4

"ALEX I HAVE NEWS!" Harry burst into the room with a loud shout, virtually bouncing with excitement. His mood, unfortunately, was not shared by a startled young man in front of an array of flasks with similar-looking reddish liquids boiling in them. One such flask, disturbed by the jump the man did, immediately spilled its contents into a nearby cauldron.

BOOM

"Potter, how many times did I ask you not to interrupt me while I'm working?!"

"Too many to count," Harry lifted an eyebrow at the multi-coloured vapours rising from the vibrating cauldron. "What the hell was that?"

"Magical blood doesn't mix well with the standard herbal package, especially heated," Alex told him distractedly, waving his wand at the shattered glass.

"Drop the herbs and use the mineral mix, then."

Chapter 4: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Finally, the day came when Harry had to return to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall side-along Apparated him and his things to the platform 9¾ an hour before the train left. Absently noting that the sensation of being dragged through a ridiculously tight tube got a bit more manageable, he turned to her.

"Professor, I thank you for your hospitality. This summer was the best of my whole life."

He didn't mention that it was a sure winner by default (the summer with the Weasleys didn't count, as the sheer crappiness of the stay with Dursleys before Ron, Fred and George got him out somewhat equalized the things that came after) – that would be awkward.

"It was my pleasure, Harry," she answered warmly, having abandoned the facade of the stern teacher seeing as they weren't in school. She wanted to say something, but Harry wasn't finished. When a person feels that her work is appreciated, she is more likely to do so again,he thought, deciding to lay it on thick.

"I can't thank you enough for your lessons. Without you I undoubtedly would never be that good in Transfiguration," because I wouldn't be able to force myself to work so damn much if you weren't standing over my shoulder. He added, silently.

McGonagall waved off his admittedly rather clumsy attempt at arse-kissing, but he could see that she was pleased.

"Nonsense, Harry – you are just as good as your father was at your age, if not better. You would have little difficulties on your own, when someone finally pointed out your mistake," she ruffled the boy's hair – a gesture that surprised him.

"See that your work in class is just as amazing as your work this summer, and I will, perhaps, think about continuing our lessons… maybe I'll even talk with Filius."

Thatwas a surprise, though far from an unwelcome one. Per Harry's request McGonagall dedicated a few of their lessons to the combat use of Transfiguration. The things she could do left Harry speechless with amazement. From the sounds of it, James used Transfiguration in a fight as well. McGonagall told Harry that his father defeated a foreign mercenary of Voldemort once with a Switching spell by switching his left arm with his opponent's and knocking him out with a hay-maker.

The mention of getting Flitwick in on the lessons meant one thing: formal training in duelling. And that was something Harry was greatly looking forward to.

"Professor, I solemnly swear that this year I will be better than even Hermione," he said in a grave tone with his hand on his chest. McGonagall chuckled lightly.

"Do you know just how much like your father you looked just now?" she asked fondly. Then she quickly grew serious, and after a quick goodbye, Apparated away. Harry looked around the platform, which was now slowly filling up with people. He picked up his trunk and went to the last cabin as per his agreement with Ron and Hermione. After placing the trunk under the seat he lay down – he had had little sleep that night after finding "Pureblood genealogy of Ancient Families" in the library. For a couple of seconds after finding the book Harry was conflicted: a part of him was curious about anything to do with his family, another part was depicting him with a Malfoyish smirk talking about pureblood superiority. After a couple of moments, his curiosity forced the ridiculous mental picture out and he opened the book.

Imagine his surprise and disgust when he found out that Malfoy was his distant cousin. Double it for when he found out the same could be said about Snape. In shock and disgust he read about the cute little pureblood tradition of marrying one's relatives, all to keep the "filthy Mudbloods" out of the family. Harry knew, of course, that the Magical World held Muggleborns (not to mention Muggles) in contempt, but this certainly drove the point home.

Years later, when asked, he would name that night as the moment when he suspected for the first time that there was something deeply wrong with the Magical world.

Trying and failing to suppress a huge yawn Harry scribbled a note which he put on the door using a Sticking charm, after which, he lay down on the bench and went to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was walking through the train with Ron dragging his legs behind her and her new ginger half-kneazle Crookshanks lying in her arms, grumbling slightly at the rocking of the train. After a few greetings on the platform they immediately went to look for Harry. The girl was practically dying to ask him about his holidays – he mentioned in his letters that he was living with McGonagall and that she tutored him in Transfiguration, but when Hermione sent him a letter filled to the brim with questions, he grew evasive and wrote her a rather cheeky letter in which told her to 'wait till school'.

A big, big mistake.

There were two ways to really piss off one Hermione Jane Granger: the first being to offend her morals, as she was at her very core a fighter for justice. The second was to deny her information. Harry and Ron were still shivering at the memory of the rant their friend produced when learning about the Interdiction of Merlin and the Family Magic Law. The first was the ancient rule enforced by magic itself that did not allow the most powerful spells be written down and passed along by any means other than from a Master to an Apprentice. It was done so to prevent anyone not ready for the power such spells had from learning them. Of course, as with all rules, there were loopholes, but wizards as a whole treated the Interdiction with great respect.

The Family Magic Law was a later decree that allowed the existence of spells that were used solely by the members of a particular family. Both this law and the Interdiction served as deterrence for anyone attempting to learn spells that they weren't entitled to by the virtues of sensibility or blood. Naturally, Hermione took it all as an affront to all Muggleborns. That wasn't pretty.

And now, her best friend dared to not tell her about the things he was learning from her favourite professor and actually was teasing her with it.

Ron looked at the back of Hermione's head and shuddered.

Merlin have mercy on his poor soul.

They finally reached the last cabin, where they have agreed to meet. On the door there was a note.

'Harry Potter, Gryffindor extraordinaire,

The Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die,

The Basilisk Slayer yadda-yadda-yadda,

rests here.

Enter at your own peril.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the door, ignoring Ron's guffaw. Boys.

To her surprise, Harry really was sleeping on the seat, snoring lightly. Before entering, she was completely set on rant at him for not answering questions about his summer, but now she did not have the heart to wake him up. She smiled and sat quietly on the opposite seat, releasing Crookshanks and shushing Ron, who was opening his mouth to undoubtedly wake Harry up. They sat and talked quietly for about an hour before the door was opened. Before them stood Draco Malfoy, smirk on his face and two gorilla-like bodyguards of his behind him.

"Well, who do we have here? The Mudblood, the weasel, and the scarhead. Oy, Potty-head! Wake up when your betters talk to you!"

Harry stirred, yawned and sat up, opening his eyes and blinking groggily.

"What's the matter? Ah, Malfoy. Wake me up when it's something important," he said in a sleepy voice and lied down again. Hermione repressed a giggle and looked at Malfoy whose smirk had become a snarl.

"Potter! Wake up when you are talked to, you ignorant halfwit!"

Harry sighed and sat up for a second time.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm not a very patient guy. So how about you take your two apes and go do some verbal vomiting in another place?" he asked in a tired voice. Malfoy shook his head and smirked.

"You can't order your betters around, Potter."

Harry interrupted him with a snort.

"Better? In what, pray tell, are you better than me? Is your inbreeding factor higher than mine? I call that a blessing – look at your goons and you will have proof of my words," he grinned slightly, enjoying the possibility to use the knowledge he earned not long before.

Malfoy's face slowly paled even more from rage. He tried to say something, but Harry continued:

"However, your breeding is not your fault. Neither is your mind-set, come to think of it: you grew up with it. Your orientation is explainable as well. I mean, look at your father! It's a wonder how you were even conceived!"

Malfoy went past pale and into pale with red spots. Ron was openly snickering, but Hermione glanced at Harry, worried. He was still sleepy, but his rant was no less energetic because of it.

"But you know why I don't respect you and likely never will? You can't do anything on your own. Even Quidditch—your daddy bought you the place with the brooms. You act all high and mighty, but every time you are in a difficult situation, you fold and cry for your daddy. How many times did I hear from you the phrase 'When my father hears of this…'? Huh? Answer me, Malfoy! You are nothing but hot air... Now out of my sight, you spineless sack of crotch droppings!"

With these words, Harry stood up and closed the door with a bang and waved his wand at it.

"Colloportus. Merlin I despise the little shit!"

"Language, Harry," Hermione said absentmindedly, still staring at him in shock. He sighed and sat down.Swearing at the blonde ponce, bad boy. Go to your room and think about what you did.

"Sorry. He woke me up and I was cranky. Got a bit worked up."

"No shit," Ron muttered in an awed tone.

"Language, Ron," Hermione muttered, but the redhead ignored her.

"That was awesome, mate! Where did you hear that? 'Crotch droppings', really?"

The girl had enough.

"Stop cursing for Merlin's sake!" she shouted. Ron winced and slid further from her on the seat. Harry, who had just fully processed the fact that he wasn't alone, lifted his head and smiled.

"Hey, guys. How was your summer?"

"Awesome."

"Fine, as you perfectly well know. I wrote to you about it two days ago," Hermione answered stiffly. "Now, mister, you'd better talk about your summer, and don't you dare stall or make excuses!"

Harry made a pitiful face.

"But I really need to go..."

"Harry!" she cried indignantly.

"Oh fine, don't shout," he laughed, then leaned back and smiled at his friends lazily.

"Well, at first I must tell you that McGonagall is really a big softie behind the stern exterior. Of course, she tried to pull that 'No-nonsense Deputy Headmistress' act while alone with me, but it didn't last long. She even calls me 'Harry' now."

"You're kidding me," Ron goggled at him. Harry's grin grew wider and he shook his head.

"Nope. Unfortunately, she's likely to stop that once we're in the castle – professional etiquette and stuff like that. Well, that would be a bit too weird otherwise, so I'm not going to protest."

"And what did she teach you?" Hermione finally asked. Harry's grin turned mischievous.

"Well, this and that. You'll have to wait and see."

Hermione stood up, sat next to him and smacked him upside the head.

"Ouch!"

"You earned it!" she said menacingly, or at least as menacingly as she could while laughing internally. "Now – talk!"

"You are a violent woman. Ouch! See? There was a Malfoy here and she attacks me instead! Okay, jokes aside, long story short we found out that I'm rather gifted in Transfiguration."

Hermione blinked, not having expected this.

"What do you mean – gifted?"

Harry hummed and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, the key to transfiguring something is visualizing the change, right?"

She nodded, puzzled.

"Well, I never really visualized. I kinda got it all wrong because I didn't know the meaning of the word and I always was just trying to force things to transform by willing them to. Naturally, McGonagall corrected it as soon as she realised it, which made things a lot easier than they used to be. It all just clicks, you know? The Professor asked me not to delve into organic-to-organic and self-transfiguration, as those things are dangerous if you mess them up. The same goes with gasses, but that is a universal no-go which I didn't even think about experimenting with. For now, I think that this breakthrough in what is clearly the most difficult subject we've had bar Potions will come in handy. Runes and Arithmancy will surely take quite a lot of effort this year."

Hermione stared at him, feeling a sort of pride that he was approaching this so maturely. Now if only Ron was the same. She sighed and leaned back in the seat, glancing at the door. That reminded her about something.

"By the way, what's the deal with the note on the door? Did you grow a big head?"

Harry laughed, waving his hand.

"Nah, you would deflate it immediately. That was just a joke. I thought about adding something about the troll, but technically it was Ron who knocked out the smelly bugger," Harry paused. "You know, Ron kinda deserves a title for that!"

Ron smiled smugly and scratched his head.

"What would it be then? Troll Hunter?"

"Nah, not flashy enough. Troll-brainer?" Harry chortled at the look on Ron's face. "Yeah, thought not."

The boys grinned at each other, accepting the game, and proceeded to invent more and more ridiculous nicknames.

"Leviclubbus?"

"The-Guy-Who-Stunned?"

"Prince Charming?" both Harry and Ron lifted an eyebrow at Hermione, who grew a bit pink. "Well, Wingardium Leviosa is a charm."

"You know, I like that one," Harry noted after a short pause. "You went in and faced a monster to save your lady. Nice."

Hermione blushed stronger, but still had a small smile on her lips. Ron's ears were flaming red, and he refused to meet the eyes of anybody else.

While Harry was chuckling at their embarrassment, Crookshanks jumped to Hermione's hands and she automatically started petting him. She threw a glance at Harry and noticed him participate in a staring contest with the half-kneazle.

"And who's this guy?" Harry asked, still staring at the cat without blinking.

"He's my cat, Crookshanks," she answered. Harry nodded and blinked accidentally.

"Ah, damn. Lost contest to a fur ball. Well... I must say that he is either extremely cute in an ugly sort of way, or damn ugly in a cute sort of way. I can't figure it out."

Crookshanks meowed in a distinctly protesting tone, and Harry chuckled.

"No offense, big guy. If Hermione has chosen you for a pet, you're okay in my book."

"Not in mine," Ron muttered darkly, having gotten over his embarrassment. Harry glanced at him.

"Let me guess – the ginger menace either didn't like Scabbers, or liked our good ol'

ray of sunshine too much?"

"Right in one. Scabbers was ill even before Hermione bought that monstrosity, but now he is positively wasting away!"

"Crookshanks isn't a monstrosity!" she protested, and the cat meowed in agreement.

The second half of the trip to school was uneventful. Ron shared the details of his visit to Egypt, including a slightly funny (not that Hermione admitted it) story about the time when the twins locked Percy in a pyramid. Yes, it was a bit cruel, but the perfect imitation of Percy's reaction that Ron performed made it difficult for the girl to maintain her poker face.

Approximately half an hour before they were to be in Hogsmeade the train slowed down and stopped. She looked outside the window and didn't see any of the signs that they were already at the station.

"Why have we stopped?" Ron grumbled. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. We aren't there yet, and… Wait," he looked at the front of the train. "Someone's moving aboard."

They sat in silence for a long time. Hermione shivered slightly and only then noticed that the temperature has been getting lower and lower for the last five minutes. Their breath was coming out in fog and the window was misted over as well. Ron looked at Harry, who silently grabbed his wand, a grim expression on his face.

"I have a really bad feeling about this," he grumbled, standing up. He quietly opened the door and looked out into the corridor. They looked at him as he shuddered, grew still for a moment and staggered backwards, closing the door with a bang and falling on his backside.

"Harry! What's happening?" Hermione asked him frantically, coming to his side and checking him for any external clues as to what has just happened. He was paler than a sheet and trembled slightly, his eyes wide and looking at something only he could see.

Hermione and Ron were Harry's best friends for a long time. They went through so much together: the troll, the Philosopher's stone defences, all the chaos of anti-Muggleborn attacks last year. But not once in their life have they seen him scared.

And now he was, to the point of cold sweat and shaking, terrified out of his mind. For them it was disturbing to the highest degree. Hermione looked at the closed door in fear. What was there that reduced Harry to this state?

"Harry? Harry! What happened? Are you OK?" Ron asked, unsettled. Harry blinked, as if coming to his senses, drew a shaking breath and pointed his wand at the door.

"Colloportus."

The locking spell immediately slammed the door closed.

"Harry, what's wrong? What did you see?"

Harry shook his head in response and lifted himself from the floor. After a minute, when he started to come around, they glimpsed bright silver light coming from under the door. After a brief pulse the light receded and vanished, the overwhelming cold leaving along with it.

"Something wrong on every level…" Harry muttered finally. "I don't know what that was, but it was wrong." He raised his head. "Someone cried... A woman. Hermione, are you alright?"

"I didn't cry, Harry," was a puzzled answer. "And I didn't hear anything."

"Weird."

All three of grew silent. Hermione was looking at Harry in worry. Ron was doing the same.

The rest of the trip to Hogwarts went in grim silence.

The walk from the Hogsmeade station to the carriages lacked the usual cheer as most of the students were still trying to get over the feelings forced on them by the creatures that swept the train. Some of them were acting cheerful, trying to raise the spirits of their peers, some were really not affected at all, but there were also those who still were trembling like leaves in the wind.

Harry sat in the carriage going to the school, breathing in the cool air and trying to soothe himself. He still felt cold. Whatever that thing was, it affected me greatly. I only got a glimpse of the dark figure at the end of the train, and it reduced me to a mess!

He felt more than saw the worried looks Hermione and Ron were giving him since the incident. He could understand them – if one of them was in his place, he would be extremely worried as well. But would they have the same reaction? Maybe it is just me that is weak! Harry waved that thought off. Whoever confronted the creature on the train would be terrified just as I was.

Harry narrowed his eyes, looking in the distance. He just had a thought that, if true, would explain some things.

But why would Dumbledore allow dementors on the train? Surely he understood what a terrible idea that was!

Harry got out of the carriage, thinking furiously. Those creatures are under control of Ministry. They guard Azkaban. Therefore, there is only one reason they would be on the train – Black. Nevertheless, did our esteemed headmaster eat one lemon drop too many? Allowing them near the children is madness!

The trio entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table opposite to the twins.

"Hermione, Harry – good to see you two!" the left twin said, while the right one nodded. Harry managed to smile tiredly at them, though judging by their faces, the smile was of an unsettling kind.

"Harry, mate, what has happened to you?" the left twin asked with a frown.

"You look like death that no one's bothered to warm!" the right one added with a mirroring expression.

Hermione answered that before Harry could open his mouth.

"Whatever it was that was in the corridor when we stopped."

"And he looks fine in comparison to how he was directly after that," Ron said, looking at him. Harry rolled his eyes slightly.

"I'm fine now. But I can't imagine what Dumbledore was thinking bringing dementors to the train, Black or not."

"Dementors?" George boggled at him. "That was what they were? The demons that bring out one's worst memories?"

"Well, that explains why Ginny was beside herself," Fred shook his head sadly.

Harry immediately looked at Ginny, who sat down the table near the other second-years. As if feeling his stare, she looked up the moment his eyes found her. She smiled at him – well, more like grimaced – and he nodded. There was a moment of complete understanding between them.

The first years passed between the tables. Harry looked at them in wonder and curiosity. Was I that tiny? What am I talking about, I'm still not that tall. Harry briefly mused why exactly his height was very much average when his father was said to be rather tall, but soon got distracted by the Hat's song.

Harry listened to the usual advertisements of different Houses in rhymed form. He wondered if the only thing the Hat did all year was thinking up the lyrics for the next song while sitting in the Headmaster's office. It was a pretty miserable existence, come to think of it.

A couple of minutes later the Sorting was complete and the Headmaster rose from his throne-like chair.

"I have a few announcements to make, but that will wait. For now – tuck in!"

"Hear, hear!" Ron muttered, before attacking the appeared food with a vengeance. Harry shared a look with Hermione, who shook her head fondly and followed his example, if only without making a mess.

Once the last of the desserts vanished, leaving the plates sparkling clean, the headmaster got to his feet.

"Now, on with the start-of-the-year announcements. I remind you that the Forbidden forest is exactly that, forbidden. We would have renamed it otherwise. Mister Filch, our caretaker, as always has asked me to remind you all again that casting spells in the corridors is not permitted. However, we all know the difference between what should be and what is," he waited out the snickers. Harry smiled and shook his head at the Headmaster's typical brand of humour: wise-sounding remarks with a philosophical air about them.

Dumbledore continued. "The list of forbidden items has once again expanded. You can see it on the door of caretaker's office." He paused and his eyes stopped twinkling. Whatever he is going to say next must be a grave matter indeed. Wait, when did I start imitating him in my thoughts?

"As many of you know, Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban," what little noise there was in the background immediately vanished. "As per the minister of magic's order, the Hogwarts grounds are now guarded by the dementors."

Harry's jaw met the table.How Dumbledore could agree to something like this? Well, judging from the clear distaste on his face, he didn't. Interesting...

"They will patrol the castle's outer walls. Do not leave the grounds – they will not differentiate between a convict and a student. They are very dangerous and provoking them would be a terrible mistake. Don't go anywhere near them."

"So now we have a legion of demons supposedly 'protecting' us. Hell, we need protection from them!" Harry muttered to the nods of agreement from his friends.

"Onto the more pleasant news, professor Kettleburn has decided to retire and enjoy the use of his remaining limbs. His place as professor of Care for Magical creatures will be taken by no other than Rubeus Hagrid!"

The trio goggled at their friend, who had to be elbowed by McGonagall to remember to stand up. They cheered at him together with the rest of the Gryffindor table. Harry snickered when he saw that when Hagrid stood up, he moved the table away from the rest of the teachers, causing Snape to drop his tea on his lap. Oh, that face!

"Well, it explains the biting book," Ron said and Harry nodded with a wry grin.

"Yeah, if that isn't Hagrid's style, I don't know what is."

"Defence against the Dark Arts will be taught this year by professor Remus Lupin. Good luck, professor."

The student body clapped politely, looking at the new professor appraisingly. The guy took modesty to a new level and somehow managed to make worn clothes look good, or, at least, as good as possible. I grew up with Dursleys, I know something about rags.

"I wonder what's wrong with the new professor," Harry said thoughtfully as they walked to the Gryffindor tower.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked and Harry looked at him as if he was being an idiot, which he currently was.

"First year: stuttering fool of a professor, piggy-backing Voldemort to the castle," he ignored the flinch at the name. "Second year: we've got Lockhart, the Obnoxious Obliviating Oligophren…"

"Oligo-who?" Ron blinked.

"It means 'imbecile'," Hermione explained absently. "So you think that the new teacher will be just as bad only because we didn't have decent teachers previously?"

"Hang on. Oi! Fred! George! Wait a second!" the twins stopped before a staircase that just moved away.

"Guys, who taught Defence before Quirrell?"

They frowned and shared a look.

"Professor Hughes," Fred said slowly and George nodded, grinning widely.

"Good woman, halfway decent teacher, but she got fired with a bang," they snickered.

"Yeah. That was a certifiable shit-storm," Fred reminisced with a mischievous smile, as if remembering something particularly amusing. The staircase returned to its place. Hermione stared at them suspiciously as they continued walking to the tower.

"What did you do?"

The twins shared an amused grin.

"Why, Hermione, we didn't do anything!"

"Pity, that," Fred shook his head in regret. George punched him in the arm.

"You wouldn't know what to do, brother of mine."

"And you would?"

"Unfortunately, no, I wouldn't. Bill gave us the talk only after that year, remember?" they both grinned widely and winked at Ron, who after a couple of seconds of stupid blinking grew redder than a tomato. Judging by the slightly appalled and thoughtful look on Hermione's face, she was close to understanding what the hell happened to that teacher. Harry turned to the twins.

"What, precisely, caused said storm of bodily fluids?"

"Well, McGonagall caught her together with three Slytherin seventh years in her office," George said, smiling somewhat predatory.

"Why couldn't it be Gryffindors?" Fred wailed, putting his hands together as if praying.

"Well, there isthat saying about Slytherins and their snakes…"

"George!" Hermione screeched, blushing wildly. Harry looked from twins to my friends, a bit confused.

"I'm not following."

Fred and George looked at him in surprise, then comprehension. After that they shared a look and turned to him with predatory smirks. Harry managed to withhold a reflexive gulp, but that was a close call.

"Harry, our friend…" George began.

"Do you know, per chance, where babies come from?"

"Well, of course, but..."

He blinked. And then his brain pieced together the hints from the previous dialogue that he ignored because of the seeming impossibility of the conclusion.

"She did not..."

They nodded with similar grins. Both Ron and Hermione resembled tomatoes by this time.

"Merlin! I thought she was caught having tea with the students, which is not a reason for tossing her out of the school, but..."

"If they were drinking anything, it wasn't tea, that's for sure!" George winked at him. Ron blanched suddenly – an impressive feat of his capillary system considering he was redder than a boiled crayfish before becoming whiter than a chalk.

"I've just had a disgusting thought about McGonagall..." he said in a monotone voice. The company gagged.

"Thank you for that wonderful mental image, Ronniekins."

"I think I threw up in my mouth a bit..."

"RONALD! That is disgusting!"

"No, seriously, Ron, what is it with you and making me want to throw up? First recommending Knight Bus, now this... Ugh, I need to wash my brain," Harry shook his head. "OK, moving along. Do you know who the DADA professor before her was?"

"Professor Cardigan. Nice man, but didn't know a thing about teaching. Still, he was better than Snape."

"He was found dead near the forest in the end of the year. No one knows what happened, but it seemed like a Killing Curse."

"Okay. And before him...?"

The twins shrugged in synch.

"Ask someone older, but not Percy, you know how he is about the teachers."

"Yeah, we wonder if he's adopted."

"What about Ronniekins? We wonder the same about him, as well."

"Ah, but we do it only occasionally. With Percy, it's all the time."

They continued in the same vein even after the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open. Harry rolled his eyes at the banter and went on to find anybody who would inform him.

Elsa Connors, the seventh year prefect, told them that the DADA professor from her first year had to be extradited to Germany – apparently, the guy was a mass murderer. Her second year was only marginally better featuring a prim woman who was brought up in an abbey and was fiercely religious. Her beliefs and her magical inclination mixed weirdly and she varied between being a moderately good teacher and having passionate rants about the sinful nature of everything in the castle. After the school year she was hospitalised and now was in St. Mungo's Mental Ward. The mind healers were optimistic, though.

After hearing this, Harry threw a meaningful look at his friends. Hermione sighed.

"Fine, Harry, you were right. But what are you going to do about it?"

He grinned at her.

"We are going to do exactly what we do best – investigate!"