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Chapter 4: Den

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Harry, wake up."

In a leisurely sort of way, Harry’s mind began to work. He was at school, at Hogwarts, and it was Friday morning. He was lying on a rather harder surface than his mattress, but he’d still slept better there than he had his entire two weeks at school — so well, in fact, that he was waking up much more slowly than he usually did.

It was the common room floor, Harry recalled. He, Draco, Hermione, and Ron had denned there the night before. That was where he was, and why he’d slept so well.

And the voice still trying to rouse him was familiar. Somewhat high-pitched, a trifle squeaky and nervous-sounding…

"Neville?" Harry opened his eyes to see the blurred outline of his housemate hovering over him. "Good morning." He sat up and yawned slightly.

"Good morning," answered Neville automatically, staring at him. "Why are you all sleeping down here?"

Harry shrugged, standing up to retrieve his glasses, which he’d left on the nearest table so he didn’t roll over on them. "We wanted to."

"Did you do that?"

"What?"

Neville pointed. Harry turned to look.

Part of the wall beside the fireplace was no longer there. A hole gaped where it had been, revealing what looked like the entrance to a stone slide. Harry cautiously stuck his hand into the opening, ready to pull back if his fingers touched stone, but the hole was real enough, as was the slide. It felt slick and ready for use.

"Is that Hermione?" asked Neville, pointing at the brown hair just visible at one side of the untidy pile of blankets which constituted their den.

"Yes."

Neville seemed a bit nonplussed by the calm way Harry was treating his questions. "Why is she sleeping here with you?"

"Because she wanted to."

Their voices were rousing the other sleepers. "I won’t tell anyone," said Neville hastily as Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes. "About this."

"Thanks."

"What’s that?" asked Draco, pointing at the hole in the wall.

"Don’t know. It was here when I woke up."

"It was here when I came down," volunteered Neville. "Was it here when you went to, er, bed?"

"No, I think we would have noticed a big hole in the wall," said Harry as Ron grunted loudly and rolled over. "We were tired, but not that tired. Neville, what time is it?"

Neville checked his watch. "About 7:15."

"We don’t have Potions until 9," said Harry, looking down the slide. He grinned at Draco. "Want to do some Marauding?"

"I don’t know," said Draco doubtfully. "We don’t know where it goes."

"What’s happening?" asked Ron, finally getting his eyes open after several moments of trying.

"There’s a big hole in the wall," said Draco.

Ron focused on it. "Yeah, there is," he said sleepily. "How’d that get there?"

"We don’t know yet."

"Where’s it go?"

"We don’t know that either." Draco’s face lit up suddenly. "But I know how we can find out. Wait here." He hurried to the boys’ stairs.

"Where’s he going?" asked Hermione, emerging from under the blankets with her hair in wild disarray (which really didn’t make it look too different from the way it usually did, Harry thought). Neville looked a bit flustered to be in the presence of a girl in pajamas, but Hermione didn’t even seem to notice.

"I’m not sure." Harry watched his brother climb the stairs and enter one of the dormitories.

"That’s not ours," said Ron. "What’s he doing in the third years’ dorm?"

"The twins are third years." Hermione yawned. "Maybe he’s borrowing the Map."

Harry hit himself on the forehead. The Map, of course. The Marauders’ Map would be able to tell them if this new area of the school was safe or not.

Or will it? Padfoot and Moony had never told them anything about a secret passage in the Gryffindor common room. If the Marauders didn’t know about it, will it still show up on the Map?

Draco emerged from the room, waving the tattered piece of parchment in triumph. He slid down the banister and dismounted smoothly at the bottom, grinning.

"Very nice," said Harry, accepting the Map from his brother. "Anyone have their wand on them?"

"I do," said Neville, pulling it out of his pocket. "What’s that?"

"Magic map," said Ron nonchalantly, coming to stand with the other boys. Hermione shook her hair out of her face and joined them.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," said Harry, touching Neville’s wand to the center of the parchment.

Neville stared as the Map activated. "It shows everything on the grounds," explained Harry, waiting for the lines to finish appearing. "Everything and everyone. And as far as we know, it can’t be fooled."

Sensing what its user wanted, the Map was displaying a close-up of the Gryffindor common room. "That’s me!" said Neville in surprise, pointing at the ink dot labeled "Neville Longbottom," which was standing between dots labeled "Draco Black" and "Ron Weasley."

"Everyone means everyone, Neville," said Hermione with a smile. "Let’s see if it’s got our mysterious passage…"

Sure enough, the hole in the wall was on the Map, as was a little scroll-like picture beside it. Hermione read aloud the writing on the scroll, which unrolled as she read.

"This passage leads to one of the most interesting secrets of Hogwarts. Anyone entering these rooms will be pleasantly surprised, but not harmed. There are many ways in — you have discovered only one of them. The passwords for the other ways are similar, but perhaps not the same. Best of luck in discovering them all."

"Good enough for me," said Harry, rolling up the Map and sticking it into the pocket of his pajamas.

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Hermione.

"No. But the Map says it’s safe. What’s the worst that could happen?"

"You could get stuck there — wherever there is," said Ron. "And we don’t even know what the password is to get you out."

"If there’s a way in, there has to be a way out," said Harry reasonably. "And I’ve got the Map. I’ll manage."

"You could get lost," said Draco. "You might miss Potions."

"And what’s so bad about that?"

"Snape taking a point off Gryffindor for every minute you’re late?"

Harry winced. "True enough. All right, I’ll only look around for five minutes. Then I’ll come back. That do?"

"Is there any way to stop you?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Probably not."

"Then all right. Five minutes. I’ll be timing you."

"With what?"

"Neville, can I borrow your watch?"

Neville nodded, slid it off his wrist, and handed it over. "You can use my wand, if you want to," he said as Harry made to return it. "Just be careful with it — it was my dad’s."

"All right. Wish me luck."

Draco and Hermione scent-touched him, Ron punched him lightly on the shoulder, and Neville shook his hand a bit awkwardly.

There was a bar set into the wall over the top of the slide, Harry noticed as he approached it, not in the slide itself but above it — probably so people could grab on and swing themselves in quickly, but wouldn’t hit their heads on it as they slid. He hoisted himself into the slide with its help.

"Here I go," he said, and pushed off.

The slide was tall enough that he could sit up as he went, and once he’d rounded two bends, entirely dark. He fumbled Neville’s wand out of his pocket. "Lumos," he said, and was rewarded with a rather faint light, probably not strong enough to read by, but strong enough that he could see the smooth, bare walls of the tunnel. The stone was slick against his hands as he touched it, and he was moving fairly fast.

Then the floor fell out from under him.

But before he had time to do more than gasp at the shock of falling, he’d landed with a whump on something soft.

Red, was his first impression. Lots of red.

He’d fallen into a handsomely appointed bedroom. There was light coming from somewhere (other than the wand in his hand), and it showed him that the double bed he lay on, the chest of drawers and wardrobe to his left, and the desk and chair to his right were all done in red and gold, as were the walls and carpeted floor, but not in such a way that the room felt stifling or overdone. It was just a touch grand but still welcoming, the sort of room Harry wouldn’t have minded having for himself.

So far so good. Harry climbed off the bed, which was quite comfortable, and went to the door, which was in the opposite one of the eight walls from the one which the head of the bed sat against. The knob turned in his hand, and he pushed the door open.

The room beyond was also octagonal, but these walls were grey stone, each hung with a banner above a door, all seemingly identical to the one he had entered by. The banner above this door, as well as the one next to it on the left, was red. The next two banners to the left were blue, green adorned the opposite walls, and yellow to Harry’s right completed the circle. In the center of the room was a large round table, with (Harry took a quick count) twelve chairs around it.

He pulled out the Map and looked at it. The small cluster of four dots gathered around the hole in the Gryffindor common room wall drew his eye first. Then he realized something.

"I’m not on here," he said aloud.

You’re in an Unplottable area of the castle, the Map printed in a bit of clear space to one side. No one who doesn’t know a password to one of the doors can find you here.

"How many doors are there?"

Eight.

"Do any of them lead out?"

They all do, with the right password.

"Can I get out the same way I came in?"

Certainly. Three jumps ought to do it. And the password, of course.

"What password?"

You said it last night, don’t you remember?

"Er, no."

Well, you’re still new at this, so you get one for free. "Thank you, Godric."

"All right. Thanks."

You’re welcome. The Map wiped the written conversation away.

"Three jumps," Harry ruminated aloud. "Three jumps on what?" Then he felt stupid.

On the bed, of course. The way I came in.

He returned to the red bedroom, climbed up on the bed, and began bouncing. One. Two. Three.

"Thank you, Godric," he said aloud as he jumped the third time.

The ceiling opened over his head, and he shot upwards into it. It closed again below him, depositing him in a sitting position on the floor, and before he could do anything, he was sliding again — only this time, he was sliding uphill

A moment later, he could see light from up ahead, and in a few seconds he was climbing out of the hole in the wall, having come to a halt at its rim, with his feet dangling down the wall.

"What’s down there?" asked Ron before Harry had even put his feet on the floor.

"A bedroom. What looks like a meeting room. And a whole bunch of other doors."

"Are they locked?"

"No."

"Why didn’t you open them, then?"

"Because someone was timing me and probably would have gone and got a teacher if I hadn’t come back within my five minutes." Harry stared hard at Hermione, who stared back unabashedly. "And because I think we should all get a look. Anyone else game?"

"Sure," said Draco, hands already on the bar. "How does it work?"

"It’s just a slide, like at a playground or something. Then the floor drops out from under you, and you land on a bed. Yell back up when you’re clear so we know to send the next person down."

"All right." Draco swung himself into the tube and disappeared. After a few moments, a yell echoed up into the common room. "All clear!"

"Neville?" Harry gestured to the open tube.

"Erm — ladies first," stammered Neville.

Hermione lifted her eyebrows in frosty amusement, a mannerism Harry was sure she’d learned from Letha. "If you insist," she said in the tone which matched the expression, and was in the tube and gone in a flash.

Neville went next (with a boost from Harry to get him in), then Ron. Before Harry climbed in the second time, he paused.

"Thank you, Godric," he said again, experimentally, and watched a section of stone wall slide out of a slot and close off the tunnel. The illusion of the unbroken wall was perfect. If you didn’t know it was there, you would never guess — which was obviously the point. Harry repeated the password to open the tunnel again, climbed in, and closed it behind himself before he pushed off.

No sense in leaving it open and making everyone wonder what’s down the interesting hole.

His friends were waiting for him at the bottom, some more impatiently than others — Ron, in particular, looked quiveringly eager to explore this new and fascinating area of the castle. Neville seemed a little scared, but the obvious excitement of the rest of the group was rubbing off on him, Harry thought.

"Neville, can you keep us updated on the time?" Hermione was saying as Harry landed on the bed. "We need to be out of here by eight o’clock or someone’s going to wonder where we are. 8:15, tops."

"I can do that." Neville nodded confidently and checked his watch. "It’s 7:21 now."

"So we’re good for almost an hour," said Harry, getting to his feet. "Everyone ready?"

Four nods answered him.

"Lady and gentlemen, the main room," announced Draco, opening the door with a flourish. "The décor is primitive and mostly primary, with a daring touch of secondary in places."

"Say that again in English," said Ron.

"It’s old fashioned and uses a lot of simple bright colors."

"Why didn’t you say so?"

"I did."

Harry opened the door under the other red banner.

Wow, he thought to himself.

"Kitchen," said Draco dismissively from behind him. "Boring."

Harry privately disagreed. The stove took up most of one wall by itself. It had six burners, which appeared to be gas rather than electric, and one of the biggest ovens Harry had ever seen. I wonder how many cookies you could bake in there at one time?

But his friends were fidgeting, so he closed the door and moved on.

I can always come back.

The next door to the left, under a blue banner, was almost the twin of the red bedroom, except that it was (unsurprisingly) blue. Hermione went in and ran her hand along the desk. "There’s no dust," she said, coming back out. "It’s like people were just here yesterday."

"There’s probably a permanent cleaning spell in place in here," said Ron. "To keep it from getting messy."

"Or maybe the house elves know about it," said Neville, looking surprised at his own daring in speaking up. "Maybe they come in and clean."

"Could be either." Harry opened the other blue door.

Hermione gave a cry of delight. The room was a library. Draco followed her into the room, looking rather delighted himself, and as Harry entered he saw the reason why.

Of course. A piano.

Draco lifted the lid and touched the keys. "Nothing," he said. "No dust at all." He tried a few chords. "And it’s even in tune." He began to play something Harry vaguely recognized as a favorite piece of Padfoot’s, something fairly lively and up-tempo.

Hermione was lost in rapturous contemplation of the shelf-lined walls. Ron and Harry exchanged weary glances — almost four years of friendship, in one case, and nine and a half years of siblinghood, in the other, had taught both boys that Miss Granger-Lupin had to be physically removed from the presence of books before she would make any kind of sense.

"I think I like this place," volunteered Neville, who was still standing in the doorway. "It feels friendly. Almost like it was waiting for us."

"I think I like it too," said Harry, steering Hermione out the door. "And we haven’t even seen what’s behind half the doors yet…"

The first green door was, predictably, a green bedroom, which wasn’t as repellent to Harry as he would have thought it would be. Ron refused to enter it, saying he felt like he was going to drown, but Harry, Hermione, and Neville went inside to look at the decorations, and Draco lay down on the bed and let his head dangle off the edge. "Why are you all walking on the ceiling?" he asked, laughing.

"Why are you about to fall off the bed?" returned Hermione.

"I’m not — oof." Hermione’s quick eye had seen Draco’s weight shifting the covers on the bed, and the quilt and the blond boy fell to the floor in a tangled heap. He began to extricate himself, then paused. "There’s something under the bed," he called out. "I think it’s a portrait."

"Let’s get it out, then," said Harry, joining Draco on the floor. He felt a surge of excitement. A portrait might be able to tell them who had made this place, and why…

The two boys together were able to wrestle the heavy frame out and lean it up against the bottom of the bed for everyone to look at.

It was empty, except for a chair done in what looked like green dragon leather.

"That’s boring," said Ron. "Who’s it supposed to be, Salazar Slytherin?"

"Not nearly," said a voice from the portrait, and the occupant strolled into view.

"Harry, he looks like you," blurted Neville, staring at the man who seated himself in the chair. "Like you grown up."

Harry too was staring. The man did indeed bear a resemblance to him — not the almost mirror-image likeness he knew he had to his father, but a more general sort of thing — both of them were dark-haired, green-eyed, and rather confident-looking… but more than that, he had the oddest feeling that he’d seen this man somewhere before…

"Yes, we do look a bit alike," the portrait acknowledged, "but there’s nothing in it. You can call me Al. And you’re Harry, Hermione, Draco, Neville, and Ron. Right?"

"How’d you know that?" asked Neville with a trace of fear in his voice.

"Word gets around." The man leaned back in his chair and regarded them all lazily. "I’m here to tell you that you’re on the right track one hundred percent. Especially you, Neville. This place has been waiting for you, more or less. Don’t worry about any previous tenants coming back to bother you — they won’t. They’d be delighted that you’ve found it. So don’t be afraid to use it. It belongs to you. Really, it all belongs to you in a way." He smiled as if he had a secret. "The school is your oyster. All you have to do is find the pearl."

He rose and walked casually out of the frame.

"This place is ours?" Draco looked around at the opulence of their surroundings. "Wicked."

"Dibs on the red bedroom," said Ron quickly.

"Only if you’ll share," said Harry, getting up. "There’s five of us and only four bedrooms, someone’s going to have to."

"You’re not thinking of actually moving in down here?" Hermione sounded shocked.

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"We can’t. We have to stay in the dorms or someone will find out about this. Maybe we can den down here, but that’s all. We’ll be missed if we leave any oftener than that."

Ron looked disappointed, but he nodded, acknowledging Hermione’s point. This place would only continue to be special if it remained theirs and theirs alone.

"Denning down here sounds good," said Draco, getting to his feet. "That way no one can walk in on us."

"Speaking of walking in, Neville, what time is it?" asked Harry suddenly.

"7:45. And I’m really sorry I found you doing that — denning, is it called?" Neville flushed slightly. "I didn’t mean to."

"We were being stupid," said Hermione, leading the way out of the green bedroom. "Doing it right there in the common room where anyone could see us. We were just lucky it wasn’t someone like Percy."

Ron shivered. "Please. Don’t even think that. Do you know what my perfect prefect brother would say if he found me sleeping in a pile of sheets with a girl?"

"I don’t think I want to know," said Draco as Harry opened the other green door.

The room beyond it was vast and echoing. As they stepped through the door, something tickled Harry’s bare feet. He looked down.

"Grass?" he said aloud in bemusement.

The lights came on. Ron gasped. Harry’s heart leapt.

They were standing at one end of what appeared to be an indoor Quidditch pitch, complete with goal hoops and spectator stands around the walls.

"Someone pinch me," moaned Ron in what sounded like ecstasy.

Hermione obliged.

"It’s not a dream…" Ron muttered, stumbling to the base of one of the goal hoops and leaning against it.

"Is that a broomshed I see over there?" asked Draco, pointing.

There was a general rush in that direction. Even Ron recovered enough to join in. "School brooms," he said dismissively, looking at the dozen broomsticks neatly arrayed in the shed. "They’ll get you up in the air, but not much speed or maneuverability."

"If everyone’s got the same, then there’s no problem, is there?" asked Hermione, looking over the boys’ shoulders. "And — is that a Quidditch set in the back?"

It was. Just for fun, Harry released the Snitch and took off after it, to the whoops and cheers of his friends. It only took him about five minutes to track it down and catch up with it, but he knew with thirteen other players and three other balls on the pitch, his job would be much harder.

But that’s why they give me the hundred and fifty points.

There were only the yellow doors left now, and they were not quite a disappointment, but not nearly as exciting to anyone as the others had been. The first door, of course, was a bedroom done in differing shades of yellow, and the second —

"Well, if we were going to stay here for any length of time, we’d need one, of course," said Hermione, peering in. "Still, a bathroom’s a bathroom."

"I like the window," said Neville, running his hand along the dust-free sill. "I think it’s the only one here. It may not even be real — I don’t think that’s Hogwarts grounds out there — but it’s nice to see some sunlight. And I bet I could put a plant or two on this windowsill."

"Probably what it’s there for," Harry agreed.

"Even the chairs match the color scheme," said Draco from the main room, pulling one of them out from the large round table. "Three in each color. Very coordinated."

"We could practically move in down here," Ron said, sitting on the edge of the table. "We’d never have to leave."

"As long as we had food," Hermione pointed out. "But you’re right. We do seem to have just about everything else we could need."

Harry sighed, looking around at the room. Already he felt dennish about the place, an odd mixture of proprietary protectiveness and comfortable security, but even without asking Neville, he knew they were close to their deadline. "We should get back," he said reluctantly.

No one wanted to leave, but they all knew they’d be missed if they stayed much longer. One by one, they climbed onto the red bed, jumped three times, and said, "Thank you, Godric" to open the ceiling and return to the Gryffindor common room. Harry went last, and made a silent promise as he looked around the room.

I’ll be back. I’ll be back soon.

xXxXx

Ron and Hermione were working together this week in Potions, with Hermione keeping an eye on Neville, who was working with Dean Thomas. Ron had just finished measuring out seven ounces of pomegranate juice when there was a muffled explosion from the other side of the room.

"Everyone, stay calm," intoned Snape, sweeping over to the site of the trouble. "Mr. Nott, what is this?"

"I… don’t know, Professor," said Nott, looking rather confused. "What is it?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. That amount of cheek from a Gryffindor would have cost them at least ten house points, possibly more. But Nott was a Slytherin, and therefore, in what passed for Snape’s greasy mind, entitled to a free ride to the hospital wing without even a mention of punishment.

"I think I hate him," said Ron idly as the Gryffindors climbed the stairs to the entrance hall.

"You’re not sure?" asked Draco.

"Give me another week, then I will be."

Hermione, ahead of them, stopped dead, causing Draco to bump into her. "Neenie — Hermione, sorry — what’s wrong?"

"Nothing’s wrong," said Hermione. "There’s actually something right. Look at the house point counters."

"What about them?" asked Harry.

"Look at Slytherin’s. Doesn’t it look… lower to you?"

"I don’t have a perfect memory. Does it?"

"It does — it is. It was at least twenty points higher yesterday."

Ron snickered. "D’you think someone got caught out of bed?"

"I think that’s a distinct possibility," drawled Draco, grinning. "Come on, let’s get lunch."

xXxXx

The homework load was increasing as the year got underway, with the corollary that the cubs were unable to investigate their newest discovery (which they were now referring to as their den) any further over the next week. Still, it was exciting to have a secret — and such a secret. A whole little world of their own, which no one else knew about…

Nott was being very quiet in the hallways and in the Great Hall at mealtimes. Harry hoped that getting twenty points docked from Slytherin for being caught out of bed at midnight by Professor McGonagall (the story had finally got around to them via the twins on Saturday) had shut him up, if not for good, then for a little while at least.

On Thursday, Harry woke up with a feeling of dread. Thursday meant Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Defense meant Lockhart, and quite possibly another round in the white fur suit, since they hadn’t finished demonstrating everything Lockhart had done to the yeti.

Hermione, on the other hand, was bouncing with happiness when the boys joined her in the common room. "Guess what today is," she said, grinning.

"Many happy returns, Hermione," said Draco, giving her a little bow.

"Oh, no fair, you knew."

"You are my sister."

"Oh, it’s your birthday?" asked Ron. "Many happy returns — I’m still used to thinking of you two as twins, with the summer birthday…"

Hermione and Draco laughed.

Harry felt terrible as he climbed out the portrait hole. It was his sister’s birthday, and he hadn’t remembered.

Can this day get any worse?

"Potter."

He looked up. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of him.

"You three," she said, indicating him, Draco, and Hermione. "My office. Now."

"What did we do?" protested Hermione.

"I will not tolerate that tone of voice, Miss Granger-Lupin. Come with me."

"See you," Harry muttered to a confused-looking Ron as the cubs set off after McGonagall.

He looks like I feel. What did we do?

Draco looked back at him and shrugged. Harry returned the gesture.

Was it the den? Is that some kind of secret place students aren’t supposed to know about? But the portrait had said it was theirs, and no one would mind that they were using it…

McGonagall stopped in front of her office door and opened it. The room within was dark. "Inside," she said, waving them in.

This is officially strange.

But Harry stepped between Draco and Hermione and led the way into the room. As soon as Hermione’s heels had cleared the doorframe, Professor McGonagall closed the door behind them, plunging them into total darkness.

This is VERY strange…

"Surprise!" chorused five voices as the lights came on.

Meghan and the Pack-parents were standing in the middle of the office.

The next few minutes were devoted to the highly decorous and restrained greetings of a Pack which had been separated for two and a half weeks. Harry thought Hermione and Meghan’s squeals could probably have been heard in Snape’s office in the dungeons, but it didn’t bother him. He was too busy hugging and being hugged by both Danger and Letha at the same time, then breaking away to join the roughhousing which Draco, Padfoot, and Moony had initiated.

"Many happy returns, Hermione," said Padfoot after everything had settled down a bit. "Accio Present." A large, squarish package flew across the room and landed in Padfoot’s hands, and he handed it over to Hermione.

Hermione ripped into it eagerly and beamed when she saw what it was. "My very own copy of Hogwarts, a History! It’s just what I wanted, thank you!"

"I told you, you’ll never go wrong if you buy books for a Granger-Lupin," said Danger, smiling fondly at her sister. "And now the other one."

"Gentlemen," said Moony, looking at Harry and Draco. "It has come to our attention that one of you has need of a broomstick. But the school rules state that first years may not have their own broomsticks."

"However," added Letha, looking highly smug, "nothing in the rules states that two first years may not jointly own a broomstick."

"And since it would have been unfair to designate either of your current personal brooms as suddenly being owned by both of you, we simply had to go out and get a new one," said Danger sweetly.

"Happy un-birthday," Padfoot finished, placing a long parcel in both boys’ laps.

Harry and Draco tore into it eagerly.

"Wow," Harry breathed as he saw what it was. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"It’s a Nimbus Two Thousand," said Draco in awe. "Dibs on first ride — since you’ll be using it more, Harry," he added quickly.

"Fine." Harry stroked the smooth handle lovingly. "It’s gorgeous."

"You’re to share it this year, or the deal’s off," said Moony. "Harry uses it for Quidditch, obviously, but Draco has to get some time using it. At the end of the year, it reverts to one of you, and the other one gets a new broom of his own. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Harry as Draco nodded, a bit awkwardly because he obviously didn’t want to take his eyes off the gleaming broom in his lap.

"We should get to breakfast," said Hermione regretfully, still hugging her book. "And Defense class…"

"You’ve been officially excused from Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning," said Letha. "Special treat for a birthday girl and her brothers."

"And we’ll all be having breakfast in here," said Padfoot as a loud crack in the corner signaled the appearance of a pair of house-elves. "Good morning, Dobby, Kady. Can we start with pumpkin juice for everyone?"

"Of course, sir."

Harry grinned as Moony and Letha began conjuring a table and chairs.

No Lockhart today. The best broomstick in the world. And a whole morning with the Pack.

I’d say this day’s turning around…

"Your crazy godfather did a jig on the roof when he heard the news," said Danger close to his ear. "How far did you dive?"

Harry gladly abandoned philosophical thought to talk flying.

xXxXx

Hermione’s birthday breakfast lasted approximately two hours, at the end of which time the Pack-adults allowed Meghan to go to Gryffindor Tower with the other cubs while they went on errands of their own inside the castle. "Be in the entrance hall in fifteen minutes, Pearl," Letha called after them. "And no secret passages!"

"Understand," Hermione called back.

"Understand, but not obey," said Draco, grinning.

The older cubs had told Meghan about the den in their letters, and she was eager to see it for herself. Harry figured they should have the common room to themselves, since morning classes didn’t end for another half-hour.

"Curly tail," he said to the Fat Lady, and climbed through the portrait hole to a scene so strange he was sure he must be dreaming.

Neville was standing on a table, wearing what looked like a paper crown from a Christmas cracker and smiling nervously as Ron, Seamus, and Dean, who were kneeling in a circle around his table, bowed down to him repeatedly. Parvati, Lavender, and Colleen were sitting over by the far wall, looking sulky.

"Come, worship with us," Seamus called out expansively. "Worship the mighty Longbottom, who brought low the insufferable blowhard Professor Lockhart."

Draco snickered. "Neville, what did you do?"

"I didn’t mean to," protested Neville, with a tone in his voice that said he’d been over this already, with a number of people. "It was an accident."

"Accident or not, it was brilliant," said Ron decisively, getting up. Meghan giggled and ran to take his place, joining in the clumsily coordinated bowing. "Lockhart kept delaying starting class for you, Harry — even though McGonagall told him you and Hermione and Draco wouldn’t be there — where were you, anyway? And what’s that?" He had apparently just noticed the long parcel over Draco’s shoulder.

"Later," said Hermione, waving an impatient hand. "What happened?"

"Well, after he finally figured out you weren’t going to show up, he put Neville in the stupid fur suit. And he kept on telling him to be more aggressive, to show more fight. ‘Come on, Longbottom, take a good swipe at my head. Not like that, harder. Harder, put some force behind it.’" Ron imitated Lockhart’s pompous tones rather well, actually, Harry thought. "And Neville did. Knocked Lockhart’s hat off..." Ron guffawed. "And his hair went with it!"

"His hair?" repeated Harry.

"He’s bald as a Bludger! All that hair of his — it’s a wig!"

Harry and Draco almost fell over laughing.

"It’s not funny!" snapped Hermione. "You’re just rude!"

"What did he do?" Harry managed to get out, ignoring his sister’s remark.

"Stood there for a second," Ron related. "Neville was beet-red and stammering out how sorry he was. And finally after a few moments he said, ‘Class dismissed. No homework.’ And we all ran for the door before we laughed in his face. A few of the Hufflepuffs almost killed themselves falling down the stairs, they were laughing so hard."

If there had been stairs anywhere nearby, Harry was sure he could have replicated this feat. The very idea of a bald Lockhart was simply too funny to resist.

Hermione sniffed. "Boys," she said in a tone of deep disgust, and stalked over to sit with the other girls.

After everyone was done worshiping at Neville’s shrine and he had finally been permitted to get down off the table, Harry and Draco took him and Ron upstairs to show off their prize, while a still disgruntled Hermione walked Meghan down to the entrance hall.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I’ve never even touched one."

"Go ahead, then," said Draco, waving at the broomstick. "It won’t break. I don’t think."

Ron ran his hand along the handle reverently. "It’s beautiful." He looked hopefully at the cubs. "Can I ride it? Please? Just once?"

"Draco gets it this afternoon, and I start Quidditch practice tonight," Harry said. "But I think you can ride it tomorrow afternoon. Neville, you want a turn?"

Neville shook his head hurriedly. "No, no, that’s all right. I haven’t even really got the hang of taking off and landing yet. I’d probably break it or hurt myself again. But... can I come and watch?"

"Of course," Harry said. "Be glad to have you."

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