13

Chapter 13: Lover and Fighter

Time was playing tricks with Harry – first, the week until his date flashed past him in a blink. Then, the morning before they would be let into Hogsmeade was stretching like rubber. The boy felt that it was already three hours at least since he got up despite his watch saying that it was barely sixty minutes.

Finally, after a long and scrupulous check with the lists, Filch opened the door and the students rushed out making excited noises. Harry hurried out, glancing around in search of a certain redhead he had a date with.

"Harry?"

He turned sharply, barely avoiding a collision with a Weasley twin, who winked at him in a most disturbing fashion and left, revealing a bemused Susan Bones behind him. Mustering his courage, the boy stepped closer, offering his hand.

"Shall we?"

She nodded, taking the offered limb. They turned towards the carriages and took their places in the quickly shortening queue. When they finally approached one of the thestral-driven contraptions, they quickly occupied one bench, leaving the opposite one to a pair of Ravenclaw seventh years, who spent the whole ride making out, which made things rather awkward for Harry and Susan, who were trying to make small talk and ignore the snogging duo.

When the carriage stopped, they jumped off with great relief. Unfortunately, they didn't walk ten meters before hearing a certain voice that promised a headache.

"Oy, Scar head!"

Oh you've got tobe kidding me...

Harry turned in the direction from whence the call originated and saw – surprise, surprise – Malfoy and his two apes. The former was smirking as usual, but he still looked rather put-off by something. To tell the truth, Harry was waiting for the blond to cause some sort of trouble, as there hadn't been even one verbal spat between the two ever since last year. It was just that the timing couldn't be worse.

"Yes, Malfoy?" Harry drawled, mirroring the blonde annoyance as well as he was able to.

"What are you doing with Bones?"

"What does it look like, Malfoy? I asked Susan on a date. Are there any other stupid questions?"

Malfoy frowned.

"Who in their right mind would go out with you, of all people?"

Harry shrugged.

"Beats me. I'm still surprised. Now, if you have no more comments, we shall depart," he glanced at his companion and she nodded. However, it wasn't to be.

"What, you're just going to walk away?"

"Precisely," Harry threw over his shoulder, doing exactly that.

"You're a pathetic weakling, Potter."

Harry's foot paused in the air. He turned slowly.

"Care to repeat that in my face?"

"Harry," Susan whispered, shuffling in place uneasily.

"You're a coward," Malfoy repeated with an ugly sneer, "What kind of man are you to let me insult you without retaliating? Some Gryffindor."

Harry breathed through his nose, calming himself. Malfoy is deliberately and blatantly provoking me. Why? After a moment's thought, he understood. If I react and let it regress into a fight, my date is officially over, and in all likeliness I won't get another chance, even if I win...

"Some Slytherin you are that a Gryffindor can see through your plots," he spat in an utterly disgusted voice and turned away from the boy. "Come on, Susan, he's just a sad, jealous git."

After a pause, he added in a very low voice:

"Still, I'll have to get him back for it."

"You let a couple of words get to you?" Susan was looking at him from the corner of her eye.

"Yes, a bit, but it's not about the words. It's about what he wanted to accomplish with them," Harry explained. "If our positions were reversed, I would not stoop so low as to try to break him up with his date, despite what I think of him. It's not right."

Susan smiled slightly as they entered the village.

"Gryffindor nobility, is it?"

Harry snorted and shook his head.

"No, just basic decency. It is not that only Gryffindors are supposed to be noble, is it? But that is a topic best suited for another time. What do you want to do here?"

"I was thinking about going to Honeydukes, then Gladrags, and after that it's your choice."

"Hm. Well, Honeydukes is a must – I wanted to buy some chocolate frogs – Ron's eaten my last package in a hungry midnight rave."

"'Midnight rave'?" Susan was visibly amused.

"Yeah, we call them that. Happens once or twice a month. Ron wakes up at the most ungodly hour and starts looking for something to eat as he's always hungry at the time and he isn't able to get any sleep that night. He usually ends up eating something of mine or Neville's. He doesn't really think that early in the morning and always apologises after the fact, so we let it slide. It's not like he can really help it."

"Hannah did want to know what happens in the Gryffindor boys' dorms," Susan quipped, hinting at the fact that Hannah Abbott was a well-known gossip-hound.

"Oh, there are a lot of interesting things there... but we have gone off topic. So, we're going to Honeydukes, and then Gladrags. Afterwards I want to browse the book store, and to top the day I suggest the Three Broomsticks."

"Approved,"

The couple walked through the village, enjoying the air of excitement that came with being let out of the castle. The fairy-tale feel that the village itself had only added to the cheery atmosphere.

In Honeydukes, it came to Harry's attention that Susan had a serious sweet tooth. He filed that away for later. Also, she proved to be really weak to very, very cheesy jokes and bad puns, which caused Harry to gently rib her about this.

In Gladrags he paid the price for that minute of teasing her, as he was instantly assigned to be a packing mule. By the end of the two-hour experience, Harry's arms were starting to grumble at him, his legs were in open revolt, and he himself was wishing desperately that he did look up those meditation instructions instead of discarding them upon reading that Occlumency couldn't be learned until hormonal changes finish.

In the book store, though, he was in his element. During the countless nights holed up in the Restricted Section learning about so many interesting things,he started to get a really good hang on the subtle art of guessing a book's contents by its cover – its material, colour, texture, all were clues for those who knew how to interpret them. Harry could swear that Hermione could understand this language by the middle of first year.

"What do you need here?" Susan asked, carefully placing two bags on the floor. Harry was intently staring at the shelves, as if wanting to commit every little detail of each tome to his memory. He didn't answer her for some time, until making an unintelligible exclamation and grabbing a dark blue book.

"Right in one," he commented, looking at the title.

"'Charming the Eyes, the Ears and the Noses, The all-fooling illusions'," Susan read the title of the book out loud. "Why are you interested in illusions?"

"Well, I thought it to be a good idea to learn how to use them, and the LDM approves," Harry answered distractedly, looking through the table of contents.

"LDM?"

"Little Demented Maniac, my nickname for Flitwick."

"Merlin, Harry, that's awful! He's the nicest teacher we have barring professor Sprout!" Susan was nearly screaming in indignation. She adored the cheery Charms Professor. Harry glanced at her with a lifted eyebrow.

"In the classroom, he is. But I'm learning duelling from him, and believe me when I say this: he can be a monster when he wants," he closed the book with a clap and walked further into the shelves, eyeing the rows in search for another book.

"You're learning how to duel?" that got her attention. Her aunt was sometimes complaining about the lack of competent applicants for the Auror programme, and it would be good for her to know there was someone with enough potential to attract the interest of Hogwarts' resident Duelling Champion.

"Correction: I'm learning how to fight. Flitwick said I have the potential to become a brilliant duellist, but I would do frighteningly well in a full battle. I'm playing to my strengths."

"What do you want to be in the future? Become an Auror?"

Harry mock-shuddered with a small laugh.

"Auror? Me?" he snorted. "I'm far too independent to take orders from anyone, and the thought of doing paperwork sends me into a depression. No, I would make an awful Auror."

"Pity. Auntie always rants about the lack of applicants for her department."

"Hm... ah, there you are," Harry took a Charm book that got his interest when he heard Flitwick mention it in passing as a good source of inspiration of particularly vicious spell combinations and straightened. "Well, that's all for now."

After paying for the books they went to the Three Broomsticks. The inn was completely full as usual, but they got lucky and didn't have to wait long for a table to be free.

"Well, let's talk. Tell me all there is to know about Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived," Susan quipped, sipping her butterbeer.

"They are two different people. The latter is a product of collective imagination of the magical community which has little to no basis in reality," Harry shrugged, masking his discomfort with his own mug. "The former... well, if I just told you all about me, where would be the fun in that?"

"All right. Very well. I'll ask questions, then."

"By all means, fire away."

"What happened in our second year? You know, when everyone was thinking you were the Heir?"

Belatedly, Harry remembered that Susan was one of the people who looked at him with fear and apprehension that year.

"What makes you think that I know what happened?" he tried to evade the question, but from the look in the redhead's eyes, she wasn't buying it.

"You and Weasley both received Special Awards for Services to the School." Susan replied blandly. "Not to mention the four hundred points that Gryffindor got at the end of the year. So spill, who was behind it all?"

"Who else? Voldemort."

The girl sputtered in her drink and Harry felt vindicated.

"What?" she rasped finally, blinking at him owlishly.

"An artefact of his, to be exact," Harry said casually. "It came to school and... well, it controlled a student. The opening of the chamber was the action it was programmed for."

"And what happened at the end? Someone was taken. Ginny Weasley, if I'm not mistaken."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so..."

"Try me."

"Very well. I walked down to the Chamber, fought a thousand-year-old basilisk and destroyed the artefact."

"Basilisk?" Susan was pale. Very pale.

"The King of the Snakes, whose stare can kill, or, if seen indirectly, petrify its victims," Harry said heavily. "That was one giant bastard."

"How can I believe you?"

"You can either believe me, or you can call me a liar," the boy directed a murky gaze into his quickly emptying mug. "Either way, the carcass is, to my knowledge, still down there."

Feeling that the date was quickly going off track, Susan shook her head and tried to redirect the conversation.

"Screw the basilisk. What can you tell me about yourself? What do you like?"

Grasping at the suggested subject change, Harry gladly started to talk.

A couple of hours later as darkness fell, they walked towards the carriages, relaxed, joking and wrapped in a loose one-armed hug.

"Susan?"

"Hm?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"I thought it obvious. Of course."

Harry grinned widely.

"Good. Even if I get into all kinds of trouble?"

"Yep, I'll still be your girlfriend." She said matter-of-factly. "I'm a Hufflepuff, I'm loyal to the bone!"

The grin on the boy's face was so wide it bordered on being physically impossible.

"Even if I were to get into a fight with Malfoy and his cronies in a minute?" He asked leadingly.

"What?" the girl looked forward and saw the aforementioned threesome coming out of Honeydukes with Nott and Parkinson. "It will look bad, Harry."

"Don't care. Will you still be my girlfriend?"

"I will still carry you to Madam Pomfrey after they beat you down, you rash, foolish Gryffindor. There are five of them and only one of you."

Harry pushed her gently to the side, his eyes burning with excitement.

"You said it wrong: there's one me, and there are only five of them. Now stand to the side, I don't want you getting caught by a stray hex."

She obliged. He waited until the girl was standing under cover of the house next to them and shouted:

"Oy! Malfoy!"

The blonde turned around, as did the four other Slytherins.

"Pothead. So Bones ditched you? I knew she was far too sensible to be seen cavorting with one such as you."

"Tsk, tsk, Drakey-poo, jumping to conclusions..." Harry palmed his wand. "But it is neither here nor there. You wanted to pick a fight earlier. Congratulations, you have it. Parkinson, Nott, this is between me and Malfoy. You need not wait for him."

"Don't presume to command me, Potter," Nott growled. Parkinson sided with Malfoy, glaring at Harry balefully. He grinned.

"So it's me against you five? Oh, very well."

He could almost feel the adrenaline in his blood, making his heart beat faster, his reactions quicker, and his mind sharper. Immediately his brain started planning ahead; searching for cover in his surroundings at the same time. He remembered the mantra that Flitwick occasionally said: "When fighting multiple enemies, inconvenience them as much as you can."

Obstruction, confusion and disruption are the names of the game.

The stare-off with all six having their wands drawn, but not moving, continued, with the Slytherins reluctant to send the first spell and Harry still planning. Finally, Malfoy smirked nastily.

"What; got cold feet, Potter?"

Harry stared at him unmoved. One second. Two. His eyes widened slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched. A whisper.

"Glisseo."

The spell was instant – no sphere of energy left Harry's wand that could be repelled. The results that it produced, however, were obvious to him. The ground under the Slytherins' feet lost all friction in the blink of an eye.

"Aegis."

The flash-type shield came not a moment too soon, as the sharp gesture of Harry's wand provoked his opponents, who reacted as one. Five spells impacted the translucent wall, which shattered after a moment, but Harry was already moving, transfiguring a wall of dirt with a spell that Flitwick showed him a couple of days ago and standing on one knee behind it.

It was a low, but efficient cover, as dirt grounded the spells that hit it. Unfortunately, it didn't help against spells that were exerting raw physical force and explosion-inducing magic. But in these conditions, it was what the doctor ordered. As two more follow-up hexes flew well off target, Harry threw his wand arm up and covered his eyes.

"Lumos Maxima!"

The immensely overpowered light charm in the darkness looked like a lightning strike, temporarily blinding the opposition. But in the moment when his hand was still out of cover, a lucky jinx impacted it, making it fall down in a boneless fashion, dropping the wand. Harry immediately snatched the wand and prodded the disabled arm. To his relief, he could still feel the bones within. He got up on his feet in a jump and clumsily sent a trio of immobilising spells at Nott, Parkinson and Malfoy. Due to his aim suffering from him using his off-hand, the one sent at Parkinson missed completely and Nott had thrown up a shield – a Protego by the looks of it – so the only one frozen in an awkward pose was Malfoy. Harry immediately followed the onslaught with an Aguamenti at Nott. He chose the water conjuration for three reasons – first, it was a sustained, but not very draining spell, so it was easy to aim even disadvantaged as Harry was. Second – it was pretty damn inconvenient fighting in cold weather wearing wet clothes.

Third – Protego didn't block physical objects, liquids and gasses.

Despite having his shield up, Nott received three gallons of water shot at him with some serious velocity, making him release a rough scream and a string of obscenities. When Harry turned his wand to splash at Pansy and the trio of shit-eaters (his private nickname for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle), they also added to the ambience their own verbal analogue of faeces-flinging.

Five more paralysing jinxes, and all five Slytherins were down, and Harry proceeded to walk towards them, absently Finite-ing his right hand. When it didn't work, he tried a Finite Incantatem, which fortunately restored some feeling to his wand arm.

"Once again, a cold mind wins the fight against berserker hamsters with twigs," he muttered, drying his opponents with lazy waves of his hand, as he didn't want anyone to catch something that would turn this short humiliation into something more serious. He approached Malfoy last.

"Listen, and listen closely. You are very, very far out of your league here. I suggest you stop messing with me while I am willing to leave you alone. If you continue this pointless delusion of rivalry, things will escalate. Your father cannot defend or help you here. The truth is that you are riding his coattails without any right to do so. You have neither cunning nor talent for talking as loud as you do. It would be best for you if you seriously rethought your position."

Harry sighed.

"But who am I kidding – you may delude yourself, but I can see that you are pure Gryffindor except you don't have much in the way of spine. You won't admit to being what you are, so I'm wasting my breath. The spell will wear off in a couple of minutes. You can, of course, run to Snape and whine like a little boy that big, bad Harry Potter beat you and five others, but even you will understand that it will make you the laughing stock of all Slytherin, heck, the whole school. Ciao, Malfoy."

The same evening, Gryffindor Common room

"Well?" was the question directed at Harry by his two best friends. Neville didn't ask anything, but his stare did that for him. Harry shrugged in answer, grinning widely as he threw himself down at the lone free armchair.

"What can I say? This was, without any doubt, a very productive day. I got a date with a nice girl, who later on agreed to be my girlfriend..."

"Whoo-hoo!" Neville cheered suddenly, shaking his fist in the air. His exclamation caused the others jump in their seats, and even forced a startled squawk out of a third-year Demelza Robbins who was passing by. Not paying the slightly embarrassed girl any mind, Neville pointed a finger at Ron, who was rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"Now you owe me ten sickles!"

"Ron, you bet against me?" Harry asked in a scandalised tone, privately laughing at the look on his friend's face.

"Well, it was just a spur of the moment thing..."

"Oh, Ronald... go on, Harry. How was the date?"

"What about it? I bought a couple of books from the store!"

"Ack! Hermione, did you bite him?"

Thump.

"I'm just joking. It was wonderful. She's really a very interesting person. Straightforward, nice, loyal. We went to Gladrags, and that was a rather trying experience, but after that we had some butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. Then, when we went back, she agreed to be my girlfriend."

"Did you kiss?" Neville was waggling his eyebrows, which was looking rather strange on his face.

"Stop that, Nev, it makes you look like a moron. And don't interrupt. Just when I thought things were not likely to get any better, I got to kick Malfoy's ass!"

"Do tell!"

"Harry..."

"Well, he was throwing insults at me in the morning, trying to provoke me and spoil the date. I saw him later on, and thought: 'Why not?'..."

"Well?" Ron's face was rather eager – he looked like a kid who was waiting for a present that he knows is coming.

"Well, there – as always – were Crabbe and Goyle, the Compact Trolls Extraordinaire, Parkinson the Pug Banshee and Nott the Nose-In-Stratosphere."

"So, five on one? Or two?" Neville asked, shaking his head at the odds.

"Nah, I asked Susan to stand aside and pretend to be a part of the scenery. So, after some taunts were exchanged, I proceeded to rapidly and decisively humiliate the snakes."

"Details, mate, details!"

The boy happily obliged, still feeling slightly giddy from the confrontation. As the tale went on, the males in the auditory were starting to look more and more impressed and gleeful while Hermione was exuding an air of disapproval.

"Harry, youincapacitated five opponents on your own," Neville slowly summarised with his expression saying 'I wish I was that good'. Harry shrugged dismissively.

"It may sound cool and all, but it was no great feat. Of all of them, only Nott gave the impression that he had an idea of what he's doing. Malfoy isn't a fighter by any stretch of imagination, Parkinson was just plain nothing, and the less said about Crabbe and Goyle, the better. So, in the end, it's rather easy to do if you have a couple of brain cells and know how to rub them together to produce some pretty sparks."

"Yes, it seems so," Hermione nodded with a frown, remembering the details of the fight that Harry shared. "They had numbers, but when it came to business, from your words they were fighting like cavemen."

"Primitively, like Neanderthals," Harry confirmed. "Except for Nott."

"So what you did is fight tactically to negate their advantage."

"Yes. My first move was to make the ground slippery to prevent them from coming closer. This jinx is short-acting, it dispels after a minute or so, but it did its job. Then I created a cover that would shield me from the lesser spells that are, from my estimate, the only ones they know. After that I needed to negate the possible suppressive fire, and I blinded them. After that I showered them with water, which lowered their will to fight and distracted them, and then I finished it with a few immobilisers."

"You make it sound so damn easy..." Ron grumbled. Harry nodded.

"It could turn out much worse if they weren't so unskilled. I got lucky. Plus, I started to get real appreciasion for my lessons with Flitwick. I wish I got this training before the summer mess."

"Honestly, Harry, you shouldn't have done that. Now he will surely tell on you and..."

"And nothing," he interrupted what promised to be a rather long rant, at least 4.5 on Granger-Richter scale. "It is a win-win situation for me: if he keeps quiet, I'm safe from the wrath of the Great Bat, but if he tattles, I will turn him into a laughing stock for the whole school. See?"

She pursed her lips, but reluctantly nodded. Harry looked at her and suddenly started laughing heartily.

"Hah! You didn't object to the fact that I've beaten Malfoy, you were just afraid that I'm going to be punished! Ron, we've corrupted her!"

The ginger chortled at the thought, edging a bit further from the not-very-amused girl.

"Yeah. Do you remember the first year? 'We could get killed, or worse, expelled!'" he did a fairly good imitation of Hermione's voice. She mock-growled and swatted at him.

"Oh, shut it, you two!"

A minute later, when they settled down from a teasing match, Hermione huffed and tried to change the topic:

"How did Susan react to the fight?"

Harry grinned widely.

"She was very impressed."

"Did she kiss you?"

"Yes," Harry's grin went from 'wide' to 'shit-eating'. Neville stared at him.

"How was it?"

"Slightly wet. Sweet. All kinds of awesome."

"You're one lucky bastard, you know that?"

"You're damn right I am!"

Fifteen minutes later, Ron was looking at his potions essay, but his thoughts were nowhere near the four uses of salamander ash in potion-making. Instead, they were focused on Harry and consisted of slight jealousy and minor whining.

Harry has a girlfriend. Damn. I want a girlfriend! Why don't I have one? The boy looked up and shook his head slightly, clearing out the unneeded thoughts.

"Hey Hermione, would you mind checking this for me?"

"Wait a minute, I'm about done with this," came the answer from the girl which was glaring at the star charts that were needed for the next Astronomy lesson. While waiting for her to finish, Ron's mind started to wander back to the topic that mildly agitated him.

Why don't I have a girlfriend? How do I get one, I wonder?

He frowned.

I'd assume that I will need to ask a girl out first. Baby steps, Ron, baby steps.

But who to ask?

He was snapped out of his contemplation by Hermione sitting down next to him and taking his essay. Ron leaned back and looked at her, his eyes pausing at her lower lip, which the girl was nibbling at with her large front teeth.

I wonder how it would feel to kiss her. What did Harry say – 'all kinds of awesome'? He gave a slight start and shook himself mentally. Bad brain, bad brain!

But once taken, that road of thought was not so easily left. Ron gulped a bit.

Hermione's a girl!

"Uhm... Mione?"

"Yes? What, Ron?" she asked distractedly, her eyes running through the parchment seven miles a second. The boy opened his mouth to continue, but after a moment it closed.

"Nothing."

What did I just nearly say? 'Hermione, you're a girl. Will you go out with me?' Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"This is nicely written, Ron. Just correct a couple of words: it's spelled 'extracted', not 'extrackted', and there's one more l in the word 'solution' than needed," she smiled at him approvingly and walked away, placing the parchment on the table before him.

What are you talking about? She's way out of your league, Ronnie-boy.

He rubbed the back of his head. The last thought sounded too much like the twins for his liking.

That night, the redhead was not fast asleep the moment his head touched the pillow as always. Instead, he was tossing and turning, thinking more than was strictly advisable before sleep.

I have to admit – I feel something for Hermione. I dunno if I love her like a girl or I love her like a sister, though. Go figure.

He turned to the left, seeing Neville sitting on the edge of his bed and frowning at a small piece of parchment that he frequently scrawled on.

As things are, even if I 'like' like her, she wouldn't be interested in me. Well, maybe she would, but what if not? It will be humiliating to be turned down and it'll make things more awkward than that prank Fred and George did that made people's pants so damn tight for a couple of hours. He winced in phantom pain. Yeah, way more awkward.

What to do? I'm not bright, I'm not that brave. I suppose that I'll stand with Harry and Hermione no matter what, but that's loyalty. It's not something to be very proud of – you either are loyal or you are a slimy traitor. In other words, I'm a decent guy, but it's not enough.

If she's out of my league, I need either to find myself someone more suitable, or... or... or somehow jump up to her league. How do I do that?

Hermione's smart. Very smart, so much it's bloody scary. She's brave. She's kind. She... she's a great person. That's it. She's simply great.

I need to jump from 'decent' to 'great'. That's one hell of character development, and how does one go about becoming a great guy anyway?

He turned to the right, seeing Harry half-sitting, half-lying on his bed, reading a book with a red cover in the light of a small ball of light hanging above his head. With a start, Ron realised that it was already dark in the room.

"Oi, mate!" he whispered. After his friend didn't as much as move, he called louder. When it also failed to get Harry's attention, he took a pillow and threw it at the brunette's head.

"Ouch, Ron, what the hell?"

"Finally – a reaction! Come on, I need to talk."

"What is it?"

"How can a person become great?"

Harry blinked in surprise and put his book on the headstand near him.

"Well that came out of nowhere. Let me think."

He cancelledthe light spell and lay down, putting his hands under his head and staring upwards thoughtfully.

"Well, it's a complex question. For starters, what do you mean by 'great'? Powerful? Having a place in history? Great as a person?"

"I suppose it's the last one."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you ask?" Harry tsked and repositioned his head so as to see Ron. The expression on the redhead's face was rather strange – 'strange' meaning 'not possible to interpret'.

"I... I think I want to be great," he finally said.

"Hm. Is it about me and Susan?" Harry asked in a sudden fit of observance. The answering silence was answer enough.

"Oh, Ron. Well, I don't rightly know what to tell you. Do you want to be great or to be cool?"

The pause was even longer this time.

"Cool won't do."

"Good. Well, let's think, shall we? What makes a person great?" Harry started thinking aloud. From the other side of Ron's bed, a raspy voice proclaimed forebodingly:

"Nutritive value!"

"Ack!" The ginger jumped in his bed, holding his heart and breathing loudly. "Damn it, Neville!"

Harry grinned in amusement and pride. Ever since Harry called him his friend, Neville started to become more and more out-going. And their giant argument over the species they were going to buy for their project showed that the quiet boy possessed a rather wicked sense of humour that started to emerge more and more as the days went.

"Well, there's that, but we need qualities that emerge not just post-mortem," he called out wryly.

"How about knowing when to go to sleep?" came an annoyed reply in Dean's voice.

"Hey, Dean. Come on, it's an important question!"

"My wet dreams are much more important. And they are the very definition of 'great'!"

"Crass as always, Seamus. Any other contributions to this discussion?"

"Well, there's charisma."

"How do you go about acquiring that anyway?"

"You don't, it comes naturally. I'd start with becoming smarter and more eloquent."

"Uhm, okay."

"Work out as well. If you go to such trouble to catch some bird, some muscles won't hurt. Find some self-confidence as you go. Okay, I'm out of advice."

"I suppose that the confidence bit will come to you if you become really good at something. Quidditch or I don't know what. Be the top guy in Charms or in Astronomy. You'll have to beat Hermione for that, though," Dean mused.

"It's all well and good, but it's secondary," Neville interrupted. Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"And what's your opinion, oh nutrition master?"

"Self-improvement. Constant self-improvement in all areas."

"That's pretty deep. When did you come up with that?"

"Just now."

"Heh, figures. Well, there you have it, Ron – constantly improve yourself, read smart books for big boys, starting with a thesaurus, find your best subject and become damn good in it and work out. As a side-bonus you'll get self-confidence, charisma and hordes of fangirls," Harry summarised cheerfully, and then threw a pillow at Ron. "Now, let's sleep. I'm bloody tired."

A chorus of agreeing mutters answered him.

Ron was swallowed by the realm of Morpheus soon enough, but not before he made a silent vow to himself.

I will become great.

He dreamt, and he saw a vision much better than anything the Mirror of Erised could promise him.

The next day

"That's the last... one!" Harry huffed and stepped back.

Finally, all of the plants bar a couple of the rarer ones were in place. All that remained was to make the needed illumination, which Neville was also about to finish. The boy stood near the furthest crate and swished his wand in a motion.

"Luminiaria Tempra!"

The last sphere of golden light was brought into existence with soft crackling, and, slightly bouncing in the air, moved into the needed place. Neville sighed noisily.

"Well, that's it until the next package comes."

"Indeed," Harry nodded and smiled slightly. "Not that it'll be all fun and roses from now on."

"Harry, that was terrible."

"You think? Susan likes bad puns. And right now, I'm thinking of showing her this, if only because of the sheer amount of puns in my mind right now. After all, we need to demonstrate the fruits of our hard work..."

"That was even worse."

Despite his words, Neville was obviously fighting a smile. Harry shrugged and waved at the little garden.

"Well, it was just a thought. Now all we need to do is not screw up anything, and by the end of the year, our efforts will bear fruit, as it were."

"I hate you."