Comments:

This started out as a light piece inspired by Charmed and turned into something so much *longer!* than what I expected. Then and again, all my stories go long.

This takes place during Harry's seventh year (again) and after the war (again). ::sighs:: I'm sorry, I don't do chanslash and angst well! Don't you know I love parentheses? (yes)

And please note that this was going to be rated NC-17 in the future, but not anymore. If some parts seem funny, forgive me.

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The Spells We Know

by Galae

Chapter 1: Peelings and Pleadings

It had become quite common for Harry to begin the year on a sour note. He noted that, dutifully, but still it came to pass as quite an accomplishment that he only spent six minutes in Hogwarts before McGonagall took off ten points from Gryffindor. For dozing off during the Sorting, of all things.

Well, Harry couldn't help it. His magic was solely missed during the summer vacations, when nightmares recalling the last days of Voldemort's final rise and destruction plagued him till no end. It was now called the Hundred Days, inspired by the Muggle term for a similar situation.

The first week of school was rather uneventful, though. However ungrateful he must have looked to McGonagall, the fact is that Harry was glad to be back at Hogwarts. It was nice to hear Ron muttering about Snape's unfairness again, or to see Hermione reprimanding Neville for doing a charm wrong. It was normal.

But still, the scars of Voldemort still lingered, in more than one place. There were empty seats once occupied by students. Professor Cateby, the only DADA teacher who lasted more than a year, was gone forever. Too many of the students had lost family members or friends in the battlegrounds.

So no wonder Dumbledore decided to do something about the gloom-and-doom. He frankly told all them during dinner one night that they need a great deal of cheering up and he's going to do it. There would be a "fair" at the school at the end of every month from now to the end of the school year.

"Gods' sakes, and I thought that Lockhart was banished forever," mumbled Ron.

"At least Dumbledore would have better decorating tastes," Harry said, mitigating his tartness. "It might be fun, if he organizes it."

"I guess . . ." Ron said reluctantly.

The truth was that they all welcomed the fair. They needed a distraction. And that's all they thought it was.

Dumbledore introduced the booths one by one. The Great Hall had been cleared, and colorful banners and tables and displays had taken their place. Many sixth- and seventh-years had volunteered to man the booths, and they were all stood up as their booth was announced. Harry admitted to himself that he would have liked to take one, but his grades were so abysmal last year that he needed all the study time he could get.

" . . . And the next one is one of my favorites," Dumbledore was saying. "It is the Love Prophet. I have personally placed a spell on each basket of apples so that when their peel is removed and placed in the water, they will spell out the initials of your sweetheart." Titters from the crowd. Dumbledore winked. "I expect that they will be popular with the older kids. And don't forget the faculty! I expect a few of them have some deep dark secrets!"

Hooch was giggling. Flitwick tried valiantly to laugh. Snape looked like somebody just dumped the contents of Neville's cauldron in his mouth.

"And moving on to the Balloon Pop. . ."

"A true love booth, huh?" Harry mused. "Sounds like fun."

Hermione blushed furiously. Ron pretended to gag.

But nevertheless, two hours later, they headed for the booth. The line was the longest there. It seemed like although nobody wanted to admit it, everybody wanted to know. But as soon as they got in line, Hermione said she wanted to see the other booths.

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ron said. "We're doing it. Aren't you just a bit curious?"

"No, it's just that . . . it's Divination, right, and you know how much I hate it . . ." Hermione stammered.

"Oh no, not that Divination-is-the-bane-of-magic crap," groaned Ron.

Harry could see through it perfectly, but he told Hermione to see what's at the next booth. She made her exit quickly.

After a few minutes, they were next. Harry told Ron to go first, and he shrugged and stepped up. Harry was a little nervous for some unknown reason. He sighed and attributed it to his very sorry love life as of now.

"So, does it really predict your true love?" Harry asked the apple-peeler, a friendly Ravenclaw by the name of Evaline Clachett.

"Not really," she said with a slight giggle. "Dumbledore exaggerated. All it tells you is the one you desire most right now. It's so helpful because not many people really know who their hearts are longing for. Flo Anderson burst into tears because Jason got the initials D. R."

"In that case maybe you should put up a warning sign," Ron said.

"We'll do that next time," Evaline promised as she finished the peel. "Okay. Now, put your hands on the side of cauldron. Yes, like that. Hold them there." She dropped the apple peels in the water. Harry watched, fascinated, as the peels unfolded and curled until they very auspiciously said "H. G."

"H. G.?" Ron read, furrowing his brow. "Who has the initials H. G.?"

"That's for you to find out," said Harry, who knew exactly what the initials stood for. "Okay. I'm next."

"Ooo, let's see who the great Harry Potter desires," Evaline said wickedly.

Harry ignored her and placed his hands on the cauldron like Ron did. She dropped two apple peels into the water. He waited very patiently as they slowly moved around the water and settled in their positions. Maybe they would spell "You're a heartless bastard," Harry thought idly. Oh well. He tuned into reality again. The peels had become letters.

"S. S.?" Harry asked. "What demonic idiot has the initials S. S.?"

"That's for you to find out," Ron said automatically.

Evaline peered into the water. "Yep, that's what it says, all right. Darn. I was so sure it'd say E. C. Oh well. Anyways, happy hunting, you two!"

Harry couldn't stop thinking about the initials. Were they real? They had to be, since Dumbledore said that he did the spell. He even checked up the spell he did. It was perfectly legitimate.

So he does have his heart on someone. Who was it? The preoccupation with the whole business earned him a melted cauldron and fifteen points from Gryffindor. Snape sneered, as if he expected nothing less from him.

"You want to go find out the initials?" Harry whispered to Ron as he wiped up his mess.

"Sure," he replied.

They waited until Friday because the fair had caused a stampede to find names. Harry was in no mood to shuffle with half the school.

They went up to the Hall of Names. There, every student that had passed through Hogwarts had their name carved up in the wall, arranged by year and then by alphabetical order. Harry tried to fight to the lump in his throat as he saw how incredibly shorter this year's list was.

He looked over all the S's. Sachez, Leona. Saddard, Dylan. Schmidt, Christyne. Setierm, Alca. Smith, Eva. Smith, Gregory. Smith, Jonathan. Smith, Matthew. Smith, Vanderbilt. Sochard, Benjamin. Spinnet, Alicia. Spinnet, Natalie. Strong, Claire.

No S. S.

He felt something like relief and disappointment knotted together. Well. Maybe it's a Muggle, then.

Harry wandered over to the right, no longer looking for anybody but just gazing at the list of names and picking out the ones he knew. After Brian Zavety, he found himself at the teacher's section. Lupin, Remus . . . McGonagall, Minerva. . . Pomfrey, Poppy. . . Snape, Severus.

Harry stopped. Blinked and looked at it.

It can't be.

Snape.

Severus.

S. S.

He slipped.

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