Red Tide Rising

Granger, Riothamus ran toward the Slytherin table, pausing half way along and flashing Hermione a thumbs-up.

"Hermione?" Harry questioned.

"Not now, Harry," Hermione, whispered as she waved half-heartedly to her cousin, smiling wanly. The Hall was filled with wild whispers, and everyone was pointing and glancing at Hermione.

Even McGonagall was taken aback, as it took her a full thirty seconds to call the next name on the list.

"Granger, Tiberius?" she called uncertainly. A little brown haired boy, identical to the last Granger, stepped up to the hat and placed it on his head.

Immediately, "SLYTHERIN!" More whispers.

"Hermione!" Ron croaked, as Granger, Tiberius flashed Hermione a huge grin before trotting off to sit with his brother.

The entire Hall seemed to be whispering furiously, as McGonagall continued calling names. Hermione's eyes were downcast, her face flushed and she was mumbling something under her breath.

"Hermione! Are you one of those Grangers'? But, you can't be, you're a Muggle-born. Aren't you?" Ron seemed to be panicking a bit.

"Hermione, how are your cousins in Slytherin if you're a Muggle-born?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione looked up. She opened her mouth to speak, just as McGonagall called out "Malfoy, Samantha!"

Suddenly, every mouth in the Hall closed. Hundreds of eyes swiveled from the Gryffindor table to the front. A small girl with curled blond hair walked to the Sorting Hat and pulled it down over her eyes.

"SLYTH- er, just a moment..." stuttered the Sorting Hat. After nearly a minute of anxious hush, whispering had just begun to continue when the Sorting Hat screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Before anyone else could even react, Draco Malfoy was on his feet.

"What the hell is going on? A Malfoy in Gryffindor and bloody Mudbloods in Slytherin? That damn hat's obviously lost its mind!" Draco screamed. He turned to Hermione, clearly expecting her to be outraged; what Gryffindor wants their family in Slytherin? "Hasn't it, Granger?"

Hermione could only shrug. Draco paled.

"Unless- unless, you're one of those Grangers'?" Draco's voice trailed off. He turned to Riothamus and Tiberius. He turned back to Hermione. "But, why didn't you say anything- and, and why are you at that table? Do not sit down, Sammie! I'll get this straightened out," Draco promised, pointing first at his sister, and then waving madly at the Slytherin table.

To everyone's shock and awe, Samantha Malfoy shook her head at her big brother. "I don't think so, Draco," she said. Again gasps ranged through the hall, and to everyone's amazement Draco slid back to his seat. Harry thought there wasn't too much to gasp about at this point, but he knew the melodramatic tendencies of the student body quite well.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Er, well," she cleared her throat again, looking very perplexed. "Nutman, Georgia!"

Nobody was paying any attention to Georgia Nutman as she went to Hufflepuff, including McGonagall. She seemed to be reviewing the list, trying to see if she could have possibly made a mistake.

"HERMIONE!" Ron yelled in a whisper. "Are you or aren't you a Muggle-born?"

Finally exasperated, Hermione rolled her neck and her eyes. "Yes and no."

"Hermione!" Ron spat out in utter rage. "Are you Slytherin Granger, a pureblood, or are you Gryffindor Granger, Muggle-born?"

"Ron," Harry admonished, "she would have told us if she were a pureblood. It's just like Malfoy said, the hat has made a mistake."

Ron ignored Harry. "Hermione, answer me!"

Hermione took a deep breath. Half the table was listening. Indeed, half the Hall was listening. Hermione, after glancing around, leaned her body forward on the table so only Gryffindor table could hear.

"Fine. I am one of those Grangers," she jerked her finger over to the Slytherin table. "My parents are Squibs, from pureblood families. I just- just never told any of you because, well..." Hermione stopped. "Well, how are we going to treat Samantha Malfoy? Obviously a Gryffindor, but also a Malfoy. I was worried I'd be an outcast, and once I'd made friends I was worried you'd all be mad at me after I never told you. So, I was just hoping Tibs and Rio would be placed in a different House, but I guess that was stupid."

Ron's face was a splotchy mixture of red and white, as if he couldn't make up his mind between horrified and homicidal. Homicidal seemed to be winning. Harry understood the urge; Hermione had lied to them for six years about something really important... or no, it wasn't really important. At least, they had always said it wasn't important when Hermione was a Muggle-born, but he'd always known he was lying a bit. It wasn't the be-all and end-all of the world, but heritage should be important, just not to the point certain people thought it should.

Briefly, he wondered what it must have been like to lie about your heritage, and put yourself in the position to be held inferior, even though you weren't. Some of the Slytherin's must have suspected, if Granger's always went to Slytherin. Maybe this is why Snape hates her so much. She should have been in Slytherin, so all those brains would have been for his House.

But before he could become angry at Hermione for lying, he thought about all he had kept from Ron and her over the years. He still hadn't told them about the prophecy; that one day either he would kill Lord Voldemort, or Lord Voldemort would kill him.

Ron, however, had no problems with his conscience. "So, you're Slytherin Granger, the pureblood," Ron accused, his voice quiet with rage.

"No, I'm the first Granger to go to Gryffindor, and your best friend." Ron stared at her a moment and gave off a frustrated sigh. "Ron, the Sorting Hat didn't even mention Slytherin for me."

"That's not good enough, Hermione," he warned. "You lied to us for six years. A very Slytherin trait."

"Ron!" Ginny admonished. "We'll sort this out later, but right now, a bunch of first-years think we hate them."

As if to prove her point "Zonrudder, Predicus!" was followed by a shout of "GRYFFINDOR!" Wildly cheering this last child, Harry felt bad. He remember what it had been like, when all Gryffindor had been cheering him.

"Finally over!" Hermione said with deliverance, a little louder than intended, and everyone around them chuckled.

"Indeed, Ms. Granger, indeed," Dumbledore said as he stood. "Welcome, everyone, to another year at venerable old Hogwarts. It promises to be an interesting year. But first, I believe we should eat," he continued with a small smile. Clapping his hands together, he started the feast.

Conversation was quite light. If people were talking at all, it was hushed and furtive. Parvati and Lavender tried to keep a conversation going among the sixth years, but failed miserably. Glancing down the table at the first years, Harry noticed they were giving Samantha Malfoy a wide berth. He nudged Hermione and pointed.

"See! That's what I was scared of! Samantha?" Hermione called down the length of the table. Samantha, who had been paying far too much attention to her meal for her to be that hungry, glanced up. Hermione pointed to the seat across from her and beside Seamus. Samantha grinned and brought her plate.

"Hi," Samantha said shyly. "I'm Samantha Malfoy."

"We know," Seamus said as he helped himself to more potatoes. "We notice things like Malfoys' being sorted into our House."

Samantha blushed scarlet. "Yes, I suppose you would. I know we usually go to Slytherin, but it isn't a huge shock to me that I'm a Gryffindor."

"'S'not?" Ron asked through a mouth full of- well, something meaty.

Samantha sneered delicately at Ron's mouthful. "No," she replied as she picked at some fruit. She glanced down the table, and sighed. Harry followed her glance.

"Don't worry, they'll get over it and you'll make friends. Great friends. Trust me," Harry said when Samantha looked disbelieving. "They can't ignore you for seven whole years," he continued, but judging by the foot cracking his shin, Hermione doubted that was the right thing to say.

The deserts were magicked away and Dumbledore stood again.

"Now, a few start of term announcements. I'd like to remind every student that the Forbidden Forest is just that: Forbidden. I'd also like to mention that House Quidditch try-outs are to be held this Saturday. I've been asked to remind students that several items are not allowed on schools grounds. The list can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, and has grown to include nearly all products sold at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. I can't imagine why, though," Dumbledore said absent-mindedly.

"I'd also like to introduce this years Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he indicated to a young woman sitting beside Professor Snape and receiving his scowl. She did not look pleased at the seating arrangements either. In fact, she seemed to be sitting as far away from Snape as was possible without sitting on Flitwick's lap.

She was very young to be a teacher, maybe twenty-five. With long blond and blue hair, she looked like a friend of Tonks'. Her face was open and cheerful and a bit nicer than plain, and Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed her the instant he walked into the Hall. It wasn't that she was breathtaking, or anything, but controlled power seemed to emanate from her in waves. She seemed to control the room. Even now, as Dumbledore spoke and she gazed up at him with a pleasant expression, she seemed to watch everything all at once. She had her eye on every exit and entrance into the Great Hall, and while she seemed ready for attack, she also seemed completely relaxed.

"Our new teacher has Masters qualifications in both Potions and the Dark Arts. She is half of the researching team that created the Wolfsbane Potion and for her research she was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class, when she was only sixteen. She is perhaps the most qualified witch Hogwarts has ever had to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and most definitely she is a role model for hard work and perseverance.

"May I present Professor Briar Gryffindor?" A moment of silence, before a monumental explosion from the Gryffindor table spread to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Students cheered, banged their goblets on the table, and pounded their palms together. Whistles and laughter sounded up from the entire Hall; even the Slytherins began clapping after a few moments. Finally it died down.

"Anything to add to that, Professor Gryffin-" Dumbledore was cut off before he could finish her name. The Gryffindor table had erupted in a wave.

"It's been an interesting night, I think," Gryffindor said, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Indeed! To bed, to bed," Dumbledore said.

Groaning, Ron called down the table, "Gryffindors, follow me!"

"Er, Hermione, what's the password this time?" Neville asked.

"Pax Gryffindor. Aren't you coming, Neville?"

"Not quite yet. I have to speak with a professor first," he replied. Neville pushed his way counter-current to the crowd, making his way up to the Head Table.

"Gryffindors, follow me!" Ron called again.

***

"So?" Ron demanded as soon as the first-years had gone to sleep. "So, Hermione, are you going to explain this to us?"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed. She looked around the room, and noticed not only the sixth-years and Ginny looking for answers, but nearly every student in Gryffindor House. "Fine. Like I said, my parent's are Squibs. It was dangerous, being a Squib, while they grew up. Voldemort was on the rise," she explained, ignoring any gasps Voldemort's name brought out.

"So, they were sent to Muggle schools, and lived Muggle lives. That they met and fell in love with each other, both Squibs from pureblood families, was entirely by coincidence; they didn't discuss it until my father felt he should explain his family was 'odd'. By the time Voldemort vanished, they were already established dentists with no real links to the Wizarding world. They had no reason to make contact with family who had turned their backs on them, and my family was still ashamed of my parents.

"When I got my Hogwarts letter, my parents wrote to my Uncle Octavius, Rio and Tibs' father. He helped me buy my books and all that, since my parents didn't want to re-enter the Wizarding world. It took them nearly a year before they were happy I was a witch. I- I will not apologize, however, for telling you I'm a Muggle-born. I am, since my parent's are Squibs, and that's really a just a nice way of saying a Muggle."

"But, Hermione," Harry asked, "why didn't you tell Ron and I, or Ginny? I mean, we wouldn't have been angry."

"Angry? No, probably not. But, the truth is, even I'm a bit ashamed of my parent's being Squibs. It was easy being a Muggle-born, you know, since I was clever and all. It would have been hard being a pureblood but with Squibs for parents."

"That's not true, Hermione. We would have been your friend anyways," Ron said resolutely.

"Really, Ron? Your mother's cousin, the accountant, what's his name?"

Ron blushed. "I'm not sure, really. It's a large family, though, and-" he stammered to a close.

"Not that big, Ron," Ginny retorted. "We don't know his name because no one's ever told us. Our family is embarrassed of him, because he's a Squib. I don't blame Hermione."

"Thank-you, Ginny," Hermione said with a soft smile. "Now, the rest of you, go to bed!"

*****

The next morning, Hermione was chatting with Parvati and Lavender about the Hogwarts Hornblower.

"No, I'm very glad you two want to help. I was actually thinking of a weekly horoscope, and I thought of you, of course," Hermione smiled.

Parvati, her eyes shining, squealed with delight. "Oh, thank-you Hermione. We'll get right on it. And Lavender just got a charmed Astrology model for her birthday, too. And you say you don't believe in preordination?"

Hermione held her hands up in defeat. "You win that one, Parvati," she grinned. "Oh, I'm in such a good mood. I've already spoken to Professor Gryffindor. She's agreed to an interview for the first edition."

"Isn't it great to have a Gryffindor teaches us? I mean, a real Gryffindor?" Lavender gushed.

"Yeah." Seamus agreed, seizing their timetables from McGonagall and passing them on. "She seems really- she's mad! Four o'clock in the morning!" Seamus cried, staring at his timetable. Harry hurriedly looked down at his.

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday

8-11 8-11 8-11 8-11 8-11 4am-7am

Trans Potions Charms Herbology Defense Defense

12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3

Care Herbology Defense Care Potions Dueling

3:15-6 7-9 3:15-6 11pm-2am 3:15-6

Defense Dueling Trans Defense Charms

Harry made a spluttering noise that was identical to the one Ron was making. Four o'clock in the morning? Four o'clock in the morning! Harry had to think quickly about why he was taking Defense. Oh, yes, that's right. I've a mad wizard trying to kill me.

"Oh, both of you shut up," Hermione grumbled. "Yours are nothing compared to mine, I'm sure," Hermione said, and offered her timetable.

Mond Tues Wedn Thurs Frid Satur Sund

8-11 8-11 8-11 8-11 8-11 4am-7am 8-11

Trans Potions Charms Herb Defense Defense Arith

12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3 12-5

Care Herb Defense Care Potions Dueling History

3:15-6 3:15-6 3:15-6 3:15-6 3:15-6 3:15-6 12am-3am

Defense Arith Trans Runes Charms Runes Astronomy

7-9 12-3 11pm-2am

Dueling Astro Defense

"Hermione, you can't do all of this. You'll never keep up!" Harry admonished.

"Oh, yes I can," Hermione replied. "And I'll do it with the newspaper and my Prefect duties, too!"

Samantha sat at by them and groaned as she received her timetable. "How do they expect us to make all these?" She pointed in an infuriated way at her timetable.

"You might not want to draw attention to your workload, Sam," Hermione whispered, but she was too late.

"Oh, does the ickle firstie have lots of classes?" Seamus teased.

"Yes, look!" Samantha said, shoving her slip under Ron's nose.

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday

8-11 8-11 8-11 8-11 8-11

Potions Trans Potions Trans Herbology

12-3 12-3 12-3 12-3

Herbology Charms Defense History

3:15-6 3:15-6 3:15-6 2am-2 3:15-6

History Defense Flying Astron Potions

Seamus growled at Samantha's timetable. "Neville's lucky, though. He doesn't have to get up early for defense. Lucky, lucky, lucky."

"Actually, I do, Seamus. I went to talk to Gryffindor last night after the feast. Asked if she'd let me into the class. She said yes, didn't even ask me what grade I'd received or what other classes I was taking," Neville said with a smile in his voice. "Kind of regret it now, of course, but I didn't want to be the only Gryffindor not in the class."

****************

Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures passed easily enough. McGonagall explained it would be a 'performance based' class with a few minor essays (after which she assigned a three foot-long essay on Human transformation), and Hagrid introduced them to an Occamy, a feathered, wing serpent that laid pure silver eggs.

After lunch they waited patiently as the classroom filled with students. Along with every Gryffindor sixth year, Terry Boot, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, Padma Patil, and Su Li from Ravenclaw were present. The Hufflepuff contingent included Ernie MacMillan, Justin Fitch-Fletchley, Zacarias Smith, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Megan Jones and Michael Corner. Only four Slytherin sixth years appeared, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, and two witches Harry recognized but didn't know.

"Why'd that git have to come?" Ron groaned as Pansy parked herself next to Draco and began talking to him. The two other Slytherin girls, who Harry'd never spoken to before, sat beside each other and glanced around, speaking quietly to each other.

Professor Gryffindor slipped into the room. No one noticed her at first, until slowly they stopped talking and began looking around. Harry himself noticed the hair on his neck prickling just before he stopped talking mid sentence. Turning in his chair, he saw Gryffindor sitting quietly at her desk, gazing out at her class. When everyone had stopped talking except for Pansy Parkinson, who was gushing to Draco about something, Professor Gryffindor cleared her throat.

"Hello, and welcome to sixth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts," she began in a clear, light voice that seemed oddly unmatched to the confidence and intensity she showed. "The purpose of this class is to prepare you to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts. As such, what you learn in this course is not something to be confined to the classroom, for the Dark witches and wizards of our times tend not to attack their prey in comfortable classrooms.

"No, they attack at a time and position when they assume they'll have the advantage. They'll surprise you, they'll terrorize you, and they'll hurt you; unless, of course, you can hold your own against them. You'll need to be able to turn any situation to your advantage and be equal to any adversary. That is what I'll teach you this year, and a great deal more, too.

"A few rules, before we get going. All robes and cloaks and uniforms must be properly fitting. No shoes with heels, either, or you'll have detention, girls- and boys, I suppose. Boys, your hair must be trimmed or maintained so that it does not fall into the eyes, and does not brush the collar of the uniform. Girls, your hair is to be tied back, and braided if possible, if its length is below the chin. No scent of any kind, perfume or cologne or lingering odor from Snape's dungeon which he must insist on calling a classroom," Gryffindor snarled. "Freak of nature. I can't wait for him to contract tuberculosis, simply so I can say 'I told you so,'" she said with a fully-blown smile. Harry thought her eye may have glinted maliciously, but she had blinked before he could tell for sure.

"Any questions?"

Every hand in the class went up.

"Um, MacMillan, is it?"

"Yes, Professor," Ernie said while getting to his feet. "Professor Gryffindor, some of us have concerns over the timing of certain classes."

"Ah, the morning classes. They're mandatory for now, but once I've taught you certain tactics and techniques for dark and cold situations, they should lessen. And as for Dueling Club, it is not mandatory at all," Gryffindor said, and already several sighs had broken out.

"That is, of course, if you pass the test I set every Friday lesson. On Mondays, I'll list ten spells," she waved at the blackboard and a list of spells appeared. "On Friday, as well as a paragraph on each, you will perform each spell, and its counter. If I find you incompetent, you will attend Dueling Club, which will be learning those spells, as well. Otherwise, you needn't attend Dueling Club. Yes, Ms. Patil, the Ravenclaw?"

"What kind of homework shall we have?"

"Oh, the usual, I suppose. Along with the spells I assign, you'll have group projects on various topics every week. Your Heads of House have helped me separate you into pairs, and you'll rotate among the class until you've worked with every person in the class."

Harry stole a glance at Draco Malfoy. Great.

"Also, there is a physical component to this class, as well. You will all be required to perform forty sit-ups, twenty push-ups, ten pull-ups and run five kilometers by the end of first term. I suggest you start practicing today. The first student to perform one of these tasks will receive twenty-five points and a day free of homework."

At this, Ron caught Harry's eye and grinned. Ron was a shoe-in to win those points. He'd been training all summer.

"Ms. Granger, I believe?"

"Yes, Professor. I was wondering about the scope of the course, what exactly we'll cover?"

"Oh, this and that. We'll deal with situational defense, defense against Dark creatures, how to protect establishments, and so forth. I've a few topics I'll cover for sure, and other than that I plan to see what the curriculum has to offer. Now, usually the Ministry hasn't a clue as to what students should actually learn, so I may ignore the curriculum all together."

Nearly everyone looked quite happy at that announcement. After having Professor Umbridge the year before, they were excited to legally study anything outside the curriculum.

"I imagine," Gryffindor continued, "that by now you understand most aspects of rudimentary Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm not particularly interested in teaching you things you learn from everyday life, like to duck if someone sends something hurtling towards you or not to cough if you're hiding from something nasty. If you don't understand these concepts, there is a scientist named Charles Darwin whose work I'd like to introduce you to. No, instead of wasting our youths, I'll teach you things that you won't learn in the average course of your day. Are there any more questions? Um, Slytherin girl, next to Slytherin boy."

"Pansy Parkinson, Professor," Pansy said, lowering her arm. "Professor, why is your hair blue?"

Several students groaned, but Gryffindor gave a small smile and a light blush. "Drank a bit to much with friends in Moscow. Woke up in a Russian drunk tank with blue hair, a nasty rash, and a hangover that nearly killed me." No one said anything, and finally Ernie MacMillan decided to treat her story as a joke and being to laugh.

"No, no. I'm serious. Apparently I got into a pub brawl over the merits of communism, and I had to beg my brother Sebastian to come from Turkey to bail me out. He was really mean about it. Wouldn't let me brew a Hangover remedy until after his lecture, and trust me, Bas can go on forever!" Gryffindor pouted. Then she clapped her hands together.

"Now, we're going to start on our first project. I want you, after I've assigned you a partner and a group, to write a report on the Dark Arts. I want you to organize it yourselves and decide what each of you is to focus on, because it will show me how you view the Dark Arts. All right?

"Okay, then. Brown and Patil, you work with Patil and Turpin. Finnegan and Thomas, you work with Fitch-Fletchley and MacMillan. Corner and Jones, you go with Boot and Li. Brocklehurst and Smith, with Abbott and Bones. Granger and Longbottom, you're with Malfoy and Parkinson. And finally Potter and Weasley, you work with MacDougal and Zabini."

Harry looked over at the two Slytherin witches who had began to move over towards them.

One of the girls was tall and skinny, with sunny blond, straight hair down to her shoulders. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and very dark eyes. The other was nearly short and plump. She had dark brown hair in two frizzy French braids that fell nearly to her buttocks. Her face held wide cheekbones, wide eyes, and wide lips. She seemed to be making a joke to her friend, who tried to smile but didn't quite manage.

"Hi!" the dark-haired girl said, sliding her body forcefully onto a chair. "I'm Morag, this is Blaise. We know who you are, of course, and it's pleased we are to meet you."

"Er- okay," Harry said, quite unsettled by the idea of a friendly Slytherin.

"Don't mind Blaise, she's horrible shy," Morag rattled off while pushing her books onto the table and arranging them. "So, we're to report on the Dark Arts. I think, and if I'm wrong I can usually admit it, that we should focus on four main topics. Obviously we should focus on the history of Dark Arts, the major movements of Dark witches and wizards, the legalities behind prosecuting Dark Arts practitioners, and Dark Creatures. What do you think?"

Ron and Harry stared at her for a moment. "I think you and Hermione should get together," Ron said, looking horrified of the idea of two Hermione's.

Morag laughed. "Maybe! Actually, I can't wait to work with her, she's quite brilliant. We take Runes and Arithmancy together- well, I suppose now we take a great many classes together. Say, don't you think Gryffindor is cool?"

"Er- yeah," Harry said lamely, finding it hard to keep up with Morag's train of thought.

"So, I'd like to do the essay on the legal bit- I'm to study Magical Law, you know. I'll be a member of the Wizengamot when I'm older. Blaise is a future historian, so she'd probably like the general history essay," Morag slowed enough to see Blaise nod a bit. "And you two?"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other. "Er- well, I'll take Dark Creatures, I suppose," Harry managed.

"Great! And Ron, you'll look at particular Dark uprisings throughout history? I wonder if we should focus on You-Know-Who, or if we should try and point out parallels between the different Dark movements?"

Again Harry and Ron glanced at each other, this time grinning a bit. They had a choice? Hermione never gave them a choice.

"Why don't we focus on You-Know-Who, and draw parallels to other movements. You know, history repeating itself?" Ron answered. Blaise nodded her approval to Morag.

Morag grinned. "Excellent! You and Blaise should work carefully together. Blaise knows everything about history, which is fitting since she's not at all too interested in the present," at this Blaise gave an indignant huff, "and she really shouldn't be to insulted since herself says so."

"To them!" Blaise said softly.

"By them, Blaise means the other Slytherin girls, who Blaise finds rather annoying. You know, always asking if she likes their robes or their ornaments. Bothering her, Blaise Zabini, history girl, with their inconsequential problems of the present when she wants to memorize the past," Morag finished with a small laugh.

"History's important, Morag!" Blaise said in a resigned tone that hinted they'd had this argument more than once.

"But what if the people in your history books had been too busy reading about history to go out and make some more? Hmm?"

"Then it would be an extremely odd period of history, and therefore worth studying," Blaise replied.

"Last time I asked that same question, you said it would bore you to madness and you'd take an interest in Pansy's love life!" Morag claimed.

"Yes, well, I grow every day, Morag."

"Should we get started, then?" Harry interrupted, trying to avoid a row.

"Maybe we should go to the Library. You know, where it's quiet," Blaise said with a withering glare at Morag.

"Oh, yeah, good idea, Blaise. I'll go ask," Morag said jumping up.

The moment Morag had left, Blaise gave a happy grin. "Welcome to the most irritating few days of your life," she said quietly.

After leaving the Library to eat in the Great Hall, Morag and Blaise diverged to the Slytherin table. Harry and Ron grabbed seats at the Gryffindor table.

"Merlin's Beard, but she doesn't stop talking!" Harry said. He grinned. "I like her."

"Yeah, me too. And Blaise is really smart," Ron said just as Hermione sat down.

"I see you two are pleased with your partners," she said shortly. "I, however, am stuck with a petulant Malfoy and a pestilent Pansy. Malfoy refuses to work, and Pansy's incapable of it. I swear, I may end up hurting them."

"And Neville?" Ron asked.

"Oh. Well, Neville's Neville, isn't he? He knows how to work. But you two got Blaise and Morag! What an odd-couple, eh?"

"Yeah, we were just wondering if Morag ever stops?"

"I haven't witnessed it yet. But she's hilarious. She's writing a column for the Slytherins, and Blaise is going to do a 'this week in history' column. She knows her history," Hermione said admiringly.

"You know them pretty well then? Because Ron and I have never talked to them before."

"Oh, yeah, fairly well. They aren't like some other Slytherin's, that's for sure. They were kind yesterday on the train, and their kind today. Not like some of them, who are sucking up to me now that they know I'm a pureblood. Honestly!"

"Who's sucking up, Hermione? Malfoy? Oh, I bet it's him!" Ron asked delightedly.

"Well, it's more like he's not being intentionally cruel. But Parkinson is driving me mad! She 'simply can't understand why I'd masquerade as a Mudblood when we're nearly cousins'. Can you believe that? My aunt married Pansy's stepbrother's father's brother! Of course, my aunt died in Azkaban about thirteen years ago, but still! Related, nearly, to Pansy Parkinson! Honestly!"

"Poor Hermione," Lavender said with real feeling. "It'll get better once the shock has worn off. Maybe some of them will slip up and call you Mudblood again."

"Yeah, maybe," Hermione said hopefully while stabbing her cauliflower.