Chapter 36

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun. Once again, what events that are not mentioned that happen in the books is as it happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

Severus entered through the staff entrance of the Great Hall, slipped smoothly into his chair, placed his napkin on his lap and filled his goblet. He watched the students as they entered and settled into their seats. His Slytherins were right on time, as usual, many already seated. Mr. Malfoy and his two cronies, Messrs Crabbe and Goyle, entered and headed to the Slytherin table with Miss Parkinson hanging on Malfoy's arm possessively, although the boy was not paying her any attention at all. The little group took up the space next to Mr. Rayne Boughton and Miss Brambila Rushbridge, the only two sixth-years to join Severus' Slytherin SA group, not that he approved of the name.

Mr. Aldebran Urguhart and Miss Penelope Reilly, his seventh-year prefects, were sitting down next to Mr. Raymond Aubry, Mr. Terrance Higgs, Miss Winnifred Maguire, Miss Mary Langley and Miss Catherin MacTirdelvach. Severus was pleased that Miss MacTirdelvach was with his seventh-year group of Slytherins. Maybe this year she'd decide to start to think for herself and stand up to her father...or quietly rebel. Miss Candice Longacre and Miss Tracy Davis, who used to spend their time with Miss Greengrass and Miss Parkinson before the Dark Lord's return, were keeping to themselves more, and Severus wondered if maybe they were distancing themselves from the students siding with the Dark Lord.

Of his fifth-years, Mr. Gasper Vaisey was actively recruiting. He had admitted to Severus after the prefect meeting that Mr. Seumond Sharma was scared to join Severus' group, but knew about it, and he felt strongly that it was only a matter of time before Mr. Eugene Caldwalter joined. Severus wasn't sure; Eggart Caldwalter had avoided arrest at the end of the first war, but he and his wife openly affirmed their loyalty to the Dark Lord since his return.

Eddart Terrance and William McGariety were sitting with Jessica Arenas, his other fifth-year prefect, and Pauline Gweynewoud and Aurora Shidhom. Damayea Vogelli kept to herself, but then she was a small and timid girl. That left four of his fifth-years out, most of them too set in their pure-blood and anti-Muggle-born beliefs.

He would have to have a meeting soon, but for now Mr. Urguhart and Miss Reilly were holding them. Severus' attention turned to the Gryffindor table.

His gaze immediately fell on Hermione and her two friends. He'd been concerned about her ever since he noticed that the girl was Surging. She needed to learn to control her bursts of magic in his classroom and in his private lessons, but she still couldn't reign in her magical strength. He smiled slightly at the memory of her lithe body moving in perfect balance with her intricate wand movements for each of the magical defense spells she cast...her fighting ability had greatly improved from when he'd started training her. She would be a formidable foe to any of his brethren Death Eaters. Regardless of how they mocked the girl in their circle, she was an exceptional witch.

She still craved his approval, always trying exceptionally hard in his lessons to gain it, but never faltering when he denied it to her. He should have turned to Minerva to teach her, but he wanted to. He had no idea why it was so important to him, but he would not back down now.

Severus glanced quickly at the Ravenclaw table when Hermione looked up at him, but he watched her in his peripheral vision. Weasley said something, nudging her arm to gain her attention, and she turned to look at him, then turned her attention to Potter. Potter scowled at Hermione, but she only turned to Weasley, as if trying to get him to agree with her, but Weasley merely shrugged. Typical, the dunderhead appeared to be caught in the middle but remained noncommittal as he stuffed his face. Whatever it was, it was no concern to Severus.

His concern was Malfoy and that bloody task of his; that damned Vow trapped him into involving himself, and he had yet to get the boy to confide in him.

Their next Herbology lesson was spent collecting seeds from Euphorbia Peplis Draconis, or more commonly called the Purple Dragon Spurge. The aggressive, succulent, magical species of thorny spurge didn't like being disturbed, much less having its seeds plucked, and the poisonous milky sap would squirt out from even the slightest wound. Any contact of the sap with the skin had to be cleaned off immediately and thoroughly, but if it came in contact with cuts or scrapes caused by the thorns, the student was sent straight to the hospital wing. Every student was wearing coveralls, their dragon hide gloves, protective eye goggles and grindylow skin masks.

The plant tried protecting itself from the students' efforts to collect the seeds by viciously attacking the students' gloved hands with its long thorns, and Hermione, as well as over half the class, had to use liberal amounts of the Akoko Emulsion on the puncture wounds and scratches and take a dose of Tabaibaserum to prevent any extremely painful inflammation. Luckily, only a few students were sent to the hospital wing for poisoning.

Professor Sprout announced at the end of the lesson that they would be repotting the plants on Thursday, eliciting a moan from the students, and that they would be milking the plants the week after to give the temperamental plants time to adjust to their new pots.

"Blimey, a whole month with these bloody plants," Ron groaned as he stripped off his gloves.

"Purple Dragon Spurge's sap is the main ingredient for Purgative and Laxative Potions, Ron," Hermione told him as she carefully pulled off her coverall.

"But I thought Professor Slughorn didn't have those potions on his syllabus until October," Neville said, holding up Hermione's robe solicitously so she could slip into it easily. "Or that's what Professor Sprout told me."

"Thanks, Neville," she replied, slipping her arms into the sleeves. Her smile faded somewhat when he blushed a deep pink. He was doing that a lot around her lately: blushing, as well as opening doors, pulling out her seat... and other strange behaviors.

"Still, it's nice being in a lesson where we can talk freely," Ron said, dumping his coverall in the hamper. "Unlike some professors."

Hermione knew who he was inferring too, and her lips quirked in annoyance.

"And not lose house points if we swear when that bloody plant pokes us," Harry added, rubbing more of the Akoko Emulsion on his scratches.

As they left the greenhouse, Neville opened the door for Hermione and blushed again when she thanked him. All the way up to the castle, Ron and Harry continued to grumble about the loss of house points for speaking while Hermione and Neville talked about the properties of the Purple Dragon Spurge. She had Language Arts and Mythology and Arithmancy after Herbology, while Harry and Ron had a nice long break to catch up on their revision before double Transfiguration that afternoon. She was quite disappointed when Ron suggested, "I just remembered...Ginny has a break too. Let's find her and see if she'd like to toss the Quaffle. I could certainly use the practice."

Harry's face lit up with delight, but Hermione frowned at them. "Yeah, and I think Katie may be free as well," he said enthusiastically.

"You have four essays to write," she started to admonish them, but Harry cut her off, saying, "Hermione, we have hours before Transfiguration. And it's not due until Thursday."

"So are the essays for Herbology and Potions," she reminded them.

"Right, which we'll write up, and then you can fix them for us tomorrow night," Ron said as he started to leave for the stairs, calling over his shoulder, "C'mon, Harry, let's find Ginny."

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll meet you in the library after your Arithmancy lesson," Harry said apologetically and then ran after Ron.

She shook her head and headed for class. She saw Anthony Goldstein and Justin Finch-Fletchley in the corridor as she turned the corner, talking to Megan Jones as they walked to class. Anthony spotted her, stopped, smiled and waved her forward, so Hermione joined them.

"Hiya, Hermione," Anthony said. For some reason, Anthony was quite a bit friendlier toward her this year, but she assumed it had something to do with their riding a Thestral together to fight in the Ministry of Magic last year.

She replied, "Hello," back and joined in the discussion about Druscilla Penningham's version of the Count Dracula story.

"I bet Professor Rosencruz has us comparing Bram Stroker's Dracula to Penningham's," Anthony said as Justin opened the door for everyone. "What do you think, Hermione?" Anthony asked, following her through the door.

Megan gave Hermione a curious glance and huffed as they walked to their desks.

"I suppose, since they are both about vampires," Hermione said as she sat down. She'd finished reading Jean-Berléand François',Vampires de Bohémien et de Hongrie, and the story of Vlad Țepeluș I, Voivode of Wallachia, Son of Dracul, last night after her swim, and planned on reading Sheridan le Fanu's classic of the vampire genre, Carmilla, tonight as well.

Anthony plopped into the seat next to hers, making Sue Li, who normally sat next to Hermione, frown in annoyance. "I asked my mum about the Anne Rice books. Have you read them?"

"Er, no," Hermione said, knowing that Anne Rice's books were not in the school library. She had read Polidori's The Vampyre, which was inspired by the life and legend of Lord Byron, and the short German poem, The Vampire by Heinrich August Ossenfelder, both of which she was going to use in her comparative essay. "Have you?"

"Yeah, I like the vampire Lestat. He's cool."

"All right, settle down," Professor Rosencruz said, getting up from her chair to begin the lesson.

Hermione, mindful of Professor Snape's instructions to focus only on her intent and determination when doing spellwork, finally managed to Vanish most of her hedgehog on the third try in Transfiguration, but she'd left bits of quill tips still visible. She forgot to Vanish the tail on her fourth attempt, and by the fifth try, she managed to completely vanish the patient little creature. But Harry was having no such luck with his guinea pig, grumbling that he couldn't vanish it because it was bigger than Ron's rat or Hermione's hedgehog; so Hermione swapped animals. However, since she managed to Vanish the guinea pig the first try, Harry became even more put out. But her spell must have been too strong because the poor creature had squealed loudly.

She also had little trouble using the Summoning and Repelling Charms nonverbally in Charms the next morning on the large sacks of potatoes and rice that Professor Flitwick had brought to class. Hermione's sack of rice had shot toward her so fast when she'd demonstrated her Summoning Charm, it knocked her into Ron who was standing behind her, and when she'd Repelled it, it shot across the room and hit the far wall with an audible thud. Professor Flitwick gave her a questioning stare, but she'd just shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him.

However, Hermione found that the magical theories the professors lectured about were getting more difficult and much more complex, and she was struggling to keep up with her notes in class. Also, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick expected all the spells the students used in the practical aspect of their lessons to be nonverbal, which, apparently, not everyone could do.

Even though Hermione could do the spells nonverbally after several tries, she spent most of her effort trying to control her magic as Professor Snape wanted her to do and not rely on her magical surges. But it was hard.

Her classmates, on the other hand, were all red- or purple-faced, bug-eyed or biting their cheeks to keep from saying incantations aloud and losing points.

That night on her way to the dungeons for her lesson with Professor Snape, Hermione spotted Luna at the top of the stairs that led to the second floor. "Hi, Luna," she called out.

Luna turned and smiled, then cocked her head slightly as Hermione approached her. "You're positively glowing. Is it that time for you?"

Hermione had no idea what she was talking about; there was no way her 'glow' was because she was pregnant, and she wasn't in love with anyone in particular, at least not enough to be 'glowing' about it, and being aglow in love didn't exactly fit Luna's mention of it being 'that time'. Confused, she stammered, "Er, no," with a shrug.

"Oh, I thought that it was almost your...no...okay," Luna said, starting off at a casual pace down the stairs.

Still confused, but letting it go since Luna frequently said things that made little or no sense, Hermione fell into step with her friend. "Where are you off to?" she asked.

Luna smiled. "A room on the second floor," she replied, drawing small swirls on the stone handrail with her fingertips as they walked down the stairs together. "It has lots of large windows and a fireplace, and it's convenient for all the Hufflepuffs who wish to do Yoga with me."

"You're still teaching Yoga?" Hermione asked, actually pleased in a way that the DA members were still meeting up with each other.

"No, it's more like leading. Amber Colbert...do you know her? She's in my year." Hermione shook her head, so Luna continued on, "She and I just follow the pictures in the books, and everyone copies us the best they can. Cho is still leading Yoga; she's does her sessions in the west wing on the fifth floor near the stairs that lead to the Ravenclaw Tower common room. Lavender and Parvati go there to be with the Ravenclaws who wish to keep limber."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Luna turned to face her. "Are you joining us tonight? I'm going to show the King Dancer, the Billywig, the Locust and the Flying Griffin poses today," Luna said serenely.

Hermione had no idea what the poses were, but she was certain her mum had never heard of the Billywig or Flying Griffin poses. "No, I can't, I have to be in Professor Snape's office in five minutes."

"Oh, that's all right, there is always Friday," Luna said with a wistful smile, but Hermione knew she'd have another lesson with Professor Snape then, too. "I'm going to try the Sleeping Unicorn, the Reverse Moon, the Clabbert and the Mooncalf on Friday, just to keep things interesting."

"Sounds like fun, but I'll have to see," she said and wished Luna good luck with her yoga, then hurried down to the dungeons.

Hermione knocked on the door to Professor Snape's office and turned to face the one across the corridor, just as he yanked it open. "You're early," he stated.

She knew that she was only one or two minutes early at best. "I promise to walk slower next time," she said and crossed the corridor quickly. As she eased by him through the doorway, she thought she heard him inhale deeply, however when she glanced up at him, his face was set in its usual authoritative expression.

"How have you been managing in your lessons?" he asked as she put her bag on a chair and removed her school robes. She was still in her white blouse and skirt, but hopefully they wouldn't duel too much today.

"I'm having a little difficulty with the determination and execution of my nonverbal spells in Charms and Transfiguration," she said casually as she rolled up her sleeves.

His dark eyes seemed to follow her every movement before he turned to look at the magical window in the wall. Today the scene was the eerie green of the lake behind the thick glass.

"Mostly because my focus is divided between remembering not to speak, focusing my intent and determination without letting my magic surge. It's really hard."

He nodded, his whole attention solely on her again. In an odd way it was reassuring and unnerving at the same time. "Yes, it's hard because you've been relying on your surges to do your wandless and nonverbal spells, but it is essential that you learn to control your magic. You're doing Vanishing, Summoning and Repelling Charms, are you not?" he asked, and she smiled because he knew. "I'll take that as a yes," he stated before she could answer.

He pulled out a small box from his pocket, slightly larger than the one that he'd used to hold her Time-Turner.

Hermione's curiosity increased as he opened the lid and withdrew an odd-looking, spindly object with a glass orb.

"Hold out your right hand," he instructed, checking something on the device.

She complied, and he balanced the small device on her palm, asking her to straighten her arm out fully. The object seemed to balance on one point, barely touching her skin as if it weighted less than a piece of feather down. He watched it, staring at the device as if reading something. Hermione tried to do the same, but he barked at her not to move and had her fully extend her arm again. After a while, her arm began to get heavy, but he told her to hold still.

What seemed like a long time later, she began to feel the muscles strain in her arm, and the center of the small device began to rotate, going slowly at first, speeding up, the bands twirling fast, and it began to whistle shrilly. Severus plucked it from her palm and held it up to the light, looking at the center of the device, so she let her arm drop, thankful for the reprieve.

Hermione tried to peer into the device as well, moving to stand close to him like she'd done when they brewed together as teens, but she had no idea what he was looking at, unless he was looking at the alignment or some tiny markings she couldn't see. He inhaled sharply and turned to look at her, his expression hardening into a questioning glare so she backed up a step. He turned his attention back to the orb, but he'd not relaxed his shoulders. She looked at him, trying to gauge his mood by his profile. She saw his Adam's apple bob and the familiar tick in his jaw from clenching his teeth and smiled.

"Her...Miss Granger, I do not like being studied," he said just like he'd done as a teen.

She pursed her lips to hide her smile and turned away.

"Or being laughed at."

Her head snapped in his direction. "I wasn't...I'm just curious about the device."

"Obviously," he said smoothly. "Among other things." He put the device back into his box and stared at the window as he thrust it into his pocket. He inhaled deeply as he turned to face her again. "Tonight you'll be working simply on control. Try the Human-unveiling Charm."

She frowned at the directions...they'd only reviewed the theory and had yet to practice the spell. She tried the unfamiliar charm nonverbally. But the intensity of his undivided attention and the rigidness of his body were somewhat unnerving. She made several unsuccessful tries and huffed in disappointment, flustered that she couldn't do it. She pursed her lips and tried again determinedly, finally making a glowing holographic image of him appear in front of her... although his image was so bright he illuminated the entire room.

"Put it out," he snapped, and she quickly uttered, "Nox."

"Do it again, but control your magical strength. The image should only be a faint, ghost-like reflection of me."

She tried, repeatedly, although each time he glowed so brightly, his image illuminated the entire room.

"Enough. Try another. I believe you are able to cast a Hex-Deflection Charm?"

She nodded. "Yes, Barty Crouch Jr. taught us when he was impersonating Mr. Moody."

His mouth twitched into a smile, and she could hear a faint chuckle escape from deep inside his chest. "Do it," he said, regaining his teacher's pose.

Hermione pulled out her wand and aimed it away from him. "Hexa Declinare." Her shield burst forth in a blazing glory, glaringly bright, illuminating the entire room.

"Put it out and do it again," he said, almost a demand, and she extinguished her deflection shield. "Do it nonverbally and control. Your. Strength."

By now the intensity of his undivided attention, his stern demeanor and his disapproval of her inability to do as he wanted was decidedly distracting. She made several tries, making herself flustered at her ineptitude at controlling her magic. She could do the bloody spell verbally, but each time she did it nonverbally, her magic surged, the shield glowing brightly, bathing the room in blazing silvery-white light...and she didn't know how to hold her strength back.

She jumped when he snapped firmly, "Put it out," because he was standing so close behind her it was practically said in her ear. "You're letting your magic surge. Try again," he said angrily, his voice deep and low, his body so close she could almost feel it against hers.

She closed her eyes, to force back the retort she wanted to say to him, his proximity and irritation setting her on edge. She knew she was surging...she could feel it surge. She was trying...but didn't know how to do as he asked. She could practically feel his irritation prickle on her skin, but she wasn't... it wasn't... damn. Her hands clenched, and she inhaled deeply to try and calm down. She would just have to try harder.

"What is the problem?" he asked in a deep growl, confusing her, his breath moving her hair slightly.

She turned around. "What have I done to make you angry?"

He jerked back slightly. "Pardon me?"

"You seem angry...not just irritated...angry. So I'm asking, what have I done to anger you?" she boldly asked him, hoping the direct approach would work. "Because whatever it is, I'm sorry."

He stood back, his posture rigid. "I am not angry with you; I expect you to make more of an effort."

Hermione refrained from stamping her foot in frustration. "I am trying. I've been trying. But this isn't...each time I can't help it...it surges." His eyes hardened somewhat. "Do you do this with everyone who Surges?"

"No," he replied.

She was shocked by his admission. "No? Why me, then?"

He took a step closer, leaned forward slightly and glared down his nose at her, but that brought their faces within inches of each other. "You are exceptionally gifted and...because I didn't invest all my time to have you burn yourself out because you can't control your magic," he said angrily.

She inhaled deeply to calm down, thinking briefly that he smelled nice, and then looked up at him in shock. "You're afraid I'll burn out? But my magic should plateau in a few days."

He didn't reply, he simply stood there, their eyes locked on each other's faces.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Your magical strength has increased," he said finally. "It should have levelled..." He turned his head and looked at the wall. "Try casting your shield as if on an impulse. Don't think about doing it...just do it. You may do it verbally."

"Hexa Declinare," she said confidently, casting the spell without focusing, seeing the dome-shaped shield erupt from her wand. It was still bright, much brighter than normal, but not as blinding. He nodded, and she let her shield fade out.

"Better," he said, his lips quirking back slightly. "Now why was that time different than the others?"

"I didn't worry about the steps. I just determined what I wanted to do and focused on my memory," she said, her mind analyzing it thoroughly.

"You're over-analyzing the action," he said with a smirk. "You over think it too much. You did that when you were young, too. You'd bog yourself down in how it's done rather than trusting in yourself and doing it. I know you can do whatever you set your mind to, you catch on quickly and are very capable, but you focus on every step as if following the theories from the books. Trust your actions."

She smiled at his compliments.

He moved into the center of the room. "Now defend yourself...nonverbally."

Hermione left the dungeons, analyzing everything she'd done in Professor Snape's private lesson. She did over think her steps. Although her magic was still abnormally strong, when she didn't focus on her magic, it flowed better. The problem was when she was actively defending herself against him in a duel, her magic had surged, and she'd knocked Professor Snape clear across the room. At least she hadn't hurt him; he'd expected it and had cushioned the wall behind him. Still, she felt guilty that she was utterly at the mercy of her magical surges.

Cormac McLaggen and Bernard Dunstan, both seventh-years, approached the Fat Lady the same time Hermione did. "After you," McLaggen said with an odd glint in his eye.

"Thank you," she replied. She did notice that he was watching her as she scrambled through the portrait hole. Hermione wished that someone would widen the hole. It had been far easier getting into the common room when she'd been a first- or second-year than it was this year, and having two guys stare at her bum as she stooped to enter was disconcerting.

"Anytime, Granger," McLaggen said with a smirk, nudging his friend.

She shrugged it off and went to her room to change. What she needed was a good long swim to clear her head. She looked up at where the sixth years were revising and mentally groaned that the boys were watching her as she crossed the room. Neville blushed and ducked his head down, and Dean turned to say something to Seamus. She just didn't understand their sudden interest. Five years of being totally invisible to her male housemates and suddenly now they found her interesting. It made her feel self-conscious.

It was the same wherever she went; Hermione had the strange sensation that many of the students, especially the boys, seemed to be watching her as she entered a room, especially when she entered the Great Hall for meals. Ron was acting strangely, weird, more often staring at Hermione's chest when he spoke to her, and even Harry was watching her more than normal. Neville blushed whenever she said anything to him, even just a simple hello. Seamus found excuses to speak to her. The boys in other houses, ones she'd known now for five years, were starting to behave rather oddly, too. She figured it was hormonal or something.

Harry and Ron were with Ginny by the fire, revising, thankfully.

Ron looked up, smiled and waved her over. "'Mione, will you look over my essay?" he asked as she approached, his gaze flicking from her chest to her face.

"I want to take a bath first, if that's all right," she said, and he nodded.

"We'll be right here," he said, getting back to the one he was working on. She hurried up to change.

Severus had borrowed two of Dumbledore's spindly objects again. The one that supposedly measured the amount of static magic in the air was whirling on its little pedestal table while the second, which would indicate if Hermione was actively surging, was emitting a humming sound. Not that he needed either device to show him what he could obvioulsy see in the sparring dummy indicators, but Miss Granger responded with the appropriate annoyance from the added noise.

"If you were controlling your magic, the devices would be inert," he told her again.

She gave him a scowling look, which he reprimanded with a stern look of his own and a raised eyebrow. She immediately appeared contrite. "Yes, sir."

Her need to gain his approval still amused him, but she was also becoming too comfortable with him, and that had to be curbed. "Try again. I expect to see the indicator to measure your strength in the green tones." He smirked slightly at the flash of indignant fire in her warm brown eyes.

Hermione apologized and looked at the floor as her face flushed a bright pink. She tried again, but the indicator was still showing her range in the blue-greens...not the greens.

This was going nowhere. On all basic forms of the magical arts she can moderate her strength satisfactorily...but with the defensive spells, she's too strong...aggressive, trying too hard. Speed, accuracy and strength...what I drilled into her in fifth year... The girl simply has to learn how to control her magic. Even a first year could moderate their magical strength. Her first... Yes. He tried another tactic. "Do you remember telling me how you learned to control your magic as a little child?" he asked, remembering the conversation as if it were only a year ago and not a life time. "Your parents thought what you did were telekinesis and pyrokinesis, if I remember correctly."

"Yes," she said, her head tilted as she gazed up at him questioningly, yet so trustingly.

He was struck by a remembrance of the act; she would do the same when they had worked together when he'd been a teen, her head would tilt as she gazed up at him with unconditional trust and when she pondered something he'd said, her eyes questioning, the thoughts swimming so quickly in her brain he could almost see it... Best not dwell on it, he was her teacher now.

"Why isn't this the same for you? Control your emotions and your abilities," he said, gazing down at her. He was once again surprised that she was almost his height. Not the unpretentious, yet precocious, lanky, over-achieving, large-toothed teen anymore... The know-it-all bookworm had blossomed, would Bloom soon, and be the witch he'd seen in her as a teen. In fact, she was now the same age he'd been when they'd first met. It was an odd thought.

"It can't be that simple," she said, breaking him from his contemplation.

He made a slight scowl at her and then shook his head. "It's not..."

"No, the theory behind it...but it would be, wouldn't it?" she mumbled, interrupting him. However, he could see the thought process spinning in her mind, her warm brown eyes glazing as she rationalized out what he meant. Suddenly, she looked up at him with those expressive doe-like eyes...

"Yes," he said with a nod, knowing she'd reached the proper conclusion. She was such a corker. "Try again."

At breakfast, Hermione kept her head down as she tried to ignore all the stares she was getting and was thankful when Harry suggested they all go visit Hagrid.

However, Ron slammed down his cup, saying "Oi, we've got Quidditch tryouts this morning, Harry," which meant that all attention shifted to Harry, at least at the Gryffindor table, as her housemates began speculating who'd make the team and encouraging their friends who were going to try out for the team.

"Right, afterwards, then," Harry said to Hermione as the owls swooped down into the Great Hall.

Hermione was glad each morning when the post came. Even though she wasn't getting post from her family like before, it still meant that everyone's attention was diverted to their deliveries. Harry received his new Advanced Potion Making book, but although Hermione suggested giving Professor Slughorn back the old book, Harry refused. He quickly switched covers, much to her disappointment in him.

Another owl swooped down and delivered Harry a roll of parchment with the list of all the people who wanted to play for the House team.

Hermione glanced at the list and nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. It looked like it had more names on it than were eligible to play in their House. "That list is too long, Harry," she gasped, wiping a bit of juice off her chin with her napkin.

Harry's brow creased in confusion. "Can't be. Professor McGonagall wrote it," he said. "Blimey, the team is going to be really popular this year."

"It's not the team, Harry, it's you." Hermione told Harry why he was more popular, but he simply blushed. She hadn't meant to give him a speech about it, and his face had reddened the longer she explained it, so she finally let the matter drop.

"Well, I suppose if you say so," he said, refusing to look her in the eye as he spoke, and pocketed the scroll.

When they got to the pitch, Harry handed Hermione the scroll so she could cross off the names that didn't make the team since he hadn't brought a quill and ink. She stood behind and slightly to Harry's left as he surveyed all the people who'd shown up for trials.

McLaggen, whom Lavender had quite the crush on all last year, approached Harry with a bit of a swagger, his shoulders back and chest puffed out. "We met on the train in old Sluggy's compartment,"* McLaggen said, watching Hermione as he shook Harry's hand firmly. "Cormac McLaggen. I'm trying out for Keeper," he finished loud enough so those around them could hear.

Hermione sighed, knowing Ron wanted to play Keeper, as Harry asked him, "I don't remember you trying out before. You didn't try out last year, did you?"

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials last year," McLaggen boasted, glancing at his friends as if preening. "I ate a pound of Doxy eggs for a bet."*

Hermione wanted to vomit at the thought.

"Right. Go ahead and wait to the side... over there for now," Harry said, obviously not at all impressed, and Hermione wondered what McLaggen's excuses were for his previous years.

First, Harry dismissed anyone who hadn't even brought brooms with them, an obvious judgment, since it was best to have your own broom to be on the team. He dismissed a group of giggling girls, who were there simply to see him, and several people who were not even in Gryffindor.

Then Harry divided everyone into groups, some of the combinations not making too much sense to Hermione at first glance.

"Okay, now each group will race around the pitch, weaving between the posts for the goal hoops," Harry instructed, indicating the goal posts at the end of the pitch. "Then you'll fly as fast as you can toward the other end, weaving through the posts again," he said, indicating the goal posts at the far side of the pitch, "and fly back as fast as you can, then hover above me. Everyone got that?"

Most of the applicants nodded, but some looked utterly baffled.

Harry dismissed a bunch of first-years that tried the exercise on old beat up school brooms, because most were too inexperienced at flying and the old brooms were not fast or maneuverable enough. Likewise, Harry dismissed the second group because they couldn't do the maneuvering he'd asked for, ending up in a heap at the base of the goal posts, and the next group kept fighting and shoving at each other rather than show off their flying capabilities.

Hermione drew a line through each name Harry dismissed, watching the names of those she crossed off magically drop to the bottom of the parchment.

Finally after several different flying tests, which resulted in many complaints, more than a few tantrums, several broken teeth and one boy losing half of his teeth, another boy smacking the ground with his broom, breaking his tail twigs, and one collision that damaged a Comet Two-Sixty and two Cleansweeps and possibly given two of them concussions, Harry finally selected three Chasers: Katie Bell was back on the team, Ginny and another fifth year, Demelza Robins.

Things were not any better choosing Beaters, but even Hermione could see that Harry's best choices were Jimmy Peaks, who nearly killed Harry when he'd knocked him in the head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked quite weedy, but could really whack the Bludger hard and was a very quick flyer, even good enough to play Seeker if necessary.

Hermione excused herself to go up to the stands as Harry suggested that those already selected for the team take their positions and practice working together against those trying out for Keeper. Hermione chose a spot on the midline so she could have the clearest view of the entire pitch and still hear Harry. Each Keeper was given ten shots to block, and Harry instructed his Chasers not to hold anything back. Hermione was amazed at how good the Chasers were this year, as they cut down the competition for Keeper one after another.

Colin and Dennis Creevey sat behind Hermione with Marcus Belby in the stands, so they'd not be in her way, but seventh-years, Alex Hughes, Bernard Dunstan and Geoffrey Hooper sat to her right, and all the girls seemed to fill up the front of the stands in order to ogle Harry. Seamus, Dean and Neville sat on Hermione's left, calling out each time the person trying out for Keeper blocked the shot so Hermione could mark it down. Good thing, too, as McLaggen kept flying by, showing off in front of her until it was his turn for his trials.

Finally, Ron was up, looking anxious on his new broom on one side of the pitch, with McLaggen facing off on the other, and the three Chasers taking their places. So far the best score made was only six saves, and Hermione mentally crossed her fingers for Ron to get all ten. Ron made two solid blocks but missed the third one, then saved three in a row, catching one of Ginny's throws with his fingertips and almost falling off his broom, then stopping a shot by the new Chaser, Demelza, with his head, and kicking the last one. Ron missed his seventh, then made two very nice saves, but missed the last shot as it was just out of his reach, and the Quaffle rebounded off the inside of the goal hoop, apparently still counting as a goal.

Hermione smiled as she wrote seven by his name and circled it.

McLaggen missed Ginny's first shot, claiming that she only got by him out of pure luck. He barely stopped Katie's shot with his foot, then saved three, caught Ginny's curve throw and his caught his seventh, but Katie's rolled off his fingertips and bounced on the inside of the goal hoop and fell through the hoop. Harry called it a goal, but McLaggen was obviously offended by the call; he swore loudly enough for Hermione to hear him, and she was surprised by his lack of sportsmanship.

Demelza threw a curve at the left goal, which McLaggen lunged for, barely making contact with the Quaffle, but Harry said that that one didn't count as a save, because her aim was off and missed the hoop, so Hermione erased the hash mark she'd made beside his name for that one. However, McLaggen got angry, accusing Harry of being unfair and a liar, which stunned Hermione, considering Harry said it wouldn't count as one of his ten shots.

He was still arguing with Harry as Katie hurled the Quaffle into the left hoop. Harry reluctantly told Katie that this was trials and not an actual game, so it didn't count, although Hermione knew by his expression that he hated saying it. Katie scowled, but nodded and said something to Ginny and Demelza, who both nodded, Ginny casting a quick grin at McLaggen.

McLaggen squared off, his eyes hard and determined. Katie, Ginny and Demelza flew down the pitch. Ginny smiled at Hermione as the three girls flew by her, then turned about to face down McLaggen. The girls flew well together, weaving and ducking, passing the Quaffle between them as they charged the goal posts. Ginny dived for the right goal hoop as Katie shot forward toward the center hoop, then rolled and swerved at the last second as she caught the Quaffle from Demelza and threw a hard curveball that flew into the left hoop, just beyond McLaggen's fingertips. Hermione marked a miss on her parchment and looked up, to see Ginny wink at her.

Hermione watched McLaggen, wondering if he'd really be the best player for the team. Ron and McLaggen each had three misses but if McLaggen made this one, he'd be the team's Keeper. Hermione cast a nonverbal Confundus on him, making him feint to the right and miss the Quaffle as it sailed through the center of the hoop.

Lavender was bouncing in her seat, squealing, "He did it, he did it!" as Harry flew up to check Hermione's parchment.

Harry turned, smiling as he announced, "Okay, Ron's made the most saves today, so he's Keeper."

McLaggen, still hovering on his broom, chucked the Quaffle in anger, hitting Demelza in the head, swearing about Ron's ineptitude ruining the team, saying, "There's no chance to win a game now with those inbred gingers on the team," glaring at Ginny. Ginny, who'd been congratulating her brother, turn and glared at him, but said nothing.

Hermione, however, didn't care; she jumped up and ran out of the stands to go congratulate Ron.

Hermione did remember to remove the Confundus Charm from McLaggen when she saw him barrel into a pole, getting a scowl from Harry. She merely shrugged and turned to listen to Ron extol on his victory.

~ T. B. .C. ~

Author's Notes:

I didn't change these things from the book, but I didn't mention them either: Hermione, Ron and Harry did visit Hagrid and learn that Aragog is dying. Hermione and Ginny did attend Slughorn's first Slug Club dinner party, and Harry did serve detention with Professor Snape.

In Hermione's Language Arts and Mythology lesson: Druscilla Penningham and Thaddeus Werten are names I made up and are not real authors, but the other's mentioned are.

Euphorbia is a genus of plants belonging to the family Euphorbiaceae; obviously the one I used is made up, but if you're an author, feel free to use the plant in your own stories.

The antidotes for the plant's poison are a play on two words: On the Hawaiian Islands, spurges are collectively known as "akoko", and on the Canary Islands as "tabaibas", hense the name of the potions. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euphorbia

Declinare means: to bend aside, turn away, deflect. From: http://www.archives.nd.edu/cgi-bin/lookdown.pl

Two of Vlad Tepes' (Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia or aka Vlad the Impaler) sons, Vlad Țepeluș and Mihnea I "the Bad", have been claimed to be ancestors of Mary of Teck, grand-mother of Elizabeth II, Queen of Great Britain. In October 2011, Prince Charles publicly claimed that genealogy shows that he is a distant relative of Vlad the Impaler. The claim accompanied his announcement of a pledge to help conserve the forested areas of Transylvania. The book, Vlad Țepeluș I, Voivode of Wallachia, Son of Dracul, mentioned in the chapter is fictional.