33.Entertaining Clowns

1st of September, 1992, Tuesday

Harry

The first step in hunting venomous beasts is identifying their dwellings and behavioural patterns. An inexperienced hunter might do only that, thinking his preparations are complete and rushing headlong for the kill. Many of those perish even after slaying the beast, for they were bitten in their hubris and had failed to bring the appropriate antidote.

Harry almost cringed; the words reminded him of his jaunt in the Chamber of Secrets, far too close for comfort. Without Fawkes’ timely assistance, he would have been a goner. How many times had he survived by the skin of his teeth out of sheer luck more than anything else?

“Harmon’s Big Magical Game Hunting Guide?” Diana’s curious voice echoed, her amber eyes squinting at the book in his hands. “Are you planning to go on a magical safari or something?”

Juno gave him an imperceptible side glance.

“Just reading out of curiosity,” Harry lied, pointedly looking at the tall girl’s wounded arm. “Sounds mighty useful.”

“Are you perhaps trying to take electives early?” Padma asked, morbidly glancing at her transfiguration books.

“Perhaps,” Harry allowed. It would help him stave off boredom, but he had not considered it, for he had more significant problems to deal with.

“Flitwick will certainly allow you to take electives early if you ask him,” Goldstein chimed in. “Provided they don’t conflict with the year schedule.”

MacDougal snorted. “I don’t think it’s up to Flitwick but the other teachers.”

“Knowing Harry, he already knows the material,” Diana said. “I remember seeing you with a rune book on the train ride to Hogwarts last year.”

“I have read ahead on Divination, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Runes,” Harry confirmed languidly. He could probably take the OWLs for the first three with proper revision time.

Goldstein choked on his chocoballs, and the young Indian witch patted his back. “That’s practically all the electives,” he groaned, face as red as tomato. “You’re only missing Muggle Studies, and as someone raised in the muggle world, you’d probably know a thing or two there, too!”

“What about you, Juno?” Diana asked, and they all turned to the tall girl.

“Only Arithmancy,” was the impassive reply. Yet Juno’s heavy gaze did not leave Harry, inspecting him as if she were looking at a new, strange beast she had never seen before.

His friends started chattering while Harry focused on his reading, and at some point, MacDougal and Goldstein pulled out a gobstones board and started playing. Of course, the annoying giggling students passed by the door of his compartment, pointing at him, and some shy first years–like the familiar face of Colin Creevey shaking with excitement–even entered.

“Can I have an autograph?” Colin’s face was burning red as he handed him a book–and Harry couldn’t tell if it was out of nerves or shame.

Nyx chose that moment to check on the commotion, her triangular head poking out from beneath the seat, making the boy squawk and turn tail and run, squealing like a pig in the slaughterhouse.

“Noisy,” the serpent whined. “The little ones interrupted my nap.”

“Damn, were we so short last year?” Goldstein rubbed his chin as he stood up to close the compartment door. “I could swear this boy is tiny.”

“We’ve all gotten taller,” Padma sighed. “But the Seventh Years probably still view us as twerps.”

For some reason, Diana stiffened and slowly glanced at Harry with a frown.

MacDougal smirked. “Well, Harry, that will certainly start some new rumours.”

“One of many,” Harry groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. But perhaps Nyx’s presence could ward off the annoying fans, which didn’t sound so terrible after all–at least his yearmates were not bothered by the black serpent–save for Goldstein, who glanced cautiously to where Nyx rested every few minutes. “I barely did anything but attend the damned duelling ring for some practice.”

“Well, that and having a nifty winning streak against wizards and witches older than you.” Goldstein smiled, wiggling his fingers. “Let us not forget demolishing an international duelling star in the U17. Truly, nothing to speak about. My Dad says the last time Britain had a strong duellist was two decades before the blood war, with Felix Fawley and the Botleys garnering some acclaim. He even asked me if I wanted to join a duelling course!”

“It would be pointless,” Padma commented. “My Father considered doing the same with my sister and me but gave up once he realised none of these classes had produced anyone successful for over two decades. I don’t think it’s worth going unless they get Mr Fawley or Professor Flitwick to preside over it, that is.”

Morag’s eyes lit up.

“Do you reckon Flitwick will restart the duelling club this year?”

“I hope so-“

A polite knock on the door interrupted them, and Draco hesitantly peeked in while Crabbe and Goyle stood guard in the hallway.

“Well met, Harry, Cousin, and friends,” he gave Juno a slightly stilted smile while his gaze lingered on Nyx’s beady eyes, which carefully inspected him. “So this is the murderous python that I heard some firstie yell his lungs out in the corridors. Doesn’t look anything like a python, though.”

“It’s just my snake, Nyx, though I’m not exactly sure what she is,” Harry shrugged. “But she has indeed grown big.”

His decision to reveal Nyx last year had paid off, and his friends seemed receptive despite her growing size. Hell, he didn’t even have to answer any of the questions people asked–because others began speculating in his stead. Depending on who you asked last year, Nyx was either a special gift from the infamous Newt Scamander to an exotic, long-extinct species or an experiment gone wrong in a potion accident.

“What do you want, cousin?” Juno asked, but Draco took a step back as if burned.

“Just came to congratulate Harry on your successful summer,” the Slytherin boy coughed, looking everywhere but at the tall, black-haired girl. “And perhaps if we can have a word in private…”

“Sure,” Harry nodded and followed the blonde boy in the hallway until they reached a junction between the train cars. Crabbe and Goyle grunted and turned their backs, guarding both sides with their thickset bodies. For a moment, he enjoyed the rhythmic thumping sound of the train that choked out everything else. “What’s up, Draco?”

Truth be told, Harry liked this less stuck and rude version of Malfoy much better. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt; the boy genuinely wanted to become his friend, and Harry had taken advantage to infiltrate his house and steal. Perhaps it was time to give him a chance–he had already given the benefit of the doubt to Bellatrix’s daughter.

What was the harm in also giving him a chance?

His former Slytherin nemesis rubbed his neck, looking particularly awkward. “Well, I was wondering if you have some tips for duelling.”

“I never cared much for that,” Harry snorted. “I barely know anything about duelling. The titles or fame interest me even less–I only wanted to measure myself against others and gain some experience fighting different opponents.”

“Right,” the Slytherin boy glanced around fearfully as if to check if someone was snooping on them. Then he leaned in, his voice barely heard in the train’s rhythmic echo. “Truth be told, my parents are pressuring me to do more, especially at school. But juggling duelling and studies at the same time sounds nigh impossible.”

“Truth be told, there are no shortcuts, Draco.” Harry patted his shoulder. “You should master the basics, understand the theory, and practise spells until casting magic feels as natural as breathing. Are you requesting I teach you fighting and magic anyway?”

Draco instantly raised his hands. “No, I can hardly take up so much of your time for nothing. I know where my talents lie, and I have no desire to spread myself thin by duelling. I was wondering if you might bring me with you next summer–should you go on another such excursion. I can gain some real experience and make connections, which should satisfy my parents enough to get them off my back, I hope.”

Harry’s first instinct was to decline immediately, but he managed to swallow his reply. Despite everything, Draco had never been evil in the end. Misguided, arrogant, annoying, and antagonistic, but not evil. Harry knew the face of evil; he was reminded of it every night in his dreams–nightmares, for it wore two red eyes that could drown you in their malevolent power, choking out everything in their sheer presence.

Despite six years of antagonism and bearing the Dark Mark, Draco could have given him up to Voldemort in Malfoy Manor that dark day. He had every reason to do it, but he didn’t.

That meant something to him, even if this was a different Draco.

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “But I’m unsure if I’m going for a repeat next summer, though. I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” It was strange to see Draco’s face light up like this, but Harry found he didn’t hate it. “If you need any assistance in school, just say the word, and I’ve got your back.”

Patting his shoulder, the Slytherin boy nodded to himself and turned back to the middle of the train, leaving Harry with his thoughts. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to have his spy in the enemy camp, all things considered, since Snape was already in Azkaban–not that Harry would trust the man ever again after the slew of vileness uncovered by the trial. If Harry failed to stop Voldemort from returning, Draco could easily be a source of knowledge he sorely lacked last time.

Knowledge was power, and if he genuinely wanted to climb the peak where Voldemort and Dumbledore loomed tall over everyone, he couldn’t ignore such things.

His feet already carried him back to his compartment, where he was again met with Juno’s piercing gaze. “What did Malfoy want this time?”

The others had stopped their chatter, looking at him curiously.

“Just some help,” Harry shrugged, unwilling to discuss it.

“You should be careful of the likes of Malfoy,” she noted. “He never does things without a reason.”

“I know.” But Draco had been quite upfront about his reason, unlike Juno. The realisation had made his stomach turn. Sure, the Slytherin boy had an ulterior motive to get close to him, rubbing shoulders because of fame and influence, but the honesty about it had been refreshing.

In the end, Harry now knew he couldn’t rely on Dumbledore and had to make his own connections, no matter how unsavoury. But even Dumbledore didn’t shy away from using dodgy wizards like Mundugus Fletcher and Snape.

“So,” MacDougal continued, though her voice seemed somewhat strained for some reason. “I see you’ve taken up a broom, Diana.”

“Yep,” the girl beamed. “My Dad bought me a Nimbus 2001 as he promised, but I haven’t had the chance to fly in the muggle world. I’m aiming for the Quidditch team this year.”

“Which position are you planning on?”

“The books claim my build is more suitable for seeker, but I’m fine with chaser-“

Sighing, Harry tuned the girls out, trying to focus on his book while the skies darkened and the train slowly approached Hogwarts. Before long, Nyx’s head had settled in Flora’s lap, preening under the Slytherin girl’s pale fingers, and Hestia was engrossed in Which Broomstick’s latest edition.

The compartment felt stilted still as that invisible tension between him and Juno hung above them, slowly spreading amongst the others who kept throwing apprehensive glances between them, doubtlessly feeling something was wrong. It didn’t help that Juno was stiffer than usual.

‘Could have been the wound,’ Harry mused, though he did not feel particularly talkative. Even if his preparations would take time, the mere thought of facing the basilisk again was daunting, leaving him in no mood for idle chatter.

Inevitably, the day dwindled, darkness set in, and they arrived at Hogsmeade station.

The platform was choked with figures in the dark as they muttered the Wand Lighting charm to banish the darkness. Though, they all gave Harry a wide berth, especially with Nyx’s sizeable figure curled on his shoulders. Doubtlessly, some rumours about Snake Charmer Potter or something even more ridiculous would spread like wildfire through the school, but he didn’t care. Nyx was too big to hide, so he might as well rip the bandaid off early.

Half the looks he received were filled with awe, tinged with some admiration, while the others fearfully glanced at the black serpent on his shoulders. But as with everything that passed through the infamous Hogwarts Rumour Mill, gossip lost its novelty within a week or two, and the students moved their attention to newer or more exciting gossip.

Still, the whispers somehow annoyed him, if not nearly as much as before.

“Look, it’s Potter!”

“Potter? Where?”

“Right in the middle of those girls–yep, the boy lugging that big snake.”

“The-Boy-Who-Lived!”

“The-Boy-Who-Duelled, you mean—and bringing glory to Hogwarts too!”

“Pah, I heard he receives personal lessons from Flitwick. If I had the same–”

“You’d barely pass Charms with Exceeding Expectations, that’s what.”

“Wasn’t his pet snake supposed to be… normal-sized last year?”

“Firs’ Years here!” The familiar bellow echoed like a crack of thunder through the night, drowning out the rest of the commotion.

“Heyo Hagrid!” Harry greeted as loudly as he could, but his voice came out strained at the weight on his shoulders.

The enormous figure waited for the first year to gather around him, turned around and gave him a hearty wave. “Heya, Harry. I see little Nyx has finally grown!”

They couldn’t talk further as the swarm of first-years slowly circled the Gamekeeper’s swaying lantern as if they were moths drawn to the ruddy light.

“Leave it to Hagrid to remember a single mention of a pet,” Diana chuckled.

Sighing, Harry shook his head, lit up his wand, and turned to the carriages along with the flow, ignoring the murmurs, and the more-than-usual fingers pointed at him.

“Nice,” Goldstein smiled at the army of carriages. “They even have enchanted carriages just like the boats.”

“I heard the older students use them to go to Hogsmeade on weekends,” Padma said, curiously inspecting the ride.

“They’re not enchanted, though,” Diana hesitantly noted, her gaze lingering on the skeletal thestrals. It didn’t help that all the thestrals looked at Harry, their eyes like a small, eerie army of pale dots. “At least not to move on their own, I’d say.”

“What do you mean?” Anthony blindly waved at the thestrals, almost hitting the head of one of them. “Clearly, there’s nothing here.”

Harry stifled his laughter while the Carrow twins stiffened next to him.

“Hey, don’t do that,” the muggle-born girl tugged Goldstein back. “You’re going to hit the bloody thestrals.”

“Wait, you’re joking. Who would have bloody thestrals pull student carriages-“

“Language,” Padma frowned.

“Anyway-“

“Nah, I can see them too,” Harry said breathlessly, already considering the purchase of a Magizoology suitcase regardless of the cost.

His robes were damp with sweat, and the wind felt especially chilling as he walked over. He slowly offered his hand, and two draconic snouts carefully inspected him. Uncannily, their attention focused on the wand holster on his forearm, utterly unfazed by the magic that was supposed to keep it hidden. Then, after they were satisfied, one nudged his palm, and Harry dragged his fingers through the mane, marvelling at its silky texture.

“They smell like you,” Nyx hissed from his shoulder. She slithered around his arm, and his joints and muscles groaned in protest under her heavy weight. The moment she neared, the thestrals warily jerked away. “Cowards.”

“Wait, they’re real?” Goldstein paled, his bravado melting away like snow under the sun. MacDougal and Padma giggled as they hopped on the carriage, causing the boy to hurry in before departing.

“I don’t see a problem.” Diana waved at the window, revealing the shades dancing along the darkness as they creaked along the muddy road. “They look well-trained to me–no need for a coach to guide them on the way or anything.”

The blonde boy rubbed his eyes, warily looking around. “Is the school bloody mental? I can’t believe they’ve brought thestral to pull carriages. What is next, troll guards?”

“Dunno,” Diana yawned, rubbing her eyes. “I’m more curious about who will be the caretaker this time around.”

“Perhaps Dumbledore will just let the House Elves do it?” Morag shrugged, and Harry could see they were all tired after the long train ride. He was hardly any different, though he had not done much of anything–aside from lugging Nyx’s hefty form around.

The castle lights slowly grew as Hogwarts’ enormous silhouette approached, and before long, they finally stopped before the stone steps at the entrance. They quickly left the carriages and joined the flow of older students into the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall.

“Go ahead, guys,” Harry said, pausing by the grand marble staircase as rivulets of sweat ran down his brow and stung his eyes.

Diana, Juno, and the others continued after a moment while Harry took a moment to gather his breath.

“Nyx.” Heaving, he took her off his shoulders. “Go to the room on your own.”

Taking her to the feast would be too much–besides, his shoulders and waist were already stiff–and his knees felt more strained than they did after an overly long morning run.

After a moment of wiggling around unhappily, Nyx roused herself and slithered up the marble steps, disappearing out of sight.

After a quick charm to clean himself of the sweat, Harry made his way into the Great Hall and quickly joined the Ravenclaws on the empty spot beside Diana at the end of the table. As usual, the hall shone with decoration, a moonlight sky above, and the tables laden with golden plates and cutlery. But for some reason, his friends were all looking at him again.

“Hey, Harry,” Diana nudged him on the elbow. “Isn’t that… uh, your godfather?”

Pausing, Harry followed her finger to the staff table above, right at the face of Sirius Black, winking at him while sporting a mischievous grin, was nestled between Flitwick and McGonagall, who seemed to be in good health. Still, her hair had turned silvery grey over the summer, and she looked somewhat thinner, though it could have been his imagination. His attention quickly returned to his godfather.

“It is,” he groaned. What the hell was Sirius doing here?

No wonder his godfather was smiling earlier as if he was privy to a joke nobody else knew.

“So,” Goldstein frowned. “Black as a part of the staff. But he cannot be teaching Defence because that’s Lockhart.”

“I doubt he’s a caretaker either,” Penelope Clearwater added, sitting on Harry’s other side. “See that witch with the orange patch of hair and bleached tips beside Slughorn?”

“Yeah?” Harry spied the young woman who tried to disappear in her chair. She looked no older than twenty. “Who’s that?”

“Merula Snyde–a former Slytherin troublemaker,” was the pensive reply. “She graduated the year before you joined the school.”

“Right,” Harry sighed, his gaze turned to the staff table again. Hagrid’s seat was empty, but that was because he was bringing in the first years across the lake. Then there were Professors Sinistra, Babbling, Burbage, Kettleburn and the rest–the usual setup aside from Trelawney’s figure. “Only the Divination Mistress is missing.”

“And the headmaster,” MacDougal noted, and Harry blinked at the empty throne where Dumbledore usually sat. “Professor McGonagall is here, so I wonder who will lead the firsties this time?”

His musings were interrupted as the doors banged open, and Professor Dumbledore’s imposing figure led a gaggle of trembling first-years, with Hagrid at their very end. Even Harry had paused; he had never seen the headmaster so energetic and driven–an equally reassuring and scary thought.

“Damn,” Goldstein whistled as the headmaster idly waved the Death Stick, conjuring a golden three-legged chair flushed with the intricate shapes of lions, eagles, snakes, and badgers inscribed along the length of the ornate legs. “I didn’t think conjuring gold, let alone such magic complex magic, was even possible. Dumbledore sure has style, I’d say!”

“Some people think him an eccentric old man, forgetting he’s the foremost master of Transfiguration in the world,” came Juno’s quiet reminder. “And precious metals can theoretically be conjured with extreme difficulty and sufficient power, even if the magic quickly fades, but the knowledge of it is… complex.”

“That chair looks quite solid, and Dumbledore doesn’t look very tired to me,” Diana pointed, and Harry couldn’t help but sigh. He had a long road to go. Sure, a part of this was the Deathstick, but Dumbledore was a formidable wizard on his own–enough to beat the dark lord Grindelwald and wrestle the Hallow from him.

“Woah! That’s more students than our year had by nearly half,” MacDougal tilted her head, murmuring under her nose. He also paused, trying to remember if as many first years had appeared last time.

Was it his imagination, or were the Hogwarts tables somehow longer?

Everyone quieted down as Dumbledore placed the sorting hat atop the conjured stool.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, where young minds thrive-“

Harry half-heartedly listened to the sorting song–something uplifting about unity. His attention was occupied with his godfather while inspecting the staff table. With Hagrid and Dumbledore here, only Trelawney was missing, though Lockhart did give him an appraising glance, and one of his patented false smiles showed off a mouth full of shining white teeth.

Sirius’s presence and Trelawney’s absence told a story on their own, though Harry struggled to imagine his godfather as a Divination professor. Before long, the sorting song had finished, and the new students, trembling students, were lining up before the hat.

“Allen, Thomas-“

“Creevey, Colin. Gryffindor!” his self-professed number-one fan shivered on the way to the lion’s table.

Harry barely paid any attention until another familiar name echoed.

“Greengrass, Astoria!” He could have sworn there weren’t as many Greengrasses the last time around. After a long, tense three minutes, the hat loudly announced, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The silence was so stilting, and Harry could see half the Slytherins look at the Greengrass twins, who looked even paler than usual. Even Astoria turned to the Gryffindor table uncertainly, looking as if she wished to disappear into the floor.

Then, a slow and powerful clap tore through the silence as Dumbledore’s hands met, producing an echo that seemed to wake everyone up. The staff hesitantly clapped along, followed by the students.

“Damn,” Goldstein frowned. “I thought siblings all went to the same Houses.”

Padma coughed. “Not necessarily. My twin sister is in Gryffindor, remember?”

“Uh… right.”

“It’s not that,” Juno said faintly. “It’s been over a hundred years since a Greengrass was not sorted in Slytherin. Three hundred since one of theirs entered Godric’s House.”

Harry blinked–he didn’t remember the younger Greengrass in the house of the lions last time. He didn’t remember an Astoria–but then again, he had missed the second and third-year sorting. Judging by the reactions around him, it was suspicious, and he would have surely heard about it last time if it was such a big deal. Perhaps this Astoria Greengrass had chanced upon the diary? He certainly remembered seeing her twin siblings at the Malfoy Gala.

But then again, so had plenty of other students.

Rubbing his brow, Harry tried to pay closer attention to the Sorting, now in a vain attempt to glean some possible clue as to whether someone had Tom’s diary.

“Hughes, Elaine-“

Not that his observations bore any fruit. There were no upsets, aside from Luna joining Gryffindor and rushing to the table with a spring on her set before sitting beside Ron, who was alone at the end of the table–not that his not-best friend seemed particularly bothered. In fact, Harry had never seen Ron look so confident and focused as he nodded at the blonde girl.

“Ginny Weasley!”

After a minute of silence, Morag clicked her tongue. “I would have thought she would have gone to Gryffindor like her brothers. But here we have a hat stall.”

The whispers across the four tables only increased in the next five minutes, only for the hat to announce, “Hufflepuff!”

Another reluctantly walked down to the badger’s table, to the bafflement of her brothers and Harry. But perhaps this change was for the best.

Things were all too different, and he could only feel… confused–they were all children, if nervous and worried before the grand yet daunting welcome Hogwarts displayed. Within three minutes, the remaining ten students were sorted.

“To our newcomers, welcome.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as the sorting hat disappeared. With a click of his fingers, the chair turned into golden vapour, shooting for the enchanted ceiling, eliciting plenty of ‘aahs’ and ‘oohs’. “We have plenty of new faces I feel I must introduce amongst the staff.”

“Some of the older students amongst you might still remember Miss Merula Snyde, who has agreed to become the Hogwarts caretaker.” The young witch gave them a curt nod at the polite but subdued applause, her face undecipherable. “Then there’s Mr Sirius Black, who will substitute in Divination for Professor Trelawney for a year while she has decided to take a… sabbatical.”

The cheer was far more enthusiastic this time, and Harry clapped harder.

Then, Dumbledore glanced at Gilderoy Lockhart, who puffed up his chest like a peacock.

“Lastly, let us welcome Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor!” The headmaster’s words were not as warm as when announcing Sirius and Miss Snyde. Still, most female students applauded almost rabidly while Lockhart gave one of his supposedly patented dashing smiles. The rest of the teachers gave polite, if stiff, claps while Sirius smiled innocently.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. This was going to be a long year.

Wednesday, 2nd of September 1992

Harry awoke with a gasp, his heart hammering furiously as the familiar fiendish red eyes were freshly seared in his mind again. Why in the bloody hell did he keep dreaming about Voldemort?

Was this his mind implying what awaited him should he fail? They felt different, as of late, though. It wasn’t just malice anymore; there was something else in that crimson gaze. A hint of mocking.

“Harry?” Nyx’s sleepy hiss calmed his frayed nerves as her triangular head popped underneath his bed. “You seem ready to fight. Is there a foe nearby?”

“Just a nightmare,” he sighed, wiping beads of sweat from his face and turning the lights on with a flick of his wand. A glance at his watch told him it was barely six in the morning. Yet he had been too knackered after the feast yesterday and went to sleep before he could organise a morning run with others.

Juno was wounded and probably wouldn’t come anyway–unless she stopped being stubborn and had treated her injury last night. Diana and the Carrow twins intended to join their Quidditch teams, which meant they would be too tired to do extra runs if Ravenclaw and Slytherin practice was anything like what Wood did.

Pulling on his running pants and sweatshirt, he paused to look at his oversized familiar. “So… you’re no longer small enough to sneak through the gaps between the frames, and insects can hardly satisfy you anymore. How are you going to hunt for food now?”

“The little pointy-ears give me offerings sometimes. The thin ones in rags that prepare your food.” So, House Elves fed Nyx, eh? “Besides, I am now big enough to explore the forest!”

Harry rubbed his face tiredly.

“The Forbidden Forest is dangerous, Nyx,” he warned. “I know you’ve grown, but this is not a game–the place is swarming with all sorts of beasts, much bigger, older, and more dangerous than you.”

This only made the serpent perk up more, making him facepalm.

“They can hardly hope to catch me–look!” Shaking herself, Nyx slithered into the shade of the chair by the desk… disappearing. Harry blinked in confusion and leaned in to inspect the space beneath the chair, but all he saw was the carpet. Pinching himself, the jolt of pain told him that, no, this was not just another dream borne out of nerves and exhaustion.

“Nyx? Where are you?”

The chair’s shadow wiggled, and an ethereal head materialised from its edges as Nyx’s disembodied head hung from the darkness, the rest of her body nowhere in sight.

“Here!”

Harry knew his snake wasn’t ordinary, but this was not like anything he had heard of before.

“That’s new,” he noted faintly, unsure what else to say.

“I learned how to do it after I took a bite of the nasty laughing shade that pulled on my tail yesterday!” Nyx stated proudly, slithering from the chair’s shadow as her ethereal body gained form. “He doesn’t taste good, though.”

“Peeves?” Harry groaned. Why didn’t he feel surprised that his scaly familiar had somehow managed to bite the elusive poltergeist? “And how exactly did you learn this new…trick?”

The serpent tilted her pitch-black head as if not understanding his question.

“….I just did.” Then, her head flopped down the carpet almost powerlessly, like an enormous wet noodle. “Tired.”

Before he could blink, Nyx was already fast asleep again, shamelessly snoozing on the floor.

“What sort of snake did I pick up?” Harry bemoaned and, of course, received no answer. While he had seen weirder things in the Wizarding World, few were as… odd as this. And none of the magical beast books he had read through even mentioned any type of serpent resembling Nyx, stumping him further.

But this was simply another question he lacked an answer for–a phenomenon Harry was long used to. But despite her quirks, Nyx was endearingly loyal to a fault, and her presence made the bad days slightly brighter–despite her pitch-black coat of scales. Shrugging his shoulders, he put on his trainers, shoved the folded invisibility cloak and the Marauder Map in his pockets and threw and strapped his wand holster to his wrist.

No matter how tired or unwilling, it was time for his morning run, for the grind waited for no one. As he predicted, the common room was empty, and so were the castle grounds, as the sky was still dark.

Just as he passed near a junction near the third floor, Harry paused as he heard two sets of faint footsteps echoing from a passageway.

Was the new caretaker, Merula Snyde, already up and running?

And if so, why wasn’t she alone?

Curiosity gnawed at his gut, and after half a minute of hesitation, Harry decided that spending five minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Sighing, he remembered Dumbledore’s advice and charmed his shoes silent then pulled on the invisibility cloak. Three steps later, he halted, wanting to slap himself.

Shaking his head, Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map and quickly opened it. After half a minute of fumbling, he finally found two sets of footprints down the hallways–belonging to Damien Greengrass and Ronald Weasley.

What was Ron doing with a Slytherin?

After another pensive glance, the map was returned to his pockets. Unable to suppress his burning curiosity, Harry trod towards the strange pair, who had just entered an abandoned classroom nearby.

He soon approached the door left ajar and could easily hear the not-so-subtle voices, both of which sounded sleepy, if without any heat.

“-So, why ask to see me in such a rush and so early, Damien?”

Why was Ron on a first-name basis with a Slytherin?

After a short moment of silence, a pained sigh echoed. “You might have noticed my sister was sorted in your house.”

“It didn’t escape my attention,” said Ron dryly. “There was quite a lot of gossip about the little serpent in the lion’s den–you sure are famous in the Gryffindor tower. And damn, your sister is tiny.”

“And that’s the problem.” Greengrass’ words were practically dripping with worry. “I knew Astoria was headstrong and somewhat of a daredevil, but this is too much. I worry that the Gryffindors would make problems for her.”

“Just because she’s a Greengrass?”

“Look, I’m no fool,” the Slytherin continued, voice strangled. “I know how our Houses are, and sooner or later, some disgruntled older or younger year will get in some spat with a Slytherin and look for the closest and easiest target to vent–my sister. It would have been much the same if your sister had sorted with us.”

“…I can see that now,” Ron groaned, sounding almost nostalgic.

“It doesn’t help that Astoria is a handful and can easily find herself in trouble. So… I was wondering if you can keep an eye on her.” The words caused Harry to blink–not the genuine worry in them, but the fact that this was the first time he heard Greengrass sound anything but calm and composed.

In an entirely Ron-like manner, the reply was a quick and confident “Sure.”

“Wait, just like that?”

“I mean, I do owe you one,” Ron chuckled. “Besides, you’re my friend, and I would do it anyway. I also know that my housemates can be a bunch of gits when Professor McGonagall isn’t looking. But, err… if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly popular in Gryffindor myself.”

“Not that it has ever stopped you. If anything, you look somehow tougher this year-“

Shaking his head, Harry was already walking away from the door. He had heard enough and felt somehow dirty for eavesdropping. This Ron was quite different from his; for good or bad, he had made himself a friend with Damien Greengrass. Nothing malicious was happening either–just two boys in school worrying about mundane things. However, he couldn’t help but feel glad that Ron was doing well.

To his surprise, Hestia and Flora Carrow were waiting by the side entrance, dressed in Quidditch training robes.

“I didn’t expect to see you here without Juno,” he coughed, though the chilly Scottish air felt nostalgically invigorating.

“We did jog together with you each morning for the good part of the summer in Corsica,” Hestia reminded neutrally. “It has become a habit.”

“Though you probably shouldn’t quarrel with Juno,” Flora added quietly, looking at her feet.

“We didn’t quarrel, though.” The words felt sour on his tongue.

“We’re not blind or deaf, Harry–you could cut the tension in the Hogwarts Express with the knife. And, well, we’ve known Juno almost her entire life. She is proud–arrogant even and can be quite forceful sometimes, but she doesn’t always mean it.”

Her twin shuffled uneasily. “My father says power changes a wizard–and a witch too, and Juno did become the head of House Black and Lestrange de jure. She now has direct power and influence at the tip of her fingers, for Cassiopeia Black does not bother to rule or exercise her rights as a guardian.”

“It’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Harry muttered, unwilling to dwell on it further. “Anyway, let’s get running.”

“You called for me, Professor Flitwick?” Harry was summoned by his Head of House with an enchanted note just after a quick shower.

“Indeed, Mr Potter,” Flitwick beamed from his heightened chair. “I did not expect a stellar student like you to express such an interest in the art of duelling! Marvellous!”

“Err,” Harry coughed abashedly. “It was just some practice for fun. I didn’t expect folks to make such a big fuss out of it.”

“Humble like your mother, too!” The Charms professor was practically vibrating with excitement. “I have received a dozen times more inquiries about reopening the school’s duelling club last week than in the last decade!”

That was certainly… new. But better Flitwick do it than Lockhart, that was for sure.

“That’s great,” Harry nodded, though he didn’t feel as enthusiastic as he probably should have. “Though, I don’t really have an interest in duelling.”

He felt terrible to see Flitwick visibly wilt, the diminutive professor blinking at him sadly.

“You don’t?” The question was quiet and mournful, even.

“I mean, duelling is great fun.” Harry awkwardly rubbed his neck. “But, err, while I love the practice and the thrill of the fight, I don’t care about awards or winning tournaments.”

Proving himself almost sounded appealing, but he had more important things to do; Harry knew best that success and fame were fleeting distractions. All the time and effort he had poured into Quidditch the last time around had left him with plenty of fond memories, but it was ultimately an escape, especially in the later years.

“Ah,” the Charms master nodded knowingly, no longer looking as sad. “I understand!”

“You do?”

“Quite. Now that I think about it, if you have already bested the young Oliveira, the Hogwarts students can hardly give you much challenge.” Flitwick rummaged through his desk, looking for something. “Anyway, the first meeting of the duelling club will probably start within three weeks if enough volunteers sign up. The schedule will be posted on the notice boards, and Mr Potter, you’re always welcome to join us to get some good practice in.”

“Thank you, professor.” Harry nodded politely, feeling relieved. He would hate to see Flitwick’s silvery eyes filled with disappointment, especially since the tiny professor had been very helpful. Perhaps a visit to the club at some point wouldn’t hurt. “Err, Professor. I have already finished all the extra coursework you have given me. Would it be possible to get additional advanced Charm tasks and reading materials?”

The Charm’s Master looked as if Christmas had come early then. “I’ll prepare them by tomorrow, Mr Potter!”

Harry left Flitwick’s office with his face red with embarrassment; he could see why the others called him Flitwick’s favourite–and maybe he was. But was it a bad thing?

His good mood didn’t last long. Early breakfast in the Great Hall was a quiet affair as half the students were still sleepy, and the other half had yet to arrive–including Diana, Juno, and Padma. Flitwick gave the grumpy Gamp, who had somehow earned his prefect badge again, a hefty stack of schedules to hand out. A strangled groan escaped from Harry’s mouth.

“Double DADA with Lockhart first,” Su Li squealed, practically vibrating two seats from him. “We have the first class in school with him!”

“And the Slytherins.” Goldstein rubbed his eyes, warily glancing at the gaggle of giggling older-year girls that quickly surrounded Su Li. “I hope he’s half as good as he looks.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Harry murmured. His eyes slid to the staff table, and he found Lockhart staring at him with barely disguised interest.

Sirius also noticed and gave Harry another not-so-subtle wink. ‘I probably have to go talk with Sirius,’ he realised. He had no idea how his godfather would do as a teacher, especially with Divination, but this was surely an opportunity for extra practice. And there was a measure of relief there–he could count on Sirius.

Despite losing his appetite, Harry forced the remaining serving of bacon into his throat and dragged his feet to Lockhart’s office under his invisibility cloak, hell-bent on avoiding the fiasco that happened the last time. He had no desire to have a picture taken with a fraud like Lockhart again, either…

The rest of his housemates started arriving, and Harry almost felt bad when his friends began looking for him. Fifteen minutes later, Lockhart swaggered in by the hallway, followed by the Slytherins, who were an odd mix of subdued anticipation and wariness. His blue eyes swept through the crowd as if searching for someone–probably Harry, before frowning.

Discretely shrugging off his cloak, Harry joined the crowd at the tail end and joined Diana at the very back.

“Where were you?” She hissed, looking ruffled like a cat whose tail had been pulled. “We were all worried.”

“I’m Trying to avoid Lockhart in the hallways,” Harry muttered, wondering if it was worth going to DADA this time. A glance told him Juno was sitting three desks forward beside Morag. “I don’t like how he looks at me.”

“You think he’s a creep or something?”

He absentmindedly started stacking the seven hefty and needlessly expensive books on the desk, wondering how to reply. Then, Lockhart winked at him from the cover of Break with a Banshee as if to nudge him along.

“A fraud, I’d say–I know the recommended Defence curriculum for each year. Lockhart has listed his seven books as mandatory reading for all years… and they hardly have anything to do with the material or studying.”

“Oh,” Diana frowned at the stack of books. “They did read more like memoirs or adventure novels than a schoolbook. You reckon he became a teacher just to sell his books?”

Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, killing the excited chatter around the room. Many of his yearmates leaned forward with anticipation, but Harry knew they would likely be gravely disappointed in short order.

Predictably, Lockhart smiled widely and strolled to the front desk, picking a copy of Voyages with Vampires from Pansy, whose neck visibly reddened. Harry found his turquoise robes particularly irritating to the eye.

“Me,” he echoed confidently, pointing at the book cover, where a miniature version of him gave them a saucy wink. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!”

He paused dramatically, awaiting them to laugh, but Slythjerins and Ravenclaws stared at him, looking dumbfounded. The contrast between Quirrell’s easy charisma, almost majestic presence, and riveting confidence as he talked about the intricacies of magic with zeal and Lockhart was like day and night.

“Very well,” the professor’s words were a tad strangled this time. “I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books. Perhaps we can start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how much you’ve read–and taken in.”

“Goldstein was right,” Diana whispered furiously. “He does seem overly pompous–nothing like Professor Quirrell. And he didn’t even take our names. How will he know who is who?”

Just as Lockhart began giving out tests from the lilac-coloured stack of papers, Juno stiffly raised a pale hand.

“Yes, Miss…?”

“Black,” was the frigid response as she held up the colourful piece of paper with the same disgust one would hold a dirty old sock. “This quiz hardly has anything to do with our curriculum.”

“Ah, but Miss Black, such a bold assumption. It seems that you have yet to read my works,” Lockhart gave Juno a charming smile that made a few other girls blush red. Not Juno, though; her back only turned stiffer, and Harry could imagine her eyes turning frostier. “During my adventures, I became intimately familiar with the dangers the wizarding world has to offer. These books are an agglomeration of my countless experiences-“

The loud scraping of a chair interrupted his spirited monologue as Juno stood up and made for the door, crumbling the paper in her hands into a ball and tossing it at the side, where it bounced off the rubbish bin at the corner.

“Miss Black,” his smiling face darkened. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Juno paused by the door, looking at the Professor as if he were a cockroach under her foot. “Leaving. I came here to learn magic, not waste my time entertaining a clown.”

Lockhart’s face turned the same colour as his papers as he yelled a shrill, “Fifty points from Ravenclaw!”

Juno had already left, though. The silence was so thick you could probably hear a needle drop, and almost everyone stared at the door, their gazes weighted with confusion, amusement, and a heavy apprehension. Harry snatched the crumpled paper and hastily unfurled it.

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?

3…

Any hopes he had of a different Lockhart crashed and burned before he reached the third question.

He didn’t bother reading further, leaving the books on the table, and stood up, grabbing his bag. Harry had a Horcrux to hunt and a basilisk to slay this year, and unless Lockhart was kind enough to make the thousand-year-old beast choke on his vapid body, attending such lessons would be useless.

Not that he needed classes anymore–aside from maybe some Sixth or Seventh Year ones.

“Mr Potter!”

Steeling himself and pushing his apprehension to the corner of his mind, Harry didn’t bother replying and walked out of the room, but not before hearing, “Another Fifty points from Ravenclaw!”

He barely walked ten steps when Diana rushed out of the Defense classroom, face flushed with her school bag slung over her shoulder.

“We’re going to be in sooo much trouble for this,” she lamented but didn’t even bother turning around.

Harry felt warmth seep into his insides, and he almost did a double-take when Padma, Morag, Anthony, Terry Boot, and Cornfield also came out. His disbelief mounted when Draco, flanked by the jeering Crabbe and Goyle, all three of whom gave Harry a thumbs-up, left the classroom, followed by the rest of the Slytherins as Lockhart’s shrill voice turned hoarse as he gave up taking points and started shouting, “Detention!”