Content Harry Potter
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The ceiling in the Great Hall was stormy and grey, with roiling clouds scudding across the sky.   It seemed a portentous sight when Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Hermione arrived for breakfast that morning.   The girls didn’t question Neville’s joining them for breakfast, but they did glance curiously at Ron and Harry, who both gave them a "tell you later" look.

The quiet murmurs and soft laughter of early morning breakfast were disturbed by the appearance of a formidable witch in the doorway of the Great Hall.   She gripped her red handbag as if it was trying to escape.   Her face was glowering, her eyes flashing furiously as she looked around at the various students.   The stuffed vulture on her hat trembled with her barely suppressed rage.   Spotting Ron’s bright hair across from Harry’s messy black hair — they were tall enough so that they were by far the easiest Gryffindors to spot in any crowd — she stormed down the length of the table, stopping behind Neville, who cringed and leaned away from her.

"What the bloody hell did you lot think you were doing?" she hissed at Harry and Ron, then glared at Neville, who cowered next to Harry.   She finally fixed her stony gaze on Harry.

"Sorry?" Harry asked, realizing too late that he was just asking for trouble by answering her.

"Why did you transfigure that toad?"  She glared from boy to boy, apparently blaming all three of them equally.

"Erm. . .homework?" Ron offered nervously.

Homework?   Homework!   Since when does homework involve transfiguring someone’s pet toad?" she demanded, her face twisted in a snarl.

"We’ve always transfigured our pets — Professor McGonagall assigns it to us," Hermione said carefully.   "It’s part of the curriculum.   Trevor’s been transfigured loads of times."

"Yeah, and we turned Hermione’s cat into a rug not long ago," Ron said, doing his best to get the old witch’s attention off of Trevor a bit.   His mouth twitched as he tried not to smile.   Turning Crookshanks into a rug had been a prank he and Harry had played on Hermione recently.   She had not been all that amused by it, but Ron still thought it was funny.    

Mrs. Longbottom stood there fuming, glaring from one of Neville’s friends to the other, pondering which one to attack next.   Her eyes fell on Harry again.   "I suppose most of the blame is yours, Potter."

Harry glanced at Neville, who flinched miserably as his grandmother breathed angrily down his neck.   He felt Ginny’s tension beside him and noticed she had her hand on her wand.   He placed his hand on top of hers, warning her silently to stay out of it, then looked over his shoulder at the woman, trying his best to wear his most innocent expression.   "I was the one turned into a frog.   How does that put the blame on me?"

"You’re the one who talked to him," she growled.

"Don’t you think he’s been punished enough?" Neville said suddenly.   He stood up and turned to face his grandmother.   At that moment, he realized for the first time that he was head and shoulders taller than her.   "Quiet down, Gran.   You’re making a scene.   Nothing was anyone’s fault.   Everything’s fine."

"It most certainly is not fine!" she snapped.

"Have you been to see him yet?" Neville asked, keeping his voice low.

"No, I have not, and I don’t plan to," she retorted.   "How dare you reverse my hex!"

"Augusta," Dumbledore said, gliding up behind her quietly, "As I told you in my note, I am the one who reversed the hex.   If anyone should receive your ire, it is I.   May I invite you to my office, where we can have some tea and discuss matters privately?"

Mrs. Longbottom glared around, suddenly aware that hundreds of eyes were staring at her, amazed at the scene she was creating and curious about its cause.

"Yes," she blustered.   "Tea would be fine."   She gave her grandson and his friends each a glare that would blister paint, then turned to follow Dumbledore out of the Great Hall.

Neville sat down hard, as if all the air had been let out of him.

"Well done, Neville!" Hermione commended him.   "You were wonderful!"

Neville’s face was as white as parchment.   "I can’t believe I did that.   I’m in so much trouble now. . . ."

"As are we all, mate," Ron said heartily, reaching across the table to clap Neville on the shoulder.   "She’s going to hex the lot of us, you watch and see."   He snorted with sudden laughter.

"What’s so funny?" Ginny wanted to know.

"The whole situation," Ron said, reaching for the platter of sausages and tipping several onto his plate.   "Well, it is and it isn’t.   I mean, it sounds like something out of a fairy tale, doesn’t it?   So it’s just funny that such a thing happened in real life.   And she’s trying to make us feel bad, but she’s the one who could get in trouble, so that’s not funny at all.   I mean, hexing him so he’s been a toad for over forty years!   What was she thinking?"

"What kind of trouble?" Harry said curiously.   Ron was still, as ever, his guide through the wizarding world, explaining things that seemed normal to Ron, but were still mysteries for Harry to learn about.  

"Well, for one thing, she might wind up in Azkaban," Ron said casually as he smeared marmalade on his toast and took a huge bite.  

"Oh, that’s sensitive, Ron," Hermione snapped, nodding at Neville, who now had red blotches on his overly-white face.

"Sowwy, Nebl," Ron muttered around his mouthful of food.   With a tremendous effort, he managed to swallow.   "I mean, really.   It’s like wrongful imprisonment, isn’t it, what she did?"

"Yeah, and we’ve seen how concerned the Ministry is with that," Harry said sarcastically, recalling Sirius’s twelve years in Azkaban with no trial at all.

"D’you really think they’ll put my gran in jail?" Neville said in a small voice, his eyes wide and frightened.

Hermione was annoyed with the boys for making Neville even more nervous than he had been.   "You lot are so insensitive," she snapped, glaring at Ron, then Harry.

"What did I do?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"You asked the wrong question at the wrong time," she said, irritated.   She reached over and put her hand on Neville’s arm.   "Don’t worry, Neville.   I’ll go research this in the library and have an answer for you by dinnertime, all right?   And I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will find some way to protect her."

"Protect her?   After what she did?" Ron was horrified.   "Are you on her side?"

"I’m on Neville’s side!   If you were paying attention, you’d know that!" she snapped.

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes confused.   "What did I miss?"  

Harry just shrugged.   Ron and Hermione hadn’t bickered in a long time.   He looked from Ron to Hermione and wondered if something was going on besides their concern over Neville.   His eyes found Ginny’s.   Her brown eyes looked as concerned as he felt.  

"Let’s all calm down," Ginny said after a moment.   "Neville, Ron and Harry didn’t mean anything by what they said. You know that, right?"

Neville looked from one boy to the other.   "Yeah, I know.   No problem, guys."

"Thanks," Ron said with a smile.   "I didn’t mean to . . ."

"No, seriously," Neville interrupted him.   "No problem.   And Harry, you asked a good question.   I would like to know the answer myself."   He turned to Hermione.   "Let me know what you find out, all right?   And thanks for doing the research for me.   I don’t know that I could do it."

"You have to talk to them, Neville, so you wouldn’t have time anyway," she said, trying to comfort him.

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it.   "I need to talk to them."

"It’s Transfiguration first today, mate.   Go on down and chat with your grandfather again," Ron encouraged him.   "We’ll talk to McGonagall for you.   She’ll understand."

"And we’ll help you with the class work you miss, as well," Hermione promised.

"Yeah.   OK.   Thanks."   With that, Neville pushed away from the table, got up and left without having eaten a single bite of breakfast.

"What’s up with Longbottom?" Blaise Zabini shouted across the Great Hall.   "Does he need his granny to hold his hand in school now?   What a ponce!"

"Shut up, Zabini," Harry warned quietly.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Zabini demanded, leaping to his feet so quickly that his bench fell over.

"That will do," Professor McGonagall said coldly, sweeping down the aisle.   "Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Zabini, for provoking other students."

"Potter started it!" Zabini snarled.

"No, he did not.   I heard the whole conversation, and I must say, Mr. Zabini, that I am appalled at your lack of sensitivity.   Every student here knows that if a relative turns up at Hogwarts, there’s some good reason for it.   Your behaviour was abominable.   If you don’t calm down immediately, there will be more severe consequences than just a few points taken from your house."

Blaise sat down, grumbling something very rude under his breath.

McGonagall spun around and eyed him beadily.   "I heard that, Mr. Zabini.   A further five points from Slytherin for your cheek, as well as a detention.   Come and see me at the end of the day to schedule it."

Zabini’s face was flushed with anger, but he kept his mouth shut as he nodded his agreement.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, if I might see you two after you finish your breakfast, please?" McGonagall asked as she reached their seats.   "Can you both come to my classroom a bit early?"

"Yes," Harry replied.   "What’s up?"

"We’ll discuss it at that time."   Seeing their anxious faces, she smiled.   "Don’t worry, you’re in no trouble.   And you handled yourself admirably just now, both of you.   I saw the whole thing, from the time Mrs. Longbottom came in.   I started to intervene, but then I saw that you had the situation well in hand for the most part, and the headmaster stepped in at just the right moment, so I didn’t really need to interfere.   Poor Mr. Longbottom has a lot to deal with these days.   I’m glad you are being such good friends to him.   Thank you for that.   I will see you in my room in a few minutes, then?"

"Yes, Professor," both boys agreed.

* * * * *

"I’ve been meaning to talk with you about this for some time now, but you’ve been so busy with start-of-school things, I thought I’d wait until you’d settled into your routine," McGonagall said when the boys had taken seats in front of her desk.   Hermione sat in the back of the room, trying to act inconspicuous.   McGonagall ignored her, knowing the boys would tell her everything as soon as they got together anyway.

"We have a rare opportunity here.   You two are the first Animagi in many years, certainly the first registered ones.   And Harry, you have done a remarkable job of explaining things to your classmates in a completely different way than I have, with the result that Mr. Weasley here has become an Animagus himself.   I commend both of you for your achievements."   She smiled at them, pride in her eyes.  

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said quietly.   He wondered what else was on her mind.   Surely she didn’t call them to her room early just to compliment them?

"I’ve spoken with the headmaster about an idea I’ve had, and he thinks it’s a good one.   I would like the two of you to speak to the entire student body about the Animagus transformation.   In order to avoid imposing too much on your already very busy schedules, we will schedule an assembly after dinner on a Saturday evening.  That way, no matter how late the assembly goes, people can sleep in the next morning, and it won’t interfere with last-minute homework."

Harry gulped.   "An assembly?"

Ron gulped as well.   "Of the whole school?"   His voice squeaked as he spoke, something that hadn’t happened in a couple of years.   He cleared his throat and tried again.   "You want us to talk to the whole school about this?   Even Slytherins?"

"All Houses, all ages, yes, the entire school," she said firmly.   "It will be a great benefit to the other students, and by speaking to them all at once, we will save a great deal of your already limited time.   I know how busy you are with Quidditch and D.A meetings, and I don’t want to impose, but you two boys sharing your own experiences with learning how to do the transformation will have a much greater impact than anything I can say in class.   You’re their age.   You’ve learned how to do something that very few people ever manage.   If you are willing to share your knowledge, you might help someone to follow in your footsteps."

The boys both looked at her with wide, nervous eyes.  

"What do you think?" she prompted when they’d been quiet a while.

"So how do you want us to do this?" Harry asked, gulping hard to quell his uneasiness.

"Very much as you did in class last term, Mr. Potter," she replied.   "You did an admirable job of demonstrating the change, and then explaining how you worked it out.   And possibly you could take questions from the floor.   You could explain how you helped Mr. Weasley, as well."

"Why not have Harry do the whole thing?   You don’t really need me," Ron said, trying to wiggle out of it.

"Nonsense!   You have achieved a remarkable thing yourself.   No matter how much Mr. Potter helped you, you had to conquer the transformation yourself.   You do have a lot to bring to the discussion, Mr. Weasley.   And the students respect you.   You’re Head Boy, an excellent Quidditch player, the general in D.A. — they will want to hear from you, Mr. Weasley, trust me."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged.  

"What do we need to do to prepare?" Harry asked, already bracing himself for the job.

"Just bring yourselves and an open mind," she replied.   "You know what to say.   It will be a great benefit to the younger students, especially.   Thank you for doing this."

Ron looked at Harry, wondering exactly when they’d agreed, then shrugged.   He knew Harry would have to do the majority of the work, so he’d just go along as "side-kick" and do what he had to in order to help his best mate.

Other students were filtering into the room now.   McGonagall leaned forward and murmured.   "Thank you, boys."

"Professor?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Yes, Potter?"

"When will we do this?"

"Will this Saturday evening suit you?" she said with a smile.

"Uh. . .yeah, I guess," he said reluctantly.

"I think getting it over with will be a help to both of you.   You won’t have so long to build up a case of nerves," she said with a smile.   "All right, take your seats."

They got up and moved back two rows to their normal seats, and Hermione joined them.

"Did you hear?" Ron asked her quietly.

"Yes!" she said, "I think it will be wonderful."   She looked at him wistfully.   Since learning that no Muggleborns had ever become Animagi, Hermione had begun to lose hope of ever being an Animagus, but she would keep trying as long as she was at Hogwarts, at least.   "Every bit of information you can share will be useful to someone," she said encouragingly.

"You think?" he said uncertainly.

"I think you’ll be brilliant, Ron," she said, putting her hand over his and squeezing it gently.

He smiled, his face lighting up in the glow of her approval.   "OK.   I’ll have a go."

Harry watched them together, their earlier tiff forgotten.   I suppose the ‘new’ has worn off of their relationship enough that they can bicker again, he thought.   And Mr. and Mrs. Weasley bicker, so maybe that’s normal in a good relationship.   But Ginny and I don’t bicker.   We get along well nearly all the time.     He wondered about that, the thought of Ginny, as always, bringing a soft smile to his face.   I hope the ‘new’ never wears off of our relationship.

Hermione glanced over at him.     "Knut for your thoughts, Harry," she teased.

"Huh?"

"You were a million miles away.   What were you thinking about?"

"Erm. . .nothing," he said, digging his things out of his bag to cover his blush.

"Not nothing," she said wisely.   "You were thinking about Ginny, weren’t you?"

"A bit," he admitted, his cheeks turning pink.

Hermione grinned at him.   "You two are so cute," she murmured as she finished setting her class things out.   Harry just blushed again and ducked his head, hoping his hair would hide his pink face.

"Watch what you’re thinking about my sister," Ron teased, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Hey!" Harry protested, then returned Ron’s grin.

"All right, class, settle down," McGonagall called imperiously.   "We’re continuing our work on human to animal transfiguration.   How many of you have managed it so far?"  

Harry, Ron and Hermione all raised their hands, but there were no others.  

"Miss Granger, please tell us about your transformation."

"I changed Harry into a baboon, and then a frog," she replied.   "He seemed to enjoy both experiences, and suffered no ill effects."

"What do you mean, he seemed to enjoy them?" McGonagall prompted.

Hermione smiled.   "When he was a baboon, he went bouncing all over the classroom we were using — I was afraid a baboon would be too active to be in the Common Room — and he even swung on the chandelier and threw candles at us at one point."   Harry and Ron were grinning at each other, which nearly made Hermione laugh.  

McGonagall didn’t look all that pleased.   "He removed the candles from a classroom chandelier?"

"Oh, he put them back when Ron threw them back up to him," she assured the professor with a smile.

"All right then.   Why did you choose a baboon?"

"Harry said since he had been acting like a git, I should turn him into one if it would make me feel better, so I did," Hermione admitted with a shrug.

A smile tickled Professor McGonagall’s mouth.   "Really.   Well, I suppose that’s as good a reason to choose an animal as any," she said over the laughter flowing across the classroom.   When the class quieted, she turned to Harry.   "And how did you like being a baboon, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, it was brilliant," he said with a bright smile.   "The baboon wanted to bounce all over the room and swing from the chandelier.   Its legs were so springy and strong, it took nearly no effort to jump from a desk to the window ledge up to the chain supporting the chandelier.   It was great fun!"

"And did you have any problems changing him back into himself?" the professor asked Hermione.

"No problems, Professor."

"Now tell us about the frog," McGonagall prompted.

"I turned him into a frog in the Common Room.   He seemed to enjoy that as well," Hermione said with a smile.

"And no problems changing him back?"

"No, Professor, no problems."

"Mr. Weasley, you had your hand up.   Who did you transform, and into what kind of animal?"

"I changed Harry into a baboon too.   He said it was fun and he was willing to do it again," Ron answered.

"Any problems?"

Ron blushed madly.   "Well, when I first tried to change him back, he still had a baboon’s back legs and tail for a while.   It took several tries to get him back the way he should be."   He turned and grinned at Harry, who was snorting with laughter.     "It didn’t help that he was laughing at me at the time!" Ron retorted.

"I see you were able to change him back eventually, because here he sits, giggling at you," McGonagall said dryly, doing her best not to laugh along with the class, who were all now laughing out loud.

"Yes, Professor," Ron agreed.

"Did you discover what you’d done wrong, or was your success pure luck?"   the professor prompted.

"Hermione noticed I was doing the wand movement incorrectly," Ron admitted.   "When I did it right, Harry changed back into himself."

"Very good, Mr. Weasley.   It’s important to learn from our mistakes, and apparently Mr. Potter suffered no lasting injury from it, did you, Mr. Potter?"

"No, Professor," he said, trying not to laugh.

"What are you finding so funny, Mr. Potter?   You can’t seem to stop laughing," McGonagall said, amused in spite of herself.

"I’m just remembering how weird it was to be half man and half monkey," he said with a grin.   "It felt rather odd — but interesting."

McGonagall’s smile escaped her control.   "All right, then, tell us about the transformations you did, Mr. Potter."   She could hardly wait to hear this, because he looked even more amused now.

"Erm. . .I turned Ron and Hermione into baboons," he said, blushing suddenly and doing his best not to look at his friends.

"Surely not at the same time, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall said suspiciously.

"Erm. . .yes?"   He looked thoroughly chagrined when she turned appalled eyes on him.  

"Did. . .um. . ."

"Nothing much happened," Harry said instantly, "and I changed them back quickly."   He begged her with his eyes not to ask more of him in class.   Ron and Hermione hung their heads, their faces beet red.

Professor McGonagall had been teaching long enough to have seen nearly everything, so she wasn’t as upset as her students might have expected.   "Nothing much happened?   All right then, you’ve learned your lesson, correct?"   He nodded.   She looked at the rest of the class.   "For future reference, if you are doing homework with more than one friend, please transfigure only one friend at a time in order to avoid problems."

Parvati raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Patil?"

"What kind of problems?" she asked innocently.

"A great many, some of which can be quite difficult to deal with," Professor McGonagall said tartly.   "A word to the wise is sufficient.   Only change one person at a time.   Mr. Potter could have caused some serious problems by changing both of them at once."

"He didn’t change us both at once," Hermione said, hoping to keep Harry out of trouble.   "I was a bit nervous about being transformed, so he did Ron first and then he changed me.   Not both of us at once."

"Ah, I see.   Well, that’s good, Mr. Potter," she said, smiling down at him.   "However, what I said holds — do not transform more than one person at a time.   There should only be one animal at a time.   Some of the consequences of having two or more animals in close proximity could be quite dire, because some wizards don’t have good control over their animal instincts.   They might, for instance, fight, resulting in serious injuries."   She left other thoughts dangling in the air, and drew her own conclusions based on the redness of Harry, Ron and Hermione’s faces.

"All right, then.   Let’s practice this exercise again.   Since Mr. Potter seems to enjoy being an animal and does have good control of the spell, I’ll use him to demonstrate.   Mr. Potter?" she said, inviting him to stand next to her.   "What kind of animal would you like to be today?"

"Oh, I don’t know.   Um. . .a lion," he said, noting the Gryffindor lion on the banner on the classroom wall.

"Can we trust you to behave yourself and not try to bite anyone?" she said with a smile.

"Yeah, sure!" he said with a cheeky grin.   "Let’s do it!"

McGonagall went through the instructions step by step again, showing the wand movement in slow motion, then turned to Harry and performed the spell on him.  

Instantly, Harry was transformed into a large, magnificent lion.   He turned his head and looked at himself, shook his thick mane and twitched his tail, then let out a bellowing roar.   He looked around at his classmates and gave a lion’s version of a smile in satisfaction at their reactions to his roar.  

"Mr. Potter, are you aware of yourself in that lion’s form?" McGonagall said cautiously.

The lion looked at her and blinked, and then a rumbling noise came from him, not a growl, but . . .

"Is he purring?" Lavender said, astonished.

"It would seem so," McGonagall said with a smile.   She reached toward him carefully.   "May I?"

The lion took a step toward her and allowed her to pet him, then leaned into her hand with a happy look on his face as she scratched behind his ears.   He was purring loudly now.

"Class, a point of interest.   If you’ll notice, the lion is only purring on his exhaled breath, not when he both inhales and exhales.   A house cat will purr on both the inhaled and exhaled breath.   And lions don’t purr often, from what I’ve read.   Mr. Potter is a very unusual lion indeed."   She gave him a final pat, then said, "I’m going to change you back now."   She did the spell reversal incantation and Harry stood there once more, a grin on his face.

"That was cool!" he enthused.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said.   "Right then, class.   Pair off, and let’s see how you do."

* * * * *

When class was over, Professor McGonagall called, "Mr. Potter?   A word, if I may?"

Harry walked up to her desk, a questioning look on his face.

"One moment.   Let’s wait until the room clears a bit," she said quietly.

"OK," he said agreeably.   Ron and Hermione lingered by the door, waiting for Harry.

When the room was clear of all but the three students, McGonagall murmured, "Tell me what happened when you changed both of them into baboons."  

"Uh. . .do I have to?"

"I’d like to know, Mr. Potter."

"But it will embarrass them," he protested.   "And I promised I wouldn’t tell."

"Please, Mr. Potter.   I have heard nearly every possible kind of story about these transformations.   I want to be certain they’re both all right.   What happened?"

"But they’re fine, Professor, you can see that," he said, getting a bit desperate now.   She was going to force him to break his promise, and he sincerely did not want to do that.

"Mr. Potter, I do understand, but I must insist," she said, her glasses flashing and making her look even more formidable than usual.

Harry sighed and gave in.   "Well. . .when Hermione became a baboon, her . . .um. . .bum was quite. . .red?" he said, blushing madly, "and the baboon that was Ron thought it was. . .rather. . .erm. . .exciting," he ended lamely.

McGonagall snorted with laughter, which shocked Harry, as well as Ron and Hermione all the way across the room.   "Oh, forgive me.   I’m so sorry.   From the looks on all of your faces, I suspected as much, but the way you told it. . .well, it was funny, that’s all."   She chuckled a bit more, then got back to business.   "Tell me, did you change them back before they did anything about their. . .um. . .mutual attraction?"

"Oh, yeah!   Nothing happened!   But if I hadn’t done it quickly. . . ."   Harry stopped, the mischievous grin on his face matching the one on his professor’s.

"I should take points away from you for making the mistake of changing them both at once, and especially into the same kind of animal.   I hope you understand the problem now," she said, only the slightest bit testily.

"When I saw what was happening, I realized why you always have us change all different kinds of animals, or at least if they’re the same kind, they’re all the same sex," Harry said, trying to stifle his laughter.

"Precisely," McGonagall said, equally amused. "Well done, Mr. Potter.   Thank you for your honesty.   And I’m very glad you were able to take care of matters before they got out of hand."

"Me, too!" he said sincerely.

"You’re dismissed."

As he, Ron and Hermione walked down the hall, Hermione asked, "What did she want?"

"Yeah, mate, you and she were giggling like a couple of girls!" Ron teased.

"She wanted to know what happened when you were both baboons," Harry replied, trying not to laugh.   He wasn’t sure how his friends would take this news.   After all, what happened was a bit embarrassing to them.

"You TOLD her?" Ron said, turning and staring at Harry in shock.

"You said it was our secret!" Hermione snapped.   "You promised!"

"She said she already suspected from our reactions, but needed to be sure, needed to know if I’d stopped you in time," Harry said, hoping they’d understand.   "She insisted!"

"But you TOLD her!" Ron said.   "That’s bloody awful!"

"I can’t believe this.   I’ll never be able to look her in the eye again," Hermione said distractedly, her cheeks bright red.

"She thought it was funny," Harry said, desperately trying to explain.   "She said she’s seen and heard it all.   She wasn’t upset!   She just wanted to be certain that everything was all right, that you were both fine."

"Couldn’t she SEE that we’re fine?" Ron demanded.   "I can’t believe this, I just can’t believe this!" he said, striding off down the hall, shaking his head in a furious temper.   Hermione followed close behind him, leaving Harry standing alone, frustrated and miserable in the middle of the corridor.  

"Thanks a lot," Ron snarled over his shoulder.

"But. . ." Harry called after them as they hurried away from him.   He watched them disappear around a distant corner, wondering what he should do next, then slowly followed them down the hall, his head hanging sad and low, his feet scuffing along disconsolately.   He thought about getting angry about the whole thing, but that wouldn’t solve anything.   Yes, he’d promised not to tell, but honestly, what harm was done?   "Doesn’t matter if no harm was done," he grumbled as he scuffed his feet irritably along the stone floor.   "You screwed up, Potter."

* * * * *

That evening in the Common Room, Ginny noticed the distance between Harry, Ron and Hermione, and the angry looks that Ron kept darting Harry’s way.   Hermione seemed to be angry with him as well, but not as much as Ron.   They even sat at a different work table than Harry, which was nearly unheard of.   Ginny scooted in next to Harry where he sat hunched over his homework, and leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling up at him.  

"Hiya, handsome."

Harry looked at her with sad eyes.   "Hi.   Missed you at dinner."

"I helped Professor Sprout clean up after class," she said with a shrug, "and by the time I got there, you three were gone.   What’s wrong, baby?   Why do Ron and Hermione seem angry with you?"

"Because they are," he said shortly, "and they have every right to be."

Ginny was shocked.   "What happened?"

Harry stood up and took her hand, leading her out of the Common Room and down the corridor.   He stopped at a window, lifting Ginny up to sit on the deep window ledge so she’d be nearly at eye level with him.   Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, "I’m an idiot."

"No, you’re not!   What are you on about?"   She cupped his face in her hands and lifted it so she could look into his eyes, which currently were deep green pools of misery.

Harry sighed, then told her about the conversation he’d had with McGonagall and the subsequent one with Ron and Hermione.  

"And they’re angry about that now?" she prompted.

"You saw them," he said.   He was quiet for a while, then shook his head despondently. "Professor McGonagall has been so much help to me this year, and last year, as well, and she trusts me with these advanced spells, she’s working hard to get me in Auror School in spite of my past grades in Potions. . . .   When she insisted, I just couldn’t lie to her.   And honestly, she guessed — I only confirmed it.   She already knew because we’d all blushed so much when she asked me about it in class."

"I understand," Ginny said softly, pulling his face to her shoulder and holding him tenderly.   "I don’t blame you at all.   I can see why they’d be upset, but they should get over it soon.   They’re just embarrassed."

"And angry," Harry added curtly.

"And angry, yes," she agreed.   She lifted his face to hers and kissed him warmly.   "It will be all right.   They’re your best friends.   They’ll get over it."

"How many years do you suppose it will take?" he said gloomily.

Ginny chuckled softly, running her fingers lovingly over the tense muscles in his jaw.   "I have no idea.   At least you’ve still got me."

"Yeah," he said tenderly.   "I still have you."   He kissed her gratefully, and gratitude soon gave way to passion, their kisses deepening, leaving them breathless when they parted.  

"I need you," he said simply.

"Shack or tunnel?"

"I don’t care," he said, his eyes hungry.

"Let’s go!" she said with a grin.

"Oooo, look, my pet," a sneering voice murmured just then.   "We’ve caught some students snogging in the hall!"   Filch and his cat shuffled up to Harry and Ginny, the man’s eyes gleaming in evil delight.   "You’re in trouble now, aren’t you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sighed and lifted Ginny down from the window ledge.   "We were just talking," he said defensively.

"What?   Not snogging?   I don’t believe it," the man scoffed.

"Did you see us snogging?" Ginny asked briskly.

Filch looked uncomfortable.   "Well. . .no, but— "

"Then all you saw was us talking, and we’re allowed to do that.   I’m a Prefect, in case you’ve forgotten, Mr. Filch, and I’m allowed to escort students in the halls after curfew," Ginny said in her most authoritarian voice.

Filch grumbled, then waved his hand peremptorily.   "Then get on with your escorting and get him back to his Common Room," he growled, frustrated, as always, at not being able to find reason to punish them.   "Come on, my sweet," he told his cat, then shuffled away, grumbling about the good old days when you could hang students up by their thumbs when they were caught out after curfew.

Harry and Ginny started back toward Gryffindor Tower, glancing over their shoulders to make sure Filch and Mrs. Norris were gone before finally starting to giggle.

"You were brilliant!" Harry said, scooping Ginny up in his arms and spinning her around.   "You had me scared, you were such an authority figure!"

"Learned that from my mum.   And then the twins — they told me the best defence is a good offence, so if someone comes after you, make them look like the guilty party as soon as possible.   Seems to work!"   Ginny laughed, glad that something had finally made Harry forget his problems.

"I suppose we should forget about the Shack for now," Harry sighed.   "Filch will be keeping an eye out for us."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed.   "But hold that thought!   We’ll get there soon!   Maybe Saturday?"

"Saturday, yeah," Harry agreed happily.

As they opened the portrait hole and climbed inside, Harry’s smile faded as his eyes found Ron and Hermione sitting at their favourite table.  

They glanced up when they heard Harry and Ginny coming in.   When they saw it was Harry, Ron’s eyes hardened and Hermione’s looked reproachful.  

Harry’s shoulders sagged.   He wasn’t going to get any reprieve from them, not tonight, anyway.   He turned to Ginny and looked sadly into her eyes.   "Thanks for the break.   I think it’s the only one I’m going to get this evening."

Ginny looked at her brother and her best friend, then back at her boyfriend.   "Maybe not.   Remember the offer you made to them?"

"What offer?" he said, too miserable to think.

"To let them turn us into baboons so we can be equally embarrassed?"

"Ginny, that’s not a good idea," Harry said, smiling in spite of himself at her enthusiasm.

"No, it’s perfect!   And if anything happens. . .well, so what?"

"You’re kidding, right?" he said, tilting his head and looking at her seriously.

"I was never more serious.   Wait here," she said, then went to the table and spoke with Ron and Hermione.   Both of them shook their heads vehemently at first, then finally agreed with her and trailed behind her toward Harry.

"Let’s go," Ginny said, heading for the portrait hole again.

"Wait," Harry said suddenly.   "Filch is looking for us now."

"So go and get your Invisibility Cloak," Ginny urged.

Harry sighed, then jogged up the stairs, returning moments later with his Cloak in his bag.   "Good thing the Common Room’s deserted," he commented as he draped the Cloak over the four of them.

"It’s not going to fit all of us now," Hermione grumbled.   "You boys are too big!"

"Augeo," Harry said, enlarging the Cloak as much as it would allow.   "How’s that?"

"That’s better," Ginny said encouragingly.  

"Our feet will show!" Hermione fussed.

"Hermione, Invisibility Cloaks can only be enlarged so much.   If it would enlarge infinitely, people would enlarge them and cut them up to sell more of them," Harry said in frustration.   "This is the best I can do."

"This is silly," Ginny said, doing a Disillusionment Charm on all of their feet.   "There, that’s got it.   Let’s go!"

Soon the four of them were in an empty classroom.   "Colloportus," Hermione said, locking the door just as Ginny put a Silencing Charm on the room itself so nothing that happened in it could be heard in the corridor or adjoining rooms.

Harry stood braced in front of his best friends, Ginny at his side.   "You do promise to change us back when you’re satisfied we’ve been humiliated enough, don’t you?" he asked quietly.

"We’ll think about it," Ron growled, then quickly turned Harry into a baboon.  

Hermione changed Ginny into a baboon soon thereafter, sighing as she did so.   She wasn’t nearly as angry as Ron was, but then again, she hadn’t done anything really embarrassing.   She hoped turning Harry and Ginny into baboons and letting them humiliate themselves would satisfy Ron’s anger. He hadn’t been this angry at Harry in years, not since he’d thought Harry had entered the Tri-Wizard Tournament without telling Ron how he’d gotten past the Age Line.

Unlike his first experiences as a baboon, Harry didn’t seem to be interested in enjoying himself.   He just sat where he was, looking as sad as a monkey could manage.  

The female baboon began picking at his fur, then smoothing it down, trying to get his attention.   She put a long arm around his shoulders and leaned into him, hooting softly, her lips pursed.

The male baboon seemed lost in thought for a long time, but then the female’s persistent attentions finally broke through his reserve.   He put an arm around her and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck and breathing her scent deeply.   Her bum was as bright a red as Hermione’s had been, but it seemed that he was only interested in embracing her.

Ron and Hermione stood watching silently, Ron grim-faced, Hermione nervous.   Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

"It’s time to change them back, Ron.   They’re not going to do anything awful.   And honestly?   We didn’t do anything awful either," she said, trying to mollify him.

"I had you shoved down on the floor and was about to. . .well, you know," Ron said, his face red and angry.

"That’s not anyone’s fault," Hermione said soothingly.   "It was the baboon taking over, I’m sure of it.   And Harry didn’t tell that part anyway."

"He didn’t have to.   McGonagall could draw her own conclusions," he griped.   "Why isn’t he trying to.   . .to breed her?   Her bum’s as red as yours was."

"Do you want him to do that in front of us?" Hermione said, looking at him oddly.

"I want him to be as embarrassed as I am," Ron snarled.   "Why isn’t he doing it?"

"Maybe because he doesn’t want to?" Hermione said quietly.

"Why would he not want to?   He loves Ginny."

"Maybe that’s why."

Ron turned to her suddenly. "Are you saying I did that because I don’t love you?"

"Erm. . .no. . . .   I know you love me, Ron, but you and Harry are. . .different," she said, trying to find a way out of the problem.

"Different how?"

"I don’t know.   You just are!" Hermione snapped, her temper flaring.   "Look at them.   He’s not going to do it, so just change him back!"

The baboons were holding each other closely, sitting quietly and watching the two humans argue.   Suddenly, the male baboon screamed and fell over, holding his head.   He began banging his head on the floor, then running blindly around the room, screeching at the top of his lungs, his long fangs exposed, crashing into furniture unheedingly.

"What’s wrong with him?" Hermione said, aghast.

"Dunno," Ron said, trying to aim his wand at the racing monkey so he could undo the spell.   His spells kept missing.          

Finally, blinded by pain, the baboon ran full-tilt, head-first into the stone wall of the room.   He lay dazed on the floor, blood streaming from a gash in his head.   The female baboon threw her body over his protectively, glaring up at the humans hovering over him, her fangs exposed menacingly.

"I’m sorry, Ginny," Hermione said.   "This really was a bad idea."   She reversed the spell and Ginny lay there, still protecting the male baboon.

"Move, sis, so I can reverse the spell," Ron said, his face grim.

"Don’t you dare hurt him, Ronald Weasley, or I’ll hex your wobbly bits right off your body!" Ginny growled, pointing her wand determinedly at the area in question.

Ron sighed.   "I won’t hurt him.   I promise.   I’m not angry with him anymore."   He reversed the charm and soon Harry appeared, his unconscious body splayed awkwardly on the floor, his hair red with blood flowing from a huge gash in his forehead.  

"What the bloody hell do you suppose that was about?" Ron said, looking at his best mate in confusion.   "Being a baboon shouldn’t have triggered that kind of behaviour."

"You don’t know that, Ron," Hermione chided him.

"Maybe it was scar pain and the baboon didn’t understand it, so he got violent," Ginny said, doing her best to stop the bleeding.   She ripped a strip off the bottom of her shirt and then a second strip, making one strip into a pad and using the other to tie it into place on his head.   Blood quickly soaked through the bandage.   "He’s bleeding pretty badly.   Merlin could stop the bleeding, but we need to see what other injuries he may have.   He needs to go to the hospital wing.   I’ll call Merlin to carry him."

"No, I’ll do it," Ron said.   "Flashing there might hurt him."   He picked up Harry’s limp body up in his arms and struggled to his feet.   "Bloody hell," he grumbled.   "He’s a lot heavier with all this muscle."

"We can Levitate him, Ron," Hermione said anxiously.   "Just hold him there and I’ll lift him out of your arms."

"He bloody well hates being Levitated when he feels ill, and so do I," Ron snarled, his face stormier than either girl could remember seeing it for a very long time.   "Open the damned door."   Hermione opened the door and Ron stomped through it, impotent fury in his every stride.

* * * * *

"What in the world happened to him?" Madam Pomfrey asked when they entered the hospital wing, Ron staggering now under Harry’s weight.   He put him gently on a bed and collapsed in a chair next to him.   "Are you all right, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yeah, just knackered," Ron said, trying to catch his breath.   "He’s heavy!"

"You could have Levitated him," Madam Pomfrey began.

"He and I both hate being Levitated when we’re ill!" Ron snapped.   "I did what he wanted.   Or what he would have wanted if he’d been awake," he said, dropping his face into his hands and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Someone please tell me how he received this injury," Madam Pomfrey insisted as she began examining him.

"We were practicing human to animal transfigurations," Ginny said quickly, "or they were.   I went along to watch.   Ron turned Harry into a baboon — he’s done it before, and Harry usually likes it.   He actually suggested it himself, the baboon," she said sadly.   She stopped speaking, looking uncertainly at Hermione.   Everything else that had happened had been while Ginny was a baboon herself, and she didn’t know how to tell the story without causing more trouble for all of them.

Hermione took up the narrative.   "All of a sudden he screamed and began running around the room — no, wait.   I’m telling it out of order."   She thought a moment, then said, "He screamed and fell over, then banged his head on the floor a few times, then started running.   I don’t think he was looking where he was going, because he ran head-first into the wall.   That’s how he got hurt."

"So he had some kind of fit or seizure?" Madam Pomfrey asked in surprise.   Harry had never had such things before without some distinct cause, such as the nearby presence of Dementors.

"I think it was his scar.   I remember him putting his hands on his head for a moment before he started banging in on the floor," Hermione said.

"All right.   Miss Weasley, you did this bandage, correct?"   Ginny nodded, tugging at the bottom of her ruined shirt. "Nice job.   Well done.   Go get a bowl and a flannel and some warm water.   You know the drill.   You clean him up and I’ll get the potion to heal this gash."

Madam Pomfrey left for her office, but Ginny stayed by Harry’s side for a moment.   "Can I trust you two to treat him well now?" she said, glaring from her best friend to her brother.

"Yeah," Ron said disconsolately.   "I know this is my fault.   I’m a stupid git."

"Yes, you are," Ginny snapped.   "You’re also his best friend.   You have no idea how much he loves you, Ron.   He LOVES you.   You’re the brother he never had."   She opened her mouth to say more, then thought better of it and took off at a run to get the things she needed to start washing her boyfriend’s face.

"She’s right, you know," Hermione said softly.   "He does love you.   He loves both of us.   I can’t believe we let things go this far."

"It’s my fault.   I’m to blame," Ron said, "not you."

"I could’ve said something sooner," she began.

Ron lifted broken-hearted eyes to hers.   "Don’t, Hermione.   Just don’t.   What’s done is done.   We can’t undo it.   We can just hope he’s going to be all right.   It was probably his scar, and the poor baboon didn’t know what to do about it."

"I imagine you’re right," she said sadly.

"What’s going on?" Professor McGonagall demanded, sweeping into the hospital wing in her tartan robe, her hair loose around her shoulders again.   "What happened?   Madam Pomfrey sent word that Potter was hurt while he was transfigured."

"It’s my fault, Professor," Ron said in a quiet voice.   "I was angry with Harry and changed him into a baboon and left him like that for a while.   I guess his scar hurt him and the baboon didn’t know what to do about it and ran around like a maniac and finally crashed head-first into the wall."

"Why were you angry with Potter?" she demanded.   "And we never, ever use Transfiguration as a punishment, Weasley.   You know that."

Ron hung his head.   "I know," he said in a voice so low, she had to lean closer to him to hear him clearly.  

"Tell me what happened," she said tartly.   Seeing Madam Pomfrey and Ginny on their way back to care for Harry, she grabbed Ron by the arm and pulled him to his feet.   "Come with me, Mr. Weasley.   I want to hear everything."

Ron looked at Hermione and shook his head.   He wasn’t going to let her take any of the blame for what happened.   She stood where he left her, her mouth gaping open, not certain what to do next.

When they were out in the corridor, McGonagall turned to Ron.   "Tell me."

"Harry had promised not to tell what happened when he turned us into baboons," Ron said miserably.   "I was really embarrassed by that, and then he broke his promise and told you."

"I insisted, Mr. Weasley.   It wasn’t Potter’s fault," she said acerbically.

"I know, but I was angry about it.   Harry said if it would make me feel better, I could turn him and Ginny into baboons and let them embarrass themselves in front of Hermione and me, so I did it.   But they just sat there — they didn’t do anything embarrassing.   It went on for a long time, and then he grabbed his head, screamed and fell over, then started banging his head on the floor, then ran screaming around the room and finally crashed his head into the wall.   And that’s what happened."

"How did he get up here?"

"I turned him back into himself and we looked him over, then decided he needed to be up here, so I carried him," Ron said with a shrug.   "I should have made him a baboon again," he added with a brief, rueful smile.   "He’s really heavy now, with all that muscle."

Seeing how upset the boy was, McGonagall’s heart softened.   "All right, Mr. Weasley.   Thank you for your honesty.   I think you’ve probably punished yourself enough that I don’t need to add to it.   Let’s go back in and see how Mr. Potter is doing."

While McGonagall and Ron were talking in the corridor, Ginny was doing her best to get all of the blood off of Harry’s face and out of his hair so the nurse could see the gash clearly.   It went from the middle of his forehead up into his hair a good bit.

"He’s a very lucky young man," the nurse finally said when she finished her exam.   "He should have a fractured skull, but it’s just a mild concussion.   He’ll be back in class after a good night’s sleep."   She applied an ointment and a bandage, tidied up her materials and said, "He should be waking up soon.   Try to find out what triggered this episode if you can.   Call me if you need me, or if he wants anything.   I’ll be in my office."

Professor McGonagall joined the vigil of Harry’s friends waiting for him to wake up.   The three friends and the professor all sat quietly for a long time before Hermione asked a question.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"When someone is turned into an animal, they have their own mind as well as the animal’s mind and instincts, correct?"

"Yes, that’s correct."

"How does that differ from the Animagus transformation?"

"In the Animagus transformation, the wizard has control over the animal.   The animal can. . .express an opinion, you might say, but the wizard doesn’t have to do what the animal wants to do.   You’ve heard Harry say ‘the cat wanted to do this’ at times, haven’t you?   I know he said that in class last term."   Ron, Hermione and Ginny all nodded.   "Right.   In the Human-to-Animal Transfiguration, on the other hand, the animal can take control over the wizard in certain circumstances."   Seeing the question on Hermione’s lips, she continued.   "For instance, Mr. Potter may have suffered scar pain, which he knows how to deal with, but the baboon didn’t.   The baboon was probably so frightened of the pain in its head, it didn’t know what to do, so it hit the painful place, much as you will bite or suck on your finger if you slam it in a door, for instance.   When terribly frightened or in serious pain, the animal may very well take over, since its instinctive reactions may be quicker than the human’s reactions while in animal form.   Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, thank you," she said thoughtfully.

Ginny sat by Harry, playing with his hair as he liked her to do, hoping he’d wake up soon.   Ron stared at his best mate, still mentally kicking himself for being any part of Harry getting hurt.   Hermione spent her time rubbing Ron’s back, trying to comfort him.   McGonagall kept careful watch on Harry’s face, glancing at the other students from time to time, but keeping her silence, letting them work through their emotions at their own speed.

Finally, Harry began to stir.   His eyes fluttered open and fixed on Ginny’s concerned face.   "Hi, baby," he whispered.   "What happened?"

"You’re going to be fine, Harry," she said firmly.   "You’ll just have a bit of a headache.   The cut is already nearly healed."

"Cut?"

"You split your head open, sweetheart, but it’s going to be fine," she assured him.

He reached up and gingerly touched the bandage on his forehead.   "Another scar?"

"No," Ginny said, smiling at him, "no scar, sweetheart.   Madam Pomfrey said it will heal completely, with no scar at all."

He breathed a sigh of relief.   "Good.   I have enough to be going on with."

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

He turned his head to look at her.   "Professor?   Why are you here?"

"I was told you had an injury while you were transfigured.   I initially came up to see what had happened, if the transfiguration went badly or something of that nature.   But after hearing what your friends had to say, I thought your injury might have been caused by the baboon’s reaction to pain in your scar.   Did you have a vision?"

"A vision?   Dunno."   He closed his eyes and frowned, trying to call up the memory.   "I can’t. . .um. . ."

"You had a rather serious head injury, Potter, so it’s possible you knocked that memory right out of your head.   Don’t worry about it.   If you remember it, do let me know?"

He nodded.

"All right then.   You lot have classes tomorrow.   You need to get your rest.   Let him get back to sleep now."   She looked sternly at each of her students, then told them goodnight and left.

 "Professor?" Harry called as she reached the door, "wait."

"Yes?" she said, turning back to him.

"I remember something," he said, squinting his eyes painfully. Ginny put his glasses on him and he murmured his thanks.

"What do you remember?"   McGonagall asked, sitting on the edge of his bed so he could see her easily.

"He can see.   He has eyes again.   He can’t see clearly — images are foggy, and they have. . .um. . .coloured lines around them, a bit like an aura, shades of red, yellow, green.. .I don’t know what else."   He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember.   "I was there when he was making them, I think.   I remember he . . .oh," he said, his face suddenly taking on a greenish tinge.

"What is it, Harry?" the professor said quietly.

"Are you going to chuck?" Ron asked, starting to pull his sister and the professor away from the bed.

"No. . .no, I’m OK," Harry said, his face twisted in anguish.   "It’s just so gross."  

Ginny sat back down and wiped his face with a flannel she’d dipped in cool water.  

"Thanks," Harry said, glancing at her.   "That feels good."   She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then went back to quietly cooling his face with the damp flannel.

"What’s gross?" McGonagall prompted.

"He. . .before he could see, he. . . ."   Harry gulped, unable to go on for a moment.   He took a deep breath and said, "He ripped the eyeballs out of some man’s head.   The screams were awful, they just went on and on. . . ."   He paused, squeezing his eyes shut at the memory.   "I couldn’t see at first — I could only hear things.   He was talking as he worked.   He put the eyeballs in a cauldron with unicorn blood, venom from his snake, Nagini, and some other things.   It brewed very quickly once he added the eyeballs.   He drank it — that’s how he made his eyes.   I heard him talking about the ingredients with a couple of people.   One of them. . .I. . .I think it was Professor Snape.   It sounded like his voice."

"Severus?" McGonagall said in shock.   "I believe he’s in his office.   I spoke with him earlier this evening."   She looked at the students around Harry’s bed.   "Miss Granger, go to Madam Pomfrey’s fireplace and call Professor Snape.   Ask him to join us, please, right away."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, then ran to do what she’d been told.

Moments later, Snape came striding into the curtained area around Harry’s bed, looking quite annoyed.   "What is it, Minerva?   I was in the middle of something," he snapped.  

"Where were you this evening, Severus?" McGonagall asked carefully.

"In my office.   Why?"

"Potter had a vision while he was having scar pain," she replied, studying his face.

"What does that have to do with me?" Snape snarled.

"He heard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named talking as he brewed a potion.   One of the people he was talking to sounded like you."

Snape turned to Harry, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.   "Indeed?   And what were the Dark Lord and the person who sounded like me talking about?   And who else was there?   How many others?"

"Voldemort was making a potion to give him new eyes," Harry replied, doing his best to do Legilimency on his professor.   "I don’t know how many others were there.   One or two were helping with the potion, I think, and then he had some acting as guards, I suppose, to hold the prisoner.   He ripped the eyes out of a man — I don’t know who that was, I just heard him screaming — and added them to a potion with unicorn’s blood and Nagini’s venom.   I’m guessing he was a prisoner, anyway.   There were other ingredients, but I didn’t hear him list them specifically.   The man who sounded like you advised him on some ingredients, and told him he’d need to draw some of his blood to add to it."

Snape’s eyes glittered.   "Ah, he used that potion, eh?" he murmured.

"Severus?   What do you know about this?" McGonagall demanded.   She saw him looking warily at Ron, Hermione and Ginny.   "All of these students are in the Order, except for Miss Weasley, and she may as well be, for I’m certain she knows everything these others do.   Go ahead and tell us what you know."

"Where’s Dumbledore?" he said.

"He received an urgent owl from London," she replied.   "He’ll be back in the morning."

"What was the owl about?" Snape said, frowning.

"I don’t know.   You’re evading the issue, Severus.   Tell me what you know about this potion.   Were you with You-Know-Who this evening?"

Snape sighed.   "As you well know, Minerva, in order to maintain my cover, I have to cooperate with the Dark Lord at times.   This was one of those times.   I wasn’t there this evening.   He used a Recording Charm during a meeting we had together, where he asked me about a potion he was developing that might restore his sight.   I talked with him about the ingredients needed.   I did change a couple of ingredients slightly, so if he follows my directions, his sight won’t be fully restored, but I couldn’t be obvious about that misdirection or my cover would be blown."   He looked around at the faces before him, all of which were in various states of disbelief.  "Well, what else could I do?   I’m a Potions Master.   He asked me about a potion, and he knows I should know the answers to such questions," he snapped.

"You helped him get his sight back?" Harry said in disbelief.   "How could you?"

"Again, Potter, what else could I do?   If I’m to maintain my cover, I need to appear to be a loyal Death Eater," Snape said with amazing, if grudging, patience.   "Where were you when you had this vision?"

"Inside him, I suppose — I couldn’t see at first, and then I could see foggy images with coloured lines around them, red, yellow, green," Harry replied.   "The images weren’t in colour, though — just those lines.   Why?"

"I gave him some inaccurate information on a couple of ingredients and on the process itself," Snape said dismissively, "but he’s brilliant at potions himself.   That’s how he managed to maintain a life force for the time he didn’t have a body, by drinking unicorn blood and that snake’s venom along with some potion he created.   This potion is a variation of that one.   If he can see clearly at all, he’ll be able to make a potion that fully restores his sight.   So how well did he see, Potter?"

"Colours and shapes, light and shadow, nothing distinctive.   It’s much worse than when I don’t have my glasses on," Harry replied.

"Hmmm.   The other aspect of these eyes is that they won’t last very long.   He’ll have to remake the potion in a few weeks to maintain what little vision he has," Snape mused.

"So there are going to be loads of Death Eaters with no eyes?" Ron asked suddenly.   "Because he’s ripping the eyes out of living people — that’s what Harry said."

"I realize that, Mr. Weasley.   Gruesome as it sounds, yes, that’s what he will probably do.   But I doubt he’ll waste his Death Eaters for this purpose.   He’ll simply capture people and use their eyes instead."

"That’s horrible!" Hermione said with a shudder.   "How awful!"

"Of everyone in this room, Miss Granger," Snape said silkily, "you are the only one who is in no danger of having your eyes plucked out for his use.   This potion requires at least a half-blood wizard’s eyes, preferably a pure-blood’s."

"Professor," Harry said slowly, trying to make sense of something that had occurred to him, "why didn’t you give him the right information to start with?   You put yourself in danger by giving him the wrong information."

"I’m fully aware of that, Potter," Snape snapped.

"Then why. . .?" Harry asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"I would think it would be obvious, Potter, especially to you."

"Sorry, I’m just not getting it," Harry replied uneasily.   What was he supposed to be understanding that was just passing him by?

Snape sighed impatiently.   "I’m buying you time."

"Time?   Time for what?"

"Time to finish your education, time to perfect your skills, time to prepare.   The next time you face him, you will have to destroy him, Potter.   You won’t have many more chances.   Every time he fights you, he learns more about how you think, how you react, how you fight.   He’s terribly clever, and his study of you will lead to your downfall if you give him too many opportunities to do so.   You need to study hard, work hard, and not make a mockery of the hard work of so many who are trying to keep him otherwise occupied so he can’t attack you while you prepare."   Snape bit off his last words, as if he regretted saying so much.

The room was silent for a moment, and then Harry looked up, gazing seriously into the man’s eyes.   "Thank you."

"We all have to do what we can, Potter.   See to it that our efforts are not wasted," Snape said, not nearly as acerbically as usual.

"I’ll do my best," Harry promised, meaning every word.

McGonagall broke the ensuing silence.   "I’ll notify Hagrid to round up the unicorns and protect them.   That’s a start," she said with determination.

"Yes, that’s a good idea, Minerva," Snape replied.

"I wish you’d told me about this earlier, Severus," she said with deceptive mildness.   "I would have brought the unicorns in for protection sooner."

"I had no way of knowing when he would try the potion, or even if he’d try this particular one.   We had that conversation some time ago," Snape said, shaking his head.   "These eyes won’t last long.   He may well do more experimentation before trying again, but he is determined.   Those phoenixes only delayed the inevitable by scratching out his eyes."

Harry sat up.   "The inevitable?"

"The final confrontation, Potter," Snape said, staring seriously into Harry’s eyes.

Harry stared back at him, and realized Snape was opening himself up to Harry’s Legilimency.   Harry instantly used the skill that Snape himself had begun teaching him his fifth year.   Remus and Dumbledore had completed Harry’s Occlumency and Legilimency education in the past year.   Now Harry used it to look inside the man’s mind.   He saw confusion, blood, battle, terror, and an image of Voldemort as terrifying as the Dark Lord himself, with glittering green eyes like a bastardized version of Harry’s.     Harry broke the contact, gasping.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ginny asked, concerned at his sudden pallor.

"Uh. . .yeah, I’m fine," he lied, and all of them knew it.

"You saw, didn’t you?" Snape hissed.   "He’s using your blood.   His eyes will look something like yours.   You gave him protections he could not have achieved otherwise."

"I didn’t give him my blood willingly!" Harry snarled, instantly enraged.

"Severus!   Harry’s ill.   Don’t upset him!" McGonagall warned.

Snape backed off, glaring at Harry, then finally turned to leave.   As he reached the door, he turned back and said, "Remember, Potter.   With your blood, he will be harder for you to defeat.   You will have to find a different way."

"Different from what?" Harry said, flummoxed.

"From anything anyone has ever tried before," Snape said mysteriously and left.

"What the bloody hell did that mean?" Ron asked, scratching his head.

"Yeah, and does he think I don’t know that?" Harry said, equally perplexed.

"I believe it’s time for us to leave and let you rest, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said kindly, helping Harry settle back into his pillows and tucking his blankets around him in a surprisingly motherly way.   "You rest now.   You’ll feel better in the morning."

"Professor, I’m not leaving him," Ginny said with determination.

"Why am I not surprised?" she said, smiling at the girl.

"No, Gin, I’ll stay," Ron said stoutly.   "This was my fault.   You go on, I’ll look after him."

"No, Ron, I. . ."

"Please, Ginny," Ron said his eyes guilty and sad, "I’ll stay."

Harry looked from Ginny to Ron and back again.   "You’ve lost enough sleep over me, sweetheart.   Ron can stay this time.   It’s only for overnight."

"Are you sure?" she said in a small, tremulous voice.   Harry had never sent her away before.

"Come here, you," Harry said, pulling her down until she was nose to nose with him.   He looked around at his friends and professor.   "Could we have a moment, please?"

"I have to send an owl to Dumbledore.   Don’t stay up too late, and try not to tire him anymore," Professor McGonagall said as she rose to leave.   "Sleep well, Harry."

"Thanks, Professor," he said.   "Good night."

"We’ll just go out here," Hermione said, dragging Ron to the other end of the ward.   Once there, she wrapped her arms around him and held on to him, relieved Harry was all right, but horrified at the things she’d heard since he’d awakened.

Once they were alone, Harry pulled Ginny onto the bed with him and then down into a kiss.   "Ummm, I needed that," he said with a smile.

"Why don’t you want me to stay with you?" she said, still sounding hurt.

"Baby, Ron and I need to make up," he explained.   "He was angry with me, and I got hurt while I was a baboon—"

"And he feels guilty, so you two need to talk," she said, finally understanding.   "OK."

"You know you’re my healer of choice, don’t you?" he said with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, I knew that," she replied, bending down to kiss him again.   "You had me scared for a while there."

"Because I wouldn’t let you stay?" he said, genuinely surprised.

"No.   Yes.   I don’t know.   I’m just glad you’re all right now," she said, lying down with her head snuggled into his shoulder.   "Harry?"

"Um-hmm?" he said, tightening his arms around her.

"Why didn’t your baboon do anything to mine?"

"He thought you were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, I guarantee you that, but I didn’t want him to do it, so he didn’t," he replied, squeezing her again.

"But McGonagall said. . ."

"Yeah, his instinct wanted to, but he listened to me.   I knew it wouldn’t be right," he assured her.

"You never cease to amaze me," she said, raising up on her elbows to kiss him again.   "I guess I’d better get out of here, then.   It’s late."

"Yeah.   Good night, baby.   Thanks for taking such good care of me."   He held her hand until she’d stepped beyond his reach as she moved toward the door.

"Hermione, I’m on my way to the dorm.   Do you want to walk with me, or are you staying a while?" Ginny said as she reached the door.

"I’ll come with you," Hermione said, kissing Ron good night, running to Harry and kissing him on the cheek with a quick "Feel better!" and then following Ginny out the door.

Ron came and sat in the chair by Harry’s bed.  

Harry grinned up at him.   "Alone at last!" he teased.   Ron grinned half-heartedly.   "C’mon, Ron.   I’m not angry with you at all.   It was an accident.   It could have happened in class."

"But it didn’t."

"Still best mates?" Harry said hopefully, holding out his hand to his friend.

"Always," Ron replied after a moment, then shook Harry’s hand firmly.   "Absolutely always.   I’m sorry I was such a git."

"It was your turn.   I was a git recently myself.   So now we have it out of our systems, right?" Harry said with a cheeky grin, trying to tease Ron out of his mood.

"You think?"

"I hope so!"

"Too right!" Ron agreed.   He pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap cards and they played for a little while before they both got tired and finally drifted off to sleep.

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Author Notes:

"Augeo" is Latin for "enlarge." I've said many times that HBP has not influenced my story, which was nearly complete when HBP was published. I did take Mrs. Longbottom's first name from HBP, though, which I believe is the ONLY change I've made to my fic as a result of HBP, despite the many similarities you'll see in the two stories - mine was nearly complete in March of 2005 - I've just been polishing chapters and adding detail to the end since then. Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my betas, Blakevich, Starfox, Iris and Asad.