Point Gathering

Chapter 5: 9 September 5:00 PM -- 27 September 5:00 PM ... Point Gathering

"Hi," someone said as they sat down on the other side of the table.

I looked up. "Hello, Miss Patil."

I typically studied in the Great Hall between tea and dinner. The Ravenclaw common room was too quiet, too studious. I liked some background noise.

"Have you worked the third Arithmancy problem yet?" asked Miss Patil.

I nodded yes, sketched how I had solved it, and watched Miss Patil as she worked on it. I had become familiar enough with Hogwarts that I recognized the badge that said Miss Patil was a Prefect.

Several days later, Miss Patil was again sitting across from me doing Arithmancy. She noticed me taking a break and asked, "Are there problems being an exchange student? What courses are you taking?"

I told her that I did have an unusual class schedule. Because of the differences in curriculum between Hogwarts and Durmstrang, it made as much sense for me to take seventh year Charms as sixth year Charms. I took both. If the classes went well, I would try for a NEWT in Charms at the end of this year. Arithmancy and Transfiguration were subjects that required a more strict order of presentation. The courses at Hogwarts and Durmstrang were similar enough that I could take the sixth year in both. In Potions, both Draco and I took both sixth and seventh year. Seventh year was almost all independent study projects. Both Draco and I realized that suitable partners in advanced Potions were hard to find. We would take advantage of our both being at Hogwarts and sit for a NEWT in Potions at the end of this year. Miss Patil was surprised that a sixth year would be allowed to sit for a NEWT.

The next time I saw Miss Patil, I mentioned that I heard she had a twin sister in Gryffindor.

"Do you want to meet Parvati?" asked Padma Patil, sounding distant and a bit hostile.

"I was just making conversation," I said. "I didn't mean to pry into anything personal."

I wondered why Padma Patil had sounded hostile. The talk in the Ravenclaw Boys' Dorm was that Padma Patil was a serious scholar, while her sister was more socially oriented. Perhaps Padma Patil was jealous of her sister receiving all the attention. I hadn't considered that possibility when I asked Padma Patil about her twin sister because I found Padma Patil much more interesting.

Once Miss Patil was convinced that I didn't fancy her sister, I heard all about her family with little effort on my part. Her family, as I had guessed from simply observing the two sisters, had both wealth and status. The Patils had inherited money and property, and both of her parents worked in the Ministry of Magic.

I noticed that being a Ravenclaw Prefect had its own demands. Ravenclaws were seldom rowdy, and, when they were, usually guilt-stricken afterwards. There were, however, long-lasting feuds of incredible ferocity ... intellectuals. Miss Patil was more of a peacemaker and go-between than disciplinarian. A Ravenclaw was his own disciplinarian, thank you. I wondered if having a twin sister prepared one for settling feuds, but I didn't know how to ask the question diplomatically.

Within two weeks, Miss Patil was also studying Charms and Transfiguration with me. Unfortunately for my ego, she was a quick study. Arithmancy went well enough, but I suffered constant minor humiliations in sixth year Charms and Transfiguration ... so much for the plan of hiding by myself in the back of the classroom to disguise my slow learning skills.

"Could you possibly call me 'Padma' instead of 'Miss Patil'?" my study partner asked. I agreed. "And I'll keep calling you 'Hermann.' Okay?"

The girl I had met at the train station, Miss Weasley, began studying with us about the third week of school. At first, her appearance was intermittent. I had the impression from her comments as she joined us that her friends were squabbling, and it distressed her. By the fourth week, she appeared regularly even though she was a fifth year. Our table and the surrounding tables were calm. No one wanted to disturb Padma, the high caste Prefect.

I would often go to the library and get the reference books while Padma stayed and kept the peace. Padma initially felt she was taking advantage of me, but I reminded her of all the English words she translated for me. She borrowed my Charms book one afternoon and noticed the bookmark in the next lesson. She asked if I was reading ahead. We were alone at the table, and by that time I deemed Padma trustworthy. I told her I was playing a point-gathering game. The professors didn't give points for material they already had covered, but they would give points if a student knew facts that hadn't been covered in class.

"I didn't know you were doing that," said Padma.

"Good," I said. "If someone does too much of it, they become unpopular with everyone, including the professors."

"You aren't going to rat me out?" I asked.

"Is that another Americanism?" she said. "I won't snitch if that's what you're asking."

"I might try this myself," she added.

I told her that would help. If we spread the effort around, it decreased the chance that any one person would become obnoxious.

"An insufferable know-it-all," suggested Padma.

I suddenly felt sympathetic towards Miss Granger who was almost alone in getting academic points for sixth year Gryffindors.

Of course, we got carried away as we talked about it. We imagined a total Ravenclaw effort spread across all seven years and across all classes. We could overwhelm the other houses and walk away with the House Cup. Even if the other houses discovered what we were doing, we could beat them in a sustained intellectual effort. Only the Slytherins offered any real competition.

We came back down to earth. We both knew, somehow, that it wouldn't work.

"That's curious," we both voiced. "Why wouldn't it work?"

While we were pondering this, Mr. Broderick and Mr. Shovick came by to ask if Padma was going to Hogsmeade this weekend. She told them she didn't enjoy Hogsmeade; that joke shops and sweet shops weren't her idea of fun. While Padma was talking to Broderick and Shovick, Miss Weasley came over and joined us. With Miss Weasley there, Padma and I postponed our discussion of the point-gathering game.

Padma and I continued the discussion later in the Ravenclaw common room. We agreed that to succeed only a few students could participate. It had to be kept a secret. Why did it have to be kept a secret? We could beat the other houses even if they found out. It finally dawned on us that it had to be kept a secret because of the professors. We could not trust their reaction to an academic point-gathering game. That was strange because we trusted their reaction to the Quidditch points. Why couldn't scholars train and compete the same as athletes? We decided to get some rest and reconsider everything in the fresh light of day.

Padma went to bed that night tingling. Never before had she examined the social structure of Hogwarts in such a fashion, in a way that called into question the integrity of the professors and the fairness of the system. The examination went deeper then that. It didn't ask for fairness. It tried to determine why fairness wasn't there, just as one might ask why water froze. Once this was determined, the game would be played according to the existing conditions.

The next morning I was in the common room about to go to breakfast when Padma came bouncing down the stairs from the girls' dorm in her night dress and with her hair loose and undone. "I got it," she said, grabbing me. "Quidditch is only a game. Academics are too serious to let one house sweep the field."

"That's certainly an idea," I said. "We'll have to think that one through."

"Wait for me," she said as she ran back upstairs.

She appeared a few minutes later, prim and proper with her hair done up. I shouldn't have seen the two Padmas in juxtaposition. My synapses began firing.

Down brain. Visions of cozy Padma in nightdress with hair undone. Visions of stunning Padma in clothes with hair done. Visions of passionate Padma with clothes and hair and Padma undone. Down brain. It's Padma. She's our friend. She's too serious to care for that. Down brain.

I finally calmed down. I could trust myself not to blurt out, "God, you're beautiful," when I opened my mouth.

At the breakfast table I said, "Yes, I think the answer lies in the difference between Quidditch points and academic points."

"Quidditch has more explicit rules," said Padma. "It may not be exactly fair because of the referees, but a lot of effort has gone into making it a nearly fair game."

I nodded agreement.

"The academic game doesn't have any rules," continued Padma. "It's based on the whims of the professors, and we know that some of them are unfair."

"That's brilliant," I told Padma. She glowed.

"I think it goes beyond having a fair set of rules," I said. "I think there's something to academics being more serious than the game."

"Even though some people would say Quidditch is the most serious activity at Hogwarts," quipped Padma with a smile.

"There would be much less resentment towards an overwhelming Quidditch team then there would be towards overwhelming academic performance," I said.

"An insufferable know-it-all house," returned Padma.

Padma had to run to class. She leveraged herself off the bench with a hand on my shoulder, and then gave both of my shoulders a squeeze.

"I'll see you later," she said as she dashed out the door.

* * *

That night in the common room, Padma and I continued the discussion. Our fear was that once the professors noticed the Ravenclaw lead, the professors would act against Ravenclaw by subtracting points for trivial offenses. Would the professors really act in such a manner? I wondered. Padma and I were assuming terrible things about the school faculty.

"That type of thing has happened before," said Padma. "The Potions professor was very unfair to Harry Potter and his fellow Gryffindors."

I listened as Padma recalled incidents. One time the Potions professor deliberately broke a vial of Mr. Potter's potion and then told Mr. Potter that he received zero points for that day's lab work. It was enough to make one's blood boil. I waited as Padma pieced together thoughts in her mind.

"I got it!" said Padma. "Hogwarts is to Ravenclaw as the Potions professor is to Harry."

It's time for a tangential remark. The story is that Mr. Potter hated the Potions Professor. Did Padma and I hate the school system? No. Gryffindors are brave, but Ravenclaws are built of stern stuff. We begin our mornings with high fiber cereals.

Padma said that the secrecy part worried her. Did that mean that we were doing something wrong? I replied that Quidditch teams kept their new moves secret. Padma began thinking about who might join us.

"There's Cho Chang," said Padma. "She's smart enough and discreet enough, but she has a friend who is a snitch."

"There's Luna Lovegood," said Padma. "She wouldn't tell another student, but she might tell her father, who edits an investigative newspaper."

We could see the headlines: "Academic Conspiracy at Hogwarts: Professors Untrustworthy, Say Students."

This was going to be harder than we thought, but we were captured by the thrill of a dangerous game. If the professors discovered that Ravenclaw was making an organized effort to win the House Cup by academic excellence, then they would make certain that Ravenclaw did not win. Could we do it in a subtle manner that would not be discovered?

* * *

One day Miss Weasley and I were alone at the table when she suddenly asked, "Do you ever take a break from studying?"

"Whenever I can," I replied.

"Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend," she said. "Do you have permission to go?"

"Yes, Flitwick told me about the conditions. My parents sent a signed permission form to him."

"Do you plan on going?" asked Miss Weasley.

"Of course," I replied.

It was dawning on me that Miss Weasley was trying to be sociable. I was not responding well. Come on, I thought, Miss Weasley is a friendly person. Where are my manners?

"Are you going?" I asked.

"Yes," said Miss Weasley, perking up.

"What do you like about Hogsmeade?" I asked.

"Well," said Miss Weasley in a flat tone of voice, "there are a lot of nice shops to visit."

"Sounds nice," I said, wondering what I had done wrong. She sounded so friendly a few seconds ago.

"Maybe I'll see you there," I said, trying to salvage some of the conversation. "What's your favorite shop?"

"The best place to meet someone is the Three Broomsticks," rejoined Miss Weasley.

"That sounds nice," I said. Suddenly, the idea of having someone to talk to was very appealing.

"When is a good time to meet you there?" I added hopefully.

Miss Weasley thought for a while. "Well, you've never been to Hogsmeade or the Three Broomsticks. It might be better if someone showed you the way. We could meet here and then go to Hogsmeade."

She quickly added, "We could ride our brooms. It's a very scenic ride. You'll like it."

"Sounds good. What time do I meet you here?"

"Oh," said Miss Weasley, "I forgot. I can't leave until 10:00. I have to see a professor."

"Ten o'clock is fine with me. I'll be at the front gate. Going to Hogsmeade with you sounds nice," I added, making an attempt to be friendly.

At the appointed hour, on the appointed day, Miss Weasley appeared with her broom. She informed me that her name was 'Ginny,' and if I kept calling her 'Miss Weasley,' she was going to scream.

"You know," ventured Ginny after we had ridden a small distance, "some people are afraid you're a dark wizard."

Mein Gott, I'm never going to escape that. I looked at Ginny. She looked curious instead of accusing. Calm down. The girl practically invited me to go with her. She can't think I'm evil. I'll try being sociable.

"Actually, I'm a pale wizard. I don't get enough sun."

"That was terrible," she replied.

"Yes," I said, "but the look on your face after I said it made it worthwhile."

She laughed. "I bet you're tired of hearing that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

I decided to draw this girl out. She was a fascinating person. "You must be curious for some reason. You don't have to tell me why. We can talk about your brothers instead."

"Do you have any brothers?" she asked.

"One younger sister, starting her second year at Durmstrang. She is good at Charms. She is good at everything. She is excellent at Charms!"

Complimenting a younger sister must have made me seem less dark.

"Hermann, I don't want to upset you. I don't want to make you mad. We're ... I'm just curious."

"You want to ask me something," I said. "I'll try to stay calm."

"You seem to be friends with Draco," she said.

I looked at Ginny. This was something important to her.

"Draco and I are both interested in potions. Very few people are. Naturally, we work together."

"There's more," I continued. "I visited Draco and Mrs. Malfoy this summer as part of the exchange student program. At home, Draco is a loving son, and Mrs. Malfoy is a doting mother. At home, Draco and Mrs. Malfoy are kind and hospitable people."

"I keep hearing," I went on, "that at Hogwarts, Draco is not regarded as a kind and loving person."

I looked at Ginny and said, "I have no explanation for the difference. As far as I know, Draco regards me as a friend and professional colleague. I feel the same about Draco."

Ginny had a thoughtful look on her face. Well, let her think about it. We rode the rest of the way in silence. My attempt at drawing Ginny out had the opposite effect. Smooth move, as the Americans say. By the time we arrived at the teen tavern, I was wondering if she was ever going to speak to me again. If she didn't, I could cross her off the list ... one down, zilch to go.

Once the idea of never speaking to Ginny again crossed my mind, it seemed like a good idea. She wasn't here for my company. She was here to spy on the Malfoys, people who had treated me kindly and who had never done me any harm. How to handle this? Put on an act. Be as friendly and charming as possible. Don't reveal any more information. Get back to Hogwarts in one piece.

Hold it. Calm down. Back up. I had tried to draw her out. I encouraged her questions. By showing that the Malfoys were important to her, she had revealed a lot, although I had no idea what lot had been revealed. All this shows is that I shouldn't be left alone with my thoughts for too long. I need to talk to Ginny. Or somebody. Or anybody.

"Well, this is the place," I said cheerfully as we parked our brooms, glad that Ginny was there to talk to.

"I'm sorry. I'm not being very sociable," said Ginny.

I could have continued being superficially friendly. I tried another tack. "I encouraged you to ask me a question. My friendship with the Malfoys is important to you. You asked me about it and then thought about my answer."

"Are you thirsty?" I asked. "I am."

"Yes," said Ginny giving me a smile.

That was encouraging. Perhaps things aren't falling completely to pieces. After we got a table and drinks, I took a chance and asked, "Do you know why the Potions professor is such an angry man?"

"No," said Ginny. "It's awful though, isn't it? How do you put up with it?"

"He bullies people into performing poorly, and then he berates them for it," I continued. "Back at Durmstrang, the Potions professors were considerate instructors. They were strict because potions can be dangerous, but they were always encouraging. They were tolerant of small mistakes."

"Why didn't you stay there?" asked Ginny. "Not that I didn't want you to come here," she added quickly.

"The Durmstrang professors are good for the first four or five years of the subject. They don't have a good grasp of the higher levels."

"I see," said Ginny.

"But that's okay," I added. "It's the first, introductory years of a subject that are hard. Our professors get us through those. After that, we can master the rest ourselves."

Ginny nodded agreement.

"Of course," I continued, "it helps to have some guidance, even at the upper levels. That's why I'm here. I just wish your Potions professor were more humane."

I mentioned to Ginny that we could do what she liked but I would rather see the countryside than shop. To my surprise, Ginny readily agreed. She told me that several small trips, each ending back at Hogsmeade would make an easy day. The scenery and the escape from the crowds seemed to relax Ginny. She talked about her family, especially her older brothers who were all protective of her. She told me a lot about Fred and George. I think it was because the pranksters were the easiest to talk about.

Occasionally there are ideas that I'm ashamed to have. Protective pranksters. Ha! I'll get their tongue thing and use it on their sister. Poetic justice. These unworthy images produced a huge smile just as Ginny was telling me about one of the twin's escapades. Noticing my big smile, she was glad I appreciated their wit and daring. Wit, yeah. Daring, yeah. Ginny with a goofy grin, yeah. Most unworthy thoughts.

Ginny finally got around to her father and his work having something to with mundanes (Muggles, she called them). Perhaps my lack of reaction to mundanes prompted her next outburst.

"My father likes Muggles," blurted Ginny, looking apprehensively at me.

Suddenly I was walking through another minefield. "There's a lot to be learned from Muggles," I said. "Unlike us wizards, the German Muggles try to keep their kids out of combat."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ginny. She had a white-knuckled grip on her broom. She looked pale and sweaty. I had obviously stepped on a huge land mine. "Stupid, stupid, Hermann," I said to myself. "You know better than to say something like that when this country is in the middle of a civil war."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That was a stupid thing to say."

"It's okay," she stammered.

"It was a very stupid thing to say, and I regret it."

"Don't," said Ginny. "It means you don't mind Muggles. It means you don't like sending kids into combat."

"I appreciate your trying to make me feel better," I said.

"I'm thirsty," said Ginny. "Are you?"

It was hard not to like Ginny Weasley.

Ginny and I had found a pretty spot that was in the sun and out of the wind. We were on the safer topic of Durmstrang. I told Ginny about the three disciplines of Incantations, Social Studies, and Sciences.

"It must be harder to develop the Sciences," said Ginny. "There are the greenhouses, the animal habitats, and the labs."

I agreed that was the problem. Ginny wanted to know how big Durmstang was. I told her that Durmstrang was the school for Central and Northern Europe with a population more three than times as large as Great Britain. "My fifth year class had 524 students with about 60 of them from outside the region."

"Outside the region?" asked Ginny.

"Mostly North and South America, the Near East, and Southeast Asia," I said. "We are well known for Incantations and Social Studies." Except among the Brits, I thought.

"I suppose the other regions send their best students," offered Ginny.

Hermann talked about the countryside and what a pleasant day it had been, while Ginny thought about the academic competition at Durmstrang. Hermann talked about the nice tour Ginny had given him, while Ginny wondered about Hermann's class rank.

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it, Ron!" exclaimed Ginny, as she entered the Gryffindor common room, brushed past her friends, and dashed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. After a decent interval, Hermione followed. Hermione found Ginny peacefully stretched out on her bed, humming a cheerful tune, and leafing through, of all things, a potions book.

"I thought you were upset," said Hermione.

"I don't want to face the inquisition. And I'm tired."

Hermione looked at the potions book. "You must have had a good time. You're tired?"

Ginny described touring the countryside, talking about her family, and asking Hermann if he was a dark wizard.

"He doesn't get enough sun!?" choked Hermione.

* * *

When I entered the Ravenclaw common room, there were cheers and catcalls. You'd think no one had ever accompanied a girl to Hogsmeade before. I took the coward's way out and went to my room. My fellow sixth years followed.

"How was Ginny Weasley?"

"You know how Ginny Weasley is," I told them. "You know she is a nice person."

They nodded yes.

"I think you know she's had some bad experiences in your wizard's war," I continued.

They nodded yes.

"And you didn't tell me about it, you sonsofbitches! You let me go out ignorant! You let me step on every Gottverdammt sore spot that nice girl has!"

By now the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory knew that 'sonsofbitches' was like 'bloody awful prats' only worse.

But it's hard to faze older Ravenclaws. "Did you tell her you were a dark wizard?" they asked.

"You don't tell a girl you're a dark wizard until the third date," I snapped.

When I saw Ginny the morning after Hogsmeade, I was polite and said I had a good time. Ginny was enthusiastic and said she had a very good time, whereupon I became enthusiastic and admitted I had a wonderful time. I was having a wonderful time now. It was Sunday. We had breakfast together, walked by the lake, studied together, and generally spent the rest of the day together.

My fellow Ravenclaws finally had provided information on Ginny Weasley. She went through boyfriends fast. That made sense since she had six older brothers. She was comfortable with boys, and she knew there were plenty of boys. Ours was not going to be a lasting relationship. No reason to put extra effort into it. Nevertheless, it could consume a lot of time. There's nothing like an intelligent and attractive girl to make time fly by.

Draco took some extra effort. At home, Draco had been defined by what he liked: his mother, Quidditch practice, his friends, and studies. At Hogwarts, he was partially defined by his dislikes. I wasn't certain exactly what they were, but they appeared to include a number of Gryffindors and some professors. They certainly included Ginny Weasley.

When Draco asked what I was doing with Ginny Weasley, I began on the side of his dislikes. I said, "I think her friends are about to hex me back to Durmstrang."

Draco agreed that I was in danger from her friends ... and from her brothers, too, if I ever ran into them.

I shifted to the side of what he liked and said, "She asked about you."

That got his interest.

"I told her about our attempt to be professionals in Potions, how demanding and time consuming that was. I told her that it was unusual to find a fellow professional. I told her that I spent the early part of the summer at your home, and that you and your mother had been kind and gracious hosts. That's all I told her. I thought that was enough. After that, she never asked about you again."

Draco remarked that Ginny would not want to hear good things about him. As far as Draco could tell, Ginny's friends were angry at me, and Ginny was annoyed at me. It looked doomed to Draco.

It had been two days since we went to Hogsmeade, we were just getting acquainted, and everyone agreed the relationship was doomed. It was a bit depressing really.

On Monday, the time between tea and dinner arrived, but Padma didn't. That was disappointing, but I could talk to Ginny, who did arrive. It was the same for the next couple of days, and I was getting the impression that Padma was avoiding me. I felt desolate. I thought Padma enjoyed my company and liked talking to me, but I was obviously wrong.

Later I saw Padma talking to some Gryffindor boys. She acted excited and kept touching them as she talked. I felt this incredible pain. I couldn't watch. I nearly ran to get away. This happened several more times over the next several days, and each time my reaction was the same. Finally, my primary objective became not seeing Padma.

Her flirting was understandable. Padma had got up one morning and decided Gryffindors were hot. Her avoiding me was a mystery. Did I do or say something that made her angry? Perhaps I could talk to her sister? I would at least know what had happened. Approaching the popular Parvati Patil in private, however, seemed impossible. I might have to give up on Padma. I wondered if Padma was betraying our point-gathering scheme to the Gryffindors. She could at least tell me she wasn't being a traitor, but she wasn't telling me anything. I had trusted Padma.

One day I walked into the library and there was Parvati Patil studying alone. Miracle of miracles.

I approached and said, "Miss Patil?" She nodded.

"I'm Hermann Busch. I know your sister."

"Yes," she replied coolly.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but suddenly your sister's not talking to me. I just wondered if I did something to upset her."

Parvati Patil looked at me for a while before saying, "You really don't know?"

Of course I know, I ranted to myself, I just wanted to stare at your knockers and chat you up.

Parvati Patil thought for a while and said, "You'll have to ask Padma."

"That's a good idea!" I replied reasonably. "Padma should talk to me and tell me why she's not talking to me. Why didn't I think of that?"

Even Parvati Patil had to chuckle at that one. "Ah, Ravenclaws," she said, grinning.

"It was nice meeting you, and I enjoyed talking to you," I told her.

She cocked her head and looked dubious.

"I mean it," I said sincerely. "I'm really sincere. Why wouldn't I enjoy meeting you and talking to you?"

She looked puzzled as I left. I don't know why. Parvati Patil was as attractive and as pleasant as her sister. She was probably just as intelligent, but she put a lot of time and effort into being sociable and fashionable, which might be the smarter thing to do.

Despite her coolness toward me, Parvati Patil had told me three things. It was something that I had done. It was something big since everyone knew what it was, except me. It was something bad because not even her own sister would talk about it. Perhaps Parvati Patil had told me four things. It was hopeless.

Parvati Patil wanted to grab her sister by her shirt and yell at her: Padma, do something; you're the one he likes; don't let Ginny steal him; don't have a dumb Ravenclaw feud.

The best place to stay away from Padma turned out to be the Ravenclaw common room. She tried showing up and flirting there, but the Ravenclaw blokes were not taking her seriously. Strangely enough, part of me was annoyed at their indifference. Didn't they know how marvelous Padma was? Didn't they know how nice it was to be with her and talk to her? Of course, Padma would turn your life into a living hell for reasons that everyone, except you, knew about.

* * *

It was early Saturday afternoon in the Ravenclaw common room when I met Barbara and Shelly. They were whispering and giggling and occasionally glancing at me. Obviously gathering their courage, they came over to me.

"Do you know Draco?"

"Yes."

"Is he as hot as he looks? Is he really evil?"

I said, "Draco is one potent individual."

How in the world would I know if he's hot or evil? I thought.

"Ohhh," they both said.

I talked about Draco and then said that I was to meet him later in the Slytherin common room to work on potions. I asked if they wanted to come along. I would introduce them.

"Hello, Vincent. Hello, Gregory. Where's Draco?" I said, entering the common room with the two girls in tow.

They told me he was in his room. I left the girls to go prep Draco.

"Draco," I said, "there are two Ravenclaw girls dying to meet you. I brought them here."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

Draco put his hand on my shoulder and gave a nervous chuckle. "You couldn't have handled this a little more smoothly, could you, mate."

"I thought about that, but then I decided on the direct approach."

Draco sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.

"Listen to the scenario." I argued. "They think you're hot but possibly a bad boy. I told them about this summer, portraying you as a loving son with a doting mother, both of you kind and gracious."

"Ohhh," moaned Draco, with his head still in his hands.

"If I was successful," I said, "they think you're a sexy rogue, but a basically loving and loveable rogue."

"You mean," replied Draco, "that I'm a redeemable villain, the stuff of romance novels."

"And guess who wants to redeem you," I said. "They're here. They're waiting for you."

"If we stay calm, we might be able to pull this off," I said. "After all, if you're a loveable rogue, then anything you do is in character. The war between your good and evil parts will have your behavior all over the map. Relax and be yourself."

"Are you telling me that you're nervous too?" asked Draco.

"Of course. The girls are here for you, but I'm not going to abandon you. I'll stay and try to help get the chit-chat going."

Finally Draco said, "If they're not vixens, then they're as nervous as we are. Let's go be kind to two girls."

In the common room, Barbara and Shelly were happily talking to a Slytherin girl I had seen before but didn't know. When the introductions were made, I learned her name was Jessica Cummings.

"We were thinking of walking down to the lake while it was still warm outside," suggested Draco.

"Okay," said Barbara and Shelly.

I was undecided about Miss Cummings. Since she made the other two comfortable, it would be good if she came with us. There was a chance, however, that the three girls would form a group leaving Draco out. I waited until Draco and the two girls were part way to the door. "Would you like to come, Miss Cummings?" I asked.

"Yes, love to," Miss Cummings replied.

Draco managed things very well. He arranged it so that he and the two girls sat talking, leaving me with Miss Cummings. She told me she was from Jamaica, she was a sixth year Slytherin, her interest was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Hogwarts had trouble getting competent instructors.

"I've heard that Durmstrang is strong in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said, wistfully.

"You've probably heard that we're strong in the dark arts," I replied. Isn't Jamaica strong in the dark arts, I was thinking, or is it Haiti? Or was I stereotyping?

"Yes, that's what I've heard," she admitted. "Is any of it true? Or can you tell me?" she added.

"Hey, Hermann!" shouted Draco. "I was telling Shelly and Barbara about your knocking Crabbe and Goyle off their brooms."

"Did you really?" asked Miss Cummings.

"You have to tell the story from the beginning," I said. "You have to tell them about Vincent and Gregory bringing over their big sacks of Bludgers."

"Vincent and Gregory?" asked the girls.

"Crabbe and Goyle," I explained.

I went on, "The game, as Draco described it to me, is that Vincent and Gregory were going to aim all those Bludgers at us while Draco and I tried not to get hit."

I noticed that Barbara and Shelly were giving Draco wide-eyed looks.

"Draco," I continued, "was grinning like a cat looking at a bowl of cream. He couldn't wait to get started. I had to run behind a tree and pee before I wet myself. I barely made it."

Barbara and Shelly had their hands over their mouths, trying not to openly laugh at me. That's right girls, I thought, Draco is the brave one, not me. Miss Cummings was giving me a quizzical look.

"I don't remember that," said Draco.

"Lucky for me. You were too excited about getting the game started to notice," I said.

I continued, "After several near misses, I decided that if I was going to get hurt, I would take the opposition with me. I rammed Vincent and Gregory. The three of us went down. I bounced several times, and then Mrs. Malfoy helped me walk back to the house."

"Your mother sounds really nice," cooed Barbara, holding Draco's arm.

"Yes, she sounds very nice," echoed Shelly, holding Draco's opposite shoulder.

I heard Draco telling them about the Snitch-Birds and how his mum took good care of them.

Miss Cummings, still looking skeptical, said, "Is that what really happened with Crabbe and Goyle?"

"More or less," I confessed.

Draco decided it was getting cool. He helped the two girls up, and the three of them walked back to the castle with Draco in the middle holding their hands. Yes, Draco, you're hot.

Miss Cummings wanted to stay by the lake. "Did you really pee behind a tree?" she asked.

"I felt like it."

"Did you really ram those two gorillas?"

"There's a medieval stick fighting technique ...," I started to say.

"Quarterstaffs!" she said. "You used your broom like a quarterstaff. What did you do? Knock their brooms out of their hands?'

"Yes."

"Why did Mrs. Malfoy have to help you?"

"I did some acrobatic, midair flips to catch them by surprise. I was dizzy. And by the way, shouldn't you be wearing a sign that says 'Danger, Inquiring Mind'?"

"I didn't mean to pry," she said, without a trace of repentance, "but you did knock Crabbe and Goyle off their brooms."

"Is Mrs. Malfoy really a loving mother?" asked Miss Cummings.

"Yes," I said. "For Draco, she would take on the Dark Lord."

"Hmm," said Miss Cummings. "The story is that happened to another student. His mother and father died saving him. Harry Potter."

"Never met him," I said.

"He's Hermione's friend," said Miss Cummings.

"Her, I've met," I said. "Is there more to the story?"

"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley became friends during their first year at Hogwarts. The story is that the Dark Lord keeps trying to kill Harry, but these three always manage to defend themselves."

"And Ginny is Ron's younger sister?" I asked.

"Yes. During her first year she had a tremendous crush on Harry. She still might. Harry treats her like his friend's little sister," answered Miss Cummings.

That might explain some things, I thought. Miss Granger is hostile because she is Mr. Potter's friend and I'm a representative of the dark forces. But why is Ginny Weasley associating with me when she is friends with, and possibly a member of, the most formidable fighting force Hogwarts has ever assembled? Perhaps she still has a crush on Mr. Potter. Unrequited love requires distractions, and what better distraction than a possibly evil exchange student. From the distraction point of view, Draco would be even better, but Ginny and Draco have antagonized each other. I hope Barbara and Shelly work out. Draco could use some distractions.

After a pause Miss Cummings said, "What about Durmstrang and the dark arts?"

"Have you ever heard the word 'relentless'?" I asked.

"That's the first time today," she replied. "What about Durmstrang and the dark arts?"

"That's a good one," I told her. "It's getting cold out here. I'm going in for hot chocolate. Ask me another time."

"Will there be another time?" asked Miss Cummings.

"I don't know why not," I said. Am I missing something here? I was thinking. If she was asking to see me again, then I didn't respond very well. Part of the problem was that I was trying to remain detached. At close range, I found her attractive. I was trying hard not to stare at her legs. She wore a skirt and kept pointing her knees at me. Verdammt.

On the walk back, I told Miss Cummings about the work Draco Malfoy and I were doing in potions. There was a psycho-active potion that was difficult to make. Two ingredients had to be stirred into the potion at the same time, and they had to be mixed with the potion within a short period of time. Otherwise, the high temperature needed to blend these ingredients would ruin the potion. The problem was that the chemical reaction of these ingredients combining raised the temperature of the potion. Adding them too fast would raise the temperature much too high and ruin the potion. Adding them too slowly would keep the temperature too high for too long and ruin the potion. That reminded me. Draco and I had ordered ice from the house-elves. We planned to fill cylindrical metal rods with the ice and stir the solution with the ice filled rods to keep the temperature down. We didn't know if this would work or not. The key element was to get a procedure with a margin of error so that the potion could be mass produced. At any rate the elves were now waiting with the ice. I asked Miss Cummings if she would mind going with me to help salvage our relationship with the elves. I told her we might have to thank them profusely and then carry off a load of ice. She agreed. She was amused.

Miss Cummings and I arrived at the Slytherin common room with each of us carrying two heavy buckets of ice. Most of the room looked perplexed.

"Oh, that's right!" said Draco. "We blew that one off, didn't we!" he said, using an appropriate Americanism.

It was hot chocolate and cards amidst buckets of ice. We took another walk to the lake, all of us bundled up in borrowed Slytherin cloaks. We dumped the ice in the lake.

After dinner, Barbara, Shelly and I walked back to the Ravenclaw dorm. The two girls didn't say much, just wandered through the halls with a dreamy look on their faces. Barbara and Shelly were holding hands. Was I witnessing a three-way bonding? Whatever was happening, Draco was essential. I had never seen them hold hands before. They started holding hands after holding hands with Draco. Would they start sleeping together if they started sleeping with Draco?

The next day I returned to studying in the Great Hall between tea and dinner. Draco, Barbara, and Shelly came and sat at the other end of the same table, politely leaving room if someone wanted to join me. Ginny arrived, glared at Draco, and sat down. Draco smiled and nodded at Ginny. Ah yes, good breeding. Plus the good company of Barbara and Shelly.

Ginny began filling me in on her life the past week. She was telling me that the Transfiguration professor had been absolutely horrid when the two Ravenclaw girls, who were in the same class, chimed in. Once Barbara and Shelly were involved, Draco became interested. He said the professor must be having a bad week because the explanation for the spell was mixed up. Draco soon had the three girls performing the spell flawlessly. This was rich. Half the Great Hall had watched as Draco Malfoy taught Ginny Weasley a spell. I could even tease Draco later about showing off. I didn't think I should tease Ginny though. Barbara, Shelly, and Ginny were comparing class notes as Miss Cummings arrived and the conversation turned to catching up in potions after having wasted an afternoon. Barbara and Shelly smiled at each other and evinced no signs of guilt whatsoever.

John Shovick appeared and boomed, "Well Hermann, you decided not to let Padma chase you off!"

I managed to smile and say, "Du bist mir ein feiner freund!" ... There was no response to that. ... "Hello, Mr. Shovick. How are you doing today?"

Mr. Shovick was doing very well. Good for him, I thought.

Everyone else looked mortified, except for Draco who looked angry.

"Among us Ravenclaws," I told them, "that is what passes as social graciousness."

Mr. Shovick did give a satisfying twinge on being displayed as Ravenclaw 'savior faire.'

I wished Mr. Shovick hadn't mentioned Padma. It had alienated Ginny, who was now ignoring me. And there was still a lot of pain.

___________________________________________________________________________

Du bist mir ein feiner freund. = You're a fine friend.