Morning. It dawned too early for me. My eyes stung with sleep as the light cast a shadow across my bed. My head felt heavy, like a boulder, and all I wanted to do was put it back down on the pillow and fall back into dreaming. I groaned as I unwillingly pushed myself up off of the mattress and slung my feet over the side of the bed. I searched for my slippers, hiding just out of my reach, and realized that I had left them somewhere in my trunk. With a sigh of exhaustion, I heaved myself out of the bed and shuffled over to my luggage. Yawning, I opened the trunk and drew out my clothes. Shirt over head. Pull on pants. Tie shoes. I attempted to smooth my hair out, knowing that it was for nothing. It would stick up either way. I looked around the common room to see Neville, still lying asleep in his bed. With a jealous smile, I made my way to the staircase and set one foot down on the stair. Then, turning around, I whistled as loud as I could.

“I’M UP!” Neville shouted, his speech slurred. I found myself chuckling as I made my way down to the common room. Neither Hermione nor Ron was there, and I assumed that they had gone down to breakfast. Not wanting to run into Neville as he clumsily made his arrival into the room, I swept from the dormitory and out of the portrait.

I felt someone catch my foot as I mounted the moving staircase, and turned around slightly. I sorely wished I hadn’t. There, standing behind me and looking as tired as myself, was Ginny. Her hair was pulled back halfway, her eyes glinting with a certain morning beauty. She gave me an awkward smile, which I returned, and then looked down at her feet.

“Hello Harry,” she said, her voice muffled. I could tell she was uncomfortable. She probably wasn’t as uncomfortable as I was, though. I couldn’t even find my voice. I simply waved.

“Nice morning, isn’t it?” she asked.

Nothing came out. I nodded.

“I overslept,” she explained, “Found myself rushing to get out of the dormitory.”

“Yeah,” I croaked, happy that words were able to come again, “Yeah, me too.”

“Funny.”

There was silence. She found a fascination with her shoelaces. I admired the ceiling.

“Nice day,” I said.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I already said that.”

“Oh.”

Silence again.

“How’s Neville?” I asked, with a certain sneer in my voice. She seemed to come alive.

“He’s great,” she explained, “He’s very nice to me. We have fun, him and me. We can talk about a lot of different things and he…er…he certainly knows his plants.”

“Takes a special guy to know all those facts about plants,” I said rudely. She gave me a sharp look.

“Well, that was nice,” she spat. I bit my tongue and said nothing. She leaned up against the banister, watching the floor below us move closer and closer. I began to bounce my knee up and down in anticipation of getting off of the stairs. I thought I might kiss the ground when we got there.

“Sorry,” I said shortly. She didn’t reply to that. I drummed my fingers along the marble, praying to be delivered from this situation. I found myself wishing for a Killing Curse to strike me in that moment. It would have been better than the awkward circumstance I was currently facing.

We landed, and I felt myself breathe again. I let her pass by first, and walked down slowly. I wanted plenty of space to be between us when we got off of the staircase.

“See you later, then,” was all that she said, and I watched her enter the Great Hall. Waiting a few seconds to allow her to get ahead of me, I took a deep breath and followed behind her. Ron and Hermione were sitting two tables away, and I slumped into a seat across from them.

“You look like you just got slapped,” Ron said.

“Might as well have been,” I told him, and began to fill my plate with pieces of bacon. Hermione lifted an eyebrow.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Ginny coming in just before you, would it?” she asked. I answered her by viciously flopping eggs down with a spoon. A portion flew through the air and landed in Ron’s hair. He drew it out slowly.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” he stated, and I smirked at him.

“You guessed right.”

“Well, did she say anything to you?” Hermione pressed, and I sat back and gave a fake laugh.

“Yeah,” I explained, “She said Neville’s fascination with plants has her absolutely hypnotized.”

“Did she really?” Ron asked, “”Cause if that’s the case, I’m really going have to talk to her.”

I filled my mouth with food, hoping to avoid any further commentary on the subject. I could tell Ron still wanted to talk about it, but Hermione moved faster than he did. She picked up on my wanting to drop it, and so moved on.

“Schedules should be coming in soon,” she said, “I really do hope they didn’t cancel my Ancient Runes class. I didn’t see Professor Babbling at the table last night, and she’s not there this morning.”

“Oh God, that would be a tragedy now, wouldn’t it?” Ron remarked. Hermione shot him an angry look. I said nothing.

“Still don’t know who the Defense teacher is,” she continued, “There’s still no one up at the Staff Table.”

“Think they still have it?” I asked, swallowing a bit of pumpkin juice. Hermione gave me a look that could have made Professor McGonagall think she was an imbecile.

“Of course they do, Harry,” she huffed, “Honestly, what do you think? What with Voldemort growing stronger and the death of Dumbledore, I’m surprised it’s not the ONLY subject they’re teaching here.”

“Well, we need a damn good professor, that’s for sure,” I remarked. She nodded, and I looked over at Ron. He was watching her, like he always does in the mornings. Studying her hair, tracing her face into his memory. I found myself missing moments like that, and then looked back down at my plate. I took a sudden fascination in the intricate decoration on the sides of the china.

There was a sudden fluttering of wings above us, and we looked up to see that the ceiling was now completely blocked out by the flight patterns of various colored owls. A brown, dusty looking one dropped a course schedule into Ron’s lap. Hermione and I received ours within a matter of seconds. Other parcels of various sizes could be seen plopping onto students’ laps. Colin Creevey pulled a mysterious-looking cloak out of his own box, and explained to us that his mother had sent it to him in hopes of scaring away werewolves. Seamus Finnigan was holding an amulet upside down in his hand, examining his reflection in the gem. I guessed that his gift was for the same reason as Colin’s. It was then that I took an opportunity to look around again.

I noticed then that nearly half of the school was missing, detained over the summer by fear of Voldemort’s rising power. The death of Dumbledore hadn’t helped to calm anybody’s nerves, and many were probably feeling that Hogwarts was no longer safe. Deep in the corners of my own heart, I knew they were right. Hermione’s words of the previous night had had an impact on me, and I realized that we were a ticking time bomb. The only question that remained was when we would explode. Only the forces working against us knew that, and they weren’t letting on to anything. A matter of time…that’s all it would be.

I pushed these thoughts out of my mind as Ron ripped open his envelope. He made a confused face at the paper, and then looked over at Hermione. Her eyes were viciously scanning her classes, not doubt looking for her Ancient Runes class. I followed suit and tore my own schedule out from it’s packaging.

“We’ve got Double Transfiguration on FRIDAYS?” Ron whined, holding up his paper in disgust. I groaned with him, dreading the idea of McGonagall for three whole hours on the last day of the week. I looked down at my schedule with a glare…and then lifted my head up.

“You said you have it on Friday afternoon?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah,” he replied, “God, how are we supposed to stay awake during that class? I mean, really!”

“I don’t have that on Friday,” Hermione said, and I shook my head.

“Yeah,” I said, “Yeah, me neither.”

“Wait, what?” Ron asked, shaking his head in confusion. He made a grab for Hermione’s schedule, and then looked back up at her.

“We don’t have Transfiguration OR Potions together,” he said to her. He took a look at mine. Same result.

“What’s this all about, then?” he asked. “I mean, honestly. We’ve always had classes together. You have classes with your year. That’s how it works.”

“You didn’t get bad marks,” I interjected as Hermione made one last look at Ron’s schedule.

“No!” he exclaimed, “No, my marks were better than they’ve ever been!”

“Let me see yours, Harry,” Hermione demanded, and I gave them to her while still attempting to sort through the matter with Ron. We kept going on about how unfair it was, how it had to be some sort of mistake that they had made. We started blaming teachers and staff members. Ron went as far to curse McGonagall.

“Never liked me, she didn’t,” he spat, “I knew that the moment we defeated that troll. She looked at me like I was one of its bogies that had gotten thrown on the floor.”

“I don’t understand this,” I said angrily, “How can you not be with us? It’s almost as if they forgot to put your name in with the seventh years?”

“You would think having our Head of House as the HEAD OF THE SCHOOL would help!”

“It’s for security reasons.”

Ron looked at Hermione sideways, almost surprised at the sound of her voice. She had been sitting there for nearly ten minutes as we had continued blabbering on and on about how screwed up everything was. Hermione looked back at him and made a face as if to ask “What, moron?”

“Come again?”

“It’s to make the school more secure,” she reiterated, looking at me.

“How exactly is keeping me out of a class with my best friends going to keep us more secure?” Ron asked.

“It’s not that, Ron. Obviously, they’ve split the classes in half by numbers. Just look at the facts logically.”

“How?”

“Seamus!” Hermione called across the table. Seamus looked up from his schedule rather quickly. She held her hand out, gesturing for him to hand it to her. He tossed it across the table, and it fluttered down on top of the plate of muffins. She dusted it off and pointed words out to Ron.

“You have the same schedule as Seamus,” she explained, “Potions on Tuesday, Double Transfiguration on Friday. I…” she made a grab for my schedule, which she had placed next to her glass, “Have the same schedule as Harry; Potions on Friday, Double Transfiguration on Monday. And while you’re in Double Transfiguration, Harry and I also have Charms and vice versa.”

“So basically…”

“We have Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and all of our single core classes together,” she finished for him, “It’s these two that are flip-flopped.”

“So all of the classes have been made smaller for security purposes?” Seamus asked.

“Precisely,” Hermione said.

“That’s so DUMB!” Ron uttered, pounding his fist down on the table. His fork flew into the air as his palm came down on it. I made an attempt to catch it, but I heard it clatter onto the ground before I had a chance to get my hand high enough.

“It’s sensible,” Hermione said, “They can keep a closer watch on us that way.”

“You don’t seem to upset about this,” Ron said, rather rudely. Hermione looked at him sharply.

“I’m not going to sit and blubber about it, no,” she stated bluntly, “It’s a bit of inconvenience, but it’s not something to set and whine about.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ron said, “Your not alone.”

“It’ll be fine, Ron,” I reassured him, but I was feeling a pit in my stomach as well. I had never not had a class with Ron at Hogwarts, and I felt as if part of me would be missing. Sure, it was only for a couple of hours but still…it wouldn’t be the same.

You’ve got to stop saying that.

The clock on the tower outside chimed the hour. It was time to depart for classes. Ron groaned and grabbed his schedule and another piece of toast. He muttered viciously under his breath and slung his bag over his shoulder with a huff. Seamus moved to follow him.

“See you after class,” I told him. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, “See you both.”

They both became lost in the crowd of students making their way out the doors. I waited as Hermione collected her things and downed the rest of her juice.

“I swear,” she said, “Sometimes, he can be such a girl.”

“Hey, you ARE one,” I reminded her.

“I can readily except the fact that we can be emotionally unstable,” she retorted, “And I’ll be the first one to tell you that we’re moody. I’ve just never seen a boy possess all of those qualities and display them at one time like Ron does.”

“That’s your boyfriend for you,” I teased. She hit me as we made our way up the staircases and into McGonagall’s room. She had yet to come into the classroom, and we took a seat next to one another and looked around at our class.

Hermione had been right. The number of students was considerably smaller, with nearly half the desks left vacant and untouched. I noticed that Dean was in our class and, to my dismay, Neville as well. He waved at me awkwardly, and I gave him a small smile in return. We were in with some of the Hufflepuffs as well. I spotted Ernie Macmillan in the corner. He was exceptionally happy to see Hermione and me. Justin Finch-Flechey was here too.

Great, I thought, Just great.

The door opened, and Professor McGonagall swept into the room. She briskly walked up to the front of the classroom, a pile of books slipping and sliding in her arms. She put them down hastily on her desk and pushed her glasses up to the brim of her nose.

“Welcome back, everyone,” she said, and both Hermione and I could hear the exhaustion strung throughout her voice. Wonderful. She was tired. That would make for an interesting talk.

“As you can see, we are not nearly as full as we normally are,” she explained, “This is due to the fact that we are cutting down our class size in order to keep a more careful eye on the students and their activities.”

“And the prize is awarded to you once again,” I whispered in Hermione’s ear. I watched her chuckle quietly and then gaze back up at McGonagall.

“I can assure you that as a seventh-year class, I am going to be assigning much harder work this term,” she explained. Dean groaned, and Neville’s shoulders sagged downward. I felt Hermione rise up a little in the seat next to me, undoubtedly delighted at the idea of a challenge. I sighed to myself, but McGonagall heard me. She gave me a sharp look and continued to speak.

“These rigorous activities should not be taken lightly,” she warned, “They are designed to prepare you in any and all ways for any predicaments you may one day find yourselves in. In a time of war, one must know Transfiguration in order to survive. It has saved many witches’ and wizards’ lives over the years, and I hope that none of you in here believe it to be of any less value than Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Hermione’s hand shot up like a rocket. Professor McGonagall responded with a nod of the head.

“Will we be doing any human transfiguration, Professor?” she asked. Several students straightened in their chairs. McGonagall nodded.

“Yes, Ms. Granger, we will indeed be doing human transfiguration this term,” she replied, “It is a key theme to a N.E.W.T. level class such as this one. We’ll be practicing with partners…but that will be much later in the year.”

I saw Dean’s eyes go wide with panic. He knew that he would probably be partnered with Neville, and that meant something to worry about. Nearly everyone in the class knew that Neville was not capable of great magic. McGonagall had only allowed him into this class because she saw what she called “potential” in him. It was something to admit…the kid had great determination…but still. When there was a risk that may have involved being a komodo dragon for the rest of eternity, you grew a little scared when the person changing you into the dragon didn’t know what they were doing. I found myself extremely thankful of Hermione and her wits at that moment. I just prayed that she wouldn’t hate me forever if I couldn’t change her from a toad back into a person. That would be the epitome of horrible.

“Now, for today, we’re going to practice transforming the lizard that has been placed under your desk into a snake,” McGonagall said, “Do you all think you can do that?”

There were several “Yes’s” and one firm “No!” from Neville. The girls moved back from their desk as they realized there was a lizard crawling somewhere beneath them. I reached under and drew out a small cage with the lizard inside.

“The incantation is simply “Serpentersaurasum!” McGonagall shouted. Immediately, we drew our wands.

“Swish your wand in an “S” shape movement and flick it at the lizard,” she told us. We tried.

My lizard’s tail grew longer, but otherwise remained unaltered. I made another try. Nothing.

“Focus on what you want it to be,” Hermione told me. I saw that she still had not touched her wand.

“Aren’t you going to try?” I asked.

“I’ve got to wait until I’m ready,” she explained. She stared at the lizard for a few more moments.

“Visualize it first, then act,” she said, and I watched as she moved her wand into the S and flicked it. The lizard contorted. It’s body stretched outwards and its eyes began to flatten. Within ten seconds of her wand work, the snake on the desk was slithering over Hermione’s palms. She moved her hands back as it began to chase her arms.

“Leave her alone,” I whispered to it. Neville heard me speaking Parseltongue, but he didn’t say a single word. The snake turned to look at me and then curled around the leg of Hermione’s desk and didn’t move. I took a deep breath and pictured a small garden snake in my head. Waving my wand, I made the motion. S. Flick.

The snake on the desk cocked its head to look at me. I watched its eyes trace over my face as if it were trying to acquaint itself with me. Hermione gave me a sideways look, and I shrugged and met its gaze. It stuck its tongue out into the air as if to taste my smell.

“Danger” it hissed, and I blinked. Hermione placed a hand on my arm, silently asking me to translate. I couldn’t. Not yet.

“Excuse me?” I asked, hoping it would finish what it had to say.

“ Danger lurks in the corners of the castle,” it said.

“How do you know?”

“I can smell it.”

Without another hiss, it followed the desk leg down and remained still. I looked back at Hermione, whose face was contorted in confusion. She was desperate to understand.

“Harry, what just happened?”

“I’m not completely sure,” I said, “But I think you might have been right about that attack, Hermione. I think you might be onto something.”

I stayed after class that day.