Return To Hogwarts

PART TWO

Chapter Twelve

Return To Hogwarts

The lone figure on the hill caught his eye, if only due to the stillness of its stance. He stared, willing his eyes to focus sharply, because he wasn't sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

Tanya.

She was looking over the moors to the looming castle that was Hogwarts. He could see her breath in the chill air of February, and he could see that she was breathing very slowly, lost in thought.

He carefully walked nearer, not wanting to upset her reverie. She appeared taller, after all this time, or maybe it was an illusion created by the trench coat she wore, unbuttoned, the black leather slightly flaring out in the frigid breezes coming up the hillside.

Her hair was unbound, blowing across her face; she didn't move to stop it from blocking her view of the castle. Perhaps she was really looking inward, and didn't notice. Her clothing was dark, and Snape realized with dread that he'd never seen her wear anything that wasn't full of bright and happy colors. Colorful blouses had in the past, accessorized even simple blue jeans.

He continued to study her as he moved ever more closely, still not sure he wanted to break her concentration. Would she rather be alone with her thoughts, or would her eyes welcome him after so much time had passed without word between them?

He looked down sharply, cursing the stepped-on twig that had betrayed him. He looked back up at her, and she was looking at him. No change of expression. Just looking, perhaps waiting for him to reach her.

As he did, he turned to take in the view as she'd been seeing it. The castle was ethereal, the upper reaches almost obscured by fog. Most of the windows were lit, night coming early this time of year. The occasional dark specks on the grounds were the students returning from afternoon classes in the greenhouses or Hagrid's hut.

He turned back to her to find her still watching him, silent, brooding. He found himself unsure, not knowing whether to turn and walk away, or to break the silence and utter some inane, useless welcome. Useless because he knew one could never feel a welcome unless one wanted to feel it.

Before he actually began to fidget like the nervous cretin he felt he was, she moved toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck. He unreservedly reciprocated, noting in the back of his mind how much easier it seemed to do this; she really had grown. He was content to hold her, taking in the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her too-lean body against his, the intensity of her embrace, and then he felt he could speak.

"Why haven't you kept in touch?" he asked. "I've been going out of my mind with worry."

"I didn't know what to say," she answered simply.

"Why don't we go somewhere and warm up?" He'd noticed how cold she was, and wondered why she didn't at least button her coat. The wind must have been cutting into her; couldn't she feel it?

"Well, The Three Broomsticks seemed a mite crowded," she said, "and I wasn't sure I wanted to see the Hogwarts gang yet."

"Did that include me?" he asked hesitantly. Perhaps he had been wrong in approaching her after all.

"Somehow, I don't think of you as part of that crowd," she said, finally smiling. "I'll probably always associate you with a kind of bridge, of sorts, into this world from the one I was in."

He wasn't sure if that was something to be happy about or not, but it didn't matter. She was here, she seemed healthy enough, and she didn't hate him. He pulled her along with him, down the hill, down the side street that would take them to Rosemerta's place.

He ordered a butterbeer for her, knowing she needed to warm up, and a whiskey for himself. As she sipped her drink, he looked more closely at her. The changes were there, he noted. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, and he could see her collarbones in sharp relief under her skin. The necklace was in place, but the sparkle in her eyes was missing. It was to be expected, he supposed. She'd been in the company of Dementors for longer than any innocent child should have been. He wondered if she had any innocence left now.

He decided if he didn't start the conversation that must take place, it wouldn't happen. He realized that she'd have to be drawn out; she'd never been one to speak simply to avoid silence, in spite of her Irish blood.

"Professor Dumbledore never did explain to any of us what happened at your hearing," he began. "We know you were cleared of all charges, but that's all he would say." He watched her closely, looking for any sign that he could push it. When she simply returned his gaze, he plunged ahead.

"What happened? Why is the headmaster so reluctant to discuss it?"

She lightly ran her finger around and around the rim of her glass, no doubt organizing her thoughts. She'd probably not allowed herself to remember the hearing, trying to block out all the unpleasantness. Either that, or she thought of nothing else, wallowing in the depression he knew she had never let go of in all the time she'd been imprisoned.

"Fudge was running the show," she started, "and Umbridge was there, looking for all the world like a toad. I recognized her right off from Harry's description of her. One of the Weasley's was there, taking notes. The famous Percy, I guess. There were many others, but I don't remember their names. It wasn't important.

"And Dumbledore was there, but not sitting on the Panel. He was sitting off to the side, on a comfortable-looking armchair, true to form. He was planning on actually defending me," she added thoughtfully. "It surprised me."

"Why did that surprise you?" he asked in astonishment. "Surely you knew he'd be fighting for your freedom."

"I wasn't so sure," she admitted. "I could see the doubts and regrets in his eyes right after Lucius . . ." Her eyes were far away now, remembering the pain and confusion of the trouble that had landed her in Azkaban in the first place. She shook those thoughts away and continued.

"I suppose I should thank him," she said indifferently, "because I'm sure that if he hadn't said the things he did, they would have sentenced me to life in Azkaban." She pushed away her half-finished butterbeer. "Not that it would have done them any good."

Snape didn't know what to make of that. What would she have done if she had been given a life sentence? And did he detect something in her voice that spoke of antipathy toward Dumbledore?

Picking up on her subtle signals, he paid the tab and led her out into the falling night sky. Wordlessly, he led the way down to the road that would take them to Hogwarts. When they reached the bend in the road, he looked questioningly at her.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

She looked at him, smiling sadly. "I do. I just didn't know if it was the right time to claim it." She shrugged at Snape's unasked question. "I've been invited by Dumbledore to return to school and continue my apprenticeship with Hagrid. He's prepared rooms for me there."

"But you're not sure you want that?"

"I think it's going to be a long time before I'm sure of anything," she said, mocking herself. "But I supposed I'd better; I have nothing else lined up that I care to get on with."

They began walking toward the gates of the castle. "And what of your Potions research?" he asked. "Before all hell broke loose, you were preparing to field test your Veritaserum Substitute Potion."

"I'd like to get on with that," she said, sounding almost chipper. "I would like to eventually try out all the important Potions with substitute ingredients."

He was gratified to hear it. He had been pushing the idea of alternate recipes to Dumbledore with enthusiasm, seeing as how practical the research would be. But alone, he couldn't find the time to prepare these solutions. With Tanya's help, it would be possible. But how much time would she need for her work with Hagrid?

As if reading his mind, she spoke. "There is probably a realistic way of combining the two fields," she said. "After all, there is a lot of flexibility caring for the beasts Hagrid wants to breed. If I could escape any other duties, I expect things will work out."

They entered the grounds of Hogwarts, working their way to the Entrance Hall. Once inside, she hesitated, and Snape turned to face her. "Are you hungry? It seems dinner is served."

She looked toward the Great Hall, listening to the hum of voices there. Seeing the reluctance on her countenance, Snape suggested a tray could be delivered to her.

"I'm not hungry," she said. "But you go ahead; I'll have to speak to the headmaster. I don't even know where my rooms are. That is, if he hasn't changed his mind about my being here."

Snape looked into the Great Hall, searching for the silver of Dumbledore's beard in the crowd. It was there, at the Head Table, but he couldn't tell how far along his dinner was.

"He probably won't be much longer," he ventured. "Would you like to go up to his office and wait? I could let you in, or even stay, if you'd like."

She looked grateful. "You must be starving, though."

"No, I'm not."

"Then, aye, I'd like to wait there. If you'll wait with me."

"My pleasure." He might actually learn something more than either Tanya or Dumbledore had been willing to disclose individually.

"Chocolate Cockroaches," he said to the stone Gargoyle at Dumbledore's private entrance.

Tanya shared a wry look with Snape. "I've often wondered why such sweets were ever invented," she said. "Would you eat anything that had the word 'cockroach' in it?"

"You're asking the wrong person," he said with a grin. "I'm not partial to sweets in any event."

They sat in the armchairs near Dumbledore's fire, allowing the silence to settle once more around them. It was a comfortable peace, Snape not willing to question her any further just now. He would rather make sure she had no reason to avoid his company.

They turned at the sound of the heavy door opening. Dumbledore entered, smiling at them, not at all surprised to see them there. He was almost never surprised, thought Snape, wondering if it was empathetic wisdom, or something much more prosaic, such as a surveillance system of some kind.

"Welcome, welcome," the headmaster said, sitting behind his desk. "Miss Relke, I'm very happy you've decided to accept this post. I think I can speak for all the staff when I say it's about time we had you back." Snape noticed that he didn't mention the other students. He looked at Tanya, wondering if she noticed this omission.

Her face was unreadable. "Thank you for offering it," she said demurely, not offering any more.

"I've prepared a suite of rooms for you near the Gryffindor Tower," he said. "If for any reason you find you'd prefer something else, please let me know. It will be no trouble at all to change things around, or relocate you." He held her gaze steady, letting her know that he understood how uncomfortable she might find herself so near the students of Gryffindor, maybe a couple of them in particular.

"I'm sure it will be fine," she answered evenly. "I suspect that in this final year, most of the students I've met will be preparing for NEWTs, and too busy for much social life, anyway."

Dumbledore let it go, obviously not wanting to push for anything more than that. Whatever else he was, Snape thought, he was great for picking up signals. Snape wondered exactly how things stood between her and Potter. Had she communicated at all with him during the two months since her release?

"I'm putting you directly under the supervision of Hagrid, of course," Dumbledore continued. "Unless you've had a change of heart, he'll be eager for his apprentice back."

"No change there," she said to his unspoken question. "Will I also have the time for Potions?"

Dumbledore glanced at Snape, smiling. "I think we'll have to make sure of that," he said, "as Severus is chomping at the bit to try some of your ideas. As a matter of fact, with a lessening of his regular teaching duties, the both of you will be able to hit the road in search of substitute recipes for our existing Potions."

"Lessening teaching duties?" she asked, looking at Snape.

"Yes," Snape answered. "I have the NEWTs students, of course, but other than that, we have an apprentice that has been advanced to taking over my first through fifth years. One Raphael Driver."

"So, Divination didn't work out for him, then?"

Dumbledore cut in. "We felt it was unfair to subject him to Professor Trelawney and her methods. She's rather too inflexible for his impressionable years and we don't want to frighten him away from the noble profession of teaching."

Tanya smiled, the light reaching her eyes at last. "And how is he doing with your younger classes," she asked, looking at Snape. "Or should I ask?"

"Actually, he does quite well," said Snape. "It came as rather a shock to me. I still read the essays, and set the exams whenever necessary, but I think he could begin that as well."

Tanya was regarding him thoughtfully, and Snape knew she was wondering how much he'd changed. A year ago, he would never have relinquished control of his Potions to a newcomer. Well, he mused, it had to happen sometime, or he'd never get anything important accomplished. Like these new substitute potions.

"Well, let's get you settled into your new rooms. Hagrid will expect you to report to him around 11:00 tomorrow morning, unless you have a previous engagement?" Dumbledore looked to her for confirmation.

"Nothing at all."

"Good. Severus," he said, standing up. "If you would be so kind as to show Tanya the rooms near the portrait of Sir Worster?"

"Certainly."

As they walked down the corridor, he noted her nervousness. He hoped they didn't encounter any of her friends, or former friends, until she was better prepared for the meeting. He was afraid that this meeting with Dumbledore, and the return to Hogwarts had taken more out of her than he'd first thought. What had been running through her mind while she wiled away the hours, days, and months in Azkaban? What had she been doing since her release two months ago? Delaying this day? Renewing her strength?

"Where are all your things?" he asked, just now aware that she didn't have any baggage with her.

"I've left everything at home," she answered, looking at him. "I really didn't know if I needed them or not until now." That could mean either that she wasn't sure the offer of a position here was still good, or if she really wanted it.

"I'll just Apparate later on to the cottage, reduce everything, and Apparate back again. Shouldn't take long."

"You're keeping the cottage, then?"

"Aye, if only to upset Sean Taggery." A joke? "Besides, it's home. I'll need escape now and then, and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather go."

He remembered the cottage from his days of illness, and then the brief trip out there again when he'd escorted her to the old Black house when she'd joined the Order.

"Are you still planning on working for the Order?" he asked.

"If they'll have me. But I don't know if I'm still trusted." She looked around at him, her face contrite. "If they don't trust me, it will do no good to be involved anyway." She looked down at the floor as they walked. Almost in a whisper, she said, "Trust is everything."

They stopped at the portrait of Sir Worster. "The password, if I remember correctly," Snape said, "is Codswallop. I suggest you change it immediately. There's no way of knowing how many people know this one. You'd never have any privacy."

She nodded, and followed him into a sitting room, nicely furnished in deep green carpeting, a heavy, overstuffed sofa, and a matching armchair before a good-sized fireplace. There were shelves, currently empty of books, lining the three walls opposite the fireplace. He showed her through a doorway that led into a kitchenette, and pointed to another door opposite, where her bedroom was.

She continued along to check out the bedroom, and turning to Snape, she said, "This is great! Exactly what I need. Scary how he does that, isn't it?" He knew she meant Dumbledore, his having furnished this room with no input from her. "Yes, one can never quite get used to his seeming telepathic tendencies."

"Do you think he is, really?" she asked.

"I think it's probably more along the lines of empathy and wisdom, plus a little common psychology thrown in for good measure. Why?" he added. "Are there thoughts you'd rather he not know?"

"Of course," she said with amusement, "doesn't everyone?"

He smiled. "Everyone."

He left her to get acquainted with her new home, with an offer of his assistance in collecting her things, which she declined. More's the pity, he thought wistfully. He wouldn't have minded seeing the cottage again, set into the lush Irish hillside.

It was perfect, Tanya thought. She'd be able to bring over all her books, all her clothes, and whatever else she wanted. Maybe she'd feel at home enough here not to miss the cottage so much. And after all, with her ability to Apparate, home was never more than a few seconds away.

She moved through the bedroom, with its queen-sized bed in the heavy wooden frame, past a large dresser, on to the bathroom, with its claw-footed tub. She was please to see the curtain around it, and was glad Dumbledore saw fit to include a shower. Bathtubs were good for soaking away all your troubles, but she usually preferred a quick morning shower to bring her to her usual level of brisk energy.

She splashed cool water on her face and looked up into the mirror. Her eyes taunted her. She was startled to hear a voice interrupting her thoughts. "You can smile, put on a little make-up, and pretend to be happy," the voice said. "but you can't erase the age in your eyes. They are the gateway to the soul, after all."

With a start, Tanya realized it was the mirror talking to her. We'll have no more of that, she vowed. She'd simply replace this mirror with one from the cottage. She walked around her rooms, carefully looking at each object, wanting to remove any that seemed to have a brain of its own. Aside from the outspoken bathroom mirror, the only other thing that worried her was the fireplace. It wasn't a thinking object, of course, but she'd not have uninvited, unexpected guests crashing in on her.

With a wave of her hand, the fireplace disappeared, leaving a Franklin stove in its place. Much better.

She found a square of parchment on an end table, and thought she recognized Dumbledore's handwriting.

Tanya put the parchment back down on the table. The fire that the elves had built up in the fireplace had been transferred to the stove, and she became aware of the warmth permeating her body. It was almost uncomfortable. Over the past year, she'd become accustomed to the never-ending chill in the prison cell; when she'd returned home after her hearing, she was loathe to light too many fires, not wanting to deal with either Bridie O'Hara or Sean Taggery.

She buttoned up her coat, tying the belt at her waist, and ignored the scarf draped under the collar and hanging down each side of her lapels. She slowly pushed open the door to the corridor, hoping she didn't see anyone. She wasn't yet up to facing Harry.

Luck was with her, and she made it all the way off the grounds with no witnesses. She hadn't really been able to let go of the 'criminal' feeling; not since she'd sat in that cell, sure she'd never again see the light of day unless she used all her powers to destroy the walls that held her in. But she refrained from doing that; it was the hardest thing she'd ever done. The only thing that kept her inside was the hope that she'd be released on their terms; she'd be accepted back into their world.

However, once it had finally happened, she irrationally felt she didn't want their world. She didn't know any longer how to look at people while hiding the fear she felt; the horrible I-am-not-worthy-of-your-notice feeling. She didn't know how to hold a conversation anymore. She didn't know how to simply walk, keep walking, knowing no one would stop her. She'd forgotten how to be free.

Had she really been inside only a year? She'd spent her sixteenth birthday behind those bars. And her seventeenth was spent in solitude in Ireland. It had been too long for her; she'd forgotten what it felt like to be in someone's company.

She remembered how she'd felt upon seeing Severus standing next to her on the hill overlooking the school. Her first impulse had been to run; she was glad she'd held her ground. It really was good to see him again, glad he wasn't inclined to talk much. At least in him, there were no significant changes.

She'd expected something different from Dumbledore, though. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. There was no censure in his warm words of welcome; was she disappointed? Would she never be able to shake off this feeling of deserving punishment or judgment?

She crossed the road to get closer to the forest. As she chose a spot between two thick oak trees from which to Disapparate, she knew she was putting off the inevitable. She would have to face Harry, sooner or later. Better sooner, she thought. Get it over with. It would be better to give him his chance to snub her, or rip her apart verbally; then she could get on with her studies. But should she seek him out, or wait for him to find her?

She Disapparated with a small 'pop' and concentrated on the copse of trees just down the road from her cottage. When she arrived, she automatically checked for signs of Sean moving around his farm. When she saw none, she headed for the cottage, glad to see it was still dark and no smoke was coming from the chimney. Bridie must have decided not to brave the February weather to come calling. Tanya had already told her she'd be leaving for a while. She'd have to leave her a note saying that she'd be staying at school, and probably wouldn't be back until the summer holidays. As for Sean, she'd pretty much given up on the two of them ever reaching a stalemate. But at least he wasn't prone to vandalism while she was away. As a matter of fact, he'd seemed almost friendly in their last meeting. It made her wonder if his bitching was more out of habit than any real hope of chasing her away.

She opened the door and waved her hand to light the lantern on the coffee table. Moving to her bedroom, she began reducing all her books and most of her clothes to be able to fit into a small shoebox. Moving to her kitchen, she decided she'd take only a few favorite coffee cups, knowing that her kitchenette at Hogwarts had everything she'd ever need in kitchenware.

Emptying her bathrooms of any personal effects took only about another thirty seconds, and then she was packed. She looked at the shoebox, ironically amused that this small box summed up her life so far. And books took up most of the small space. Some life, she mused.

She wrote Bridie a note, reminded her to keep in contact via the owl message service, and locked the door behind her. Walking out to the woods again, she Apparated back to the dark forest outside of Hogwarts, box in hand.

Walking down the corridor to her new rooms, her footsteps slowed as she spotted Harry coming toward her. Her eyes were trapped in his; if she'd entertained thoughts about hiding from him, it was moot. She couldn't look away, much less walk away. She felt like a deer rooted to the spot with headlights.

She quietly waited to see how he felt about her being here.

*****

He thought he was seeing a ghost at first. No one had alerted him to Tanya's return. He didn't even know she'd been released. So much for being a full member of the Order, he thought maliciously. He could have done with some warning.

She had stopped, facing him, waiting.

He pictured himself simply continuing past her, not saying anything. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had to acknowledge her in some way. Why not just pretend they were never anything more than casual acquaintances? He'd spent a long time trying to forget their times together; why not put it into practice?

"Hello, Tanya," he said, stopping.

She nodded at him, obviously waiting for more. He imagined this scene so many times, but now he didn't know what to say. He glanced down at her necklace. Of course it was still there, as would be the scar beneath it.

"So, you've been cleared?"

She nodded yes, still silent.

"And you're continuing the classes you had before?"

She took a deep breath, making Harry think she would finally say something. But he was disappointed, and slightly embarrassed at stating the obvious.

"Lucius Malfoy is still in St. Mungo's," he cruelly reminded her. No change in her expression. "Draco's left school. He's probably transferred to Durmstrang."

She nodded again; she knew all this. Wouldn't she have been told upon her return?

"So, are you in the dorms?"

She shook her head. "I've been given rooms. I'm actually more of a staff member than a student."

Finally, she speaks, he thought. He thought he heard hoarseness in her voice. This was something new. On the other hand, if she wasn't in the habit of using her voice, it might be a little rusty. Or was it emotion making her sound that way? And maybe she was talking to other people; maybe it was just him that she didn't want to talk to.

"You're getting ready for your NEWTs?" she asked.

"Yes. They're really pushing us, of course. Do you have to take the NEWTs?"

"Aye. I imagine I'll be scheduled for them with the rest of you."

"Are you ready for them?"

"I suppose by then I will be."

"So, we won't be seeing you in the Gryffindor common room, then?"

"No," she said softly. "There's no reason for me to be there. I'm not a Head Girl, I'm not your Head of House, I'm not anything."

Not anything. Harry forced his face to show nothing. He wondered if she was fishing for a certain response from him? Did she ever think about the times they'd spent together? Did she regret it, like he did? Like he told himself he did? Or did she secretly wonder how stupid a guy could get? Did it mean nothing to her?

"Harry," she said, as if tired of playing with words. "Am I right in assuming that you hate me?" She said it simply, as if the answer were of no consequence to her. It infuriated Harry. He'd just been a small part of her life; a sideline as she awaited the chance to attack Lucius Malfoy.

"Hate's a pretty strong word," he said, knowing his next words would hurt her, and wanting them to. "It's more like I don't feel any way about you. Like I'd feel about someone I'd never met."

He turned away and headed for the common room, willing himself not to look back. He didn't want anything to do with someone who could so callously and irrevocably cause such harm to another human being, even if that person was Lucius Malfoy.

He slammed his books down on the table, startling Hermione and Ron, who'd been busy comparing notes from their Defense class. "What's up, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Guess who's back?" he spat. Without waiting for an answer, he swore and told them of his encounter with Tanya.

"She's back?" asked Ron, incredulously. "She's been released? How come nobody told us?"

"Maybe they don't want Voldemort to know," Hermione offered. "After all, she's still our most powerful weapon against him."

"Does the Order still plan on using her?" asked Harry.

"Yes, of course they do. Weren't you paying attention?" She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, I would have thought that you'd treat those meetings with more respect than your lectures."

"My mind might have wandered a time or two," he admitted. But wouldn't mention of her name have captured his attention?

"Well, admittedly," said Hermione, "they've only been referring to her obliquely. It's almost as if they're more inclined to use Voldemort's name than hers."

"Does anyone see a worrying pattern developing here?" asked Ron. They looked at him. "I mean doesn't it seem like they're sort of . . . I dunno . . . changing roles?" They didn't look any more comprehending.

"Well, we use the name 'Voldemort' nowadays as if we never shied away from it before. But now we can't say, 'Tanya'. And they keep saying how she seems much more powerful than he is now. And they're wondering, even if they don't come right out and say it, if her loyalties are still for the Order."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," said Hermione decisively. "She's never shown anything but loyalty."

"Oh sure," Harry answered. "And if Lucius Malfoy weren't a Dark Wizard, if he were a member of the Order, would she have refrained from cursing him? Would he be sitting in a wheelchair right now, moving by pushing buttons with his chin, if he were on our side? Of course he would! Do you honestly think she would have put Order business before her thirst for revenge?"

"Do you honestly think anyone other than a Dark Wizard would have wiped out her people?" she shot back quickly.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, knowing that Hermione's defense of Tanya's rage didn't change the doubts it left behind. She had acted calmly, willfully, as if every move had been planned. That was no young girl lashing out suddenly to ease the pain of past tragedy. They'd all been there. Tanya had been cool, deliberate; she'd had the spell all ready to employ. And now Lucius Malfoy would never walk again; he'd never lift his wand hand again.

"We can't know for sure what motivated her," said Hermione weakly. "Just be glad that she removed such a powerful threat from our midst."

"But do you ever worry about what's going to happen in the future?" Harry argued. "How is she going to use that power? What's stopping her from getting rid of Voldemort and taking his place?"

"Choices, Harry," said Hermione. "Didn't you tell me that Dumbledore once told you that it was the choices we make that determine what sort of people we are? What makes you think Tanya would prefer an existence like what Voldemort's after? What makes you think anything other than that she simply wants a place in a world where people don't automatically spit on her because of what she is? What appeal would the Dark Side have for her?"

"The power," Harry said simply. "Just the power. What else draws so many people over to his side?"

"She has the power," she replied angrily. "There's nothing on the Dark Side that she doesn't already have!"

"How do you know?" he asked, not willing to give in. "How do you know what life would be like as a Dark Wizard?"

Hermione blew out her breath in exasperation and gathered up her books. "I give up. I just hope you weren't unkind to her. I have a feeling that she'd been dreading running into you again. All that she was facing, knowing she could spend the rest of her life in Azkaban, and all you could do was rip into her for hiding a stupid scar from you! Why don't you just grow up?"

As Harry's face heated up in indignation, she flounced out of the room to her dormitory. Ron sat there, nonplussed. "She's on another of her campaigns again, isn't she?"

Harry snorted his indifference and opened his books, trying furiously to block Tanya from his mind.