08

Hermione is sitting on my bed by the time I make it back from the shower. Her legs are crossed, and she has a book in her lap, looking for all the world like she belongs there.

This isn't the first time she's hidden in here. When the common room is too crowded, but the library doesn't give us the space to talk, the three of us have spent many an hour lounging across our beds.

Still though.

"People are going to start to talk if you spend any more time in my bed," I tell her, not really caring but thinking I should at least make the effort. "I'm almost positive Colin snapped a picture of us on the couch before they woke us up this morning."

She blushes, and shrugs, but doesn't make to move when I drop my bathing supplies on the end of the bed before opening my trunk.

"They already talked," she says. " We talked about that last night. If you don't care, I don't care. And I could have sworn I set my alarm for six," she complains. I can hear her mumbling under her breath about faulty spells and casting when you're tired.

Her hair is twisted at the top of her neck, held back in a red holder. She's not in a school shirt but is instead wearing a pink collared shirt that stops right at the tops of her jeans.

Her shoes are on the floor.

I'm wearing my school uniform, but apparently that's not required today.

I don't even know what day of the week it is to be honest.

"Yeah. I turned it off," I tell her. "What day is it?"

"Sunday." Her head snaps up from her book. "You turned off my alarm? How?"

Sunday?

What?…Never mind. It doesn't matter. I'll take her word for it. 

Without bothering to unbutton it, I pull the Oxford over my head and stuff it into the trunk, pulling out a grey T-shirt.

"Yeah. It went off, I might have sworn at it. Bloody annoying thing. I disabled it and went back to sleep."

I ram the toe of my foot into the heel of the other, peeling off my shoes. Then I shuck my black school pants and pull out a pair of jeans.

"Uhhh, Harry?" 

I glance up as I yank the denim up over my hips, and back down again to zip and button. The shirt comes next, and I shrink them both to fit me better. Why I ever tolerated swimming in Dudley's cast offs I have no idea.

Dying really puts your priorities in order. Next time someone kills me, I'd doing it in clothes that fit. When my shoes are back on, I slam the trunk shut, and slide the scabbard over my shoulders. Before disillusioning it. Hermione is staring at me like she's never seen me half naked before. A flush runs up her cheeks and her eyebrows squish together.

"What?" I say, snapping my fingers in front of her face. She shutters as she blinks away the start.

We've spent every summer together for the last seven years and lived the last six months in a tent. It's not the first time she's seen me in my underwear. Hell, it's probably not even the first time this week.

I give my shoulders a shrug, settling the blade across my back. It's been a day. Two? Already I feel more at ease with the sword between my shoulder blades than without it.

Hermione shakes her head back and forth before she clears her throat.

"Um, right…how? How did you use my wand?"

I pull at the back on my neck, not understanding the question.

"It was beside us. The alarm spell activated. I shut it off." I shrug my confusion. "I don't understand the question."

The book falls from her lap as she climbs to the edge of the bed on her knees.

"You shouldn't have been able to do it, Harry."

"Why not?" 

A headache is blooming behind my eyes, the lack of sleep the past several days finally catching up on me. I wonder if we could ward the door and snooze for a few more hours without anyone attempting to look for us.

I dismiss it as a bad job.

Hermione's biting her bottom lip. I can see her thoughts rapidly firing behind her eyes.

"What, Mi? I can't keep up with the thoughts whirring through your brain."

She opens her mouth, then snaps her jaw shut again. She falls from her knees back onto her heels, and I tilt my chin down to look at her.

"What's the big deal? I used it in the maze no problem and you didn't make a fuss."

Hermione clears her throat again, looking around the room before her eyes land on mine.

"It's only that—" She makes a pained sound. "The alarm spell is keyed to me, Harry. It's not something we learn in school. You shouldn't know it, and even if you did. I mean, yeah, we shared a tiny space for a bloody long time. So maybe you do know it, but it's spelled to my wand. My magic. If I somehow fell into a coma in my sleep, that alarm would keep going. Only my magic or my death should cause the spell to disable."

"Oh."

I have no idea what to say to that. Give me a basilisk over magical theory any day.

"Yeah," she says softly. "Oh."

Her shoulders droop in confusion, and I swear I can taste her defeat on the back of my tongue.

"Hey," I say softly, and cup her face in my hand. "It's okay, Love. You'll figure it out. You always do."

She sighs so deep I feel it down into my toes.

"I'm so irritated with that Mortimer guy," she mumbles, and I huff under my breath, pushing my glasses back up my nose.

"You and me both, but why this time?"

She looks up at me, still prompted on her ankles and knees.

"Somethings different, Harry. Certainly, you feel it?"

Hermione isn't usually one for understatements, but this time I think she's undersold the pot.

"Yeah, Mi. I feel it."

I'm not sure I can lay the blame all at his feet though. I blame it on Bellatrix, and the way it made me feel when that knife slid across Hermione's throat. At the unimaginable horror that eats at me day and night and the solitary promise that no matter what happens next, I will keep her safe. Maybe I blame it on Mortimer for putting thoughts into my head that have no place being there. What the hell does being soul mates even mean, anyways? If Hermione found a book on it yesterday, she kept it to herself. 

Most of all I blame it on me, for not being able to control either emotion.

"It has to be because of him!" she asserts with the same fire in her eyes that she has when discussing SPEW. "When he shoved us through that door. Maybe we weren't supposed to go at the same time. Maybe something, we , got jumbled somehow. Maybe it's because he's incompetent and didn't know what the hell he was doing. But something happened when he brought us back, Harry. Because you should not have been able to turn off that spell."

I run my thumb across her cheek, listening for any footsteps coming up the dormitory stairs. That's something else that's happened too. Ron finally learned the meaning of three's a crowd.

Of course, finding us asleep together for the second morning in a row probably has more to do with that development than Ron magically gaining discretion.

"I need to go to the library," she announces, to the surprise of no one. A smile splits my face so wide I feel it crack. "I hate mysteries," she grumbles.

My eyes drift closed as I laugh at her silently.

"I know, Love. Come on then." 

I grab her by the hands and keep her steady as she climbs to her feet.

"I need to head to the kitchens first. I want to talk to Winky and Dobby. But then I'll pull books off the high shelves for you for the rest of the day."

Mi scoffs at me as she bends over to pull on her sneakers.

"Don't bother," she laughs. "You're not six feet anymore, remember? Magic will have to suffice."

I roll my eyes at the reminder I've lost a good six inches since coming back in time. Bloody Witch. It's just rude to point out a man's height when you know he already has issues with it. 

"Give me one of your Quidditch jerseys, would ya?" she says when I go to grab the invisibility cloak from my trunk.

"Huh?"

Why does she need my jersey?

"I'm going to shrink it and give it to Dobby. He'll lose his mind with excitement! Imagine it." She spreads her hands wide like she's showing a project. "Potter stretched across his back. We'll have to stop him from banging his head into the wall with happiness."

I chuckle, then cringe at the knowledge the little elf is probably going to throw himself at my feet crying all morning. Doing as she says though, I pull the jersey from the trunk, then watch as she shrinks it down to elf size.  On that thought, I pull a handful of gold out of the trunk to give to the elf as well. I let her lead the way out of the dormitory, keeping an eye out in case Ron is lounging around somewhere. I think he mentioned wanting to send a letter to Charlie last night, but to be honest, I haven't been paying him much attention.

The puzzle of her wand is still niggling in the back of my brain.

I didn't have any problems using her wand at all. It worked for me as smoothly as if it were the holly and phoenix feather and currently in the holster around my chest. But I struggled with even the simplest spells with the blackthorn wand. I hadn't even considered it. Hadn't had the time or the inclination to. But Mi is right. It's weird that hers worked for me as if it were my own.

"Mi," I say, and grab a hold of her elbow. "Hold up." We're halfway to the kitchens, alone in a sunlight corridor. 

I pull my wand from its resting place, and hand it to her base first.

"Do a spell."

Hermione gives me a dazed look, her mind forming and discarding ideas in rapid succession.

With a twist of her twist and a flick of the wood, a gaggle of birds appear in the air, lazily flapping in a circle. Silently she makes them move this way and that, testing the boundaries of the magic, before a wave of her hand cancels the spell. 

"Perfect," she breathes, her eyes wide as she stares at my wand. Her other hand lifts to her mouth, her fingers lightly running over her lips. I can almost see her eyes twitch as a thousand thoughts I'd never consider flashpoint in her head. She hands me back my own wand, then passes hers over without a word.

" Expecto Patronum ," I shout, a clear image of Hermione smiling up at me from over some book fueling the magic of the spell. Prongs bursts from the end of her wand, looking about for danger. When all he finds is us, he canters up to Hermione, rubbing his antlers up and down her side before drifting back into nothingness.

"Neville used my wand once too, remember. When his broke in the fight over the prophecy."

I nod my head and watch as she pockets her wand again.

"But it's not like we can go ask him if it was difficult," I mumble. 

"I hate time travel," she declares, and I heartily give my agreement.

"We'll go to Ollivander's when we go to the bank," I tell her as we start down the hallway again. "He'll probably be able to explain it to us. I'm sure it's because we're so close. The wand chooses the Wizard. Our wands chose to work for our best friends."

"Yeah," she agrees, though she doesn't sound like she believes it.

I have other things on my mind though, as we tromp down the last set of stairs to the kitchens.

"Hey, Mi," I say, and get a distracted, "Hmm?" in return.

"Do you know how to bond with an elf?"

That pulls her up short again.

She looks at me with clouded eyes.

"What? No! Why would I know how to bond with an elf? I thought you knew how to do it!"

"No!" I shake my head in bewilderment. "When would I learn how to bond with an elf? You'd have disemboweled me for having that sort of information."

Hermione starts to puff in indignation, little spurts of outrage slipping from between her lips, but then her shoulders slump in defeat.

"Yeah. Okay. But then what are we supposed to do? I have presents for them both, but I don't know if there's a ritual or anything!"

Her voice is starting to rise, that high pitched whine that precursors a freak out about a test she's going to get 110 percent on.

"Hey," I soothe, reaching for her. She melts into my arms like water, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"I don't think I can do this, Harry." Her voice is muffled against my chest. "It's—it's slavery."

I'm thankful she can't see me roll my eyes.

"Are you going to beat her?" I ask playfully.

She jerks her head away, giving me an outraged look. I tighten my hold on her so she can't pull away entirely.

"What?!" she demands. "No! Of course, I won't."

When did I become so touchy feely?

I'm going to drop that squarely into the 'side effect of dying,' category and never think of it again.

I drag my thumbs across her cheeks, trying not to smile at the irritation flaring behind her eyes.

"Then you will be a good Master for Winky. She will love you, and you will love her, and you will both take care of each other. Plus, added benefit, if we do have to go into hiding again, neither of us will starve. Or be forced to swallow down inedible fungi."

"That wasn't my fault," she grouses, her arms still held loosely around my middle.

I laugh under my breath.

"Nobody said it was, Mi."

She's quiet for a minute, but I can still see the stress filling her eyes.

"If it makes you feel any better, Winky appears far more competent than Dobby does. I mean, I love the little guy. But I'm kind of afraid for my safety whenever he's around."

Hermione giggles.

"Well, don't worry. I've already started nipping supplies to re-build our stores. I'll grab a bottle of skelegrow when Madam Pomfrey isn't looking."

"I'm sure Dobby and Winky know how to complete the bonding. I'll send Dobby to Grimmauld Place as soon as school's out. You can send Winky there too if you want. Or maybe your parents will be okay with her being at your place. But either way, Mi, you saw how bad it got for her last time. She didn't thrive like Dobby did working for the school. She needs a person to take care of, and I can't think of anyone who will treat her better than you."

"Yeah," she sniffs. "Okay. Let's do this before I lose my nerve."

She steps out of my hold, but takes my hand in hers, linking our fingers together as we head to the portrait that opens the kitchens.

It's always bursting with activity, with elves moving to and fro carrying dishes and ingredients for food.

I barely have time to take it all in before a rocket was hurting my direction.

"Harry Potter, sir! You've come to visit me in the kitchens!"

As usual the wind is knocked out of me at the strength of Dobby's embrace.

"Hi, Dobby," I squeeze out between strangled gasps for air. Hermione's amusement is evident, and she covers her mouth to side her laughter. "I was wondering if we could talk?"

"Is Winky here?" Hermione speaks up, looking around the kitchens. Dobby grabs both of our hands and starts weaving in and out of house elves and tables alike, bringing us over to the fireplace again.

Winky doesn't look well. She doesn't look well at all. She's perched on a stool in front of the fire, a bottle of butter beer hanging loosely from her fingers.

So, this is when the drinking started. Probably the night of Barry Crouch's death in the first timeline. Or in his capture and arrest in our current one.

Hermione falls to her knees in front of the little elf, gently prying the mostly empty bottle from her grasp.

"Hello, Winky. I'm Hermione, do you remember me?"

Winky turns to face Hermione, motions slow and uncoordinated.

"Yes, Ma'am," she says politely. "You is Master Potter's Mistress Hermione."

Hermione's eyes flare at the title, but she doesn't bother to set Winky straight. I guess it's true either way you look at it.

"That's right, Winky. I'm Harry's friend, and we've come to talk to you. I've been very upset since we saw you before Christmas, and then the other day with—" Hermione hesitates, not wanting to set the elf off. Already fat beetle tears are sliding down her cheeks.

Hermione clears her throat, and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a chain.

"My father gave this necklace to me when I was a little girl," she tells Winky. "It's very important to me. You are very important to me too. I know how much you loved your family. I know what a good elf you were for them and how well you took care of them. I'm Muggleborn, you see. So, I don't have an elf to take care of me."

Her eyes flick to me from over Winky's shoulder, and I give her my biggest smile, encouraging her to go on.

"I was hoping, Winky, that you'd agree to join my family, and be my elf."

Without waiting for permission, Hermione lets the chain of the necklace dangle from her fingers, before opening the loop and slipping it over the elves' bat-like ears and around her neck.

Winky seems to freeze, not even breathing, before she bursts into tears.

Hermione looks terrified, looking desperately at Dobby and I for help. Dobby rushes over to his friend, trying to silence her with words of encouragement. It only makes it worse. Other elves are pausing in their work to stare at us, as Winky throws herself from the stool and curls into a ball to cry.

With no other options left, I drop to the floor beside Hermione and sit on my bum, pulling the tiny creature into my lap. The action seems to startle her enough that the flow of tears momentarily stops, her eyes so wide it would be comical if it wasn't so sad.

"Do you not want to be part of a family again?" I ask her.

The tears return, but at a slower pace than before.

"Winky—" she hiccups, pulling herself back under control. "Winky is a bad elf, Mr. Harry Potter. Yous don't want Winky as your elf."

Hermione drops down in front of me, solidly encasing Winky between us.

"Of course, I do!" she insists, already reaching out a hand to wipe away Winky's tears. I don't see the point to be honest. A fresh set takes their place immediately. "You're not a bad elf, Winky. You were just in a bad situation. If you agree to be my elf, I promise to never make you go up high, or do anything that makes you unhappy."

"Winky does what she is told! Winky is a good elf to Master Harry and Mistress Hermione!" Winky declares fiercely, then bursts into tears again.

"Oh dear," Mi sighs, attempting to comfort the crying creature in my lap.

I look to the side, where Dobby is watching the commotion is a longing look on his face that makes my heart break.

"What about you Dobby? I know you like being a free elf, but—" I can't even finish the question before Dobby lunges at me, wrapping his arms around my neck so tightly suffocation is a distinct possibility. 

"Yes. Yes. YES! Harry Potter! Dobby will be your house elf!" Before I can even react, he says, "Dobby does wear his fealty and that of his blood line to the house of Potter."

It's almost like being disillusioned, as the bond slides into place. Then it's over, and I don't feel any different than I did before. 

"Dobby loves Mr. Harry Potter and his Mi! Dobby will keep your secrets and smite your enemies and cook your dinner every night!"

Hermione's eyes sparkle in delight as Winky crawls from my lap to hers, Dobby taking her place excitedly. 

"No smiting will be necessary, thanks," I huff. 

I hope Mi has some bruise paste stashed away, because I'm going to have elf shaped bruises all over my legs by the time we're done. He's jumping up and down in happiness, his hands strangling me around my throat.

"You'd better let him go, Dobby," Hermione says through laughter. "Or you're going to kill your knew Master."

Dobby's eyes widen in fear, and he quickly climbs from my lap.

"Is that it?" I ask, and Dobby nods his head nervously, twisting his fingers into knots.

"Are yous mad at Dobby, sir, for hurting you? Should Dobby punish himself?"

I reach for him as he lunges, stopping his momentum before he can run his head into the wall.

"None of that, now, Dobby. You know how I feel about you hurting yourself. First rule as my elf, no more punishments. If you think you need to be punished for something, let me know, and I'll take care of it."

Hermione gives me a dirty look and Dobby sighs, his shoulders dropping in relief.

"Thank you, Harry Potter, sir."

"It's Harry," I tell him. "You don't need to call me sir or Harry Potter."

He pulls his head back and frowns at me, and I give it up as a lost cause.

"Oh!" I look at Hermione, who is petting the quieted Winky like she would Crookshanks all curled up in her lap. "The jersey!"

Hermione's eyes light up, and she pulls the golden garment from her back pocket, shaking out the fabric until it's the right size again.

"This is for you, Dobby. We thought you'd like it."

Instead of looking happy, however, he looks on the verge tears.

"Yous is giving Dobby clothes, already?" He asks in a trembling voice.

"Damn," Hermione breathes, "I hadn't thought of that."

"No," I say quickly, then take the shirt from Mi and hold it out, showing Dobby the back. "You love clothes, Dobby. We wanted to give you a present. Think of it as a uniform. Like the tea cozies of Hogwarts. Only in the House of Potter, your uniform is whatever you want it to be. We can go shopping if you want. You can pick out anything that looks fun."

Dobby looks at the garment wearily, before taking it into his hands. He flinches, as if waiting for a blow. When whatever he's expecting doesn't come to pass, he squeals in delight, and pulls off his current shirt to replace it with my Quidditch jersey. With the flick on Hermione's wand, it fits him like a glove.

"Perfect," Mi says.

"What about you, Winky?" I prod gently. "Do you want to work for a family again?"

Winky sits up on Hermione's lap, looking me in the eye.

"Winky does wear her fealty and that of her blood line to the house of Potter."

Bugger. Like an egg running down my face, the bond seals tight.

Hermione can't seem to decide whether to laugh or cry at the distress on my face.

I clear my throat and look at the elf still sitting serenely in Hermione's lap.

"Thank you Winky. I'd like you to be Hermione's elf, if that's alright with you."

She smiles at me broadly.

"Of course, Mr. Harry Potter." The elf blushes fiercely. "Of course, Harry. I will always serve our house with honor. It will please me to serve your Mi."

Hermione's blush is as bright as Winky's when Winky climbs from her lap and bows.

"How may I serve you Mistress?"

Hermione's discomfort is palpable, and even Dobby seems to think it funny.

I decide to rescue her.

"Well guys, Hermione both stay with Muggles over the summer break. You can go to Grimmauld Place, Dobby. There is already a house elf there, but he belongs to my Godfather. I'd appreciate it if you'd help them until I get there later in the summer. Hermione will talk to her parents, and then... She can just—" I have no idea how house elf magic works, but Hermione, who has read every book ever written on the creatures, steps in. "If you wouldn't mind, Winky. I need to speak to my parents first. I'll call for you when I am ready. Is there anything you need from me? I'd love to take you shopping as well. For a uniform, or whatever you want or need."

"Yous do not live together?" Winky asks, looking between us with a confused expression.

"Not at the moment," I tell her. "But we will eventually."

That seems to settle her.

"If you's not be needing anything at the moment," she says primly, "Winky would like to go get cleaned up now."

Hermione smiles brighter than the sun.

"That sounds wonderful, Winky. Thank you for joining our family."

Winky bows, her nose touching the floor, and then pops out of the kitchens.

"Well," I say, smiling at how easy that all was.

"Watcha wanna do, Dobby? Hang out here until the end of school, or go travel a bit?" I pull out the galleons I'd shoved into my pockets, and hand them to the elf. 

His eyes go wide, and he starts to tremble.

"Stop freaking out, Dobby. I just want you to have some spending money. Do what you want, buddy. I'll holler for you when I need you."

Dobby looks somewhat pained, and with a snap of his fingers the money vanishes.

"I think I'll go make your bed," he says primly, and just like that he's gone.

I climb to my feet, wiping off my pants before hauling Hermione to hers.

"Okay?" I confirm.

"Yup," she says. "You got two elves, and Winky is taking a shower. Worked out great as far as I can tell."

I laugh at her and nod at the other elves as they bow and scurry out of our way.

"What now, my lady? To the library?"

"To the Library, Lord Potter," she jokes, and together, we leave the kitchens.

~**~

I get my chance to corner Malfoy the day before summer hols. He's coming back into the castle alone, his broomstick over his shoulder and his hair a windswept mess. He'd obviously been for one last ride before he has to pack his broom away for the holiday.

I hurry to close the distance between us, then pull my cloak from around my shoulders.

"Draco."

I think it's the use of Malfoy's first name that pulls Draco to a stop, rather than any desire to have a conversation with me. Of course, Malfoy's never passed up an opportunity to rub his supposed superiority in my face either.

He freezes mid-step in the middle of the entryway, then turns and gives me his best sneer.

"Potter." Draco looks up and down the hallway, confirming they're alone. "Scared, are you? Looking to see if I can't put in a good word for you with the Dark Lord? Maybe you'd be willing to give up the Mudblood and Blood Traitors for a chance to save your own skin."

I swallow back the need to retort with anger, and instead think about that day in the future, and the past, and the look of terror on Malfoy's face.

"No, actually. I thought I'd offer you the chance instead. We both know he's back. Riddle is probably lounging around in your dining room as we speak. I'm sure, being raised as you have, it feels like your time has finally come. As if you're on your way to power and eternal glory. I'm here to warn you that one day soon, you'll realize that's all a lie. Riddle will take everything from you. Your home, your parents, your free will, and then your very soul. One day soon you'll learn it's either kill for him or be killed by him. Torture, or be tortured. You'll have to watch your friends and enemies both bleed out at your feet, by your hand, or risk ending up on the floor beside them."

Draco, already pale, blanches until his skin is translucent with fright. The veins stand out stark on his throat, the little pulse point hammering away like mad. As I talk, Draco takes a step back, until his shoulders slam against the stone wall.

"There's going to come a day where you learn what it means to be one of Voldemort's lap dogs. He doesn't just brand you. He takes his payment in flesh and blood. When that day happens, come to me. No questions asked. We'll protect you. Heal you because I'm sure you'll need it. Then I'll help you get revenge for every terrible thing that man does to you and yours in the name of blood superiority."

"You know nothing," Draco spits out, voice tight with fury. Already he's regaining his composure, straightening to his considerable height. He'll rival Ron for height one day, I know.

"I know that when you go home this summer, Your Dark Lord will be sitting in your house. I know that he'll expect you to wait on him hand and foot. I know your mother will be terrified for your safety. I know he'll have three items on his agenda. Amassing followers, because what's the point of naming yourself Lord if you have no one to lord over? He'll be obsessed with the Department of Mysteries. Keep that tidbit to yourself if you don't mind. I don't want to explain how I know that. And, I know he'll be consumed with killing me. A half-blood nobody orphan raised by Muggles, and I'll be all he thinks about. Rails about. His final task to prove his might, is to destroy a boy half his size. That alone makes me question his sanity, don't you think? Most powerful Wizard to walk the earth and all he fears is me."

"What do you want, Potter?"

Draco hisses out the words, the color rushing to his face at a speed that would make me dizzy. He's almost sputtering in his anger. Anger and humiliation that he allowed me to see him flinch, if even for a moment.

"I want this to all be over. But it's only just beginning. So, I'll settle for you at my side on the day of the final battle. I'm the adopted son of Sirius Black, Draco. We're family, you and I. Whether we like it or not. Watch him, see the madness seep from his pores. When you're ready to run, contact me. I think you have a Godfather you trust. He'll be able to get in contact with us. I'll be waiting when you're ready."

Draco shoves past me, using his shoulder and taller form to knock me to the side. He doesn't run. That would be too low class for a highbred pureblood like Draco. But he walks so fast towards the dungeons and his safety that it might as well be running.

"Do you think it wise, Potter, to antagonize Draco like that?"

I didn't hear the snake come up behind us, but for some reason I don't find that too surprising. I flick my wand into my hand, but don't raise the weapon. Snape gives me his best sneer of disdain at the sight of me arming myself. Of course, Snape doesn't realize that I can't need a wand or voice to make him withe on the floor anymore.

One of the perks of time travel.

"He's in more danger than he could ever realize," I say, concentrating on Draco and not the pain I'd like to cause Snape. "He's just too stupid to understand it right now. But you do, don't you Snape. Aren't you his Godfather? What would you do to protect him?"

I feel the familiar sensation of Snape pressing in on my mind. My thoughts are locked up tight, however, and I keep my face bland and our eye contact steady. I feel a surge of vindication flash when a look of consternation flickers over Snape.

"Detention, Potter. First week of school. For back talking a teacher."

I roll my eyes at his childishness but give him an empty smile.

"Look forward to it, Sir."

He storms away from me, robes billowing. I wonder if he casts a charm on them to make them sway in an imaginary wind like that?

I watch him walk until he turns a corner and leaves me sight, then I pull the cloak back over my shoulders and run to go find Mi.