hogwarts."

There were a few raised eyebrows, along with a cold stare from Umbridge that Holly could feel from across the room.

Dumbledore introduced each of the professors around the table. Holly said 'Good Morning' to them as they greeted her. The last was Professor Umbridge, who instead asked, "What are your qualifications, Miss Polter?"

"That would be 'Madam Polter' or 'Professor Polter', Madam Umbridge. I have knowledge of a wide variety of subjects, thus I will offer my guidance for nearly any class where the proper professor may be indisposed." She paused, rolled her eyes (not that most could see them behind her green goggles) and added, "... except flying. I do not fly. It would be ridiculous."

Professor Burbage let out asnort but waved off the concern of her fellows while giving Holly a knowing smile.

Professor Umbridge said,"This knowledge... includes my subject?"

"What is it that you teach?"

"Defence against the Dark Arts."

"Once I am done with my stint in Potions, you may try me out at your convenience. I will endeavor to follow your curriculum."

"As a squib?" Disbelief dripped from Umbridge's mouth.

Holly stared at her for a long moment, then said, "I find that the most important qualities for teaching are an understanding of the material, a clear voice, and patience. Potions suits me best, but I know my spell craft as well. Are you doing a lot of demonstrations or is your focus on theory?"

"Theory, of course."

"Then I don't see how Icould do harm to your plans. You might even appreciate the break to attend to other duties."

Umbridge's mental calculations kept her silent for the rest of the meeting, though she did perk up when Professor Babbling asked Professor Polter, "What does the H. E. stand for?"

"Heloise Eloise."

~oOo~

Harry looked again at the scrap of parchment. The message from Cho had passed from Padma to her sister before getting to Harry, and he calculated the chance of this secret meeting still being a secret as about one in twelve. Nonetheless, he navigated astealthy course to the arrow-slit corridor instead of going to dinner that night. He waited five anxious minutes before hearing Cho's steps clattering up the stairs, along with a whispered, "Sorry, I'm sorry. Couldn't get the statue open. I looked a bit foolish just standing there every time someone came up from the dungeons."

Cho's smile at seeing Harry waiting for her was worth the wait. As she strode up, she hesitated at arm's length. Harry opened his arms and tilted his head, earning a welcome hug.

She stepped back and pulled her book bag around to open it. "I know we haven't talked much since... before, but I took your challenge seriously, Harry. I am your ally. I hope this will prove it."

Nervously, she pulled out alarge photo album. He took it and they sat against the blocked-off window ledge next to each other as he paged through it. Instead of just pictures, the album had a single photo per page, along with details for the pictured student by affiliation, blood status, background, and known talents.

Cho explained, "The notes written in black ink are fact, whereas the blue ink is unconfirmed but documented, like blood status or background. Green is reliable hearsay or deduction."

Harry flipped through the pages, stopping when he saw his own dossier. The picture by his name looked to be one of Colin's photos from the end of the last term following the Tournament- the Harry in the photo starts off appearing bruised and haunted, staring off the page. It then glares at the camera, irritated by the flash.

"Alright, well I can confirm that I was raised by muggles and I really do need the glasses." The ink on the page turned from green to black. "Oh, brilliant! What about the red ink?"

"Stuff written in red is from Marietta."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning I don't know how reliable it is. Mari- she doesn't get the difference. To her 'Pansy is in Slytherin' has the same weight as 'Pansy lets Draco use her as afootstool'."

"I just felt sorry for Parkinson for the first time ever," Harry said. Encouraged by Cho's giggle, he added, "That's only if I can verify that it's true, so really it won't apply until much later in life, if I'm lucky."

Cho's laughter sounded like arepeating hiccough, but he felt it was cute in its way.

Harry flipped back through the album, stopping to look at Cho's own page. The witch saw it and groaned in faux-embarrassment.

"Don't read /that/..."

"Hang on- your /first/name is Chang?"

She sighed. "No. My parents are Korean and Chinese. Neither would let go of their family association, so I got both. I'm listed as Cho-Chang. Even other Asians are confused."

"Well, then what's your given name?"

She mumbled something. Harry harassed her for a bit before she confessed, "Alright, its Seul-ki."

"'Sulky'? I guess I can see why you'd want to skip it. Does it translate into anything?"

"Prudence."

Harry suppressed a cackle.

"Just call me Cho!Everyone here does," was her smiling plea.

Harry started flipping through the book again but Cho interjected her hand to interrupt his browsing. He looked up to see a nervous smile on her face.

"I figure this might free up a little of your time?"

Harry's mind was abuzz, but the idea of having all this new information freeing up his time seemed preposterous.

"Time enough for other things?"

Harry focused on her eyes. Entering her mind happened before Harry had finished thinking 'What are you on about --'.

'C'mon, get the hint, get the hint... oh, well, maybe he gets it but doesn't think I'm good enough... you berk, I'm awesome... please, just kiss me... too fast, silly girl! He can just smile... that's all I need right now- a smile...smile for me, Harry...'/]

Never one to bother with half-measures, Harry smiled wide and then leaned forward to kiss Cho's lips. At first she just opened her mouth partway to let him tickle the softness with his tongue as he wanted, but then she got excited and so reverted to her super-suction attack. Harry stumbled backwards against the wall in trying to loosen her lips' clutch, but that just brought them both tumbling to the floor, along with the photo album.

Cho sat back and grumped,"Why do you push me away?"

"Because kisses shouldn't hurt," Harry replied as they clambered to standing. "I get that you're enthused, but let me enjoy the moment, alright? It's like I have to strap you down..."

Cho's deep blush followed athought that Harry caught- one which couldn't be translated into words. His best description would be [drool of brain-melting desire with a dash of forlorn hope].

Harry paused, watched as Cho looked anywhere but towards him, and then he reached a conclusion. He took hold of her wrists and stretched them outward, using his longer reach to unbalance her. He then charged forward. Cho stumbled back until pinned against the wall.

"Harry!? Wh-what are you doing?"

"I am doing what I think you want. If I'm wrong, you'll have to tell me it's not cricket. I don't have time to pussyfoot around, playing boyfriend. I want you, right now, and that's that. Now, grab onto those wall sconces... or don't."

He stared into her eyes. Her thought-stream was divided between a hysterical babble wondering if this was really happening and an anxious calm, awaiting his next move. He could almost feel her nipples hardening, along with a spark of potential growing between her hips.

She curled her fingers around the cold iron sconces.

He slid his hands up to envelop hers where they had gripped onto the ironwork. '/Arachnitacta/,'he whispered into her ear while also sending a pulse through the wand at his hip. The spell flowed out through his fingers, bonding her hands in place.

[/I'm not sure if I control the sticking effect or if Cho does, but unless she's experienced the spell before, the effect will be the same.

Harry watched Cho as she tested her grip on the metal, finding that her hands were glued in place. She struggled a bit while giving Harry a panicked look, somewhat betrayed by the yearning in her eyes.

He pulled out his wand, an action she replied to with an over-acted whimper.

"You will stay quiet, or I'll have to jinx your tongue in place," he said.

"Do it, please. I can't keep silent." She shook her black tresses so they danced around her face, ending with some curtaining one eye as if trying to hide her shame.

Harry recalled what little that Holly had written on this topic, then said, "Do you expect me to make it easy for you? Stay silent because you were told to!"

Cho nodded nervously.

"I want to see what you're hiding beneath these robes."

Cho looked to each side where her hands were bonded to the wall art and frowned in confusion.

Harry stepped close. He drew his wand and raised it up so that she could see he was pointing it at her, at her throat. She began gulping deep swallows of air. He smiled wickedly and said, "Allow me. /Obfirma/ yoshi."

The wand sparked at the tip, grabbing at the fabric of draped robes. Harry then dragged the tip down Cho's front, following the contours of her robes from the throat down her collar, poking into the soft skin of one breast, following it over her nipple, along the undercurve, down her ribs, along her belly. Harry held it at her waist as he crouched down in front of her, continuing the sparking trail as it prodded in along her hip, traced the inside of her left thigh and knee, until he finished his trek at the hem of her robes against her ankle.

He stood back up and looked into her eyes. While provocative, the spell hadn't felt like much more than awarm finger poking her.

He said, "Hold this," and stuck his wand in her mouth like a horse's bit. Using both hands he then took hold of the toggle at the collar of her robes at the point he had started.

The sound of a zipper pulling open accompanied Harry's second slow trip down the front of her body, but this time the robes opened. So did her blouse, and the bra and knickers beneath. All her clothes were connected to that zip and as Harry pulled it down by inches with a noise like a lazy bumblebee, Cho was exposed down to the skin by the parting fabrics.

Once fully unzipped, Harry pushed the clothes open, revealing her golden skin to the castle air and his hungry eyes.

"Now that I can see you, all of you, I want to touch you. Do you want that?"

He stared into her wide open eyes. She made to spit out his wand but he held up a hand. "Ah, ah. Just nod or shake your head."

She was crying a little and her whole body shook in nervousness, but after a moment she sucked his wand back into her bite and nodded.

Harry reached his own trembling hands forward, sliding beneath the parted clothes to trail his fingers around her full breasts. Cho moaned as he grasped and massaged them abit. He then slid them down her sides, slipping them around to feel the muscles of her back as they twisted her torso in reaction. One hand he brought around to stroke down over her bellybutton. Cho's stomach clenched and quivered in reaction.

Seeing this and hearing Cho's whine of protest, Harry moved both hands down to trail the inside of her hip bones, threading fingers to follow the furrow on either side of her Mons, bracketing the outer lips of her vulva.

Cho's legs went into tremors.

Harry leaned in and whispered right into her ear, "Shall I?"

Between short gasps past his wand still clenched in her teeth, Cho wailed something like 'eeezz'.

Harry reached up, drew the wand out her mouth and kissed her. They snogged madly, though any attempt by Cho to press into the kiss too forcefully was foiled by Harry's position of control. He leaned back to break the kiss and to hear the first coherent words Cho was able to make since this had started.

"Mnnnoh t-touch me, Harry."

He stroked her nethers, finding the folds of skin slick with fluid.

She writhed and convulsed against his hand, her words lost to yelps of fearful joy in sensation. He continued stroking her there, leaning his body against her hot skin, gripping her arse with one hand to stabilise the rubbing of the other. Cho thrashed her head back and forth and even stretched forward to bite at Harry's neck but all she caught was fabric from the collar of his robes. She held her bite and moaned into his shoulder.

She contorted her body to rub her breasts against his shirt and nearly lost her balance trying to wrap a leg around his hips to draw him against her, possibly so he wouldn't be able to continue his tormenting of her over-sensitized pussy. He kept strumming her until her whole body was overcome in quivers.

Harry slowed his stroking as she lost the energy to struggle. Periodic twitches of her body gave proof to the attenuation of her climaxes. Harry held her there as her breathing slowed, not removing his hand from her privates but not rubbing them, either.

After a few minutes, Cho leaned her head away from biting on his robes and said, "You didn't even penetrate me."

Harry exhaled a laugh."Something to look forward to, then."

They both stiffened as they heard the latch on the door at the end of the corridor being unlocked.

Harry stepped back and hissed'Accio'-- his wand leapt into his hand and he followed up with a swirled spell that tightened Cho's clothing around her body, re-zipped the separated clothes back into place, and then removed the magic zipper with a 'ZWIP!'

A tall, reedy boy wearing Slytherin robes and bearing a prefect's pin stole into their hallway, turned and blinked in shock. "What're you lot doing here, then?"

As Harry was standing opposite Cho and well out of arms reach, he shrugged and said, "We were practising this charm to make your hands stick fast to things. Cho wanted to try it out but asked me to guard her in case someone came along while she couldn't unstick herself."

"Why you, Potter?"

"I was available."

"Cho- what's this rotter done to you?"

"N-nothing, Monty! It's exactly as Harry says. I... just can't seem to get myself unstuck."

The prefect, named Montague, stepped forward to inspect Cho's unyielding grip on the ironwork. He tried asimple Finite with no effect. Then he tried to pry Cho's hand away with his own, to a predictable result.

"I'm... I'm stuck! What the deuce did you jinx these with, Potter?"

"Not me- it's Cho's spell."

Cho glared at him while Montague ably got his other hand stuck to the sconce as well. The prefect started to panic, trying to rip the sconce out of the wall.

"Calm down, mate."

"I'm not your mate, Potter! Get this off of us!"

"I'll have to cast aspell at you."

"Fine! Just make it the right one!"

Harry drew his wand, aimed it at Montague's head and thought /Stupefy/. A flash of red struck him and the Slytherin slumped against Cho, much to her dismay.

Seeing her wriggling against'Monty', Harry then reached over to tickle her wrist. She twisted even more, inexorably rubbing against the other boy's unconscious body.

"Damnit, Harry! Don't make me get hot because of this git."

He clasped her wrist, sending the command through her skin to release the spider-touch effect. Feeling the change, Cho jerked her hands back against her robes and stepped away from the wall, watching Montague slide slowly down the wall like a grossly-squished bug.

"What're we gonna do, Harry?"

Harry tilted his head, considered a moment, and then cast another spell at the prefect. "Obliviate."

"Harry!" Cho pushed his wand away from targeting Montague's head.

"What? You want him to run us in? Get us expelled?"

Cho paled at the glare he was giving her. It made her take a moment to reconsider. She said, "Well, no, but aMemory charm is NEWT level Defence. How well do you know it?"

"Well enough."

"You're ahead of your year then. We're supposed to learn it this year but Umbridge is completely skipping... everything! Can you teach it to me?"

Harry smiled. "What makes you think I didn't already teach it to you, but you just can't remember?"

She scowled, then smiled, then turned toward the Slytherin prefect slumped against the wall. "I think I'd rather we practise on someone else instead of each other."

"What a wonderful idea." He let his evil smile drop and then confessed, "I've never actually tried it before, but I've seen it done several times."

~oOo~

It was in no way surprising to Ginny that the happiest words she'd heard all week were 'Miss Weasley, you get a zero for the day and see me after class'. After all, she'd deliberately sabotaged her own potion at the last step. Ginny wasn't pleased to be ignored all week and if early morning broom flying exercises weren't burning the anger out of her, she'd have confronted 'Professor Polter' well before now.

The moment the door to the potions lab closed she started to speak, but got a raised hand and gesture to follow before she'd gotten past 'Where have--?'

Ginny followed the black wool habit shuffling into the potions storeroom. She closed that door behind her and turned around to find that Holly had pulled off her hair-enclosing head-thing and pushed the goggles up on her forehead.

In the murky fairy light, surrounded by jars of foul-smelling animal parts and dried flora, Ginny looked into Holly's green eyes and fell quiet.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. Things got complicated very quickly, and I couldn't leave you a note that might be intercepted."

"Fine," she replied,"but I want to know everything that's happened since you left me passed out in bed, covered in lotion."

Holly reached up and cupped Ginny's chin, aligning their heads until their eyes locked together.

"Sift my mind."

Ginny blushed at her offer."I... I didn't mean /everything/--"

"Sure you did. All you have to do is come and get it."

Does everything have to be a lesson?

She heard Holly's voice reply in her head 'Yes... for now'.

Realising that Holly had already opened a connection between them, Ginny focused her mental being -- her identity -- at the back of her eyes and then pushed forward.

A few thoughts mumbled by, underneath and behind her. Catching one, she felt a spark of embarrassment to hear that her lips appeared chapped. Ginny left that thought behind as her reaction to it was taking her back into her own mind. Right -- disassociation-- I am an observer.

She found herself drawn towards some memories that seemed quite... flavourful, but was redirected to an intriguing conversation between the local self, Harry and Professor Dumbledore. Ginny was quite pleased with how much regard the headmaster was showing Holly-more than he afforded Harry, though even he wasn't being ignored. The idea of attacking Azkaban almost shocked her out of the memory, but she held herself together.

Still caught in the strange perspective of being Holly in the visited memories, she traced her way back to the main thoroughfare and went hunting for those sweet and spicy portions. Several other intriguing scenes with the headmaster or other teachers attempted to draw her in, but Ginny was adamant- Holly had opened this door, so she'd enter where she liked, by Merlin! It was odd that divisions which appeared to be solid would tear away like gossamer as she pushed through them.

A strange tableau greeted her. In shadowed candle light she saw Ginny - herself - lying face down on her bed as her own hands --- Holly's hands -- kneaded and squeezed oily lotion into the muscles of Ginny's leg. From the viewpoint, she wriggled her hips together and summoned some fluid that was leaking from between her thighs to be absorbed back into her skin.

'I can't be cumming all over Ginny's sheets, now. Back in the bottle.'

Her giggle in the real world echoed like delighted thunder filling the headspace.

Ginny saw a new memory, where Harry stood looking at her, his skin shaded a bit pink in the diffuse light. He was standing in water, everything above the surface bare and dripping wet. His pale skin gave hint to wiry muscles beneath, and the occasional scar only enhanced his predatorial allure. His look of wanting sent sparks down her spine. He moved towards her in the water and then the view went black, but Ginny could feel his hands on her breasts, his lips moving against hers as they gently played tag with their tongues, the game now narrated in moans.

Painful sparks burned into her nipples where he'd pinched them and she gasped into his mouth.

Ginny could feel warmth seeping into her flesh, making her whole body shudder. Adjusting to the feeling of lava filling her bones, she slipped her hands down below the surface to guide Harry's cock between her legs and into her cunt.

In the real world, Ginny felt soft wet lips caress her own and she drove forward into a deep kiss.

...followed by a sharp pain exploding across her ear.

Shocked out of the moment, Ginny felt painful smacks being applied repeatedly against her cheek, face, nose and lips.

Holly had an arm up and was yelling, "Oi! Stop it! Stop it you fanatic! Gerroff! Ah, for fucking--'

The swipes doubled in strength.

A squeaky little voice yelled,"And no potty mouth near students, either! BAD TEACHER! Bad!"

"WINKY!" yelled Holly, just as she caught hold of the elf's bamboo switch. "What are you doing?"

"You'sa perfesser! No kissy! No cussy!No messy! No touchy! No ouchy! No slouchy!"

Holly scoffed. "Now you're just making things up."

Winky started pointing emphatically at everything relevant in sight. "I's will be watching yous because Winky is a good elf with a great purpose, given by grey longbeard hisself!"

"Which is?"

"Helps Polter Professor be a good teacher, and obeys rules. I's allywayswatching!"

Ginny saw Holly's rather pained and distressed face and said, "It'll be fine, Hols. We'll just... stick to tutoring."

Holly protested, "This was meant to be educational!"

Winky summoned a second switch into her other hand and smacked Holly in the nose with it. Holly let go of the first one, but that only provided Winky with twice the opportunities to swipe at Holly's head.

Ginny couldn't hold back agrin.

"Right," Holly declared,"I'll send you some assignments through the study guide, yah?"

Ginny agreed and at Holly's insistence left the storeroom. The last thing she heard as she closed the door was Holly saying, "You and I, Mistress --ow!--Winky, need to come to an understanding..."

~oOo~

Neville went that Saturday to the Entrance Hall, finding that Professor Polter was waiting for him accompanied by Harry and -- Millicent Bulstrode?

"What are you doing here?"

Bulstrode grunted.

Professor Polter explained to the group, "Mr. Potter has an errand to run, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Bulstrode are on similar missions and I'm the escort. We'll be going by Floo, but I'll be delayed in following."

Neville asked,"Why?"

"I need to make adifferent stop, first. You'll all be flipping between fireplaces for a few minutes, so I'll see you off and be there soon after. Just take a table until Iget there."

They each shuffled into the green fire in turn, starting with Harry. At the other end they stood near the hearth in the Leaky Cauldron. Rather than appearing from the fireplace, Professor Polter walked in a few minutes later from the Muggle-side door. She led the way to the alley entrance and Harry opened the wall for them.

Neville nudged Harry and muttered, "Is she wearing a different robe?"

"Uhh...nah. Probably not. What makes you say so?"

"It's a different colour."

"Trick of the light, Nev; it's black."

"I know it's black, but it's a different shade of black."

"No, it isn't," Harry insisted.

Millicent mumbled, "Is, too. Cut's different as well."

Professor Polter brought them all to Ollivanders but stopped outside. She handed a satchel of coins to Millicent, then said, "You're both to be fitted to a new wand. If you don't have a wand care kit, pick one out as well. Stay here until Ireturn."

~o~

Once Neville and Millicent had been escorted to Ollivanders, Harry turned to Holly and asked, "What errand am I here to run?"

"Making it possible for me to travel here today. I can't Floo."

"No, I guessed that; what's my official reason?"

"To 'accidentally' meet with some reporters. You'll go Christmas shopping to catch their attention, then agree to the interview in a private room. I'll send the other two back by Floo but stay to act as chaperone. If their questions get out of hand, I'll call it and send them packing."

Harry was overcome with asudden need to know where all the exits and loos nearby were located."What should I say? What should I /not /say?"

"Keep to the facts of the events in the graveyard or the Dementor attack- nothing else is relevant. If they ask you about anything else, just scowl at them and ask for a /real /question. You control the interview- you are under no obligation to answer any of their questions at all, and you can answer at any speed you like. This is a favour you're doing for them. That said, stick to the facts. Describe and recount but don't draw conclusions. For instance, if the creature you saw was called Lord or Master --"

"He called himself Lord Voldemort, several times. He tended to talk in third-person."

Holly had been staring into his eyes, holding his hand. A moment later, he could see the memory playing out in his mind's eye, clear as if he were watching it happening again, but to someone else. As startling as it was, he lost hold of the memory and it returned to a muddy sense of recall.

She whispered, "Mind Arts will serve you well, today."

"How did you do that?"

"I just nudged you out of being in the memory. You have to separate yourself from it to view dispassionately. That's how you extract them for use in a Pensieve, too. Holding onto one memory for reference takes some concentration- like reading while balancing on aunicycle. The Pensieve makes it easy to observe, easy to share. For now though, you'll have to do the balancing act."

"I'll get you one for Christmas."

"Oh, if only. It'd be easier to buy Neville from the Longbottoms." Holly then caught something from the corner of her eye. She craned her neck and said, "Oh, look, Mr. Potter. I believe that's Xenophilius Lovegood. He publishes the Quibbler. It's rather unusual to see him in Diagon Alley..."

Harry muttered, "You called him, didn't you?"

"Sent Hedwig to him this morning. Penny Clearwater, too. She's working for Witch Weekly."

Harry gave her a grump."Witch Weekly, really?"

Holly waved a dismissive hand."Entirely a moment of weakness on my part- I was just so pleased to know that she's alive here."

~o~

Neville followed Millicent into the dusty old wand shop. It looked like it hadn't been visited since the beginning of school... or of the Fudge administration. The still air and silence felt imposed by some enchantment.

"Too long, too long," said the wild-haired proprietor, causing them both to jump."For too long, you both have been absent from my shop. I only hope you can learn better habits with a properly matched wand. It is no small matter, delaying the onset of building a relationship between a wand and its witch or wizard. I should think you both will leave here today with new eyes to the world of magic. Who's first?"

Neville looked at Millicent, gulped, and then said with a cracked voice, "Gryffindors charge forward."

As it happened, Mr. Ollivander only asked for the sake of his one animated measuring tape. As soon as they both were measured, the man was dropping box after box in front of them, on occasion having them both try the same wand. Sometimes he insisted Neville try it first, other times he handed the next wand to Millicent.

Neville found his compliment first, but Millicent only had to try four more wands before a match was found. His was Cherry with unicorn; hers was unicorn in Larch.

"Is there any significance to us both getting unicorn cores?"

"Ah! A valid question," the wandmaker croaked at him,"...but, no. If I would ascribe any feature to those whose wands have aunicorn core, it is that they yearn for something. Such is true of most of us, so really, not very relevant at all."

They paid and left the shop, both preferring the cold outside to the weird within.

Left with little to do but wait, they sat on some barrels outside the apothecary shop next door. Millicent was swishing and flicking her new wand and ended up transfiguring some broken wood slats into a crude puppet. She tested her color-changing charms to turn it deep green with silver highlights.

Rising to an unspoken challenge, Neville drew his new wand and cobbled together another puppet, this one a bit rounder and stouter than Millicent's. They both refined the shape of the puppet limbs until their wooden champion suited them. A shared glance, asmile, and the two puppets were smacking each other like seasoned brawlers.

"How'd you break your wand, anyway?" he asked, hoping to distract her from a feint his red warrior was trying.

"I... tripped on it. Didn't really work for me anyway. Used to belong to Great Aunt Virgy."

"Was she respected in your family?"

"Nuh-uh. Most figured she was a squib. Only spells she could do were Banishing charms. It's the only spell I ever got on the first try."

The feint had failed and after a flurry of traded blows, Millicent's marionette succeeded in knocking the red warrior's head off its neck with a devastating double punch.

"Oh! It's aknock-out!" Neville conceded and shook her hand for her victory. He said,"You really have a way with animations, now. What'll they say in Slytherin when you start outshining Parkinson and Malfoy?"

Millie's expression turned sour. "Not gonna."

She stood up and walked away, making strong strides back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hey! We're supposed to--"

Neville thought about following her, but also wanted to obey Professor Polter's instructions to wait there for her return. He waffled for a minute, then chose to go after Millicent.

When he got close to the entrance to the Alley, he saw Millicent and Professor Polter talking closely in the shadow of a shop awning. Millie was gesturing sharply but not in the direction of the short professor. After a minute, Professor Polter pulled something from a pocket that she handed to Millie, who then bee-lined for the archway out of Diagon Alley.

Professor Polter noticed him watching and strolled over.

"Done shopping?"

"Is she alright?"

"'She' who, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Millie- Miss Bulstrode. She seemed upset."

"Why do you care?"

Neville glared at her, but the tone of her question wasn't dismissive. "I... that's ... of course I care. She's a person who looks upset."

"Was she not a person before today?"

"No, she was aSlytherin," he spat out in frustration.

Professor Polter smiled up at him.

"I-I mean--"

"I know what you meant. This is not a sin, Neville. Everyone classifies their relationships by proximity- how close or far away they seem. Up until today, Millie was too far off, too obscured by her House colours, to be seen for anything else by you. Or you for her. You know more about her now, so she has more definition."

"Yeah. Is she alright?"

"I can't say. You'd have to ask her. She just Floo'd back to Hogwarts."

The professor was holding out a small satchel of glittering green powder. Neville took it and set off to head back to school.

~oOo~

The interview went well enough that Holly sent Harry back to the school on his own. She found the valise left by Winky in the Leaky Cauldron storeroom and Vanished with it back to David Edge's flat in Hogsmeade. Sirius and Remus were absent so she left the valise there and walked back up to the castle.

Professor Umbridge was waiting for her in the Entrance Hall, gripping Harry's arm.

"Professor Polter, where have you been?"

"In Hogsmeade for a pint with a friend. Why?"

"You took students down to London and then didn't escort them back?"

"They all spoke into the Floo fire clearly, so I assumed that they would arrive safely. Was there amishap?"

"There was a breach of discipline! This boy isn't permitted to leave the castle."

Holly turned to Harry and gave him a look of betrayal. "You said you had permission!"

"Professor Polter, you've been duped," the witch crowed with a jiggle in her jowls. "What excuse did Potter give you for needing this excursion?"

"He said it was for Christmas shopping," she growled out. "Detention, Potter, from now until Yule!"

Harry's jaw dropped.

Professor Umbridge sidled up next to her and said, "I know he's a filthy, lying beast of a boy. I can provide a punishment for him, if you prefer."

"If you have something more arduous than working with the house elves in the laundry from four A.M. until class-time every day," Professor Polter replied, "be my guest."

"Oh, no. I think that will do well. Rather inspired, actually."

She whispered to the pleased witch, "With my background, inventing punishments is more than just ahobby."

They shared evil smiles.

~oOo~

Inside the laundry was sweltering from the boiling of man-sized cauldrons and steam presses. Just outside it was the outdoor well fed from the Black Lake, where a path through the snow from the door to the well was trod flat by floppy footprints. Harry was sure that shifting between the extremes was a certain recipe for catching acold, but it was detention and he bore through it. If anything, it gave him anew respect for the little elves that they could heft the overfull baskets to balance on their heads as they moved between hampers to cauldron, to presses, and finishing at a folding table.

His first class of the morning was History of Magic, affording him a welcome chance to catch up on lost sleep. He was awake enough for Potions to not cause a catastrophe for Snape's first lesson back from his 'illness'. Following lunch and Divination, he found asurprise guest lecturer for Defence class -- Professor Polter, mimicking another pointless lesson while Umbridge watched on with glee for the first half, leaving at the break to pursue other enter-torments.

Professor Polter held him after class for nodding off.

Harry asked her rather acidly if she'd forgotten about his punishment.

"No. I saw that you went, dutifully. Well done. Also good on your mates to bring you plenty of fluids and some breakfast for Binn's class, since you missed the meal."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Stress trains the body to use magic to endure. Tomorrow, see if things aren't seeming a bit easier than they were today."

"You meant to hurt me?"

"I'm forging you into aweapon, perhaps even a legend. Revel in these physical challenges, and your capacity to leverage magic in order to survive them will grow. You've got to push your boundaries or you'll never know what you could accomplish."

"And you have no sympathy for me, I take it?"

"I have much sympathy, Harry. I understand your suffering. Are you beginning to understand mine?"

Harry nodded.

"I know it's hard- you're suffering through this alone. But if you think about it, sometimes it's easier if you're not trying to put up a brave front. You can let yourself be frustrated, angry, morose, or even despairing, but allow it because you know you can pull yourself together once the suffering is done."

"Oh, yeah? I wouldn't mind your company in that sweatshop!"

Holly smiled. "I'll see about getting you a pain companion."

~o~

The next morning, though well before dawn, Harry opened the door to the laundry and was once again hit with astinging cloud of steam from the boiling cauldrons. As the starched mists parted, he saw that Holly was there, waiting for him. She was wearing a cotton nightdress, soaked to the point of disappearing onto her skin except for a few folds and joins where the cloth bunched up. Her chin-length deep red hair was held away from her face by a headband of similar material. Sweat was dripping down her face, along her neck, trailing out over her collar and following the curve of her breasts until some accumulated at her nipples. She twisted in place to grab another basket of bed linens for the steam press -- Harry watched the flecks of sweat leap off her skin.

She smiled to see him staring at her. "Do you really think this is gonna make it easier for you to bear through your shift?"

"Oh... yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh. Yep."

A moment later, Harry was jostled from his erotic funk by another wizard entering the laundry.

Ron complained, "Merlin, it's hot as a dragon's right nostril up in here. I can't believe that sodding wench sent me -- WHOA!"

Holly greeted Harry's best friend with a dainty wave of her fingers. "Hello, Ronald." To further his mental degradation, she tilted her head down and looked up at him with doe-like eyes, purring, "Have you been bad, too?"

Harry turned to Ron, smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and then said, "Touch her and I'll kill you."

"Wha--yeah. Juss... lookin'. Is all."

Holly amended, "Winky has you covered there, boys." She pointed to her left, where the knobby-nosed house elf was giving both wizards a cruel look. She was holding a horse whip and looked eager to prove her skill with it.

Another girl entered from the side where the vats of boiling water were stirred, carrying a full basket that she dropped on the table. She was taller and leaner than Holly, her long, damp, red hair bound up in a tight plait. She wore a similar thin cotton frock, steam-stuck to her sharply-toned curves and contours. Upon noticing the others, she turned and smirked, amber eyes reflecting an inner light.

"Like what you see?" Ginny taunted. "I'm afraid you'll have to keep your hands to yourselves."

Holly swatted Ginny's arse, inducing a playful yelp and giggle. There was a loud snap, resulting in Holly yelping as well. She turned an angry eye at the house elf who was readying her whip again.

"I'm not a Professor right now," Holly protested.

Winky replied, "But yous is still here to be being punished."

Ron whimpered. "I'm so confused."

"Pretty sure that's the point, Ron," said Harry.

Knowing the routine, Harry stripped down to his boxers. Ron, in an odd burst of gentlemanliness, decided to work in his full robes, up until he passed out a half-hour later. Once revived with some snow to the face from outside, he stripped down, but tied asheet several times around his briefs, ending up looking like a New Year's cherub.

"This is so wrong," Ron said for the eleventh time. "Gotta keep my cannon strapped down because of my own sister and your... your... "

"Tutor."

"Psh. No tutor I know of would do for me what she's done with you. So wrong."

"D'youwanna skive off? I'll cover for you." Harry was half hoping Ron would take him up on the offer.

Ron smirked at him. "Not a chance. I'll remember this morning fondly for the rest of my days and nights."

~oOo~

Harry had learned to shut down dream invasions. He'd learned to watch the sewer grate to the tunnel connecting him with Riddle, to reflexively disrupt explosions of emotion from that particular source, to rouse him from sleep if he detected an assault.

Tonight was a bit different. He'd heard something echoing from the sewer and went to investigate, only to find himself a passenger in a third headspace. Tom had opened his mind completely in order to assume command of the snake, so Harry's wandering mind was allowed to travel as a stowaway.

It was a different style and flavour of experience, acting as silent co-pilot for asnake body, but when the captain gave orders to attack, Harry wisely retreated out of the red zone and back to his own mind.

Harry awoke to voices loudly trying to stay quiet.

"Mister Weasley," insisted Professor McGonagall, "you must gather your things and come, now."

"Whuh?But I don't get it. What are you saying happened to Dad?"

Professor McGonagall hushed him and reiterated, "Your questions can wait, and I assure you that your brothers and sister want the same ones answered. Come now!"

Harry whispered, "He was attacked by a snake, wasn't he?"

Both Ron and the professor looked at him with shock.

Professor McGonagall gulped, then said, "You'd best come along as well, Potter."

They assembled the Weasleys and Harry in the common room, and soon they were trekking through the pre-dawn chill of the hallways, up towards the Headmaster's Office.

Despite their stealth they were intercepted at the last turn by Professor Umbridge, dressed in a pink quilt dressing gown and cat-face slippers. She held her wand aloft with a Lumos aimed as if catching them in a searchlight. "Professor McGonagall, what is the meaning of this? What are all these children doing out of bed at this hour?"

"It is a family matter, Madam Umbridge. As their Head of House, it is my duty to care for them and in this case, arrange an early return to London."

"Whatever for?"

"Madam Umbridge," McGonagall seethed, "when I say it is a family matter, that is the End of Your Need to Know."

"Something I should arrange to correct in future," Umbridge replied.

"If you feel compelled to once more abuse the Ministry's authority in this way, it'll have to wait. For now, my authority in this is unquestionable."

"Ah, one thing, Minerva," she said with a giggle, "you may not have noticed, but Harry Potter is not part of their family. He is alone. An orphan. Surely even you had read about that. It was in all the papers."

McGonagall pursed her lips, stared down at the self-satisfied witch and then nodded. "While I am sure Molly Weasley would argue differently, legally you are correct. You'll have to wait, Potter."

"I'll escort him back to Gryffindor Tower for you, dear Minerva."

With the amount of hatred laced in Professor McGonagall's reply of 'thank you', not to mention the poisonous looks the Weasleys were sending her way, it was a wonder that Umbridge would turn her back on them so readily.

Harry bore through an hour of slowly walking the longest path back to Gryffindor, the course commentated by Professor Umbridge in an unending stream of innuendoes about the plight of the Weasleys and how little Harry could do about them.

~oOo~

Author's note: Remember when I said I'd probably end up taking this too seriously? Yeah- I'm there.