Chapter 5: Harry Potter and the foreign exchange student

On Monday arrived the ministry officials, journalists, special guests, esteemed guests, less reputable guests, and party crashers. They all gathered on Hogwarts grounds for the first occurrence of the Harry Potter National Day - working title. The planning was placed on the Great Hall Information Board to inform the students that at 10 am a press conference from the Ministry of Magic would start. At twelve, a formal lunch between the Head of Aurors, and members of the former resistance army, including but not limited to Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. At four pm where students would gather in the Great Hall for a ceremony of victory, several speeches, including the very famous Harry Potter, all followed by a complimentary buffet. And in the evening, the exclusive gala dinner - invitations only - where the most fortunate members for the wizards society would pledge to the victims of the war relief funds. As much to say no Weasleys were invited.

And obviously, much to the students dismay, the morning periods were not cancelled and so the Gryffindors headed to the dungeons for potions with their least favourite teacher, Professor Snape. The teacher's mood was downright execrable, worst as usual. He took twenty points from Gryffondors because Lavender Brown looked too giddy on such a grave day, twenty points more because Ron protested, and fifty more because Seamus suggested in a loud whisper that Isn't that strange that Snape isn't happy to celebrate the fall of the Dark Lord.

The Potion Professor was even turning his back to the class as he took the register and stopped in the middle of it, around Parvati's name.

"I wonder if there is really a point of this," he said, in a slow voice, still facing the blackboard. "Why in heaven sake should I devote my time to this class, since it has become clear to me some of you have no regard for their education."

He paused, relishing in the anxiety these words triggered across the class.

"A student, which shall not be named, as we have to endure his name enough already, has shown nothing but insolence and disrespect towards our craft. Of course he was given an opportunity to make amends with a detention. And yet… care to guess what he did instead?"

Nobody answered. All looked at Professor Snape's back, standing tall in his black robes, at the front of the class. And it was barely through an audible whisper that he uttered "He didn't care to attend his detention."

At these words, Neville went as pale as a shroud, Hermione opened her mouth in horror and even Parvati looked uneasy. And it finally clicked for Ron. "Harry, is he speaking about you?" he whispered. Next to him Harry shrugged, but Ron had drawn attention to him, and everyone was staring at him, now.

Snape, continued. "I will now ask that student to get up and explain to us why he thinks he's above us and the rules of this venerable school."

Seconds stretched to interminables minutes, but Harry remained unfazed while everyone but Snape stared at him. Then, slowly, Harry searched in his bag and retrieved a pair of thick black glasses as well as a fake moustache he applied to his face. Yet he didn't move.

Oblivious to what had just happened, Snape continued. "I thought bravery was a Gryffindor value, tss tss tss." He clicked his tongue. "They're really letting anyone in, these days, what a shame…"

He turned dramatically around and shouted, "Potter! I'm talking to- WHAT IS THAT THING ON YOUR FACE POTTER ?!"

Harry didn't answer and looked politely interested, unconcerned, with a bushy moustache across his face...

"TAKE THAT THING OFF IMMEDIATELY POTTER!" roared Snape, with a shaking finger pointed at him.

"Me?" asked Harry with a puzzled look. He looked behind, and back. "Me? I'm not Harry Potter"

"ENOUGH OF THIS POTTER!"

"I'm not Harry Potter, Sir, I'm…Haeee- Henry… Henry Plotter, I'm the transferred student."

For a moment it seems to be a fatal blow for Professor Snape, as if something inside was definitely broken. But, powering through his blinding hate, he regained composure and counter the blow.

"Oh!" he said with a feign surprised. "You're not Harry Potter-"

"I'm sorry Sir, who's that Harry Potter you're talking about? Because I've never heard-"

"You're not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? The ahem, 'hero' for which the Ministry of Magic goes to such length to honor for his so-called effort in the war against the Dark Lord?"

"I don't know of such individuals. I'm Henry Plotter, but in my school, in the … United… Countries we had also had a dark wizard He-Whose-Name-Is-Not-Said-Out-Loud. The Somber Lard Voldemerde."

"Finite Incantatis!" bellowed Professor Snape, after his short patience had run out once again. The spell splashed right across Henry's face but barely disturbed his glorious moustache. For a moment it seems the teacher was about to hit him with something more sinister but a silvery figure sprang out of his wand instead. And very quietly he murmured, "I've called the Headmaster Potter, so that he can witness himself the reason for your expulsion."

Henry Plotter waited by rolling his thumbs and soon, Professor Dumbledore knocked and entered. He looked delighted, with a twinkle in his eye, sparkling with malice, behind his half moon spectacle.

"Yes, Severus, you called for me …?"

"Headmaster," said Severus with a little bow, "once again, Harry Potter has decided to make a fool of himself and mock this class and Hogwarts Professors…"

"But I'm not Harry Potter," interrupted Henry Plotter. "Sir, I'm Henry Plotter. I transferred today and-"

"AS I TOLD YOU HEADMASTER," said Snape, covering Henry's voice. "Mr Potter thinks he's above our—"

"Oh Henry m'boy," exclaimed Dumbledore with twinkling malice. "Professor Snape, I must have forgotten to inform you, Mr Henry Plotter arrived this morning, he will stay with us for some time. The Gryffindor house has offered to take care of him. That's very generous by the way. Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

A horrible realization dawned on Snape. That Dumbledore in league with the boy. But he was not ready to admit defeat yet. "And from where is it supposed to have transferred, Headmaster?" he asked, with a contrived smile.

"From ...Hogword School of... Witchery and... Wizardization, Sir," said Henry.

"Of course, of course, good old Hogword," said Professor Dumbledore while stroking his long beard. "How's the Headmaster doing?" he asked with a half moon glance to Henry, behind his deep blue spectacles. "I seem to have his name on the tip of my hat but can't remember for the life of me."

"It's Professor Bumblebee, Sir, Gandalf Bumblebee. He extends his greetings."

"Of course! Henry m'y b'oy! Good old Bumblebee!" Professor Dumbledore made a small twinkling nod. "Very good, thank you Mr Plotter for reminding me. Hundred points for Gryffindor!" He was beaming.

"Oh is the house called Gryffindor?" commented Henry. "What a weird coincidence in my school we call that GoldLionBird…"

"Well, I'm glad this misunderstanding has been cleared, Severus. A thousand points for Gryffindor! Professor Severus Snape, I now leave you to your class," twinkled Dumbledore with a twinkle and he twinkled away from the room, twinkling a twinkle of twinkles behind his twinkles.

"Oh! his name is Severus Snape?" exclaimed Henry loudly. "What a coincidence, in my school we call him Mr Pillockus Twat."

"Are you mad?" exclaimed Ron with admiration. "You are mad! How the hell did you do that?"

"I do not know what is the thing you are talking about," replied Henry. They had just left the potions class and all Gryffondors headed for the next lesson. Yet, the news Snape complete defeat had already spread across the school, and random students would give Henry the thumb up, an encouraging tap in the back, and even a couple of alluring smiles.

"You're a genius Harry!"

"Good job mate!"

Indeed, the popularity of Harry was skyrocketing. First the new secret passage to Hosmead every student had learnt and was itching to try. Then finally putting Snape in place. And in less than a week!

"Even us are impressed," said Fred once, passing by, with George acquising vigorously on the side.

"Can't believe they wouldn't reopen their shop and go back to school instead," said Ron. "I know I wouldn't..."

"What I don't understand is how Professor Snape's spell didn't work... " said Hermione with a frown. "Except if... Of course! That's not a spell, that's a muggle deguisement. Of course the counter-curse wouldn't work on it! That's so stupid it's brillant."

"... and that's what you got from the Hogsmead post the other day, am I right Harry?!" said Ron, with a quick glance to Hermione, to check if she wanted to compliment his deduction skills. She didn't.

"Again," repeated Henry, "I don't know who that Harry Potter bloke is, but from what you're saying he looks very smart and tight."

"Why do you think Harry won't take part in the Ceremony?" asked Lavender. "It's for the battle and liberation of Hogwarts. We all fought, it would mean a lot to us, Hogwarts students, if he showed up."

"I dunno of that thing you are asking about," replied Henry. "Maybe that sexy Harry Potter didn't take part in the event that is Hogwarts battle and as such henceforth has nothing to say about such an occurrence of— OUCH!"

A Witch in a hurry had crashed into him.

"Watch where you're going, kids." She fixed her glass and gauged them from head to toes. "Ohhh you're Gryffondors, you're in the same class as Harry Potter then. I'm sure you have a lot of things to talk about." She extended her hand and shook all of them with a surprising speed. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. I'm certain you want to share your experience-"

"Harry Potter?" repeated Henry. "Never heard of him!" And he dashed away without looking back.

And all day long, Henry would escape and flee the press and ministry officials. And because it was clear that Harry didn't want to be bothered, Hermione and Ron had spent the word across the school and no Gryffindor replied to any journalist sollicitations. Harry was very grateful for that, or at least Henry guessed he would, having never met him, he couldn't speak for him.

Meanwhile, Hogwarts was swarming with guests, and thankfully, none were as nosy as Rita Skeeter. Over the day, Henry ran into Nymphadora Tonks, who didn't recognize him, flanked by Mad Eye Moody who assumed Harry was disguised for good reasons and said nothing. Then came Mr and Mrs Weasley and Percy, Ms Longbottom, Seamus' mother, Fleur Delacour, Deladus Diggle, Amos Diggory, Newt Scamander but having never met any of them, Henry passed them by without a word.

Around the corner of a stair leading to the Great Hall, Henry also passed a large figure, an old witch, who, out of nowhere, grabbed his wrist.

"You! Boy!" she barked, "where do you think you're going?"

With a nift swift jerk of the hand, Henry freed himself from the surprisingly firm grip and took a better look at her assaillant.

She looked like the kind of Witch Harry thought Witches were like when he was still living with Dursleys. Long pointed black hat with worned out brim. Blacks robes with twigs sticking out of improbable places and a hunch on the top of her back that made her look strangely bulky. Her face was riddled with wrinkles like an old parchment whose colour turned to a faint yellow. A long hooked nose with a wart. The only things that seemed not old or dirty were her two lilac eyes, that looked straight at Henry with a mixture of hostility and impatience, as if she had enough of tis conversation already.

"We're supposed to go to the Great Hall for the Ceremony. Where are you going? Who are you by the way?" he replied.

"Did you really think I'm going to let you leave the mess you made — Shut up!"

"What?"

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to him." With a sudden movement of her shoulder, she revealed what Henry thought was a hunch was in a large crow with a large beak. He let out an angry croak in protestation.

"Whatever," replied the old witch to her familiar. "Has anyone taught you not to put your shit in other people's backyard? I thought this school's supposed to teach you manners."

"I have literally no idea what you are talking about. I think you're mistaken—"

"Don't play games with me Potter boy!" she barked once again. "Your fight with Voldemort or whatever. You've left dangerous spells and dark stuff all over the country. The stench is horrible and everything's fucked, it's so bad I could follow it right back to you. Have you any idea how dangerous—"

"I did what I had to do," said Harry. He was really annoyed. How dare the growns up show up now, giving him lessons after they had him do all the job. "And all that is just temporary, anyway, things will get better on their own.. Probably. Just give it some time."

"GIVE IT SOME TIME?" bellowed the witch and grabbed Harry's arm once again. "Now listen you little tick, you're coming with me right now to clean your mess. Because it's a shit-covered—"

At the moment Professor McGonagall showed up and she was livid with rage. "HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE?!"

The old witch let go of Harry's hand and plunged it inside her robes, clutching at her wand.

"Minerva," she said, with a mean smile. "How long has it been?"

If Professor McGonagall's eyes could launch a lightning bolt, the old Witch would have been struck on sight. Fortunately, her eyes couldn't. Her wand could though. She howld. "OUT! OUT! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED HERE!"

"I was invited though," replied the old witch, "and she extracted from her pocket a dirty letter all crumpled up. Harry recognized it immediately, he had received the same invitation from the Ministry of Magic to attend today's ceremony.

"The Ministry has no authority over Hogwarts and much less to overturn your rustication," replied Professor McGonagall in a razor sharp voice.

"Ah! You finally agree with me! Let's go blow up that— "

"The Headmaster will escort you out of the ground, you old witchicker," said Professor McGonagall as she summoned Professor Dumbledore with her wand. "You, Mr Plotter, move on to the Great Hall, now now," she said to Henry.

"Do call that wanker," said the old Witchicker, "I have a couple of things to say to that old crackpot." She turned to Harry. "This conversation is not over, boy! I'll stay at Hogsmeade, and make sure you own up to your crap. Because Good God! Just because you've got a fancy Castle you all think you're so smart.. Bumbling idiots..."

All the speeches combined lasted for about one thousand years and the end of which everyone had died and Hogwarts had crumbled, the magic population had withered for lack of procreation, and now this story is about the post-apocalyptic word muggle lives in, or so it felt like, until Cornelius Fudge finally stopped talking, and called Harry Potter on the stage. There was a long pause, then an awkward pause as Harry Potter didn't show up.

"Harry Potter? Is Harry Potter here? Come on Mr Potter! A round of applause for Harry Potter!"

And against all odds, pushing through sheer inconsequence, Cornelius was right, because before he could realize what he was doing, Harry had said "I am."

Driven by a mysterious urge emerging somewhere in his lower body, he had removed his glorious moustache and gotten up. Silence fell on the Great Hall for a moment, but a moment only; immediately after that cameras clicked like artillery and quick flashes crackled across the Hall, spitting puffs of green and violet smoke in the air. All tried to catch a glimpse of the elusive Legendary Survivor. Before he could realize it happened, Harry had shaken the Minister's hand, and you could already see how good that picture would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet the very next morning. Harry stood standing behind the conference desk, without even a glance at the very long speech prepared for him, and two thousands pairs of eyes fixed on him, watching his every move, reporters ready to fire their quills.

"Dear Witches and Wizards…"

Harry stopped. He took a long breath, feeling in the atmosphere of the room and let his eyes wander across the Great Hall, passing over so many faces of people he didn't know. And some he recognized. Rita Skeeter's quill was dancing widely across the witch notebook. On the side, Snape was smiling viciously. Professor McGonagall was here and looked worried and Albus Dumbledore immensely sad.

"Fighting Voldemort is the only thing I've done in my life, as such I have much to learn at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; and I'm very grateful to be there. And you all have come here to meet me, to get to know me. What can I tell you? Well, classes are great, Hogsmead is fun. I'm very eager to graduate and become a contributing member of the society, and give back to the community.

"Because, the truth is I've never fought for you, because I don't know you. I haven't thought of any of you, not even once. Nor did I care. I've battled heavens and hells alike, and wandered into realms and magic one would never dare venture. I've seen evil from beyond, soul so corrupted and humanity ripped to shreds. I've delved into fields of ruins and salted earth which shall never bear fruit again and all that is lively forever debased. It explains why my botanical school project keeps dying, am I right ?"

Harry waited a few seconds to see how his poor attempt at a joke landed. It crashed like a Weasley's bank account.

".. and so today, as we meet today at least, I have come say to you, the fighters and victims, the battlemages and the warlocks, the braves and the cowards, the survivors and the deceased, the widowers and the widows, the departed and the left behind. Really you didn't have to bother. They kind of died for nothing if you ask me. Not that it matters, you're all gonna die anyway, at some point. The thing I have learnt, is that life is not that important, really. What was important was Voldemort. It was all about me and Voldemort. Hurray for me, I have defeated him.

"Anyway, that's all for me tonight, thank you very much, have a great evening. And if you have an apprenticeship or summer job opportunity, just give me a call — wait they don't have phones here — just send me an owl. Thank you and good night."

November came and cold rains replaced falling leaves over the grounds of Hogwarts as witches traded their thighs for warmer longer socks. Male students did the same by the way, as it was a gender neutral cloth for wizards, except the muggle borns, most were reluctant to, as they said, dress like girls. Well, some say it takes three generations to make a gentlewarlock.

Stuck around the Castle, chimneys now regularly erupted with grey smoke in the grey sky, watching over the students, as they begrudgingly headed outside, towards the botanical greenhouse, and hurriedly back to spend the afternoon by the fire. In the Gryffindor Room, the wetter were the socks, the coziest were the cushion around a crackling fireplace, and more welcoming the lover's shoulder, the curve of a thigh, a sweet delight. And while autumn transited towards winter, the aftermath of Harry's infamous speech settled.

The Minister was furious that Harry didn't acknowledge the Ministry effort and the Daily Prophet was now assassinating Harry every other day, headlines over headlines.

Merciless and Morbid, Potter Mocks Minister for Magic

Hero or Zero? Spoiled Brat Spit "I don't care" on Soldier's Graves

The Boy-Who-Threatens "You're all gonna die:" How's Potter's Pout Pours Poison in Wizard's Wounds

Tits-for-tats for Potter: Trial Over Lost Trust

Blind Trust in Dumb Dumbledore's Protegee Put Hogwarts into a Bind

Lock him up! Dark Lord Potter Wannabe's Wild Rant Looms Over World Peace

As for Harry's classmates, their behaviour had not changed toward him because, for one they didn't read the papers and two, did you really expect a flock of teenargers actually listen to an afternoon of speakers from the government? Yet it didn't prevent Lavender from thanking Harry for his touching speech. She hadn't really paid attention to the words either, but appreciated the intention nevertheless.

That morning, peeking his nose through the crack of the windows of his dormitory, Harry took a long inhale, to smell the air, heavy with rain from the night, and somehow caught a flagrance of something fresh and faint, perhaps a scottish rose surviving against the wall and all odds. To a well trained nose, morning's air is just a book itching to be open, and will tell you how the weather is going to turn, what happened during the night, and what magic lingers on. It was an habit he'd caught on and now, Harry wasn't really awake until he felt the exterior air inside his lungs.

Breakfast in the Great Hall surprised Harry Potter with an owl from the Ministry of Magic, Justice Department, a good change from the usual insult letters. He read the letter and threw his fork into his plate of sausages with frustrations.

"What happened?" asked Ron, mouth filled with mashed potatoes, because he did enjoy mashed potatoes for breakfast and Hogwarts is a very inclusive school, so despite the disgust we all feel when confronted with this abhorrent sight so early in the morning, we shall not judge him; we're better than that.

"The Ministry rejected Sirius' appeal again." said Harry with a frown. "Said it doesn't follow procedures…"

"Who's that Sirius bloke?" asked Ron, washing down the potatoes with pumpkin juice. Mashed potatoes with pumpkin juice. Really Ron? How awful...

"My Godfather, Sirius Black, he's—"

"Argh — SIRIUS BLACK?! THE ESCAPED MURDERED? HE IS YOUR GODFATHER?" exclaimed Ron, after coughing up his pumpkin juice all over his plate.

"Yes, Sirius Black," replied Harry, "he's my Godfather, I thought it was common knowledge by the way. Turns out he's innocent, he's never killed anyone." Harry made a pause. "Except a couple of Death Eaters but it doesn't count. Professor Dumbledore helped him escape from Azkaban so I could live with him…"

"DUMBLEDORE'S BROKE SIRIUS BLACK OUT OF AZKABAN?!" exclaimed Ron again, but this time he showered the whole Gryffindor table with pumpkin juice, revealing the shape of Hermione under the invisibility cloak.

"You didn't know? I thought everyone knew that," said Harry. "But the Ministry says even if he's innocent, they cannot start a revision of his trial, because he had no trial in the first place..."

"That's dumb!" said Hermione who had literally appeared out of thin air between the two boys. She was livid.

"...and the only thing they can do, according to the letter, is to commute is sentence to the time he has already done, except they can't do that until he comes back to Azkaban…"

"That's outrageous!"

"... and since Azkaban has been destroyed by us after it was turned into the Death Eater headquarters, he cannot go back either." Harry put down the parchment and looked at his friends. "Don't you think that it's a bit unfair that he has to stay hidden even now? If they forgave Snape, why can't they do the same for him?"

"What do you mean they forgave Snape?" asked Ron, pouring himself another glass of pumpkin juice, because he hadn't managed to swallow a single drop yet.

"Snape used to be a Death Eater," explained Harry, "He wanted to bone my mother but got her killed. I thought everyone knew that."

"SNAPE USED TO BE A DEATH EATER?!" bellowed Ron and this time the pumpkin juice rained down the Great Hall for at least thirty seconds which allowed Snape to snake through the staff door after a very awkward two seconds of exchanging glance with the rest of the staff, while the crowd were distracted, conjuring umbrellas to protect themself from the juice, falling down from the ceiling, like an orange sticky rain.

"Harry, I'm so sorry about your mum, it must have been awful, Snape's really disgusting" said Hermione, "but I may have a solution for Sirius. Meet me at the usual spot at the library after class." She carefully observed Ron cleaning himself of pumpkin juice and said, "you can come too." And she vanished under the cape once again.

As usual, Harry was late, which left Ron and Hermione sitting across each other in an awkward silence.

"So how have you been Hermione, I feel like we haven't talked together since … you know."

It was true. Since they have broken up, or, that Hermione had dumped him like an old sock, they never had a private good conversation. Of course, they would be cordial most of the time, and could even behave like they used to with other people around.

"I'm good, mostly," said Hermione. "Everything's different now, after everything's that happened it's weird. What about you?"

"I wish everything could go back as before, but I suppose that's not possible I guess. I miss that time even if you don't."

"Listen Ron," said Hermione, "the time we spend together, you know it means a lot to me-"

"What did you break up then?!" asked Ron. "Because, you know I miss you. And I know there's still something here. Don't tell me you don't feel it."

"Of course I do feel it Ron. But you were impossible! One minute it's like we're married and the other you get jealous over Lavender because she's seeing someone else. And I can't tell what you want to do with me, which would be fine if you didn't get angry because I didn't know either."

Ron had become a little pale. "I had no idea you felt like that. I reckon living with my folks so long didn't help," he said.

"You don't say."

"But I assume it was what you wanted. You and me, a couple, a relationship. Otherwise I might have not been in a hurry, but with all the war going I guess I was afraid we'd run out of time."

"But now we've got a lot of time and you shouldn't assume what I want, you should ask me instead."

"Alright, I'm sorry. What did you want then?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Hermione.

"It's a relief then," said Ron. He layed back on his chair, hand behind his head. "I felt bad because I didn't understand, turns out it's just that I can't. It's a blessing I'm not as smart as you are."

"Shut up," said Hermione with a small smile.

"But seriously, try me. What do you want?"

Hermione took a moment to give a response. "I wish that we could spend time together without you making a big deal out of it. That you weren't afraid I might leave because I can't promise you that I'll stay. And I don't want to feel like you're missing out on another girl when you're with me. Because maybe you'll be with her, if that's what you want, I don't know what the future holds. We're sixteen Ron! Did you know wizards live up to one hundred and fifty? Sometimes more. That's a looooong time. But I don't want to be a clutch for your ego. The one you need constantly for everything. I feel like you're always the one asking from me and I'm in the position to yield or refuse. You have to let me ask too. Because girls can get horny too. Things can be nice and easy and sweet, and we don't have to overthink it, or talk too much about it. "

"That's fine by me — no really! It's a relief, because I don't want to overthink anything either. In fact I'd rather not think at all"

"Alright," said Hermione. "I'm glad we're on the same page now."

There was a pause, as both of them started to overthink what being on the same page actually meant.

"Soo, what do we do now?..." asked Ron

"I don't know, what do you want to do? We could..." replied Hermione.

Ron hesitated, but, having mastered his resolve, got up, went to Hermione and whispered something to Hermione's ear, so low even the book couldn't hear.

She went pink. "Alright, but promise me you won't make it more than it is."

"Deal," replied Ron. "Now give me your panties."

In the meantime Harry was lost around the seventh floor, misled by the Castle once again. He was already one hour late, and it took him another thirty minutes to find his way to Hermione's table at the library.

"Oh Harry! That's you!" said Hermione, startled. "I didn't expect you so early."

Harry looked at his watch, puzzled. "Actually I'm very late. I was afraid you'd left already. Where's Ron?"

A voice emerged from under the table. "I'm here!" Ron, flushed and very red, had appeared from under it and got up.

"I was .. I dropped my quill," he explained, answering Harry's silent question. Harry thought that Ron must have been very out of shape if getting down under a table caused him to be out of breath but again, Hogwarts hadn't much P.E class, so he didn't make any comment, took a chair, and sat down.

"What did you want to say, Hermione?" asked Harry. Then he noticed she was very red, probably frustrated over the traduction of ancient runs. "Or perhaps I could come back later, once you're finished with your homework?"

"Nonsense, Sirius is more important," said Hermione, "besides, I don't expect to be done anytime soon..." She glanced at Ron who made a sad puppy face. "By the way, it's more your idea that mine, really, and from what I found, I think it could work."

"My idea? What do you mean?"

"It's from your Henry Plotter deguisement —"

"I have no idea who that is," said Harry at once. "But I like to meet that Henry Plotter you keep talking about, he seems a nice bloke."

"Sure, sure," said Hermione with impatience.

She explained her plan and Harry thought it was stupid. So stupid it could work. Stupid in such a brilliant way only Hermione could have imagined it.

"What do you think?" asked Hermione. "We could do that during the school weekend at Hogsmeade, unless you think it's too early."

"No, it's brilliant," said Harry. "I'll write to Sirius at once."

He left Ron and Hermione to finish their homework, and headed straight to the owlery.

"Sooo, did you like it?" asked Ron tentatively.

"You're not bad at it, Ron. But try to follow my lead when I guide you," reply Hermione, and she even gave him a peck on the lips. She looked around, the library was empty. "Now, back under the table, I wasn't finished."

Ron was more than happy to oblige.