Chapter 1: Sorting Hats and Rumour Mills

The compartment door was open, and a girl in Hogwarts robes stood beside a round-faced boy who looked very anxious. The girl stood there for a few seconds, before saying in a breathless voice, "We're looking for a toad – N-Neville's lost his toad…" her face was white, and she was trembling a bit.

Harry felt a million waves of relief crash down on him at the same time, and he realised he was shaking as much as the girl. His mind was awhirl, he couldn't pin down any single thought, and the girl was gripping the compartment door as though it was all that was keeping her upright. Out of desperation, he somehow made himself calm. There seemed to be shields of some kind in his mind that he could raise or lower at will.

His thoughts stopped racing, and ordered themselves neatly for his perusal. So, he was eleven years old again. The plan had worked. He would need to remain rational and not behave oddly. Hermione was struggling to accept where they were; who they were. He could see that now. Inwardly, he prayed she would get a hold of herself. In the second it took for him to process those thoughts, it seemed she did the same. Her face smoothed, she let go of the door, and raised her chin.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, looking at Hermione as though she was a strange animal that had wandered onto the train.

"Are you doing magic?" She looked at Ron's wand, raised over Scabbers. "What spell?" She stepped inside and sat down next to Harry, looking expectantly at Ron. Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. He felt the urge to hug her slam against his shields, and wrestled to keep them under control. They made it! They actually made it!

Ron looked a little wary of the intrusion, frowning at Hermione. "My brother George gave it to me. It's supposed to turn Scabbers yellow."

"Show me."

"Er," Ron cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." Scabbers remained asleep on his lap.

"That doesn't sound like a real spell. I think your brother tricked you."

Harry knew for certain she didn't say that last time. In fact, this entire exchange seemed like a distorted version of déjà vu. He tried to tell her this with a glance, but she was avoiding his eyes.

"That git," Ron said glumly, stuffing his wand away in his trunk.

"My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. It's nice to meet you both." She held a hand out to Ron, who shook it dubiously.

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter," said Harry, taking her hand in turn. Their eyes met, and suddenly she was boring a hole into him with her gaze. On impulse, he dropped his Occlumency shields, and immediately felt her Legilimency penetrate his mind. He tried to summon all of the relief, happiness, and love he could find and make it as visible as possible. If words weren't available, thoughts would have to do.

Her eyes watered and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. She felt the same. "Are you really?" she said, clearly trying to regain her former haughtiness. "I know all about you."

"Er, really?" Harry had the surreal feeling he was acting the part for a stage show he'd studied years ago, trying to remember his lines.

"You're in a lot of books. Anyway, we'd best go look for Neville's toad." She pulled Neville away, leaving the two boys alone.

"What a weird one. Did you see her face after she opened the door? I thought she was about to faint or throw up or something."

"Yeah…" Harry thought desperately for something more to say, but Ron had already moved on.

They talked about Quidditch for a while, and Harry asked as many questions as he could so he would have an excuse for his knowledge. Ron was in the middle of listing the professional teams when an uncomfortably familiar trio of faces appeared in the doorway. Draco Malfoy and his two cronies blocked any view of the hallway as they leered into the compartment.

"Is it true?" he said, eyes intent on Harry with a slight smile to his lips. "They're saying Harry Potter's in this compartment. It's you, is it?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He was struggling to think of a way to avoid antagonising Malfoy straight away.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," said Malfoy, and then, like an afterthought, "This is Crabbe and Goyle."

Ron sniggered softly. Malfoy's eyes darted to him. "Something funny, Weasley? Yes, I know who you are. Can't mistake the red hair, freckles, and faint stench of manure. Isn't your house built on a pig sty?"

Ron's ears burned bright red and he stood up angrily. Harry joined him without thinking. Malfoy looked between them with an amused smirk. "I understand you might think it's polite to stick up for the first wizard you've ever met," he told Harry with a roll of his eyes that indicated the title of 'wizard' was a bit of a stretch. "But manners are wasted on wizards who are worth less than the dirt on your shoe."

"I absolutely agree," said Harry. "Sod off." So much for not antagonising him.

Malfoy's face went white with anger. "You'd better watch your tongue, Potter. A little politeness might stop you from joining your parents–"

"Politeness?" interrupted Harry. "You barge into our compartment with these shaved gorillas, insult my friend's family, and now you want to lecture me about being polite?"

A tinge of pink crossed Malfoy's cheekbones. "You should be more careful when choosing friends, Potter. Bad decisions can come back to bite you." He stepped out of the compartment before looking back at Harry. "If you want to make friends that can actually get you places, come find me."

"Thanks, I'll think it over," said Harry sweetly as he closed the door.

He sat back down along with Ron, whose face was still bright red. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. "You can go with him, y'know."

"What?" said Harry.

Ron shrugged casually, but he was clearly a little bothered by the encounter. "You don't have to stay just 'cause of me. Dad talks about how the rich and powerful families make alliances and stuff." He trailed off at the end.

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Ron, I don't want to make an 'alliance' with someone who treats friendships like business opportunities." He laughed. "And as for 'rich and powerful', I didn't know I had any wizard money until a few days ago. Look," he shook his sleeve, which was rolled up to accommodate his skinny arms, "All of my clothes used to be my cousins."

"Really?" Ron grinned. "Most of my stuff came from my older brothers. Even my wand used to be Charlie's – he's a dragon handler over in Romania." He pulled the battered wand out of his trunk again. Harry spotted the unicorn hair poking out the tip.

"Wow, a dragon handler?!" Harry had no trouble pretending to be excited. It was sinking in that he really was back in his first year, about to see all of his mates again – once he befriended them again, of course.

"Yep," Ron said proudly. "And my other brother Bill is a Curse Breaker in Egypt."

"Your family sounds brilliant," grinned Harry.

Just then, Hermione pulled open the door and came in once more. "I passed three angry boys on the way here, I hope you two weren't starting fights."

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "They're the ones who barged in here like shaved gorillas, right Harry?"

"Yeah, the pale one must have been their trainer," said Harry. The boys laughed as Hermione did a very good impression of a child pretending to be above such comments.

"Whatever you were doing, you should be careful. You don't want to get detention before even getting sorted. Also, I just spoke to the driver and he said we're nearly there, so you'd better put your robes on." Hermione paused after speaking, her eyes closed. Harry realised she was trying to remember if she said anything else the first time.

Noticing Ron giving her a very weird look, Harry quickly spoke up. "D'you mind leaving while we get changed?"

"Oh – right, that's it – um, goodbye." And with a rush of bushy hair, she was gone.

"Blimey," muttered Ron, closing the compartment door.

They packed their jackets away and donned their robes. Harry moved his wand to his right robe pocket, ready to grab. He wasn't intending to do anything crazy, but he felt safer knowing he could draw it in a moment. His mind raced: memories of midnight neo-Death Eater attacks, of scrambling in the dark, throwing curse after curse; telling Hermione to stay inside, using a Disillusionment Charm to blend into the trees, running, constantly moving, hunting through the trees, snake-slit masks glinting in the moonlight–

"All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's voice boomed over the crowd of students exiting the train.

Harry tried to grin, but as they followed Hagrid down to the black lake, he felt a great pit in his stomach. The enormity of the task ahead seemed to dwarf the castle on the mountain. What was he thinking? How could they possibly juggle everything along with school? There were hundreds of knots all over the country, and half that in the sky, and the Horcruxes were all still hidden and protected and all of the Death Eaters were still alive and – Hermione's hand closed around his for a brief moment. He hadn't realised she was in his mind, such was his anxiety. He felt her calming presence in his thoughts, and immediately felt some of the weight lift from his chest.

He wasn't alone. Hermione was with him. I'm not alone.

It was a silly, childish thought, but so very real. Hermione's Legilimency retreated now that he had calmed down. Her hand vanished into the crowd without a single soul noticing. Harry took a deep breath and chose a boat. Hermione and Neville joined them silently, just like the first time.

He had never forgotten his first glimpse of Hogwarts, and he was glad nothing had changed. It still towered above everything, ancient and silent, but covered with pinpricks of warmth. He felt the absurd urge to weep, seeing the castle again. No matter the dangers in their future, Harry knew he would always find friends behind these walls.

The trip across the glassy lake and up into the castle felt like a dream. The night air was cold, but he'd never felt more comforted. They had time. They could do this. While Ron's face was pale with nervousness and the other first-years were stumbling over their robes, Harry stood tall, grinning broadly. Hermione nudged him. "You don't look very nervous," she said in the softest whisper, her lips barely moving. Harry stifled his grin and tried to copy Ron's expression and posture.

The Great Hall was silent as they were herded down the centre. Harry remembered how daunting it had been to have every eye on him, but he was so happy to be back that it didn't even faze him this time. These were his people, after all. He remembered even more clearly how Voldemort had once asked them to hand him over. All of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had stood to defend him, along with the majority of Ravenclaw. He held no love for Slytherin, but knew there were good people among them too, even if he hadn't known them personally.

The Sorting Hat sung its ridiculous song. Harry clapped along with the rest, but his heart was in his mouth. He exchanged terrified glances with Hermione. The Sorting Hat would go through their minds to see what house to place them in; it would see everything! As Harry watched each student get sorted, he felt his pulse quicken and sweat broke out on his forehead.

No, no no, there must be a way to keep it out…

All he had was Occlumency, but that was for keeping Legilimens out, not mind-reading hats.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

There had to be a way! The hat would betray them to Dumbledore, he knew it would! Hermione was trembling slightly nearby. He wanted to talk to her, to come up with some kind of plan, but time was running out and they would get scolded for talking – but who cares about that? Harry nudged her arm but she shook her head. She looked like she was concentrating extremely hard.

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

NO NO NO NO

Harry's hand twitched towards his wand, but he forced it still. He couldn't Apparate inside Hogwarts, obviously, and with all of the teachers watching on the staff table only a few feet away, he wouldn't get far if he tried to run. Hermione must have sensed his thoughts, because she broke from her trance to give him a firm, if harrowed look.

"Granger, Hermione!"

She walked forward calmly and took a seat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head. Her face betrayed no expression, and Harry wondered if her Occlumency shields were up. A few seconds passed, during which Harry had to scrub away a rogue sweat drop that had fallen into his eyelashes – but, miraculously…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table roared happily as Hermione went over to them. Harry sighed with relief; clearly Occlumency did keep the Hat out. But then why was she still looking so terrified? Harry slowed his breathing and raised his Occlumency shields. He just had to stay calm.

Neville was sorted, and Malfoy in due turn, and as the other first-years vanished from his side, Harry was still calm. Outside the shields, terror threatened to overwhelm him. If it all came crashing down now, before he could even destroy a single Horcrux or unravel a single knot, it would have all been wasted… he would have been better to stay with Ginny and Ron, and face what came.

The last few kids were shuffling their feet, and now…

"Potter, Harry!"

Whispers crossed the room, and people craned around their friends to get a better look at him. Harry sat on the seat, feeling numb, clinging to his shields with every ounce of his being. The hat was placed on his head. It fell down to cover his eyes, mercifully shielding him from the hall full of faces. The last thing he saw was Hermione's white face, gripping the edge of the table in fear.

Silence.

"I've never seen this before," the Hat said aloud in a bewildered voice, and the hall erupted into chatting; the Sorting Hat didn't deviate like that. McGonagall called for silence, and a hushed quiet descended far faster than Harry would have expected. He knew they were waiting to see if the Hat would elaborate or say something else, but it was quiet.

Harry strained to hold his shields up, even as his hands shook in his lap. Minutes passed. The longest it had taken the Hat so far was a little over a minute, but this… a quarter of an hour passed in complete stillness. Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. Maybe if he got his wand, he could Obliviate the Hat somehow…

"That wouldn't work, you know," said a small voice in his ear. Harry was so surprised that he let out a gasp, which was repeated around the hall. Students began to whisper again, albeit very softly. He wondered what kind of rumours would come out of this, and how much they would affect the plan. Too much attention could ruin everything.

"I quite agree," the Hat said, still speaking only to Harry.

You agree?

"Yes, quite. Hmm… the Granger girl is in on this too? I did not sense it in her, but then, she had a very organised mind, and there was no need to dig too deep…"

Are you going to betray us?

"Hmm… I think not."

Why?

"I do not often comment on the events of the wizarding world, but if I must say, that place you came from looked most disagreeable. I would prefer if such a fate was avoided."

Are you going to tell Dumbledore?

"I will not make any promises… but I think, should you and Granger fall, I will reveal your plans to the Headmaster so he can finish the job. If he survives this time, of course." There was no trace of humour in the voice, just stating the facts.

Harry felt relief on the outside of his shields. He kept them up, regardless of their effectiveness, just to keep himself from collapsing.

Good. Voldemort had his contingency plan, we'll have ours.

"Let us hope neither come into play, this time," the Hat whispered fearfully.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it roared aloud, startling everyone. McGonagall took the hat, and Harry stood on legs that felt like jelly, listening to the Gryffindor table cheer and stomp their feet in approval, or perhaps in impatience for food.

He sat down, hearing the shouts and congratulations as though from down a long tunnel. Hermione could probably feel he was keeping it together through Occlumency alone. Her eyes were filled with questions, but he was in no state to answer them, even mentally. The sorting continued, and Harry spent the last couple of names pulling himself together.

He grinned automatically when Ron was sorted and fell into the seat beside him. Ron's brothers congratulated him, and soon after, the feast began. Harry managed to eat a little. It helped that he was actually starving; he couldn't remember when the last time he had eaten was.

There was a great scraping of plates after a while, and suddenly dessert appeared before them, every treat imaginable. Harry loved treacle tart, but he only picked at his plate. There was too much on his mind to just relax and enjoy the meal. He desperately wanted to talk to Hermione, but she was chatting with Percy about their classes. Did that happen the first time? It was so hard to remember…

Without realising it, his eyes drifted over the staff table, passing Dumbledore, who was talking quietly with McGonagall. Harry thought he might have seen twinkling blue eyes flicker in his direction, but he wasn't sure. As his gaze continued, he was met with a very sharp reminder. Professor Quirrell was talking to Snape. Now that he remembered. His scar burnt, but the sensation was outside of his shields, so he didn't react.

I could go up there right now and expose Voldemort to the entire school.

He didn't need a glance from Hermione to know it would be a terrible idea. But that didn't stop him thinking about it for a while.

After dinner and the school song (which Harry didn't particularly care for), the students were sent to bed. Percy Weasley led Harry and the other first-years up to Gryffindor Tower and past the Fat Lady. The common-room was as comforting as ever, and Harry was able to finally let his shields down. He stumbled a bit as his emotions returned.

Hermione's Legilimency was there the second the shields were down, having a look at his memories, at what the Sorting Hat said. He paused on his way over to the spiral staircase leading up to the boy's dormitory. She was standing at the girl's staircase, looking over at him and biting her lip.

Common-room in twenty minutes.

He started. That wasn't his thought. Hermione was still looking at him, unblinking.

No way…

She smirked.

"Come along, Granger, you can ogle the Boy Who Lived tomorrow," said a female Prefect, ushering Hermione up the staircase.

A moment later, Percy pulled Harry along in much the same fashion, and soon he was being re-introduced to his beloved four-poster bed. They changed into their pyjamas, and Ron mumbled something about food before flopping onto his bed. The other boys were much the same. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, waiting.

With his shields down, he could feel the aftermath of his near-breakdown in the hall. It made him shivery and angry. He couldn't believe he had such an embarrassing reaction to a relatively minor situation. Even if the Hat had betrayed him to the whole school, nobody would suddenly decide to murder him. His life, and the lives of his friends, had not been in danger at any point. So why was he cracking up like a teenager on a first date?

Harry looked at his hands as though seeing them for the first time. He was tiny. He hadn't felt this small when he was eleven, but the proof was in front of him. Maybe that was the problem. He was handling mature problems while in an immature body. Perhaps there was something… his ability to manage the physical effects of stress had been diminished, maybe?

Or maybe, he thought hesitantly, he was just having trouble adapting to a complex situation. There could be side-effects unknown to him and Hermione – something related to the destruction of their physical forms in those terrible waves driven by unceasing winds… He clutched at his head and rubbed his temples.

He couldn't wait any longer, so he quietly padded across the carpet and slipped out of the dormitory. Voices came from the common-room below, so he stopped short of making himself visible.

"–out like a light," said Percy Weasley.

"Mine too," Harry recognised the female Prefect's voice. "Probably the nicest first-years I've seen since I got my badge."

"Shall we go inform Professor McGonagall?"

The girl's reply was cut off abruptly, and the sound of the portrait closing gave Harry the courage to peek around the last bend in the staircase. The common-room was empty, and the fire was burning low. Harry took a few cautious steps, then heard the sound of socks shuffling on carpet. He spun around just as Hermione threw her arms around him.

He hugged her back just as hard, even as she delved into his mind again. They broke apart and sat close to each other on the couch in front of the fire.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said miserably. "I wish I could have reassured you or something, but everyone was watching. I saw you maintaining your shields even after being sorted, so I knew you were hurting on the inside."

Harry shook his head, feeling more foolish than ever. "I overreacted. It felt like I was on the Auror training course again, having my mind and body assaulted at once. I almost reached for my wand, to tell the truth."

"You need a form of relaxation and control other than Occlumency," Hermione said matter-of-factly, resting her head on his shoulder. The original eleven year old Harry would have probably gotten angry at being comforted in such a way, but this one meekly accepted it.

Hermione's chest shook in a silent chuckle. "There's nothing meek about you Harry, trust me."

Harry quietly enjoyed the closeness and the dying heat of the fire. "How did you fool the Hat?"

"Memory palace. I spent the time before my name was called doing some major adjustments. I crafted a whole hallway lined with books that each told some of my earlier memories, before the day I was sorted. The hallway was closed off from the rest of the palace, and I made sure not to waver in my focus. Occlumency helped there. The Hat saw only what I wanted it to see."

"Bloody hell," Harry said, impressed. "How can it see through Occlumency like it's not there, but get tricked by a non-magic memory technique?"

"According to your memories, it said it didn't need to dig too deep. If it had really tried, maybe it could have broken into the main room or something. But the fact is, it didn't."

"I wish I'd learned the technique from you. This almost went pear-shaped before we even got started."

"I'll teach you, then. It's not difficult. I think you should also learn to meditate until you're good enough to do it while moving and working. It would help you stay calm without resorting to Occlumency." Hermione snuggled closer, and Harry had to fight the instinct to put his arm around her.

What the hell are you doing?! She's with Ron!

"The Ron I love is beyond my reach forever," Hermione said quietly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wasn't trying to freak you out. I just… wanted to be closer."

"I understand," Harry replied, and he really did. Traversing the current of Time had a way of bringing people together.

The port-hole opened suddenly, and the two Prefects entered, talking quietly. They hadn't noticed the wide-eyed eleven year olds staring at them. Hermione suddenly pressed her lips against Harry's.

Trust me. Her thought, in Harry's mind. Harry didn't pull away.

The conversation stopped mid-sentence, and the girl prefect whistled, sounding a little impressed. "I'll hand it to you Granger, you work fast." Harry and Hermione broke away, trying to look startled. It wasn't hard. "But you're also supposed to be in bed, so let's move it, heartbreaker." She jabbed a finger towards the girl's dormitory, and Hermione leapt off the couch and ran up the stairs, her face bright red. The prefect went to follow her, shaking her head. "I didn't kiss a boy until last year. Just what are they teaching kids these days?"

Percy looked at Harry, seemingly so appalled he was struggling to form words. Harry sidled towards the boy's dormitory. "I'll, uh, just go to bed." Percy's eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

Rumours could easily be classed as Hogwarts' number one export. Only two people knew Harry Potter had kissed Hermione Granger on their first night, so naturally, everyone in Gryffindor knew by the time breakfast was over, and everyone in the school knew by lunch.

For his part, Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. There were two warring parts of his mind: one, an eleven-year-old who didn't really care about girls yet, and the other, a twenty-four-year-old who was wracked by guilt for kissing his best friend's girlfriend. He constantly tortured himself with the memory of the locket Horcrux, where Ron's greatest fears were revealed. Harry had always known, in the corner of his mind, that he was overshadowing Ron, if unintentionally, and it had taken a long time for Ron to move past it. He could almost see the betrayed look in his best friend's eyes.

Ron's actual reaction was a little different. They were, after all, eleven, and he didn't even like Hermione as a friend yet. His ears would just go red from the embarrassment of talking about kissing every time the subject was brought up in the conversations around them.

But that wasn't the main reason people stared at him wherever he went. Harry had almost forgotten how much attention he had gotten for simply existing; all the kissing rumours did was exacerbate things. The familiar whispers followed him across the school, "Did you see his face?" "Did you see his scar?" He just ignored them. There had been far worse whispers in his second year, when the school thought he was the Heir of Slytherin.

Hermione sat with him and Ron at meal times, but they barely spoke a word, with all the eyes on them. Of course, Hermione didn't need to speak out loud when she was around Harry.

I'm really sorry about all this extra attention, Harry. I didn't think it through; I was just trying to make us look innocent in front of the prefects.

He nodded as he chewed his mashed potatoes. There was a hint of garlic in there, which he loved. When she still looked a little guilty, he tried to fill his mind with calm, understanding thoughts. She wore a relieved smile as she ate.

The classes were interesting, if basic. Harry was sitting in his first Transfiguration class of term, wondering if he should get it first try, or not get it at all. Ron was muttering beside him; his matchstick had grown little feet and kept dodging his wand. Hermione looked to be having the same internal quandary as Harry was, so he decided to wait for her opinion.

She gave him a little smile to say she appreciated his trust in her, and sent her instructions. I think we should do it right. It's easier to pretend to be naturally talented than to hide our skill constantly. We just have to be careful not to go beyond our year level, at least for now.

Harry didn't reply, instead waving his wand, turning his matchstick into a perfect needle.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "How'd you do that?"

"Language, Mister Weasley." Professor McGonagall stalked over to their table, looking every bit the cat as she did when she was actually a cat. Harry heard Hermione snigger a little, then cover it with a cough. It was easy to forget she was often watching his thoughts when they were near each other. McGonagall picked up his needle and inspected it with a raised eyebrow. "This is… very fine work, Potter. I didn't expect anyone to get it completely right in the first lesson. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Harry shared a grin with Ron – they had both decided that they wanted the House Cup, if only to spite Malfoy. But when Harry went to thank McGonagall, he found her attention occupied with Hermione. "Did I do it right, Professor?" asked Hermione eagerly, sounding every bit the overachiever.

"Yes…" McGonagall examined Hermione's needle closely, her other eyebrow rising. "Well done, Granger. Another ten points to Gryffindor." Hermione beamed. Ron started stabbing at his matchstick, muttering the incantation with a different inflection each time. By the end of the class, all he'd accomplished was making his matchstick seek asylum on Seamus Finnigan's desk.

Ron was in a foul mood as they walked to their lunch break, and Harry doubted that Hermione's presence was helping. They already knew Ron had felt overshadowed by his brothers, and now his friends were doing it too. Hermione must have picked up on his thoughts, as she excused herself to go study in the library.

As a peacemaking gesture, Harry asked Ron to teach him how to play wizard chess. Beating Harry to a pulp several times in a row did wonders for his mood, and he was whistling as they packed up the pieces.

On Friday, Harry received the note from Hagrid asking him to come and visit at three. Harry sent Hedwig back with his reply (Sure, see you then) and was in a pretty good mood until he realised his first potions class was today. Part of him was excited at being able to answer Snape's unfair pop quiz that had made him hate the professor with a vengeance the first time around. Even knowing about Snape's true loyalties; about the lengths he would go to stop Voldemort, didn't make Harry any happier about being the subject of his cruelty again.

Harry shared a table with Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Snape took the register, and Harry focused on sensing Legilimency. He knew Snape was a master Legilimens, but would he really try to see into his mind in the middle of class? Harry was confident he would be able to raise his shields before Snape saw anything incriminating. So when Snape made his usual snide remarks about Harry's celebrity status, Harry remained calm and stared right back.

Don't antagonise him, Harry. You don't have logical reason to know the answers yet. Your potions book still had the wrapper on it before class. Hermione warned in his head. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. When Snape started shooting questions, Harry replied with "I don't know, sir," trying to appear as polite and humble as possible. But of course, Snape saw what he expected to see, so Harry doubted it really mattered how he behaved.

"It seems fame can only get you so far," Snape smirked. Malfoy was sniggering with Crabbe and Goyle, but of course they didn't lose any points.

When the time came to divide into pairs and make a potion to cure boils, Snape didn't hesitate to capitalise on the rumours. "Potter, Granger, you are not to partner with each other. Your lack of self-control may prove too… distracting to other students." Malfoy looked like he was almost in tears from holding back laughter, and the rest of the Slytherins were making kissy faces at them.

Harry had already moved to partner with Ron, who shrugged and grimaced as if to say 'just grin and bear it, mate', while Hermione moved her things closer to Neville, who looked thoroughly terrified of his cauldron.

Harry was determined to brew a potion so perfect that even Snape couldn't find fault with it. He had to stop Ron from adding the wrong ingredients at the wrong times, as well as making sure he stirred it properly. When Ron looked a little exasperated with Harry's micromanaging, Harry just shrugged and muttered, "I don't want to give him anything he can use against us. Better to be careful, yeah?" Ron nodded, his expression hardening. Neither of them were fond of Snape.

Neville and Hermione were also doing quite well, with Hermione mumbling praise and encouragement every time Neville had to add something. The boy looked fairly pleased with himself, if a mite embarrassed by Hermione's attention. He looked worriedly at Harry a few times, but Harry just gave him a thumbs-up under the table, which seemed to put his mind at ease.

At the end of the lesson, when Snape inspected their potion, he didn't miss a beat. "I see you've been copying Malfoy's every move. I look forward to seeing how you perform when you don't have anybody else to lean on." The Slytherins chuckled. Ron looked mutinous and Harry could see why: their potion was the perfect shade of green described in the book, while Malfoy's was very pale and yellowish.

They spent the walk up from the dungeons talking venomously about Snape's favouritism. Hermione excused herself to the library again, so Ron was a little happier about going to Hagrids. The afternoon was spent complaining about Snape and Malfoy, and a little bit of digging about the Gringotts break-in that Harry had barely noticed this time. He asked a few questions just so Ron was aware he was interested, in case they ended up getting involved. Harry hadn't thought much about how they were going to deal with Quirrell, and every time he tried to ask Hermione ("Maybe I should just give him a high-five?"), she shook her head and told him to be patient.

So patient he was.

The morning post was becoming Harry's least favourite event. He wasn't expecting anything, but just having to put up with Malfoy gloating about treats his mother had sent him was enough to make anyone gag. The occasional comment about some people not having mothers to send them things also grated on his nerves. Ron and Neville were furious, but he waved them off. "It's not worth it. The little git's just trying to get us in trouble," he told them. Hermione just quietly glared across the room. Harry wondered if she ever used Legilimency on other people.

With imminent flying lessons to look forward to, Harry was feeling pretty optimistic about his day. Then Neville received his Remembrall, and he felt even better. The possibility of not becoming Seeker again didn't even enter his mind. He grinned as Neville held the orb up to the light, watching the red mist swirl around inside of it.

Malfoy swaggered past and snatched the Remembrall from Neville's outstretched hand. Harry was on his feet with his wand in Malfoy's face a second later. The pale boy looked a little surprised at his decisive reaction, but his expression hardened to a scowl as Ron joined him, his battered wand right beneath Malfoy's nose. To everyone's surprise, Neville was up a moment later, his wand shaking as he joined Harry and Ron. Crabbe and Goyle looked shocked at encountering resistance, their mouths opening like a pair of very fat, stupid fish, and they were cracking their knuckles as Professor McGonagall arrived.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked sharply.

"Malfoy has my Remembrall," Neville said, his voice wavering. Harry saw a trace of the Neville he had known, the fighter who had rallied Dumbledore's Army in Harry's absence. He decided, then and there, to consult Hermione about bringing Neville into their little group. Ron still wasn't fond of her, so they weren't technically a 'group' yet, but that would change eventually, and Harry wanted to gather people he could trust. Only as Malfoy handed back the Remembrall and flounced away did Harry realise he finally had a first step in his long-term plan.

"Thanks," mumbled Neville as they all sat back down. The disturbance had everyone looking their way, trying to see what was going on.

"Any time," Harry grinned. Neville smiled back.

Ron was still scowling after Malfoy. "Who does he think he is? Remember all that garbage about manners and politeness he was spouting on the train, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Shows how much his words are worth."

"Too right." Ron slapped Neville on the back jovially, making the boy choke on his pumpkin juice. "You might want to be careful about walking around on your own. Malfoy's probably out to get you now."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, and found she was looking just as surprised. Ron hadn't cared that much about Neville being bullied the first time. It was a sign that they were changing more than they realised. As Neville regained control of his breathing, his face flushed, he managed to grin.

The Flying lesson that afternoon was a subject of much trepidation for several students, Neville and Hermione among them. Even in later life, when she could crack a giant's skull at fifty yards and disintegrate the body with a casual flick of her wand, she had never been comfortable on a broomstick.

Harry was excited to be in the air again, and couldn't help grinning as they took their places beside the brooms. When she gave the signal, his broom leapt up into his hands. It was no Firebolt, but he had been so long without a broom that he didn't mind. Hermione's came up half-way, before falling back to the grass. He smirked at her and she blushed furiously.

"Enough flirting, Potter, you're putting her off," Madam Hooch said briskly, but not unkindly. She wasn't a cruel teacher.

Harry's cheeks burned and Malfoy guffawed, his broom also ready in his hand. Ron's broom rose unsteadily to meet him, and he looked pleased with himself when he noticed most of the class still struggling. Harry wondered if it was his latent Keeper skills that made the broom respond well. Hermione's finally twitched up into her hand and she glared at Harry, as though daring him to say anything. Harry smiled pleasantly, but he was laughing on the inside. She was obviously watching his thoughts, because she turned red again and looked away.

"I said enough, Potter," Madam Hooch said warningly. "Good grief, you're going to be a handful." Some of the Gryffindors laughed this time, and Harry shrugged sheepishly. Was he flirting? Or was it just friendly ribbing? He was disturbed that he couldn't tell. They were eleven for goodness sake!

Ron was chuckling at his scolding, so Harry shoved him lightly. "You ever flown before?"

"Yeah, my brothers and I play pick-up Quidditch back home," Ron replied. "It's dead simple, you'll be fine."

"We'll see," said Harry, trying to inject a little nervousness into his voice.

Finally, when the rest of the class had their brooms ready and mounted, Madam Hooch addressed them as a group. "I want no funny business from those of you who can already fly. Everyone must follow my instructions without deviation, is that clear?" After everyone mumbled their assent, she readied her whistle. "On my mark, kick off from the ground hard, float for a few seconds while remaining steady, then return to the ground by leaning forward slightly. Ready?"

Harry completely forgot that Neville's accident was the cause for McGonagall noticing Harry's flying skills, and was about to caution Neville not to take off too fast when Hermione gave him a significant look. He frowned, not sure what she was trying to say, only to realise a moment later, as Neville shot into the air before the whistle, that she was two steps ahead of him.

It was Neville's shoulder that was hurt this time, rather than his wrist, but Madam Hooch led him to the hospital wing the same as before. Malfoy talked loudly about how stupid Neville was, and how brooms can sense your intelligence and buck you if you're too dumb to fly. "I mean, did you see his face? Probably wet himself as soon as his feet left the ground," he sneered, to the approval of his housemates.

"Oh, shut up Malfoy!" said Hermione furiously. "He could have been hurt!"

Malfoy turned to face her as though he had been interrupted by a particularly rude bit of filth. Pansy Parkinson gave a sickly smile. "Longbottom and Potter? Are you starting a collection, Hermione?" she said harshly.

"Not another word," Harry said quietly, walking closer to the Slytherins. The Gryffindors followed him, Ron at his side fingering his wand, and Hermione glaring daggers at Pansy Parkinson.

"Sticking up for your girlfriend, Potter?" laughed Malfoy. "Or are you worried that she's ditching you for Longbottom?"

"At least I have a girlfriend," Harry said without thinking. "What's the matter, your Mum can't buy you one of those, too?" Ron roared with laughter, as did the rest of the Gryffindors.

Malfoy's face paled and he scowled at them. "At least I have a Mum at all," he spat, and the Slytherins laughed and jeered at Harry.

The Gryffindors were sounding mutinous now. Whether or not they liked Harry personally, they were all united against Slytherin. Harry stepped forward, thrusting his hand into his pocket, of the mind to hex Malfoy into the next millennium. But his foot kicked something forward, and he noticed Malfoy's eyes gleam.

"What's this, then? That trinket Longbottom's gran sent him." He picked it up and tossed it from hand to hand.

"Give that to me," Harry said in a low voice, his blood thundering in his ears.

"Ooh, very threatening," Malfoy said mockingly. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it – up a tree, maybe?"

Harry lunged forward, but Malfoy mounted and kicked off before he could get the Remembrall. Harry quickly mounted his broom and followed, to the surprise of his housemates. The broom wasn't of the best quality, but Harry could fly in his sleep. He easily caught up to Malfoy, who hovered above a tall tree.

"What now, Malfoy? You left your bodyguards behind!" Harry shouted.

Malfoy seemed to take into account Harry's ease on a broomstick, and the fact that he didn't have his burly protectors around him for once. His pale face paled a little more, and he seemed to cut his losses with a careless shrug. "You want it?" he turned his broom away from Harry and lobbed it like a trebuchet, high into the air. "Go get it!"

Harry didn't hesitate before speeding after the Remembrall. It was easier to keep track off than a snitch, plus it was moving in a very clear arc. Harry saw in his mind the point he would have to aim for to catch it, and leaned all the way forward, streamlining his body. The wind buffeted him, sending his robes flapping about, but he didn't adjust his course.

Flying was as much a part of him as his scar, in his opinion. When his hand closed around the Remembrall, he smiled. In the air, his problems seemed so minor and far away. As he wheeled about – with a little bit of showmanship, admittedly – he saw the Gryffindors were cheering. He dropped into a sharp dive, only to pull up at the last moment and come to a gentle stop with his feet on the ground.

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall ran across the grass towards him. "What on earth – are you so eager to break your – don't ever let me see you do anything so foolish again!" Harry could see Malfoy grinning triumphantly over with the Slytherins. "Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said sharply.

She led him through the crowd of Gryffindors, who did their best to say they approved of his actions without annoying McGonagall. Ron was grinning so broadly Harry wondered if his mouth would ever be the same shape again. "Nice one, Harry," he whispered as he passed.

Hermione was watching him, trying and failing to look furious that he'd disobeyed Madam Hooch. As soon as Harry was close enough, he gave her a wink, feeling pretty cocky and rebellious. She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks went red, and the other Gryffindors chuckled. He didn't know what the hell he was doing calling her his girlfriend, but everything had turned out so brilliantly he didn't care to think about it right now.

At dinner, Harry quietly told his friends about his place on the Quidditch team, leaving Ron as astounded as he had been the first time. Harry was so caught up in his brilliant day that he ignored Hermione's thoughts for once. She frowned at him and he shrugged at her.

Can't I just enjoy today? You told me I needed to be patient before we could get to work, and that's what I'm doing. I haven't forgotten about why we came back, but remember that these are our lives now, and we should still enjoy them while we can.

Hermione looked a little taken-aback at his response, and her Legilimency withdrew from his mind. For a while, anyway. She was apparently so used to reading Harry's thoughts that she was visibly startled when he hardened his passive defences. They didn't make him cold and emotionless like his full shields did, and they were more of a warning system than anything; a way to tell if someone is trying to get in, and a time-buying roadblock if they were. In his interactions with Hermione, it was a sign he didn't want her in his mind at the moment.

She was chewing her lip more than the food, and kept darting glances at him and poking his passive defences, as though knocking on a door. Harry sighed and let her in again.

I'm fine, Hermione. Do you really need to be in my head twenty-four-seven?

She winced a little as she pushed a bit slice of cucumber around on her plate. Sorry. I'm just used to it. It's different when someone doesn't mind you in their head. It feels more welcoming and comforting to know they trust you so much.

Alright, easy there. You can see I trust you to the bone, you shouldn't need a daily reminder.

She looked even guiltier, but pleased too. What was with the 'girlfriend' thing today?

Harry felt uneasy about the whole situation. Hermione's words the other night had stuck with him: the people they loved in the future were very, very different in the past. Ron wasn't even noticing girls, and seemed to put up with Hermione's presence as a favour to Harry. Ginny… she was a child! She would be shy, and unable to speak when near Harry… she wasn't just going to be a smaller version of the blazing woman he had fallen in love with. It had taken years for Harry to even notice her, and it had already been almost five years since he'd last spoken to her when they entered the time stream. He was so confused.

Hermione must have seen all of his thoughts, but she remained silent, waiting for him to compose a proper response. I think… because I said it so publicly, we should play along. What do you think?

I agree. It would just give Snape and Malfoy more fodder if we 'broke up'.

So on they went. Hermione made an effort not to constantly sit in Harry's head whenever they were together, for which he was grateful. He didn't mind so much, but he still liked having a bit of privacy. She'd seen all the nasty thoughts and images he could conjure, so there wasn't much left to hide from her. It was more about the principle of the thing.

Malfoy's duel challenge at dinner got Ron worked up, but before he could accept on Harry's behalf, Harry stepped in. "Why at night? Why in the trophy room? Tell you what, Malfoy, let's go out to the lake right now and do it there."

Suddenly Malfoy wasn't looking quite as sure of himself, even with Crabbe and Goyle backing him up. "Too scared to come out at night, Potter?" he sneered.

"Too scared to fight me right now?" Harry replied, not breaking eye contact.

Malfoy's gaze shifted to the staff table, probably hoping Snape would come and pull him out of his hole. Instead, McGonagall was striding towards them. "The lake," Malfoy grunted, "Four O'clock tomorrow." He moved away before McGonagall could reach them.

Harry was surprised. He hadn't expected Malfoy to actually agree to any meeting outside the castle, away from Filch and Mrs Norris, as well as the teachers.

"He's going to cheat, you know," Hermione said conversationally.

"What else is new?" Ron muttered.

"Cheating won't save him," Harry said with a grin, taking a sip of his juice.

Hermione sighed as though putting up with two misbehaving children – which was fairly accurate, actually (her lips quirked as he thought that). "I've been studying Defence Against the Dark Arts spells after that horrid flying lesson. I could give you both some pointers tonight, if you like."

Harry agreed instantly, and Ron did a moment later. He looked a little surprise that she was being helpful. That night, they sat on some of the squashy chairs in the common-room and listened to Hermione talk about basic defensive spells. Ron could only put up with listening for so long, and soon asked Harry if he wanted to spar. Harry agreed enthusiastically, and they took places next to the wall and drew their wands.

A spike of caution in his head made him give Hermione a flat look. Her warning was a little tiresome; as if Harry would just blast Ron through the wall and out of the tower. She went pink and withdrew from his mind.

They practiced Shield Charms first. Harry deliberately made his smaller than Ron's, as well as making it waver occasionally, just so he wouldn't look like a show-off. Ron ended up getting a bit cocky, so Harry demanded they move on the Stunning spells. Harry decided to put a little more effort in, and after enervating Ron for the third time, they both agreed where their strengths lay. A small gaggle of Gryffindors had been watching them, and word had somehow got out that they were going to duel Malfoy and Crabbe.

"Give him one for us, Harry!" Fred Weasley said cheerfully.

"Or two," added George seriously.

"Or four."

"Or – you know what? Just don't stop giving it to him." The twins were delighted that Ron had agreed to be Harry's second, though they certainly piled the pressure on.

"If you lose to Malfoy, Dad will never hear the end of it," said Fred.

Ron turned a little green.

"But don't worry," George said reassuringly. "You'll only have to fight if Harry dies."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly.

The next morning, Ron was looking nervous all through Charms class, and he nearly set Professor Flitwick's hat on fire with a careless wave of his wand. Harry didn't really want Ron trying to cast defensive magic while under duress with that wand, but he didn't intend to lose to Malfoy. Hermione was absent from class for some reason. Harry started worrying just as the bell rang.

But before he could go looking for her, he was intercepted by Professor McGonagall, who took Harry back to her office. At first he thought the teachers had found out about the duel, but she was actually rather pleasant as she sat down behind her desk and gestured Harry to a chair. "You're not in trouble, Potter, so stop fidgeting." Harry reddened. "I wanted to talk to you about your work in class. I've been speaking to the other teachers, and we think it's high time somebody sat you down and gave you the facts."

Harry's chest tightened. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"Potter, you excel in every single class, including Potions, and that is no easy feat for a Gryffindor." Her mouth twisted distastefully at the end. Her rivalry with Snape was well-known.

"I thought Snape was marking me down," Harry replied, surprised that he wasn't.

"Professor Snape. And even he can only smudge grades so far." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't repeat that."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Professor," Harry said cheekily. He just had to stay calm.

Surprisingly, a rare smile flitted across McGonagall's lips. "The purpose of this meeting is to measure your natural magical ability, if you allow it."

"What would that entail?" he asked nervously, and not a hint of it was feigned.

"Just a simple spell. All you'll feel is a slight tickling sensation."

Harry wasn't sure what to do. If he declined, what would his reason be? McGonagall would never accept that he was scared of the spell. If he accepted, what else might the spell reveal? In the end, he decided that if worst came to worst, he might be able to Obliviate McGonagall. It was an awful thought, but Harry expected desperate measures to become necessary sooner or later.

"Alright. What do I do?"

"Please remain still." McGonagall drew her wand and waved it in a circle around his chest. He shivered a little as a prickling sensation crossed his body. McGonagall's eyes widened. "Goodness…"

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Harry said, his hand resting on his lap, ready to seize his wand.

"I… yes, Potter, there's nothing wrong with you." Her stunned expression was replaced by her usual stern gaze. "You are very naturally gifted, in fact. You are as powerful as a fully-trained adult, and it seems you will grow even stronger over the next few years."

Harry stared at her. He had been as strong as he was able to get before he came back with Hermione. Before now, he'd thought he had kept the knowledge of a full education and Auror training, as well as the spells he and Hermione found while researching Deep Magic, but would have to wait for his magical strength to build up before he could cast more advanced spells again. Evidently, this was not the case.

But he was going to get even stronger? That was a surprising thought. Was he going to increase by the same amount that he had when he went through school last time? Was he, quite literally, going to eventually become twice as powerful? He almost trembled at the thought. He didn't want that much power, he'd always been satisfied with what he had.

"Is that rare?" he asked, realising he had been quiet for a little too long.

"Exceedingly. If I hadn't tested Hermione Granger as well, I'd say you were unique."

"Hermione? Do you know where she is?" At her look, he hastily added, "Er, Professor."

"Miss Granger is most likely hunting down Professor Flitwick in order to make up for missing class."

"Oh." Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief. Hermione might be an extremely capable witch, but Malfoy wasn't above stunning her from behind. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on his friends.

"Now, Potter, I must ask… were either you or Miss Granger aware of each other's power? I hesitate to trust vapid gossipers, but one does wonder."

"I, uh, don't really know." Harry cursed his eleven-year-old brain as his cheeks burned. "I mean, I feel pretty close to her, and I haven't known her for long, so maybe I can – I don't know – sense it or something." He thought that was a pretty good lie, and his uncertainty left it wide open in case he was wrong.

McGonagall nodded, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Very well, Potter. I hate to embarrass you like that, but… well, it doesn't matter. You may return to your friends."

Harry excused himself and had to resist the urge to run after leaving the office. Ron was waiting not far down the corridor. He looked caught between worry and hope. "The duel's still on," said Harry, thereby collapsing Ron into a state of worry. "She tested me for my 'natural magical ability'."

"And?"

"Well, uh…"

Ron heard the hesitation in Harry's voice and raised his eyebrows, his fear momentarily forgotten. "Come on, you can trust me."

"I know. But – look, don't spread it around, okay?" He waited for Ron to nod before continuing. "She said I'm as powerful as a full-grown adult… and so is Hermione."

Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Bloody hell."

"Language, Mister Weasley," said McGonagall, startling them both. She passed by with a satisfied twinge to her lips. Harry cursed himself for not hearing her office door open.

At lunch, he, Ron and Hermione talked in hushed voices. "I've never heard of a kid being so powerful," said Ron seriously. "Except maybe Dumbledore – he was a prodigy according to my Dad."

"It's certainly surprising," Hermione murmured.

I noticed certain spells worked better than expected. This just confirmed my suspicions. She spoke to Harry inside his head.

Certain spells? What have you been up to? Harry wasn't sure whether to be apprehensive or not.

Legilimency, for one. Putting thoughts into someone else's mind is something only really good Legilimens can do, but I can do it to you relatively easily.

I'm not exactly resisting, though.

Yes, but it's still an important development of my skills.

Harry couldn't disagree with that.

"I mean, maybe Harry being that powerful would be understandable – he beat You-Know-Who while wearing diapers – but you're that strong as well?" Ron shook his head disbelievingly, completely missing Hermione's irritated look. "Blimey," Ron said miserably, "Now I've got to compete against two prodigies and my brothers."

Ron hadn't spoken too much about the pressure he felt he was under in the other timeline, so for him to just mention it casually was a little surprising. Hermione seemed to think so too. "You're not competing with us, we're Gryffindors. Our main competition is Slytherin," she said firmly.

Giving her a curious look, Ron scratched his chin. "I s'pose you're right." He looked a little shocked at himself for admitting it. "Well, I'm glad we got all the prodigies. Imagine if there was one in Slytherin, they'd never shut up about it." Harry couldn't help but laugh.

As four o'clock approached, Harry began to get twitchy. He was ready to face whatever trap Malfoy was planning, but the waiting was killing him. He had taken to pacing the common-room with his wand out. Hermione watched from a nearby chair. They had gone through a few memory palace and meditation exercises, but Harry wasn't able to focus.

Harry's restlessness was apparently contagious, because Ron was soon pacing with him.

"What if he starts using really bad curses, things his Dad taught him?"

"We'll need to duck," Harry replied. The Weasley twins, who were watching their pacing with interest, chuckled lightly.

"That's the spirit, Harry!" Fred cheered.

"What if he gets the merpeople in the lake to throw their spears at us?" said Ron.

"Shield Charms work on physical things too, not just magic," Hermione said helpfully.

"That makes me feel loads safer," Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Your Shield Charm is better than mine, Ron," said Harry, stomping on his irritation. "You can keep a look out for any incoming spears and hold them back while I deal with Malfoy."

Ron perked up a little. "Yeah, good idea."

They bantered until three-thirty, when Harry decided they'd head down early. He couldn't wait any longer, and getting there before Malfoy might mean they would see his trap before it sprung. A few Gryffindors wished them luck, and Hermione gave a very embarrassed Harry a kiss on the cheek before they left.

They were silent as they descended through the castle. A few students were milling about, enjoying the free time. Harry saw a few Slytherins smirk at them as they reached the Entrance Hall. "What d'you suppose they know?" whispered Ron.

"Whatever Malfoy's got going on, he'd want his whole house to know about beating us." Harry gave his mate a slap on the back. "That's why it's going to be so embarrassing for him when he runs back to the dungeons crying." Ron nodded. He was brave enough to go down there with Harry, but he clearly didn't expect to make it back in one piece.

They left the castle and crossed the wide expanse of grass, taking a beaten path down to the edge of the lake. Nobody was there yet, and the black water was as smooth as glass. Harry positioned himself a little further along the bank, where they'd be able to see anyone coming from the castle.

The minutes ticked by, and Ron's nervousness slowly turned to irritation. "A beating I can take," he muttered, "But this waiting is just bloody impolite." Harry chuckled.

A figure with green-trimmed robes stood out on the field, looking at them. Whoever it was, they were too far away to make out. "D'you reckon that's Malfoy?" Ron asked, squinting.

"Looks a bit too burly. Might be Crabbe or Goyle."

Slowly, other figures in similar robes took up places out on the field, never next to each other. There were at least twelve now, and Harry's heart was speeding up. So this is how it's going to be, then?

At once, as though they had received a signal, the Slytherins converged on the lake, merging into a pack with a pale, smirking leader at their head. "Glad you could make it, Potter, Weasel," he said as they stopped a few yards away. "You remember our talk about manners?" The Slytherins laughed. "I think it's time to teach you some."

Draco drew his wand, and so did every other Slytherin. Harry and Ron already had theirs out, and simultaneously raised them, shouting "Protego!"

Two magic shields expanded between the Slytherins and their prey. This time, Harry's Shield Charm was twice as big as Ron's, and it didn't waver for a moment. Harry wasn't taking chances.

The moment the boys cast their shields was the same moment the Slytherins began hurling curses and hexes towards them. Harry was treated to a delightful image of Draco's eyes widening in shock, his lips opening to tell them to stop casting, but it was far, far too late.

All of the nasty spells the Slytherins used, every single one, bounced off the shields and flew straight back at them. And who was standing at the front, feeling completely safe surrounded by his little army?

Draco Malfoy.

Harry dispelled his shield, and Ron did the same. They looked down at the groaning mess before them. The Slytherins were not looking their best. Several faces were covered in painful-looking boils, or their tongues had swollen to three times as big as their mouth. A couple were missing clumps of hair, and one boy had smoke billowing out of his ears.

But Malfoy had taken the brunt of the attack. He was barely recognisable; his skin was bright red and swollen, his hair had turned white and set itself on fire, and his legs kept jerking around, trying to tap-dance while lying on the ground.

Harry felt an urge, a terrible urge, and he almost sunk into Occlumency to stop himself from doing it. He looked down on Malfoy's dazed face, praying for the strength not to go through with it. But no matter how he struggled, he knew there was no resisting this particular urge.

"Class dismissed," he whispered.

Harry and Ron laughed their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The few Slytherins they encountered on the way looked shocked to see them, and a few bolted outside, probably to check on their housemates.

They clambered through the portrait hole arm-in-arm, and a number of Gryffindors greeted them. It wasn't like winning the Quidditch Cup, but it was a victory for the house, and anyone would be happy about that.

The story was told and re-told more times than Harry could count. He always told it as though it was Ron's plan all along, and how his mate's genius was what saved them. Ron, ears bright red, always told the opposite, that Harry had blasted Slytherins left and right, and even punched one so hard they were knocked out.

Hermione got the full story from Harry's mind, but she still listened attentively as he retold it. He was grateful; sometimes it was annoying having your words picked out of your brain before you say them. Since Ron was listening, he pretended to be surprised that his Shield Charm worked so well, and claimed that it must have been the adrenaline or something. Ron gave him a look that said he knew he was trying to play himself down, but he didn't object. Harry wanted Ron to not be forgotten if the story became part of Hogwarts' history, and the best way to do that was to play down his own involvement.

God knows, he was casting a long enough shadow as it was.

A/N

Legilimency is about reading fully-formed thoughts like actions, spells, and memories. In canon, it cannot be used to 'read minds' as thoughts are too fluid. This is clearly not the case in this story.

Jeez, that Harry + Hermione shipping came on a bit strong, didn't it? I wonder if there's a reason for that...

Please review! I have the next few chapters done and I want to know any major flaws so I can fix them before I dig myself into a hole.