o0o0o0o

The First Steps

Harry had realised straight away that Potions was not going to be a fun experience. It wasn't that he struggled with the subject, he actually thought he was doing quite well, but he was convinced that Professor Snape had some sort of problem with him. The man hadn't done anything outwardly hostile since the first day, but he still ignored Harry's work, refusing to acknowledge the boy's presence in his classroom. Seamus had pointed out that it was probably because there was nothing for the greasy old man to complain about, unlike with Neville, who had repeatedly earned the Professor's ire for his poor performance. Aside from that, Harry thought he was doing well enough in his classes, but he had run into another problem outside of them. Ever since their argument outside the potions lab, Draco Malfoy had made it his mission to make Harry's life as hard as possible. The worst part was that Malfoy didn't just do it to him, he seemed to have it out for all of Gryffindor, in fact Harry was pretty sure he would harass anyone who wasn't in Slytherin. The similarities Harry could find to Dudley were eerie, but he supposed that even magical schools had their bullies, and it wasn't like he didn't know how to deal with them.

In Slytherin, Daphne was struggling. It had only been a week, but she was already out of patience for Malfoy and the others. It had been bad enough back home, but at least there they'd pretended to be polite. Here, they had no parents to cuff them around the ear for being too rude, and they didn't seem to care who they insulted. Despite this annoyance at her housemates, she was still enjoying her time in the classroom. By far her favourite lesson came on Thursday evening, when the Slytherins had Astronomy at the top of the highest tower. There was something soothing about the work, not even Parkinson's moaning could ruin it. When the weekend eventually came, she managed to escape out into the grounds, where she spent her time wandering and taking in the beauty of Hogwarts. She was certain that the landscape wasn't natural. It was too perfect to not have been moulded by magic, and somehow that made the entire place seem even more impressive to her.

Hermione had excelled in every subject, surprising everyone except the three she shared the train journey with. Although she had still yet to talk to her three friends again, or even make any new friends in Ravenclaw, she tried not to dwell on that. She was far more concerned with her successes in the classroom and the overwhelming praise she had received over the past few days. She enjoyed almost all of her lessons, however not even she could excuse the abysmal subjects of Defence Against the Dark Arts or History of Magic. The latter subject was the only one in Hogwarts that was taught by a ghost, Professor Binns, but the excitement at being taught history by a man who might be several hundred years old was quickly lost, as he turned out to be the most boring lecturer any of them had ever seen. Even Hermione was struggling to learn from him. As incredible as her classes were though, Hermione's true excitement came with the weekend, when she discovered the Hogwarts library. It was more books in one place than she had ever seen before in her life, more than she could even count, and they were all hers read if she wanted. She almost fainted at the thought of that.

Ron, like many in their year, was a bit put out that they hadn't actually learned any magic yet. He didn't really enjoy being reminded over and over again how dangerous magic could be and how careful you had to be when using it. For him the best part of being at Hogwarts, so far, was the castle itself. Weirdly, he and Harry had found themselves meeting up to hang out again on several more occasions, despite being in different houses. Not that Ron was complaining, since Harry was far more fun to be around than Zach or Justin. The Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff usually spent their free time exploring the castle, and they'd begun to realise that it was far bigger and stranger than it first appeared. The halls were filled with impossible corners and bizarre stairways. There was a staircase leading upwards from the third floor that would bring you out on the first if you climbed it. There was a corridor near the Transfiguration Department that would occasionally lead you around in circles until you backtracked. Not only did the layout of the castle make no sense and seem to change on a whim, but it was also filled with countless hidden passages and secret rooms to discover. Ron understood now why the Prefects had told him his map wouldn't be much use. He had binned the thing after his fourth day.

And so, after a week in their new home, the four new students found themselves settled into their respective houses. Although they had still yet to cast a spell, none of them could complain that they didn't belong here at this school. There was something about the place that brought them comfort, and one thing they would all agree on was that Hogwarts had already become one of their favourite places in the world.

o0o0o0o

It was the Thursday morning of their second week and the first years were whispering excitedly over their breakfasts. Professor Flitwick had told them all in their last lessons that he believed they were ready to try a simple spell at last. Some were still complaining that it was about time, others were almost squealing with anticipation, while others still were incredibly nervous about it all.

Harry Potter observed this as he glanced up and down the Gryffindor table. He too was excited by the prospect of finally doing magic, but he was far more glad that people were whispering about something other than him for a change. Everywhere he had gone the past two weeks, he had been followed by barely concealed muttering and stares. He'd known it would be bad ever since Ron had introduced him to his friends, but he hadn't quite been prepared for how blatant people were being with it.

That was part of the reason he enjoyed getting lost in the castle with Ron. There were no eyes to stare or mouths to whisper, and the redhead didn't seem to care all that much about him being Harry Potter. Actually that wasn't entirely true, it was clear that Ron was still in some kind of awe at Harry, but at least he didn't point or mutter behind his back about it.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason for their escapades. Harry was in love with this castle. Everything about the place just screamed magic; every painting, every statue, every staircase. Everything he looked at reminded him that he was a wizard among wizards, that he and everyone around him could do incredible things that he'd never even dreamed of. He often wondered how the Dursleys would react if they could see this place.

After he finished his breakfast, Harry followed the rest of his year out of the hall. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws made their way to the Charms Corridor on the second floor, while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs continued up to the fourth floor, where they had History of Magic.

Like with every other lesson, the two houses sat themselves almost entirely separate from each other. It didn't even seem like anyone noticed what they were doing, but Harry did. He found a seat in between Neville and Parvati and took his wand from his bag, eager to get started.

Professor Flitwick soon strode proudly into the room and clambered up to his seat at the front desk. He was one of their stranger professors, only three feet tall, with a shock of wispy, white hair on his head. Harry often thought he looked like a gnome. Despite how incredibly small the man was, he still walked with long strides and his head held high. He began the lesson, as usual, by taking a register, then addressed the room.

"Now for the words I know you've all been waiting to hear," he said in his squeaky voice, "Quills away and wands out, please."

Nobody moved, except to hold their wands more at the ready.

Flitwick chuckled, "Already have them out I see. Very good, very good. Now, you should all have a small wooden box on your table. I would like you to have a peek inside, if you please."

Harry lifted the lid from his box and found that it was full of ordinary metal paper clips. Curious, he picked one out and looked at it closer. It seemed just like any other paper clip he had ever seen.

"Now," continued Flitwick, "We all know that one of the most important parts of casting a spell is to form your intention properly. You must believe in what you are trying to do with your magic. You must truly want it to happen and be confident that it will. Would anyone like to guess what the simplest form of intention is?"

'We don't have to guess,' thought Harry, as he raised his hand, 'You already told us what it was last week.'

"Mr Boot?"

"Moving something," said Terry Boot.

"Just so," said Flitwick, smiling, "It is easy enough to imagine something being in a different position than it currently is, but there are several ways of making something move. Which do we think is the easiest to perform with magic?"

There were some glances around the room between people. This was not something they had covered previously. Only Hermione Granger's hand went up this time, as it almost always did.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Magnetic movement, Professor," she said.

"Excellent, five points to Ravenclaw," said Flitwick, although several members of his house seemed to disagree with that assessment.

"Just as Miss Granger said," the Professor explained, "The easiest form of movement to replicate with magic is magnetism. That is to say, the movement of metal objects using a magnet. Does anybody know why- yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's hand had gone up before the Professor had even finished speaking. "Because we can't see what's making the metal move, sir," she said, "Which means it's easier for us to believe it's moving by magic."

"Exactly correct, another five points for you," said Flitwick, giving her a broad smile, "Yes, as I am sure you are all aware, when a piece of metal is attracted or repelled by a magnet, it almost seems as if magic must be involved. There is nothing visible moving the object, which is why it is so simple to replicate with a wand, as it appears almost identical. The other reason why this is the first spell we learn, is that there is no specific wand movement required. You need simply raise your wand and say: metallicis traho."

Around the room, people began raising their wands and repeating the words. Harry raised his and did the same, but nothing happened, his paper clips remaining unmoved in their box.

He frowned. He had felt something when he said the words, like a tugging sensation inside him, but it seemed something had gone wrong. He was about to try again, when Professor Flitwick let out an excited whoop.

"Oho! Look here everyone, Miss Granger's done it!"

Harry looked over and sure enough, Hermione had her wand held high. The tip was glowing faintly blue and a cluster of five paper clips hung from the end. She was smiling proudly at her work, but Harry could see that her housemates were anything but proud. A few were giving her very dirty looks, and he heard someone nearby whisper, "Show off."

"That was extraordinarily quick," praised Flitwick, clapping his hands together, "I can see you've been practising already. I wonder... do you also know the opposing spell?"

Hermione nodded and the blue faded from her wand, the clips dropping to the table. She pointed her wand at them and said, "Metallicis impello!"

The end of her wand glowed a faint red and the paper clips slid away from it, off the table and onto the floor.

"Oho!" shouted Flitwick again, "Excellent! Excellent! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

The Ravenclaws were definitely giving her the evil eye at this point, and a few of the Gryffindors looked annoyed as well, but neither Flitwick or Hermione appeared to notice.

It was towards the end of the lesson that Harry finally got his paper clips to do something. He almost dropped his wand at the unexpected tingling sensation that ran down his arm. The end of his wand tip began to glow blue and he felt a rush go through his body. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of him all of a sudden. He lowered his wand to the box and watched as a couple of paper clips stuck to the end, then lifted it back up to look at it closer.

'I'm a wizard,' he thought giddily. It was one thing to hear it, and another thing entirely to see and feel his magic first hand.

'My magic,' he thought, his face splitting into the biggest grin he'd ever had. Hagrid had been right, there was no better feeling in the world than this.

"Well done Mr Potter! Five points to Gryffindor!"

Harry jumped at Flitwick's words, remembering that he was in the middle of class. The shock broke his concentration and the clips fell back onto the desktop.

Even though it had taken him so long to do, Harry was still one of only five people who had managed to perform the spell correctly before the lesson was over. The others were Hermione, Theodore Nott, Sue Li and Padma Patil.

"Do not worry if you were unable to perform the charm correctly today," said Flitwick, as the lesson came to a close, "It can take some time to properly channel your magic for the first time. After you have done it once, it will become far easier to form a spell. Please, continue practising in your own time if you will. I would like all of you to be able to perform this charm by the end of our next session. Class dismissed!"

Harry gathered his things and left the classroom after Dean and Parvati, who were walking with Parvati's twin sister, Padma. The two sisters were arguing and Parvati sounded quite miffed that her sister had got the charm right, while she hadn't.

"Don't be like that sis," said Padma, giggling, "Nobody else in your house got it right either."

"Harry's right there, you know," shot back Parvati, "He got it right."

"Yeah, but he doesn't count," said Padma with a wave of her hand.

"Thanks a lot," said Harry.

"Well, you are Harry Potter," said Padma, "You're obviously going to do well, aren't you?"

"Right, obviously," said Harry irritably, losing interest in the conversation entirely. He sped up his pace until he was walking ahead of them, scratching the scar on his forehead.

'This thing really is going to come up a lot isn't it.'

It had been kind of fun at times, being a legend. He had enjoyed the look on Malfoy's face and the looks of awe that the Hufflepuffs gave him, but every time he started to enjoy it, he was reminded of why he hated it. It felt like every little thing he did was being judged by everyone around him, and all of them had their own ideas about who he should be. It hadn't even been this bad in Diagon Alley.

His thoughts were interrupted when something collided with him from behind, almost knocking him over and sending his glasses flying yet again. He let out a yelp and scrambled to pick up his glasses.

"Ow- watch where you're going," he said, turning to see who had bumped into him.

He regretted saying that immediately, as the face of Hermione Granger came into focus. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks and her eyes were glistening and red. Before he could say anything, she ducked her head and ran past him, down the corridor and around a corner.

He watched her go stupidly for a moment, before glancing back at his classmates behind him. They all had History of Magic in a couple of minutes, but Hermione had run off in completely the wrong direction for the fourth floor. He waited only a second before taking off after his friend, knowing that Binns probably wouldn't even notice if he was late.

o0o0o0o

As Hermione left Professor Flitwick's classroom, she was almost bouncing with glee.

Until she had met Harry, Ron and Daphne on the train, her biggest worry had been that she might be behind everyone else. However, the three of them had made her realise just how far ahead she actually was and, ever since then, she had been waiting for the moment where she could really show the professors how much she knew.

It was the best moment of her life she was sure. Not just because of Professor Flitwick's reaction, but also the magic itself. There was something incredibly powerful about using magic, feeling the strange energy inside you and then watching it work before your eyes. Even though she had done some simple spells before now, there was something very different about doing it at Hogwarts, compared to in her bedroom back home. She felt like a real witch here, like something out of a storybook. She was quite certain that it would never stop feeling amazing.

She noticed a few of her fellow Ravenclaws ahead of her, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Catching up to them a bit, she tried to listen in, expecting them to be talking about the lesson.

"-such a know-it-all. Can't she let someone else have a chance for once," said a boy she recognised as Terry Boot.

"She probably just wants to prove she belongs here," said Sue Li, "Being a muggleborn and all, she's not starting in the best position is she?"

"I'm not sure what you're all complaining about," said Theodore Nott, "If she wants to be a teacher's pet, then let her go ahead."

"Well some of us want to get points too," said Boot.

"Why? It doesn't matter who gets them, only what house they're in. I don't care how annoying Granger is, as long as she brings us closer to the house cup that's fine by me," said Nott.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be in Slytherin, Nott?" said Sue Li with a smirk.

"Don't insult me," replied Nott, looking affronted.

Meanwhile, Hermione felt like she'd just been punched.

'Th-they're talking about me,' she realised, 'Is- is that really what they think of me?'

She didn't know why she was surprised, it had been the same back home. At school, she'd never really had any friends. Nobody liked her always being the one the teachers praised. She'd been called a teacher's pet many times before, but she had hoped that maybe it would be different here.

'Why would it? Why should anyone here like me when nobody else did? I'm still the same know-it-all.'

She sniffed. Her eyes felt damp and she quickly ducked her head to hide her face. Picking up her pace, she walked past the group as fast as she dared, trying not to look up at them. She spotted a group of Gryffindors walking with Padma Patil nearby.

'Are they talking about me too?' she wondered. If her own house hated her so much, she didn't want to know what the Gryffindors were saying about her.

Realising how close she was to breaking, she kept her eyes fixed to the floor and continued on past them, not paying much attention to where she was going. Out of nowhere, she felt herself collide with something in front of her and staggered to a stop.

"Ow!" she heard someone yell, and looked up to see Harry Potter in front of her, trying to fix his glasses.

"Watch where you're going!" he snapped venomously, looking up at her.

One look at his face was enough, and she felt the sobs welling up inside her. She lowered her head again and ran past him, not caring who saw her anymore. She just needed to get away from this.

'I knew it,' she thought, tears finally falling, 'I knew he didn't really care about me, none of them did. We only talked the once, why did I think they were my friends? Why would people like them even want to be friends with someone like me? Stupid, stupid little girl.'

She eventually slowed down and began dragging her feet behind her. She knew she wasn't going the right way for her next class, but she couldn't find it in herself to care at the moment. Her parents had always told her not to listen to people like this, not to worry about what other people think of her, but they weren't here right now. They were miles away, and she had nobody to turn to.

She choked out another sob.

"Hey! Hey, wait!"

Hermione looked behind her and saw Harry approaching her. She hurriedly looked away and began wiping her eyes. However pointless it might be, she didn't want him to see her crying.

"Go away," she told him.

"What- what's wrong?" asked Harry, coming to a stop, "Hermione?"

"Just leave me alone!" she said, turning sharply towards him, "I know you don't really want to talk to somebody like me."

"I- you- what are you talking about?" spluttered Harry.

"Nobody else wants to talk to the know-it-all, the teacher's pet, the mudblood," she spat, "Why would you want to?"

'He's Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived. A living legend. What reason could he possibly have to want to talk to me?'

"You're my friend," he said simply, "Aren't you?"

"Your- what?" said Hermione, his words catching her off guard.

"I thought- I mean, we are friends, right?" said Harry, looking uncertain.

"Yes!" she said enthusiastically, "I mean, if- if you want to be, that is. I'll understand if you don't, honestly. In fact I wouldn't expect you to, after I just shouted at you and all. I mean- I'm sure you didn't deserve that, you were just trying to-"

She slammed her mouth shut, stopping herself from rambling too much.

"Um- ok," said Harry confusedly, "So- friends?"

She nodded.

"Great," he said, smiling with relief, "Um- sorry about before, you- uh- I wasn't paying attention, you shocked me."

"No, no it's fine," she assured him, "I wasn't either."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. It was clear that Harry wanted to ask her why she was crying, but she didn't really want to think about that right now.

"So, we should probably go to class," said Harry finally.

Hermione's eyes went wide. She looked around frantically. Now that she wasn't preoccupied, she had spotted something important.

"Oh- oh no! I have no idea where we are, we're going to be so late!" she said, panicked.

"It's probably fine," said Harry, not looking worried, "Binns probably won't even- hey, wait!"

But Hermione had already grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him down the corridor.

"Come on," she said impatiently, "We might still get there in time if we hurry."

Through her panic, she barely even heard her friend's nervous laughter behind her.

o0o0o0o

Ron groaned as he awoke. He slowly pushed himself upright and blinked blearily at his surroundings. It was dark, incredibly dark, and he could feel rough stone beneath his fingers.

Gingerly, he rose to his feet. For some reason, his body ached terribly, like he'd been running for hours, and he was covered from head to toe in grime and dust. His vision slowly began to adjust and he peered into the shadows around him. He was in a damp cave of some kind, a bare stone chamber, coated in a layer of muck and slime. It was hard to make out anything else, and not just because of the dark. Everything seemed so out of focus.

'This is new,' he thought. He knew he was dreaming somehow, but yet he still felt aware.

His dad had once told him that many young wizards have strange, lucid dreams when they get towards Hogwarts age, part of their accidental magic or something. Fred and George both had them, as did Charlie and Bill, but neither Ron nor Percy had ever had a single one.

'Until now, I suppose.'

"Urrrgh..."

Ron nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud moaning sound from his left. Looking past the darkness, he could make out a lumpy shape that was stirring faintly. It looked like a person, slumped against the wall nearby. He made his way apprehensively towards it.

"This isn't right."

A woman's voice cut through the darkness, but it did not from the figure before him. Ron was surprised that the sudden noise hadn't startled him more. There was something comforting about the voice. It was soft and musical, and he could imagine whoever it belonged to spent a lot of time laughing.

"Not right at all," she continued, "Let me see..."

"Hello?" called Ron, his voice echoing through the cavern.

Suddenly, he felt weightless. Around him, the walls of the cave began to melt away, fading into the surrounding darkness, until no light remained. It was like he was floating in inky black water, with no sense of up or down, left or right. It lasted for only a moment, before colour began to return. Ron watched as a room came slowly into focus, a very familiar looking room.

He was now stood in a cramped little kitchen with a low ceiling. The small space was dominated by a large rickety wooden table in the centre, which was set for twelve people, and a crooked spiral staircase in the far corner, that led to the upper floors. The worktops and chairs around the room were all piled with laundry, dishes and half-finished knitting. There were at least three different clocks adorning the walls, none of which were for showing the time. Faint daylight spilled through the tiny window nearby, and Ron could see a great orchard stretching far into the distance beyond it.

He knew every detail of this place, as he should, for this was his home.

Across the table from him, sat a strange woman in purple and gold robes. She was incredibly beautiful, with sleek red hair, startlingly green eyes and a soft, kind face. She was looking about the room with a smile, appearing to all the world as if she belonged there, though Ron knew she did not.

"Cosy," she said appreciatively, "This will do much better."

Ron just stared, not quite sure what to do with himself. That seemed to amuse the woman, who had now turned her eyes to him.

"What? Nothing to say?" she said, "I was expecting questions."

"Who- who are you?" asked Ron, completely lost.

"Oh no," sighed the woman, "Not that one. That one's rubbish, it's too obvious. Try again. Go on."

"Er- what?" said Ron. That hadn't been what he was expecting.

"Well now, that's even worse," she complained, "How am I supposed to answer that one?"

"I- you- what are you doing here?" asked Ron, catching on, "Wait- what am I doing here?"

"Now that's a good one," she said, nodding, "To be honest, I'm not even sure where here is, so I wouldn't be able to tell you why we're here."

"This is where I live," said Ron.

"Is it really?" she said, looking thoughtful, "Well, I suppose that makes sense- yes, it would be the place you're most comfortable with- you have a lovely home, by the way."

"Uh- thanks?"

"You're welcome. Now, my turn for a question, I think. What is your name?"

Oddly, Ron found himself trusting the stranger. There was just something about her that made it hard to feel suspicious or afraid.

"I'm Ron," he said.

"Ron," she said, drawing the name out, "Ron, short for Ronald. Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"It's on the clock," she said, pointing at a nearby clock, which did indeed have Ron's full name on one of the hands.

"Weasley," she chuckled, "That's a funny name. You and I already have something in common. Aside from the hair of course."

"Why, what's your name?" asked Ron, remembering that he had no idea who she was.

"Have a seat," she said suddenly, "You're making me feel uncomfortable standing around like that."

Ron looked at the seat in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, before shrugging and sitting down. Despite the obvious attempt to change the subject, Ron still couldn't help but trust her for some reason.

"This is bloody weird," he observed out loud.

She laughed properly at that. It was sweet and infectious, and Ron found himself smiling with her despite himself.

"You're not wrong about that," she admitted, "It's certainly not what I was expecting."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a long story," she said, "Short version is: you're going to be very important some day and I'm here to help you deal with that."

"I'm not important," he responded immediately.

"Of course you are," she said, smiling at him and placing her hand over his, "Everyone's important somehow. You just happen to be more so than other people."

"I-I'm really not..."

"The truth doesn't care if you believe it or not Ronald Weasley."

He grimaced. "Don't call me Ronald," he asked, "Please."

"Ha!" she snorted, leaning back, " Yes, it does make me sound a bit like your mother, doesn't it."

Ron was back to staring silently. He didn't have the first idea of how he was supposed to react to all this. He'd never seen this woman before in his life. His first thought had been that maybe she was a distant relative, one who he'd met briefly when he was younger. It would certainly explain the hair, but now he wasn't so sure. He was starting to think that she was just a product of his dreaming mind.

"I'm not, I'm real," she told him, "This is still a dream, but I'm not just some figment of your imagination if that's what your thinking."

"What are you then?" he asked, wondering how she could tell what he'd been thinking.

"A wanderer," she said, getting a faraway look in her eye, "On my last journey."

Ron frowned, "That wasn't what I meant."

"I know, but it's what you needed to know," she said cryptically.

That just confused Ron further. Whoever or whatever this woman was, she wasn't one for straight answers. In fact, he was sure that she hadn't answered a single one of questions properly yet.

"All in good time, little Weasley," she said, "I don't think you'd even believe me if I told you everything right now."

She stood up from her seat and Ron was surprised to find that she was quite short for an adult, although she was still taller than him. She walked around the table until she was stood right next to him. Up close, he noticed that she was older than he had first thought as well.

"It's probably best if you wake up now," she said, reaching out to ruffle his hair, "Otherwise you're going to feel terrible when you do."

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but his body all of a sudden felt like lead. His limbs and joints were too heavy to move and he could feel his eyelids drooping, as he slumped forwards towards the table.

"It was nice to meet you Ron Weasley," he heard her saying, "I promise we will speak again soon."

Then everything went dark.

o0o0o0o

Something was poking Ron in the side of his head. His eyes blinked open and he batted it away groggily.

"Gerroff," he hissed.

"Eloquent as always, Weasley."

Ron looked up and saw Daphne Greengrass smirking at him. She was holding her wand in one hand, which he had a sneaking suspicion had been prodding at his head a moment before. He looked around, remembering where he was at last.

It was Thursday morning, and he was still in his History of Magic class, with the Slytherins. He must have dozed off while Binns droned on. It wouldn't have been the first time.

He scowled over at the blonde girl who had woken him. She was sat only one desk to his right, next to a dark-haired girl who was also asleep over the table.

"What was that for?" groaned Ron, rubbing an ache in his temple.

"The lesson's almost done," she said, "I didn't think you'd want to sleep through it."

"Did you have to poke me so hard?" he complained. His head really was starting to hurt...

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, just be glad that it was me who noticed and not him," she said, jerking her head towards a desk nearby, where Draco Malfoy was sat staring blankly towards the blackboard.

Ron pulled a face. He'd had a few more run-ins with Malfoy in the past couple of weeks. Although Harry was clearly his preferred target, the blond boy never turned down an opportunity to throw insults Ron's way either. It was probably a good thing that Greengrass had woken him, not that he would tell her that.

"Exactly," said Greengrass, seeing his expression, "All day I have put up with him. I don't really want to give him another excuse to start running his mouth."

"Like you're any better," said Ron offhandedly.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard."

She looked like she'd swallowed a bug and turned away from him, saying coolly, "Fine, see if I help you again."

She proceeded to pretend he didn't exist, as she moved to pack away her things. Ron decided to ignore her as well, trying not to feel bad about the tone he'd used. She wasn't that bad if he was being honest, but her hanging around with Malfoy all day was enough that he didn't trust her to stay nice for long.

He briefly thought about saying something else to her, but he really didn't want to start a fight right now. He had a feeling that would just make his headache even worse.