The first thing Harry became aware of was warmth. Not the heavy, smothering warmth of Privet Drive in summer, nor the stale heat of overcrowded train compartments. This was softer. Cleaner. The sort of warmth that settled over him like thick blankets fresh from a fire.
Then came the smell. Something sharp and medicinal lingered in the air beneath the faint scent of linen and herbs.
Harry recognized it immediately – the Hospital Wing.
He opened his eyes to the sight of white curtains and sunlight filtering through the windows. Then he remembered what happened.
A gasp escaped his throat as the memories came crashing back. He remembered the sudden chill he'd felt in the train, the thing in the doorway opening the cabin door, the screaming and -
Harry shot upright, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness that nearly made him collapse back onto the hospital bed.
"Careful dear," Madam Pomphrey, who had witnessed Harry's abrupt awakening, tutted. She swept toward him from farther down the ward, her healer's robes billowing behind and with an expression on her face sharp enough to cut glass. "You are not supposed to sit up that quickly after fainting, Mr. Potter."
"I fainted?" Harry croaked. His throat felt dry.
"You collapsed unconscious on the train," Madam Pomfrey informed him crisply as she reached his bedside. "And considering the state Professor Lupin carried you in, I would say you are fortunate it was nothing worse."
Harry blinked at her. "Professor Lupin carried me?"
"Yes, well, I hardly expected the Dementor to do it."
"Dementor?" He asked, confused.
Madam Pomfrey gave him a long look before sighing through her nose. "So nobody has explained yet." Before he could ask what she meant, she pulled out her wand and flicked it over him in smooth, practiced motions. A pale blue light ignited on the tip of the wand as she ran it over and above his body. "Any dizziness?"
"A little."
"Nausea?"
"No."
"Blurred vision?"
Harry adjusted his glasses, which for some reason had not been taken off his face the entire time he'd been knocked out. "No."
"Good." She nodded in satisfaction before flicking her wand and making the pale blue light die. "You are physically fine," she declared, though she still looked displeased about it somehow. "Exhausted, but fine. Your reaction was more severe than most students, but Dementors tend to affect people differently."
Harry swallowed. Even hearing the name made his stomach tighten unpleasantly. But before he could ask another question, the doors to the Hospital Wing burst open.
"Harry!"
Ron and Hermione hurried inside almost immediately, both looking immensely relieved.
Madam Pomfrey straightened sharply. "Five minutes," she warned. "And if either of you upset my patient, you're both leaving."
"We won't!" Hermione promised instantly.
Ron nodded so hard his ears nearly smacked his head. "Definitely not."
Pomfrey narrowed her eyes suspiciously at them for a long moment, making them fidget uncomfortably, before sweeping away toward her office. The second she was out of immediate earshot, Ron dropped into the chair beside Harry's bed. "Mate, you scared us half to death!"
Hermione looked pale even now. "You just collapsed! Completely collapsed!"
"I'm fine," He said, rubbing at his forehead. "What about Rose? Is she okay?" He asked the, in his mind, much more important question.
"Rose wasn't the one attacked by Dementors last night and missed the sorting ceremony," Hermione said sharply.
"She got into Slytherin, believe it or not," Ron piped up from the side, trying to be helpful.
Slytherin?
A frown formed on his face as he thought about his sister being in that house. He wasn't worried about her fitting in – she carried too much confidence for that to be an issue. What worried him was that she'd be surrounded by people like Malfoy. He'd met plenty of Slytherins over the last two years, and most of those memories weren't exactly pleasant. He remembered the certainty in Rose's voice when she'd spoken about ambition and discipline. But Rose wasn't anything like Malfoy, and he doubted she ever would be.
He decided to just think about this later, and put the matter out of his mind temporarily before turning to his friends, "What even happened?"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance before Hermione spoke up. "It was a dementor," she said. "One of Azkaban's guards."
Harry stared at them blankly for a moment. "Those things guard the Azkaban prison?" He asked slowly. He didn't wait for an answer before moving to a much more important question: "What were they doing on the train?"
"They boarded the train to search for Sirius Black," Hermione continued. "Professor Lupin said that Professor Dumbledore allowed them around Hogwarts for security."
"Sirius Black," Harry repeated. Missus Weasley had warned him about Black before the train yesterday, that Black might be coming for Harry, and had strictly told him not to go searching for Black. First of all, he never went looking for trouble; trouble usually found him. And even if he did want to search for Black, he wouldn't. He had much bigger concerns occupying his thoughts now – like his newfound sister. Putting his thoughts away, he turned to his friends. "What are they?" he asked.
Hermione hesitated. "Nobody really knows exactly. They're dark creatures that feed on positive emotions. They make people relive terrible memories and feelings." Her voice lowered slightly. "Professor Lupin said prolonged exposure can drive people mad."
Harry's stomach twisted, and he couldn't help but recall the screaming he'd heard.
Was that how these creatures drove people mad – by screaming in their minds?
He pressed a hand against his temple.
"You heard something, didn't you?" Hermione asked softly.
Harry looked at her, and for a moment, he considered lying. But before he said anything, came a well-needed distraction. Madam Pomfrey's voice sliced cleanly through the room. "That is enough." The matron reappeared beside them, carrying a vial holder with a few potions in it. She grabbed one of the vials from the rack, the one with the bubbling green potion and handed it to Harry. "Here, Mister Potter."
Harry looked at the vial before turning to Madam Pomphrey, "What's this?"
"It's a potion, dear," the matron said, shooting him a dry look. "A Wigg's Light Potion, to be exact. It is to combat any Dementor Sickness that might manifest in you. Do drink it in one swallow, or it will start to stick in the back of your throat." She warned at the end.
Harry looked down at the potion in his hand. It was a bright, poisonous green and seemed to change its consistency between that of water and something like Honey. It also bubbled inside the vial, like how pasta did the rare times he'd made it before, but there was no heat being applied – it just did it on its own. He removed the cork, and was surprised to find that it had a pleasant smell, not anything he could identify, but pleasant nonetheless.
Harry downed the potion in one go - and immediately regretted.
He'd been lied to! The potion tasted nothing like what it had smelled. It tasted like blood, but if you removed the bloody parts and just kept the metal part of it. It was also lumpy and didn't go down easily, and Harry was pretty sure the potion had scratched something on its way down.
"Gah!" Harry gasped as the potion went down his throat. It had taken several swallows and gulpings to get it to move, and from the way it felt, the inside of his throat was probably bruised.
Harry looked up to see his friends staring at him in concern.
He saw Madam Pomphrey nod. "Good," she said, before turning to Ron and Hermione. "You two, take Mister Potter down for breakfast, and ensure he eats something filling. And make sure to eat yourself as well. Your classes begin shortly, and I will not have students fainting in corridors because they skipped meals."
Harry looked down as a sudden realization that he wasn't wearing his school uniform crossed him. Madam Pomphrey must have seen the look on his face, because she snapped her fingers and called out, "Elf of Hogwarts, bring me a clean set of Mister Potter's uniform."
"Madam Pomphrey, what - " Hermione started, but the Matron cut her off with a silent gesture.
"Give it a moment, dear."
And not a moment later, a pop sound echoed through the entire Hospital Wing. Harry turned around and blinked in shock, because carrying a set of folded Hogwarts Uniform – most likely his – was Dobby. "Dobby's be bringing Mister Potter Sir's clothes, Miss Flower."
"Dobby?"
Dobby turned to look at Harry, and his already large eyes somehow got even larger. "Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked. "Great Harry Potter Sir is here! Dobby is seeing Harry Potter again!"
Instead of reflecting the excitement that the house elf was feeling, Harry just felt confused, "But what are you doing at Hogwarts?"
"Dobby works at Hoggywarts now, Sir Harry Potter Sir. Dobby's be a Hogwarts Kitchen Elf,"
Before Harry could ask any more questions, Madam Pomphrey interfered. "Yes, yes, I get that you know each other, but," she shot a look at the elf, "Mister Potter is in a hurry, and I believe you still have work to do – mayhaps the cleaning in the Kitchen?"
Dobby immediately drooped, and his ears folded backwards as they flopped. "Dobby is sorry, Madam Flowey."
He carefully placed Harry's uniform onto a nearby chair, gave Harry one last delighted look, and vanished with another sharp pop.
As soon as the elf disappeared, Madam Pomphrey turned towards Ron and Hermione, who were sitting there in stunned silence, "Now, I would ask you to vacate the Hospital wing, so that Mister Potter can get changed in peace. You may wait for him beyond the doors."
"But Harry - " Hermione began.
"Will be fine," the matron said, "He will meet you outside. Now Shoo, Shoo!"
///
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast, and the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.
"Ignore him," Hermione whispered to Harry, "Just ignore him, he's not worth it."
But he wasn't looking at Malfoy. As his eyes roamed the entire Slytherin table, he couldn't help but look for Rose. His face fell as he realized that his sister wasn't there. Either she had skipped breakfast, or she'd had it early and left for her classes already. The third option that had jumped into his head was much more worrying – that no one had told her where to go for breakfast.
But he put that one down immediately. Rose wasn't some helpless damsel who needed guiding or help. From what little he'd seen, option 2 sounded more like her.
Harry nodded to himself and headed for the Gryffindor table.
Then Pansy Parkinson, the pug-faced Slytherin girl from his year group, had to open her mouth, "Hey, Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!" She burst into a cackling laughter, followed by the Slytherins sitting near her.
Harry rolled his eyes and just ignored her, dropping into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley. George immediately handed him a sheet of paper, before passing the rest to Hermione, and gestured for her to pass them on. "What's this?" Harry asked, grabbing a piece of toast.
"New third-year course schedules," George said as he buttered his own roll. "What's up with you, Harry?"
"Malfoy," Ron muttered as he sat down on his other brother's side and glared over at the Slytherin table.
George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again. "Ferrety little git, ain' he? He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
"Mhm…" Fred nodded, shooting a contemptuous glare at Malfoy. "Nearly wet himself, in fact."
"I wasn't too happy myself," George said. "They're horrible things, those Dementors…"
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" Fred completed.
"But you didn't pass out," Harry added, completing the sentence in his mind. Like I did.
"Forget it, Harry, that doesn't mean you're weak," George said, somehow knowing what Harry had been thinking. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking. Dementors suck all the happiness out of a place. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"Anyways, the first game of the Quidditch season is Gryffindor versus Slytherin," Fred said. "We'll see how happy Malfoy looks after the match." His name ain' Fred Gideon Weasley if he didn't nail Malfoy with a few bludgers.
Harry nodded, feeling more cheerful at that. The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. He helped himself to the sausages and fried tomatoes
All the while, Hermione was examining the new schedule. "Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.
"Hermione," A frown formed over Ron's face as he looked over her shoulder and into the schedule. "They've messed up your timetable. Look, they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time in the day for all that."
Hermione hmphed and crossed her arms. "I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."
"But look," Ron continued, unheeding of the piercing gaze in Hermione's eyes, warning him to shut up. "See this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And…," Ron leaned closer to the timetable, a disbelieving expression on his face, "Look, underneath all that, Arithmancy, at nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"
"Don't be silly," Hermione said shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."
"Well then…"
As they started to argue, Harry just tuned them out and turned back towards the Weasley twins.
///
The Great Hall had eventually started to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson of the year. Ron checked his schedule to find out where they needed to be. "We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there."
They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit.
The shouts of laughter followed Harry into the Entrance Hall.
It took them much longer than they expected to get there, owing to the fact that they needed to climb up to the seventh floor, and had accidentally wandered off to the south side rather than the north. The encounter they'd had with the painting of the eccentric and loudmouthed Sir Cadogan had been hilarious, but even the knight had been unhelpful.
Eventually, they made it.
They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.
"'Divination Classroom – Sybill Trelawney," Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silver ladder slid down in front of them.
"After you," Ron grinned.
And so Harry climbed the ladder first. He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. It didn't look like a classroom at all, and was more like an attic crossed with some of the tea shops Harry had come across during his stay in Diagon. There were dozens of small circular tables dotted all around the classroom, with chintz armchairs and fat little poufs surrounding them. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves.
It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle.
Harry looked around the classroom, at the shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.
All of the other students who were taking Divination were already here – he could already see Lavender and Parvati giggling in the corner – they had been the last ones to get here.
"Where is she?" He suddenly heard Ron say. Startled, he turned around to see that his two friends had come up without him noticing.
"How-"
Harry had just started to speak when a soft, misty sort of voice echoed from the shadows, cutting him off. "Welcome," he heard. "How nice to see you in truth at last."
She looks like a glittering insect, was the first thing Harry saw when he saw the professor. She was very thin, with her large glasses magnifying her eyes to several times their natural size, and draped in a gauzy, spangled shawl. She had multiple chains and beads hanging around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were covered in bangles and rings.
"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and all the students started taking a seat on either the armchairs or the poufs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat around the same round table. "Welcome to Divination," she started, having seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school tends to disrupt my inner peace."
Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement.
Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl as she continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most mysterious of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the aptitude to connect with the spiritual or the Innate Sight of a Prophet, there is very little I will be able to teach you…Books can take you only so far in this field."
At the last sentence, Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and grinned. As if acting on a single brain cell, they turned to Hermione and shot her two nearly identical mischievous grins, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearing, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few, the power to open your minds and glean information through the veil of grey."
"You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"
"I think so," Neville bit his lip so hard that Harry was half afraid he was going to draw blood.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," the Professor said, playing idly with a ring on her long and thin finger, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings.
Neville gulped.
Professor Trelawney continued placidly, paying no attention to the terror she'd bestowed upon Neville Longbottom. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to Spirit Pendulum Divination and understanding the tenets of the Tarot. Next Term, we shall proceed to Crystal Ball divination, a lesser form of scrying, really, and start with the theory of symbolism and how it matters for Dream Divination."
By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvarti Patil, "beware a red-haired man."
Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him
The Professor just continued as if she hadn't just scared Parvati out of her wits, "For the final semester, we will proceed to Dowsing Rod Divination, start with the theory surrounding Logomancy, and start with the practice for Tarotmancy divination. We would have also commenced with Fire Omens and started with Fire divination, but unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."
A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.
"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the large box from the corner?"
Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, grabbed the large Box that the professor had pointed at from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney. The Professor nodded, "Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading - it will happen on Friday, the sixteenth of October."
Lavender trembled.
The professor opened the box, revealing several pendants, each of them on a silver chain and with a gem attached to them.
"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect one of the pendants from this box before returning to your own seats. You may also use any pendant you may have on you, so long it has a gem and an emotional significance to you."
On hearing this, Harry, who had paired up with Ron and was about to stand up to get a pendant from the box, sat back down and unclipped his grandmother's necklace, given to him by his older sister – what could be more emotionally significant than that?
He did keep an ear out for the rest of the explanation, though, "I want each of you to give your partner a statement that can be either true or false, one that you know the answer to, but your partner doesn't. Then you must hold the pendulum in your non-dominant hand, close your eyes, empty your thoughts, and repeat the statement seven times. Please note that using questions instead of statements will cause this form of divination to fail. A successful divination will cause the Pendant to spin - You will interpret the patterns using page four of Chapter 3 of your Unfogging the Future textbook. I shall move among you, helping and instructing."
"Right, so how are we doin' this?" Ron asked as he sat back down, a pendant now in his hand.
"You give me something, and we'll see if I can get it to work?" Harry suggested, not having any better ideas himself.
The red-haired boy shrugged his shoulders before asking, "That works, your statement is: I buried my Prother Percy's head in the sand when I was in Egypt." He ended with a grin.
Harry quirked an eyebrow at what he said, but got to it. He raised his grandmother's pendant, held it by the chain and let the actual pendant hang low and swing gently like a pendulum. He closed his eyes and tried to think about nothing except the statement Ron had given him – which was the closest understanding he had to 'emptying his thoughts'.
Then he repeated the sentence seven times.
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
"Ron buried his brother Percy's head in the sand in Egypt."
Ron suddenly gasped, and Harry opened his eyes to see the necklace gently spinning. He withheld any of his own reactions and used his other hand to flip open the Unfogging the Future textbook to the page the Professor had told them about. "Let's see, a clockwise spin means -"
He whirled towards Ron and asked incredulously, "You really buried Percy's head in the sand?!"
He couldn't help from grinning as Ron regaled him of the tale – nay, the adventure he and the twins had gone on, but then had to cut it short when they heard Hermione's voice. They turned around in eerie unison. Their friend was arguing with the Professor – something they had never seen her do before – about how the pendants weren't working for her.
They decided not to butt in. A rampaging Hermione was beyond their capability to stop.
Going back to their own thing, Ron continued his story. Eventually, after a lot of hushed storytelling and laughs, and Ron's frustration at not being able to get his pendulum to move, the lesson ended. "Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear," — she pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."
It was the last thing they heard as they exited the classroom.
///
The next lesson had been Transfiguration, and there they learned about Animagi, people who can apparently transform into dragons. Professor McGonnagal's disdain for divination and its professor had been evident since the first moments, something which seemed to strengthen Hermione's burgeoning belief that Divination was Hogwash.
But Harry wasn't too keen on agreeing on that. Oh, he totally agreed on the part that Professor Trelawney was trying way too hard to look and create a sense of mystery, but about Divination being useless – he'd tried the pendulum method, and it had worked for him… so he wasn't sure about that.
After a short lunch break after the Transfiguration lecture – during the course of which Ron and Hermione had somehow ended up in a spat and were not currently talking – came the class Harry had been most hopeful about since he woke up today.
Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Hagrid!
Merlin, it felt weird to say it like that, but just he knew Hagrid would do well as a Professor.
And He'd been right, putting the minor hiccup regarding the Monster book of Monsters textbook aside, the lesson had been great. Hagrid had shown them several Hippogriffs for their first lesson – beasts with a horse's body, hind legs and tail, but the front legs, wings, and heads of a giant eagle.
They looked dangerous.
And majestic.
They'd been introduced as gentle and proud creatures, and Harry could attest to that – he'd been sent on a flight on one of them, after all. While he would still prefer his broom as his main mode of flight, it wasn't bad at all, just a tiny bit awkward. He didn't know where to grab, or where grabbing would cause the hippogriff to buck him off its back.
But he'd somehow managed.
And then Malfoy had opened his mouth, and everything had gone downhill. He insulted Buckbeak, one of the Hippogriffs – for some inane reason that only made sense in his overly bleached head - and had gotten himself attacked for that.
Needless to say, the lecture had ended there as Hagrid was forced to rush Malfoy to the Hospital Wing. And despite Malfoy's incessant cries that he was dying, he was not. Harry had seen the wound; it was just a deep, bloody gash on his arm, nothing that would kill.
Harry's had worse injuries several times before, and Madam Pomphrey had mended all of them in a snap.
///
After Dinner, the three of them made their way back into the common room – intending to get ahead with their homework for once – when they saw a large crowd forming in front of the notice board hanging in the far corner of the common room. Harry had always known it was there, but he'd just never paid it any attention. There wasn't anything useful on there.
"What is going on?" Hermione asked.
Fay Dunbar, one of Hermione's dorm-mates who had been lounging on a nearby chair and a half, looked up from her book, "Professor McGonnagal came in earlier today. She's pinned in the list of current Mentors and who they have taken as their apprentices."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she rushed forward, joining the crowd in front of the notice board, trying to see the list of the Mentors.
The Mentor programme had been something established by one of the headmasters a few centuries ago, but discontinued in the 1700's due to all the wars happening. Headmaster Dumbledore brought the program back in the year 1985.
The core of the programme was to have the older students who have completed their OWL's with great scores mentor the younger students. But it was also a voluntary position, and in Harry's year, there was only one person who was taken in as an apprentice. That was Katie Bell, a Gryffindor student a year older than Harry and a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Katie was taken as a mentee by her older cousin, who had been a Hufflepuff sixth year back then.
The Programme had been temporarily shut down in Harry's second year thanks to the whole Chamber of Secrets and the petrification's fiasco, but apparently it was being started again.
While Hermione was interested in being mentored by an older student, neither Harry nor Ron were. So they just made their way to one of the arrangements with a case of wizard's chess, and started a game.
Ron started with White, as he always does, and they started playing. They'd only gone for a few rounds when they were interrupted.
"Harry, got a minute?" He turned around to meet the amber eyes of Alicia Spinnet, who was leaning against the arm of a nearby chair, arms folded. She wasn't smiling exactly, but she had the sort of expression that suggested she already expected him to agree.
Yeah, sure. What's up?"
She glanced at Ron, then at the chessboard, then jerked her head toward the darker end of the common room. "Need to borrow you. Privately." She chuckled at the look of alarm on the younger boy's face. She snorted. "Relax, Potter. You haven't committed any crimes. That I know of."
"Comforting." His voice was drier than a desert. "Bishop G5 to E6," Harry commanded before he left with Alicia, not waiting for the pieces to move. They crossed the common room, weaving around clusters of students arguing over timetables, Quidditch, mentors, and someone loudly insisting that Professor Trelawney had predicted their untimely death before lunch.
"So, what's up?" He asked when they stopped.
"Hold on." She pulled out her wand, and Harry watched as she gave a neat flick and murmured something under her breath. Then the common room suddenly vanished. Not literally, but all the sound that had been there – of the chairs scraping, people talking, somebody laughing too loudly – was just gone, leaving behind only silence.
Alicia gave a nod of satisfaction as she tucked her wand behind her ear. "There."
He raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. "Modified Silencing Charm."
Harry looked around. "You muted the whole common room?"
"No," she said dryly. "That'd get me murdered by the twins. It's a variant of Silencio that creates a small bubble. Sound doesn't go in, sound doesn't come out."
"Okay, that is cool," he admitted, before turning to stare at her. "You're teaching me that."
Alicia barked out a laugh. "Absolutely not." She laughed harder at the offended look on Harry's face. "You're thirteen. I give you that spell and by next week, you'd have McGonnagal pissed at both you and me. You get into way too much trouble on your own as is."
Harry considered that, "Okay, fair."
Alicia folded her arms and leaned one shoulder against the stone wall. "Anyway," she said, her tone losing most of its teasing edge, "this stays between us for now."
Harry blinked before agreeing. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"
Alicia glanced over her shoulder toward the rest of the common room before lowering her voice anyway, despite the spell. "You saw the list, right?"
"The mentor's list? Yeah, what of it?" He asked. She nodded, waiting for him to connect the dots. But he didn't, he just waited there looking at her blankly.
Alicia stared at him.
Harry stared back.
Eventually, she sighed. "Come on Potter, you're making me do all the work here."
He smirked, "Apparently."
She rolled her eyes before just coming out and saying it bluntly, "I want to take you as an apprentice."
Wait what? Harry's mind had to take a moment to reset on hearing that. "…What?"
To her benefit, even Alicia herself looked annoyed at how she said it. "I've applied to take you on as my apprentice." She repeated it better.
Harry just looked at her. Of all the things he'd expected, that hadn't even made the list. "…Me?" His voice was shorter than he expected, and he hated that. He hadn't meant to sound like that, but for some reason, he just couldn't muster up the strength. "You want to mentor me?"
Why? He couldn't help but wonder.
Alicia had always been nice.
But not this nice.
She frowned. "Yes, you. Unless there's another Harry Potter wandering around Gryffindor with glasses and a worrying tendency to get into trouble."
Harry stared at her, making her groan, "Merlin, don't make that face."
"What face?" He demanded, all the warmth he was feeling fading away, being replaced with annoyance.
"That face people make when they think someone's pranking them."
Harry considered lying. "…I wasn't making a face."
She squinted, not believing his bullshit for even a second. "You absolutely were."
Harry crossed his arms. "Why? Why would you want to mentor me?"
The brown-haired girl stopped for a moment, considering what to say. She couldn't exactly come out and reveal that she'd seen Harry's interaction with this so-called older sister of his at Platform 9 and 3/4th and that she really hadn't been impressed by the dismissive way the girl was treating her younger brother. She'd known Harry for three years now, and knew that he was a good, kind and a bit of a reckless kid, but he absolutely did not deserve to be treated the way this Rose Potter was treating him.
In the end, she just made an excuse, "Because we're on the same team. And because I want to. Is there a problem?" The last part was said with narrowed eyes and a raised fist, daring him to disobey.
Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, and they both burst out laughing.
A few moments later, Harry thought of something else, something equally vital. "Wait, You're just a fifth year! How can you mentor someone?" A senior student needed good grades in their OWLs to be eligible to mentor someone. And Alicia hadn't given her OWL's yet.
So what was going on?
Alicia stared at him for a long moment, before pointing her finger at him, "There, that's exactly why I needed privacy."
Harry blinked in confusion.
She groaned dramatically and dragged a hand down her face. "Potter, do you know how many people immediately started complaining when Katie got taken in as an apprentice? Especially by someone from outside Gryffindor."
Harry thought back to his first year. Honestly, he was just so busy with his own thing and the whole Philosophers' Stone business that he hadn't really kept himself abreast of others' affairs, but he still had some idea of it. "A lot?" he guestimated. There weren't any rules against it, but because being a mentor was a voluntary thing, most of the higher year students didn't apply to become one. And getting a mentor from another house was somehow even more uncommon despite there being no rule against it. So 'A Lot' was a good guess in his mind.
"A lot," Alicia confirmed darkly. "Half the year acted like she'd been handed a vault key and eternal youth."
Harry winced.
Alicia continued. "And now imagine the reaction if people hear a fifth year got approved."
"You got approved?"
A small grin appeared on Alicia's face. "Provincially." She further elaborated on the questioning look on her soon-to-be apprentice's face. "I have good enough grades that I managed to convince McGonagall to make a deal with me. I can mentor someone in my fifth year as long as my grades don't drop, my Quidditch gameplay doesn't suffer, and I don't embarrass Gryffindor. She said I score high enough consistently that she's willing to make an exception."
Then she grinned suddenly. "Her exact words were something like: Miss Spinnet, if you insist on creating additional work for yourself, I shall not stop you."
Harry snorted.
Yeah. That sounded like McGonagall.
Alicia looked at him for a moment before pushing off the wall. "So," She held out her hand. "No pressure. Think about it if you want." Then, her expression softened slightly. "But if you say yes, I'm not signing up to do your homework."
Harry looked at her hand, then back at her. He had only one burning question in his mind. "Do apprentices get access to weird spells?"
Alicia narrowed her eyes. "That is alarmingly close to being your first question."
Harry didn't answer.
She sighed. "…Maybe."
His eyes lit up instantly.
Alicia immediately pointed at him. "And that reaction right there is suddenly making me want to reconsider." She declared, but the grin on her face matched the one on Harry's.