Harry stared slack-jawed at Hermione as Neville finished recounting the tale.
No wonder Jim had looked so subdued leaving the Headmaster’s office.
“I hope you won’t think it forward of me, Hermione,” Harry said with mock solemnity, “but will you marry me?”
“Back off, Potter,” Neville replied with equally mock gruffness.
“I saw her first.”
Harry, Neville, and the others burst into laughter while Hermione blushed furiously, though she couldn’t quite hide her smile.
Once the laughter died down, they settled into work.
For the first half hour, Hermione led a review of their Transfiguration homework.
Everyone had been impressed when she managed to turn her matchstick into a needle on the very first day.
When she explained her thought process and how it aligned with Professor McGonagall’s method, several others quickly made the same cognitive leap.
Harry succeeded shortly after, while the rest—except Neville—showed clear improvement.
Neville looked somewhat dejected; Hermione insisted his wand movements were correct, yet he could only manage to make the matchstick turn slightly silvery.
Shaking off his frustration, Neville took over next, answering everyone’s Herbology questions with effortless expertise.
Harry followed, translating Quirrell’s nearly incomprehensible stutter into coherent notes.
He and Hermione then covered Charms together.
To Harry’s surprise, Lavender Brown led the Potions discussion.
Despite her somewhat flighty personality, she came from a long line of Potions masters, and her family held patents on several popular cosmetics potions as well as the valuable European concession for a popular Asian hair-care product called Sleekeazy. Get faster updates on novelping.com.
Remembering Snape’s parting comment that morning, Harry made a mental note to ask her about it later.
After two intense hours, the group dispersed, but everyone expressed interest in meeting again on Tuesdays and Fridays.
Harry, Neville, and Hermione stayed behind to chat once the others had left.
“That went rather well,” Hermione said.
“Do you think the group is the right size, or should we add anyone else?” “We could go a little bigger if we choose carefully,” Harry replied.
“Anthony Goldstein is excellent in Astronomy—his father is a Muggle astronomy professor. There’s a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley who’s fascinated with wizarding history and actually stays awake in Binns’s class. Personally, I’d like to add Susan Bones, but that’s mostly for political networking reasons, so don’t feel obligated to include her just to humour my evil Slytherin ways.”
Neville rolled his eyes.
“No Slytherins to add, then? And I suppose I should ask—will studying with us cause problems for you?” Harry shook his head.
“I’m the Heir Presumptive of an important House. I’m in a wonderfully antagonistic relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived. And I’ve been cultivating a reputation as an eccentric loner. It shouldn’t be an issue. But it’s unlikely any other Slytherins will join us. At least not unless we start thoroughly outperforming them in class.”
Hermione hesitated before asking, “Is it… because a… a Mudblood is leading the group?”
Harry sighed.
“I wouldn’t use that word, but yes—probably. There aren’t any Muggle-borns in Slytherin at all this year. There are two Half-bloods besides myself—Davis and Bulstrode—and one Pureblood whose family never served You-Know-Who, but I doubt any of them will risk alienating the older Purebloods, many of whom are openly bigoted. And to be blunt, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson would probably call you a Mudblood to your face if no teachers were around. Crabbe and Goyle are basically extensions of Malfoy. As for Zabini… I still have no idea where he stands. He drifts through everything like some kind of social ninja.”
“What’s a ninja?” Neville asked, perplexed.
Harry started to explain, then paused, looking equally confused.
“You know, it’s funny—I actually have no idea how to explain ninjas to someone who’s never seen a Muggle film or television show.
Let’s just say ‘a very mysterious, sneaky person’ and leave it at that.” “And Nott?” Hermione asked.
“I saw the way he looked at me when you invited him. He didn’t seem hateful. More… sad, if anything.”
“I’m still working on him. I don’t want to start unfounded rumours, so I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourselves. But I’m afraid that if it got back to Theo’s father that he’d been spending time with Muggle-borns and ‘blood traitors'”—he made air quotes around the phrase—”he might face… physical consequences.”
Neville shook his head while Hermione gasped.
“Surely not! I thought heirs of Pureblood families were protected from that sort of thing.”
“Presumptive heirs, Hermione,” Neville corrected quietly.
“Theo has an older brother at Durmstrang. That means he’s not the Heir Presumptive, so he doesn’t have much protection from his father. I can sympathize.” He hesitated, looking pained.
“I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was younger, my great-uncle Algie… sort of… tried to kill me. Twice.”
Harry’s eyes widened.
Hermione looked horrified.
“You said at the Welcoming Feast that when you were eight your uncle accidentally dropped you out a window and you bounced,” she said.
“Yeah,” Neville replied bitterly.
“And before that there was the time he ‘accidentally’ knocked me off Blackpool Pier. I nearly drowned before he fished me out. Officially, they were both accidents. Unofficially, everyone understood he was trying to force accidental magic out of me. I told that story at the Feast because everyone was sharing funny stories about how they discovered their magic, and I got nervous and told the only one I had. But I’ve always wondered if that’s why my magic is so weak. My parents were both powerful, yet I almost never had accidental bursts, and I’m struggling in all my wandwork classes. Maybe the trauma stunted something.”
“That’s awful!” Hermione exclaimed, earning another sharp hiss from Madame Pince.
“Do you mean to tell me I’ve entered a culture where it’s acceptable to endanger children just to make them demonstrate magic? That’s barbaric!”