Harry Potter fanfic--Student Teacher at Hogwarts
by Terri Wells

Chapter Fifteen - Learning Experiences

July 6, 2001 Night

The party broke up shortly afterwards. Mrs. Weasley and Terri traveled back to the Burrow via Floo Powder -- with Terri receiving a hug and a kiss from Sirius, Harry noted. Mr. Weasley remained behind with the headmaster to help coordinate the mission of mercy.

Ron also stayed behind. Though his father expected to return to the Burrow fairly quickly, the young wizard asked for, and received, permission to stay at Hogwarts overnight with Harry. "It's a lot quieter here, with no ghoul banging on the pipes," he commented, grinning at his friend.

"You haven't heard me snore," said Sirius. The three wizards chuckled as Professor McGonagall walked with them to Gryffindor Tower after consulting with the house elves. Just as she showed them to one of the rooms in the tower, however, Harry's godfather grew serious. "You said earlier that Remus was in a room in this tower," he commented to the transfiguration teacher. "Which one?"

Professor McGonagall hesitated. "That one, three doors up and to the right," she said, pointing.

"Thank you." Turning to Harry, Sirius said "I'll be right back," then sauntered down the hall, shifting into his dog form as he went.

McGonagall sighed and shook her head as she watched the Animagi. "After the night Lupin's been through..." she said under her breath, letting the thought trail off.

Harry exchanged a look with Ron, and knew they were thinking the same thing: what happened to Remus after he left the Great Hall? And how is he now? Harry suspected that Terri's and McGonagall's brief descriptions left out a great deal of what happened. The young wizard had seen Remus transform into a werewolf only once, and that appeared painful enough. What else had he had to endure? Harry wondered, suppressing a shudder.

"P-Professor McGonagall?" Harry managed just as she turned to walk away

"Yes?" she asked gently.

"Would it be okay if...if we looked in on Remus Lupin, too?" Beside him, Harry sensed Ron nodding agreement.

McGonagall tensed. Harry saw her features slip back into those of the stern teacher...no. Not exactly the stern teacher. After four years as her student, and especially after this last, eventful year, Harry picked up on subtle differences, and could see the regret under the mask. "I'm afraid that would not be wise right now. Mr. Lupin is not a danger to himself, or to others, but he told me, before...tranforming...that he still prefers to be isolated at these times."

"But if he's safe --" Ron started to argue, but McGonagall held up her hand.

"It is his preference," she said firmly, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. Softening for a moment, she added, "Mr. Black might convince him to change his mind, but until then it is best to respect his wishes. Now, to bed with you!"

The two boys entered the dorm room to find four beds made up and ready for them. Beside each bed lay pajamas, fresh robes, and clean clothing. "I wish I knew what Bill got himself into," Ron grumbled as he looked for which set of pajamas would fit him.

"Professor Dumbledore said he's safe," Harry replied, as firmly as he could manage. He knew the headmaster had actually said "as safe as I can make him under the current situation," but hoped his best friend had forgotten that little detail.

Ron changed into a pair of pajama bottoms colored Chudley Cannon orange. His ankles barely showed from under the legs -- an unusually good fit, in his case. For a few moments he stood almost rigidly still, his back to Harry. The silence hung between the two friends, broken only by Ron's shallow breathing. Then, abruptly, the red-haired wizard grabbed the nightstand next to his bed and threw it over. It dashed against the floor with a loud crash.

"Damn it, Harry!" Ron shouted, turning to face his friend. "Th-these things aren't supposed to happen! Why couldn't he just--" He took a deep, shuddering breath, apparently trying to get himself back under control. "Why couldn't You-Know-Who just stay dead?" he growled.

Harry had no answer. There was no point in reminding Ron, as Hermione would have done if she were there, that Lord Voldemort had never died in the first place; he'd merely continued to exist without his own body. Harry could only stare forlornly at his friend as he remembered his own unwilling role in Voldemort's rebirth, twice over -- first, in allowing Peter Pettigrew to live, and second, in his own blood being drawn from him to complete the spell that returned Voldemort to his old body. My fault, he thought, feeling his old despair returning.

"What? Harry, no," Ron said, his face changing from anger to surprise. Harry looked down in embarassment; he hadn't meant to speak aloud. "If everything'd gone the way you'd intended it, ol' Wormtail'd be sucking face with the dementors in Azkaban, you'd be living with your godfather right now instead of those lousy muggles, and I'd be visiting you for the summer!"

"The best-laid plans..." Both boys turned to the door. Sirius stood there, a sad but amused expression on his face. "Moony's all right," he continued, and began getting ready for bed. "But he's gotten used to being alone at this time -- and especially away from people. He might drop by a little later...but if he does, don't approach him."

"But I thought he was safe," Harry objected.

"Oh, he is," Sirius agreed lightly. He held his deadpan expression for a beat. "But right now he has the worst case of bad breath I've smelled on him since the day after the night of our graduation celebration. Trust me, you don't want to get too close to that!" He shuddered comically, then winked. It had the appropriate affect: both boys chuckled.

The three settled into bed, but, though tired, found they couldn't fall at once to sleep. The earthy smell of the warm evening, the soft comforting feeling of the feather bed, even the chirp of the crickets couldn't lull Harry to sleep. From the notable lack of snoring in the room, he could tell that neither Ron nor Sirius was having any better luck. "Sirius?" Harry whispered.

"Mmph?"

"What do you suppose Professor Dumbledore will have you do? About Bill Weasley...and the others?"

"Hmmm? Oh." Harry heard some rustling from the bed on his right as his godfather pushed aside his bedclothes. Sirius yawned and stretched; a couple of cracking noises were followed by...not quite curses. "I'm hoping he won't have to use me for this at all. Whoever he gets to go on the spot -- if he sends someone on the spot -- should be a full-fledged Guardian. I know the spells and a lot of the skills, but..." he sighed. "When it comes to hiding, I'm a lot better at hiding myself than other people."

"What's a Guardian?" asked Ron from the bed on Harry's left. Sirius gave him a short explanation. Ron was quiet for a time. Then he asked, "If they're so sharp, why couldn't Dumbledore send one of them?"

"Wrong skill set." Sirius got up from his bed and went to stand between Harry's and Ron's beds. Leaning against one of the posts of Ron's bed, he continued, "They needed someone who breaks into things, not someone who guards them."

"Well, so? You broke into this school," Ron pointed out.

"Ron!" Harry gave him an annoyed look. It was true, Sirius had succeeded in breaking into Hogwarts -- into Gryffindor Tower itself, in fact -- as well as breaking out of Azkaban. At that time, though, both boys believed that Sirius wanted to kill Harry, and Harry would just as soon forget about that misunderstanding. To bring it up now seemed, well, rude.

"No, he's right." To Harry's surprise, Sirius actually grinned. "And there are a good number of safeguards on this school." He glanced over at Ron. "Do you think your brother is a good curse breaker, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron, not really thinking about it.

Sirius nodded. "Then keep that in mind while I tell you this: a bad curse breaker, starting from the iron gates of this castle, and without the assistance of something like a Marauder's Map, would be able to break his way into Dumbledore's office in less than two hours." Ron goggled. "A mediocre one would take an hour." Ron's jaw dropped. "Your brother, I suspect, could do it in under fifteen minutes."

"No way," Ron got out, but Sirius nodded.

"Even as a dog, it took me much longer than that, to get to a less secure part of the castle," Harry's godfather continued. "And the protections on this castle are nothing when compared to how tightly Egypt guards her magical treasures -- remember, Hogwarts is only a thousand years old; some Egyptian treasures are several times that age."

Harry thought about what Sirius said. Several thousand years to layer on protections, perfect curses against the unwary who would steal the treasure, maybe even confuse treasure hunters as to the location of the treasure...a Fidelius charm could do that last, Harry knew. "Do you have any idea what might have caught Bill?"

Sirius glanced at Ron again; the younger wizard nodded, also wanting to know. Sighing, the Animagi sat down heavily on Harry's bed. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, running a hand through his untidy hair. "If it was the first layer of protections, like the headmaster said, then Bill was dealing with a Fidelius charm -- but that shouldn't have been a problem. Dumbledore would have contacted the right person in Egypt to let the Secret Keeper know that Bill was coming." He paused, and looked at the ceiling, as if trying to remember something. "The first Secret Keeper, to be exact. They use a system of nested Secret Keepers as their first layer of protection." At the boys' amazed looks, Sirius shrugged. "Part of the Guardian training; Egypt was a case study. But this is one case where knowing how it's done wouldn't help in breaking past all the safeguards!"

Harry swallowed. For Ron's sake, he didn't want to put what he was thinking into words, but it was such an obvious possibility he could not let it sit unsaid. "Could there be a...traitor in Egypt?"

"A traitor in Egypt?" Sirius echoed. He furrowed his brow, lost in thought for a moment before answering the question. Finally, he sighed. "Anything is possible; that thrice-damned Wormtail taught me that. But more realistically..." He looked measuringly from one boy wizard to the other, then nodded. "More realistically, Voldemort was known to have agents in Egypt from the very early days of his climb to power, and probably went there himself more than once."

"You-Know-Who in Egypt? With my brother?" Ron squeaked, jumping up from his bed.

Sirius held up a steadying hand. "Not right now, I'm sure," he said. "But Voldemort was known to have used Dark Arts to make himself immortal. Now that he has his old body back, he's no longer immortal -- that's a consequence of the spell he used to bring himself back."

Harry shuddered, remembering that night when he was forced not only to witness Voldemort's rebirth, but play a role in it. It was an event he'd seen time and again in his dreams ever since. So strong was the memory that, for a moment, he lost the train of the conversation.

"And this book taught him how to do it?" Ron was asking. Harry blinked, dragging himself back to the discussion.

"If it even exists," Sirius explained. "Remember, it isn't really a book -- it's more like a large scroll, or set of scrolls. That, to the Egyptians, was a `book.'"

"And this guy Seth wrote it?" Ron asked.

"According to the legend," Sirius said, his tone of voice qualifying his words.

"Why `according to the legend'? Don't we know if it exists?" Harry cut in.

Sirius gave Harry the near cousin of the look Professor McGonagall used on students who clearly hadn't been paying attention. "We're not even sure if SETH actually existed," he explained patiently. "As I was just telling Ron, there's been an argument going on for decades over whether these -- beings -- that the Egyptians worshipped as gods and goddesses really did exist at one time, but were simply very powerful magicians." He sighed, and glanced toward the door. "I wish Remus wasn't...indisposed. He followed these things a lot more closely than I did."

"Oh." Harry looked embarrassed. "And, um, you're saying Voldemort learned how to make himself immortal from this book?" he asked, trying to recover.

"But wouldn't it still be with one of his Death Eaters?" asked Ron at almost the same time. "I bet Lucius Malfoy's hiding it with lots of other stuff from You-Know-Who!"

"Whoa, one at a time," said Sirius, holding up both hands now. "Before I tell you any more, you've got to understand, there's been so many stories spun around this thing--" Just then the door opened, and a large wolf entered the room, carrying a bone in one of its -- paws? No; rather, it looked something like a very hairy hand with claws. Harry and Ron tensed, but Sirius merely spared it a glance. "Decided to join us, old friend?" he asked amenably. The wolf merely sneezed in response, then made its way to the fourth bed. He gracefully leaped on top of the bed, and lay down on his stomach, resting his muzzle on his front legs. He placed the bone near his mouth. "Does that help with the biting urges?" Sirius asked. The wolf sighed, and seemed to nod.

Harry could see the intelligence behind the wolf's eyes; there could be no mistake. This was indeed his old DADA teacher, Remus Lupin. "Sirius has been telling us about this Egyptian book that may have helped make Voldemort immortal," he said to the wolf.

Ron winced at the mention of Voldemort's name, but said nothing; Harry hoped he was getting used to hearing it. The wolf, meanwhile, seemed to become more alert; his eyes focused sharply on Sirius, and he pointed his ears in the Animagi's direction.

Sirius hesitated a moment. "Do you want me to wait until tomorrow, so you can tell them about it?" Lupin raised his head, and shook it -- as well as a wolf could, to duplicate the human shaking of the head `no.' "Well then, you'll have to, er, bark up if I get anything wrong." Lupin growled at his friend's remark, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, and he almost seemed to be grinning -- which was actually a little scary coming from a werewolf.

"Where to begin?" Sirius said, resuming his train of thought. "Okay. IF you believe the arguments of one set of wizards, Seth was a very powerful, very evil wizard -- the first practitioner of the Dark Arts, some say. Out of jealousy, he killed his older brother Osirus -- in some tellings of the story, he killed him twice over, and chopped him into little pieces. Horus, the son of Osirus, avenged his father's murder...but, by some accounts, Seth had learned the secrets of immortality by that time, and did not die." A hint of anger crept into Sirius' voice. "Some versions of the story even say he avoided death by turning into a serpent and hiding underground."

Echoes of Voldemort, thought Harry. He wondered if Seth was perhaps a very early ancestor of Salazar Slytherin...a line that continued forward and found its ugly fruition in the Dark Mage himself.

"So he wrote down his secrets?" Harry asked, spellbound.

"So they say," Sirius continued. "They also say that the book disappeared with Seth. We had reports from some of our spies, however, that Voldemort kept some of his most potent magical equipment in a carefully secured room -- and, one spy who managed to get a glimpse into that room described several very interesting items he saw, including a very old-looking scroll sealed with glowing hieroglyphics."

"Wow." Ron stared. "But -- why would You-Know-Who be looking for it if he already HAD it?"

"Ah." Sirius raised a finger, as if lecturing. "You must know, many of the Dark Arts items that were discovered to belong to the Death Eaters were destroyed, and others were hidden -- or lost. Some had very powerful spells on them for protection. For example, it's standard practice now -- as it was then -- for the Egyptians to place a spell on their most powerful magical artifacts that, after a period of time, forces them to return to Egypt."

"I've heard of those!" Ron said excitedly. "Recall charms -- didn't Professor Flitwick mention those? Hold on...he said it was a more advanced version of the Summoning Charm --"

"And this is a more advanced version of the Recall charm," said Sirius. "Much more advanced. Now, I'm not sure exactly how it works -- whether it compels someone to physically return the item, or just Apparates it back to Egypt where it belongs -- but that would explain why, when Voldemort's headquarters were cleared out, it was never found." Sirius glanced over at Lupin. "Thanks for cluing me into THAT little piece of information," he said.

"But -- couldn't someone have just copied it?" Harry asked. "I mean, if Voldemort knew that book would go back to Egypt one way or another --"

"Supposedly, Seth himself took some precautions against that," Sirius explained. Raising a questioning eyebrow, he asked, "Do the teachers still force you to put Anti-Cheating charms on your quills?" Harry nodded; Ron groaned. "Seth supposedly put a variation of that charm on his book -- it can't be copied. If you try, you think you're copying it exactly, but when you check it later, all you have is gibberish."

"Could the formulas be memorized?" Harry persisted.

Over on the fourth bed, Lupin snorted. Sirius smiled sardonically. "It would take a very sharp mind to memorize them in the first place; they're supposed to be far more complicated than the Polyjuice Potion -- more complicated even than Veritaserum or the Wolfsbane potions. And after the passage of this many years?" Sirius shook his head. "At best, I'd wager he remembers some of the ingredients for the potions involved and several of the rituals. No, if he wants to become immortal again, he'll need that book."

A heavy silence hung over the room for a few moments while Harry and Ron digested the information. But one odd detail nagged at Harry. "Ter--Professor Weasley mentioned something about the Heart of Ra," he said. "Where does that fit in?"

Sirius sighed, and shifted on Harry's bed so he could gaze at his fellow Marauder. He leaned back against one of the posters and shook his head. "You always were better at telling these stories than I," he said at last. "At least you can think like that now; I wish you could speak!"

Remus Lupin had been lying comfortably on the fourth bed, ears perked forward, listening to the conversation. At his friend's words, he raised his muzzle from his paw, stared directly at Sirius, and, very clearly, barked once.

"Oh, very funny, Moony," Sirius groaned. He rubbed his eyes, and continued the movement over his forehead, brushing his hair back from his face. "Or if not you, old friend, even my grandfather..." Harry's godfather trailed off. Finally, he shrugged. "Well, no matter; I can't be worse than old Binns. Now, where to begin?"

"At the beginning?" Harry prompted.

Sirius laughed. "Which beginning? There's too much history involved." He glanced again at Remus, who quirked his head. As if the two had exchanged a wordless communication, Sirius nodded. "The student's beginning, then -- the easy stuff first." Turning back to the two boy wizards, Sirius drew up his knees, wrapped his arms around his legs, and began. "The Heart of Ra is an Egyptian artifact both older and younger than the Book of Seth. Ra, you see, was Seth's great-grandfather, and was said to have powers over light, over creation, over life; some myths said even that he was the sun itself. Pretty strong stuff when you live near a desert.

"For now, I'm going to leave aside the question of how long Ra lived, whether he was really a god or a magician --" here Sirius made a dismissive gesture. "That's not important. What is important is that the Egyptians never stopped worshipping him; they always remembered him. Some times in their history, though, they remembered him less than at other times. Which brings us to Ahkenaten." Sirius smiled as he glanced over at Ron. "Don't worry, there won't be a test on this."

"Er...huh?" Ron replied. The young wizard had rested his head on one raised knee, and it had started to slip. Across the room, Remus sighed dramatically.

"As I was saying," Sirius continued, "Ahkenaten was an Egyptian pharaoh. He was also a heretic."

"What?" Harry shook his head. "How can a king be a heretic?"

"History is written by the winners, Harry," Sirius explained. "And Ahkenaten's religious ideas were revolutionary for his time." He paused dramatically. "This Egyptian pharaoh ordered his people to stop worshipping all the deities -- except one. Aten -- also known as the sun disk. Or, as we would understand it, Ra, the sun god." Sirius smiled. "He wasn't the first monotheist in Egypt, but he certainly was the first monotheistic pharaoh."

"Well, okay," said Harry, growing impatient. "So what's Ra's heart got to do with all this?"

"I'm getting to that," said Sirius peevishly, raising a quelling hand. Still on the fourth bed, Remus made a noise that sounded suspiciously close to laughter...or as close to laughter as a wolf could manage. Sirius turned. "Hey, no comments from the gallery!" He growled. Looking contrite, Remus took his bone into his mouth, settled his muzzle back on his paws, and began gnawing, an almost innocent expression on his face.

Harry stifled a chuckle, then looked over at his godfather, concerned about his mercurial temper. But Sirius was grinning and shaking his head, clearly amused rather than angry. He sighed, and seemed to will himself back to the topic at hand. "Okay. Ra's heart. There are a million ideas as to just why Ahkenaten decided to make such a big change. Some say it was political, some say the priests of Amun -- that's another deity --"

"No wonder the Egyptians declined," Ron mumbled, "they had too many deities with similar names: Aten, Amun --"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. He rolled his eyes.

"I'd think you'd be more interested in this, Ron," Sirius said disapprovingly, "considering it's your brother Bill who is looking for the Heart of Ra." Ron looked sheepish.

"Bill?" Harry asked, turning back to his godfather. "That's what Bill is looking for, then? Not the Book of Seth?"

"That's right," Sirius explained. "The Heart of Ra -- so one of the stories goes -- was given to Ahkenaten in a dream. This dream supposedly inspired Ahkenaten to go forward with all the changes he made."

Harry shook his head. "But -- you said the Heart of Ra was something that Ron's brother is looking for! How can someone be given something in a dream?"

Sirius gave Harry a knowing smile. "You tell me, Harry. You've been given plenty of things in dreams."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. Yeah, plenty of things...mostly a lot of sleepless nights. And pain...my fault...NO. He shook his head to clear it. No, he was not going to go down the well worn path back to his grief. He'd seen many other things in his dreams...things that turned out to be very important later..."Ra told him -- what? How to get his heart? Where to find his heart?"

"Wicked!" Ron was suddenly all ears. "Ra was talking to Ahkenaten in a dream, and telling him where to find some sort of treasure!"

"So goes the story," Sirius said. "At least, so it goes if my grandfather's ability to decipher hieroglyphs can be trusted." Another snort came from the fourth bed. Sirius turned again. "Look, you, I know you thought he was a crazy old man, but he did know his stuff! And if he hadn't been in touch with Howard Carter back when he was looking for Tutankhamen's tomb..." Sirius trailed off. "Ah, never mind, it isn't any fun arguing with someone who can't argue back." He turned back to the two lads. "Whether that dream actually happened -- and whether it was really what inspired Ahkenaten -- we'll never know. What we do know is that the pharaoh moved his capital...to the place that Aten -- that Ra -- told him was where his heart was located."

"And he found the heart, right?" Ron asked.

Sirius nodded. "Again, according to those hieroglyphs on that tablet that my grandfather found and translated, Ra ordered that Ahkenaten keep the heart safe, and have it made into an amulet to cover Ahkenaten's own heart when he was made into a mummy."

"But -- it was just a heart, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, there wasn't anything special about it, right?"

Ron gave Harry a look that the boy wizard knew he reserved for those times when Harry's ignorance of the wizarding world began to show. "The heart of a god, Harry?" Ron exclaimed. "Crikey, if Professor Dumbledore can find twelve uses for dragon's blood, what do you suppose the heart of a god could be used for?!"

"I didn't say Ra was a god," Sirius clarified. "But I do know that heart had its uses. My grandfather...well, he liked to show me that translation, and..." Sirius trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. "He said that he had been the one to find it, and that Albus Dumbledore could never have defeated Grindelwald back in 1945 if it wasn't for the power of the Heart of Ra." Another snort came from the fourth bed. "Dumbledore never denied it!" Sirius insisted.

"Did he ever say what it did?" Harry asked.

Sirius shook his head. "But when the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, there were a lot of folks in the wizarding world who thought the Americans had gotten their hands on it." The Animagus shuddered. "After Grindelwald's defeat, the Heart of Ra was given back to Egypt, and the Guardians worked with the Department of Mysteries and the Egyptian Ministry of Magic to set up a system for its safekeeping -- or, rather, to incorporate it into the system that was already in place. It was that system, incidently, which kept Grindelwald from getting his hands on the Book of Seth." Sirius sighed, and leaned back against the bedpost unhappily. "Unfortunately, it didn't stop Voldemort. At least, not last time," he added hastily. "I understand security has been tightened since then. And if the Heart of Ra does what Dumbledore believes it will do--"

"Which is?" Harry asked.

Sirius smiled a predatory grin. "Why, kill dementors, of course."

Harry's jaw dropped. A dementorless world...for just one moment, the shining idea looked even more beautiful to Harry than the image of a world without Voldemort. "Wow," was all he could say.

"Exactly," Sirius said. "It would deprive Voldemort of one set of natural allies -- well, unnatural allies, to be honest." He shuddered again. "There is nothing natural about dementors." Sirius jabbed a thumb in the direction of his werewolf friend. "He could tell you more about that--" At that moment, Remus put down his bone and yawned widely. "--in the morning," he finished. He again looked over at Ron, whose head and eyelids were drooping despite genuine interest. "It's time we got some sleep."

While Harry and Ron settled back under their covers, Sirius went over to Remus and whispered a few words too soft for Harry to hear. As if in reply, the werewolf used one of his handlike paws to carry his bone over to the nightstand next to his bed, and laid it down with an air of certainty. Harry watched the exchange curiously -- not really trying to eavesdrop, but not exactly trying not to eavesdrop. His ears perked up solidly when he heard Sirius ask "Are you sure, Moony?"

But Remus seemed to have an answer for that, too. He quirked his head at his longtime friend for a second or two -- then got to his hind legs on the bed, his front hand-paws grasping Sirius firmly by the shoulders. Then the werewolf began, very dramatically, to sniff Harry's godfather all over. "Whoa -- hey -- stop! I was just--" But before the Animagus could finish, Remus had jumped off the bed, leaped over the bed separating him from Harry, and -- much to the boy's surprise -- started sniffing the young wizard. "Okay, okay, you've made your point, I know you'd never do that to James and Lily's child if you thought--" As if he hadn't heard his friend's remark, Remus leaped onto and over Harry's bed, and repeated his sniffing with Ron.

"Mmm? Huh? Hey, what--" Ron's wondering comment was broken off by a giggle. "Wait, s-s-stop that!" More giggles. "S-s-stop! You're t-tickling me!" Turning white under his freckles as he realized what was happening, he tried to push Remus away. Though Ron was no match for a full-grown werewolf, Remus allowed himself to be pushed off the redhead. He bowed his head to Ron in apology, then turned to face Sirius, a wolfish grin on his muzzle.

"Okay, you've made your point," Sirius repeated.

"What point?" Harry asked, looking from his godfather to his former DADA teacher in confusion. Ron, still pale and a bit nervous, stared at the werewolf, as if willing him to stay at a distance.

"If Remus didn't have his full wits about himself, he couldn't have done what he just did without biting one of us," Sirius explained. He shifted his gaze to the far bed. "Right, Ron?"

"Um, right," said Ron. He still eyed Remus a bit nervously. The werewolf turned to face Ron. Harry couldn't see what he did, but whatever it was made Ron smile and snort. Color returned to the boy's cheeks.

"The point is," Sirius cut in, "he's safe to share the room with us tonight." The Animagus shook his head as his friend walked back over to the fourth bed in the room. "And when he gets his voice back tomorrow," he continued, "he'll no doubt tease me for being the cautious one instead of him for a change!"

As the four wizards finally settled into sleep, Harry turned over everything that had happened that day. He'd met a relative of Malfoy he could actually stand; handled what might be a very old magical artifact; seen house elf magic in action; seen his oldest friend in the wizarding world receive his old wand, some new robes, and -- perhaps most important -- exoneration. If only the Ministry of Magic would exonerate Sirius! There must be some way to make Fudge understand that he's innocent, Harry thought. Perhaps a Veritaserum potion? But would Sirius consent -- and, more importantly, would Fudge listen?

Thoughts of potions naturally brought to mind his most hated teacher -- and that teacher's replacement, at least for this year. He looked over at Ron, curled up on the bed to his left, and already snoring. I'll have to ask him about this cousin, he thought. Then he looked over at the first bed to his right, where his godfather lay. He would have to ask Sirius about her, too, he decided, remembering how affectionate the two had been. Then again, Terri Weasley had been friendly to Hagrid, too -- hadn't she hugged him twice? Maybe it was just an American thing.

Besides, he thought, recalling the discussion of possible Dark Arts potions, she seems to know her stuff. Ha! As if Snape would let a teacher that didn't know her stuff teach his class! He remembered her embarrassment that evening -- but also her recovery, and her desire to make sure that she could teach well. Well, he didn't mind getting an early introduction to his new teacher's style -- and perhaps he could prevent her from being the nightmare that Snape was to him and many of the other students.

Hermione would certainly be glad for all of us to get a jump on fifth year, he thought wryly. The image of her face came unbidden to his mind, as he last saw her -- saying good-by to him, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Harry smiled, and wished she'd been here for the party; he'd bet his Firebolt that Hermione would have spent at least half the evening picking their new professor's brain. Instead, Hermione was in Bulgaria visiting Victor Krum...and for just a second, Harry felt a stab of -- jealousy? But it passed quickly; after all, Hermione was one of his best friends, and hadn't he told Victor Krum himself that they were just friends? When Harry at last fell asleep, it was with the image of Cho Chang in his head, flying on her broom and waving at him...but, strangely, calling to him in Hermione's voice. It was the last image he had before drifting off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Terri Weasley came back from the going-away party with a million thoughts whirling in her head, impatient to share them with Deidre. As she dusted off the soot from the fireplace, she looked around for her best friend, and spotted her on the living room couch, ever-present dragon embroidery in hand. No one else was in the room. "Deidre, I've got the coolest news!" She called, dashing over to her.

"It must be cool," Deidre returned with a smile as she put her embroidery down on the coffee table. "I haven't seen you this excited since your company promoted you to associate editor last year."

Terri's smile fell for just a second as Deidre's comment hit her with a jolt. It was a sudden, unexpected reminder of what she was giving up to accept (temporarily!) The position of potions professor. "Oh," was all she could say as an odd feeling of displacement overcame her.

Deidre frowned, apparently puzzled at her friend's reaction. "Nu, don't keep me in suspense," she said, gesturing impatiently. She patted a spot beside her on the couch. "Sit down and tell me everything, for Goddess' sake!"

Terri shook herself, her head once again in the wizarding world. She started with meeting Harry Potter -- "Thank the Lord and Lady, he's just a bright boy, not stuck up or full of himself or anything" -- then mentioned the fact that they would have to return near the end of the month for a teacher's meeting, which did not surprise Deidre in the slightest -- then talked about the wonderful surprises given to Hagrid.

"I bet you were really thrilled about that," Deidre commented, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Oh?" Terri asked, folding her arms. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Deidre replied too innocently. As she started to pick up her embroidery again, she added, "By the way, did you know you talk in your sleep? In fact --" she seemed to consider resuming her stitching, but paused in favor of simply holding her work " -- last night you were actually moaning in your sleep. `Oh Hagrid, Hagr -- oof!" The last part of Deidre's dramatic rendition was cut off by Terri hitting her with a throw pillow.

"Deidre!" Terri groaned in irritation. Hastily, she looked around, but apparently they were all alone, no one was on the first floor at all. Well, no surprise there; it had been late when she and Mrs. Weasley returned, and no doubt her hostess went straight to bed. Terri might be irritated with Deidre, but Deidre, for her part, was grinning like a loon, unable to contain her laughter. Terri sighed. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"Not in the least," Deidre replied, still giggling.

Terri spared the room -- and the stairway -- another glance. "You don't think Ginny overheard, do you?"

"Not with the way she was snoring," Deidre replied. Terri looked relieved. Quirking her head at her friend, the late bloomer asked, "So you do fancy him, don't you?"

"None of your business," said Terri weakly, but her bright blush provided all the answer Deidre needed.

"Well, if you're going to dream, dream big," Deidre said amiably. "Although, if I remember correctly, you've got some, eh, pretty big competition."

"And how," Terri groaned. "That French half-giant, Madame Maxime? Well, she was there."

"Really? What's she like?" Deidre asked, very interested.

"Very French," Terri replied, slipping into the appropriate accent. "She iz ze epitome of ze French beauty, writ large. Ze perfectly coiffed black 'air, ze perfect leetle black dress -- well, eet was not zo leetle on her, of course. Ze perfect accezzories, ze perfect bearing, ze perfect graces -- even ze perfect zense of outrage when I said something wrong!" Lord and Lady, how am I supposed to compete with that? Terri wondered, for the moment giving up the pretense that she wasn't somehow competing with Madame Maxime. But, to Terri's amazement, Deidre laughed. "What's so funny?" Terri demanded.

"My dear," Deidre said, "can you think of anyone less likely to be a fitting match for a perfectly sophisticated Frenchwoman than Hagrid? I mean, honestly...!" She laughed again, clearly thinking that the whole idea was patently absurd.

"Well, but you didn't see them dancing together, " Terri muttered.

Deidre nudged her, ignoring her last comment. "I'm sure that's not all that happened. Tell me more about the party."

So Terri told Deidre about Remus Lupin's transformation, and her own role in attempting to preserve his health -- which Deidre found fascinating. "So Wiccan magic works at Hogwarts?" Deidre asked, amazed.

Terri shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure why it worked as well as it did, but I bet Remus has some idea," she said. "He knew more about our kind of magic than I expected. Oh, and speaking of magic, there's something I need to ask you." Terri explained her idea about having the Weasley children tutor Deidre in magic, and be paid students for Terri on which to practice. "It might be the only way to get the family to accept money for putting us up," she said in a low voice, glancing around yet again to make sure they weren't overheard. "You know they're not rich -- far from it! But to them we're family, so they won't accept money for hosting us; it's just not proper, apparently." Terri rolled her eyes. Life would be so much easier if folks didn't stand on ceremony so much! she thought. Better they should trample it, like we do.

Deidre nodded her understanding, a pout starting to form on her face. "It's a good idea," she said shakily, "because I need all the help I can get!" She sniffled, dropped her embroidery, and buried her face in her hands.

"Deidre?! No, I didn't mean that at all! I was just --" But Deidre shook her head and held up one hand, cutting short Terri's apology.

"It's not you," she got out between sobs. "I thought, while you were at the party, I'd try to learn a spell. Some sort of simple charm, okay? I mean, I have this shiny brand new wand, I thought I'd use it." Deidre rubbed her eyes and sniffled again. "So I read the description in Ginny's first textbook for the very first charm -- you know, the levitation one? And I got one of the feathers that Errol molted and I t-tried to practice." She shook her head. "Nothing. I couldn't even get the thing to twitch! So I had Ginny explain it --"

"She's not supposed to do magic when she's out of school," Terri cut in.

"I know that," Deidre said impatiently. "I just had her explain it, take me through the steps. Then I got it to twitch a little, but it didn't really get off the table. So Ginny asked Percy to show me, and he gets all puffed-up important about how he doesn't have the time with all the work he took home, but she finally talks him into it, and he whips out his wand and waves the thing and says `Wingardium Leviosa' and it just floats like it turned into a soap bubble or something! And I'm still utterly clueless. Can't pronounce the spell right, can't get that fancy swish and flick right --"

"Wait a minute." Terri held up her hand. "How did Ginny explain it? Did she make more sense, or did the book make more sense?"

"They were both saying the same thing," Deidre said. "Get the motion down, get the pronounciation down, focus on the object and what you're doing --"

"Oiy." Terri brushed back her hair. "They would put the most important part last!" She sighed, while Deidre looked at her in puzzlement. "Get your wand and that feather, and we'll see if I can't give you a hand with this."

While Deidre scurried off to get the feather and her wand, Terri considered how best to explain to her the levitation spell. When Terri herself first learned the spell, Gavin tried to teach her using methods just like the ones in Ginny's textbook. But Terri, as always, was full of questions: "Why am I swishing it like this? Would it make a difference if I did it this way?" Teacher and pupil hit an impasse until Gavin realized that Terri needed a deeper level of understanding -- that she didn't want to just learn things by rote.

Terri withdrew her wand from the black velvet bag she was using as a makeshift "holster" and fingered it thoughtfully, tapping it lightly against her lips as Deidre returned with a mottled brown feather and her wand. Well, Gavin, Terri thought, you had to learn how to reach your student -- let's see if your student learned anything from that. Deidre carefully set the feather down on the coffee table, sat down on the couch with Terri, and turned to face her friend, a nervous but expectant look on her face.

The red-headed witch sifted through what she knew about Deidre's experiences -- quite a lot, actually, after a decade of friendship. She looked once at the feather, then back at Deidre, then smiled and nodded. "Okay," she said, lowering her wand into her lap."Just because it's suitably perverse, we'll actually start with the last bit of the spell -- the flick." Deidre grinned. Terri knew it would especially suit her friend's sense of the perverse to start backwards.

Terri raised her wand, preparing to demonstrate. "The whole idea behind the flick is that you're transferring whatever energy you've built up with the wand into something else. Think of it as if you're doing a piece of modern art -- the wand is the paintbrush, and you're just flicking the paint from it onto the canvas...or rather, the thing you want to affect with your spell." So saying, Terri assumed the pose of a pretentious artist, and quite firmly "flicked" with her wand in the direction of the feather. Deidre laughed. Terri grinned. "Okay, now you try it."

Deidre's smile fell, but she dutifully picked up her wand. Screwing up her face with concentration, she "flicked," moving her whole hand hard. Expectantly, she looked back at Terri.

"Okay, try again...but watch me first. Hold your arm still; it's all in the wrist. You're a subtle modern artist." Terri demonstrated again. Deidre copied -- this time with much less arm movement, Terri noted. "Okay, one more time...and this time, aim your paint at the feather. You want to drop a blob right in the center of the thing. Watch." Terri demonstrated, and again, Deidre copied. Terri made her repeat it several times, emphasizing her aim. "Trust me, this is important. You don't want to try to levitate the feather and end up levitating the entire table!" She softened the comment with a smile.

After a couple of minutes, Terri moved them on to the swish. "We create a circle to contain our rituals; think of the swish as the circle that contains the energy of the spell. Also, it helps guide the `feel' of the spell." At Deidre's puzzled look, Terri groped for words. "I mean, when you make the movements, you should `feel' a sense of levitation in the wand." Terri demonstrated, careful to keep her wand motions smooth. Deidre awkwardly tried to copy her. "Try again." Deidre tried several more times, but still had some problems; Terri even had her hold her wand limply while she made the movements, holding the other end of the wand so Deidre could tell what it felt like.

"It just doesn't...well, I just don't think it feels right," Deidre complained.

"New movements often don't, at first," Terri commented, speaking from experience. Was I this awkward the first time I learned a spell? she wondered. Then, suddenly, an idea struck her. "I've got it!" she exclaimed, startling her friend into staring at her. "Pretend you're slowly stirring a huge cauldron full of melted chocolate!"

Deidre's eyes grew wide. "But...melted chocolate is heavy, not light and, um, levitationy." She rolled her eyes. "Goddess, listen to me. Is `levitationy' even a word?"

"It is now," said Terri with certainty. "Okay, okay, how about a huge cauldron full of cotton candy? Or soap bubbles?"

"Soap bubbles," said Deidre, eyes lighting up. "Yes, I can see that. All floaty and stuff."

"Good. There's your cauldron, on its side -- don't worry, gravity's a bit weird around here --" At Deidre's snort, Terri knew she'd gotten through. "So lift your wand, and slowly stir." This time, Deidre got the motion. Terri grinned. "That's great! Now let's put them together. Smooth motion now -- swish and flick." Terri demonstrated, this time putting the two together. Deidre needed several attempts to integrate the movements together, but got it after Terri suggested that Deidre imagine flicking soap bubbles onto the feather from her wand.

Great, now how do I explain the spell words? Terri thought. The right words mattered -- but only as they served a wizard's focus. She remembered as well as anyone the story about Wizard Baruffio, who said `s' instead of `f' and thus ended up on the floor with a buffalo on his chest. But it wasn't just that -- Baruffio also stuttered, and between the two, that broke his concentration. "Okay, you're ready for the words. Just like the wand movements, they should float -- on a wave of air, like. Win-GAR-di-um LEV-i-os-A!" Terri waved her hand in a flowing motion along with her words to emphasize the idea of floating and levitation.

"Ginny said it was lev-i-OS-a," Deidre mumbled.

Terri shook her head. "Doesn't matter, as long as it flows for you," she explained. "You're building the energy with the word, containing it with the swish, and releasing it to the feather with the flick. So whatever way you pronounce it that gets you focusing your energy on that floaty, levitationy idea --" Deidre giggled "--is what will work. Got that?"

"I think so," Deidre said. "The word builds the energy, the swish contains it, the flick releases it."

"Good! Now let's try putting it all together, shall we?" Terri asked. Deidre looked a bit apprehensive, but nodded. The red-haired witch sensed her friend's hesitation, and paused for a moment. "I could show you what it looks like all together -- but Percy already did that," Terri said thoughtfully. "So before we do anything...describe for me what you're going to do."

"Um, okay." Deidre squinched her eyes shut, concentrating. "I'm going to swish --" here she moved her wand appropriately " --and at the same time I'm swishing, I'm going to say `Wingardium Leviosa,' and then I'm going to flick --" here she flicked "--right at the feather."

"Good!" Terri exclaimed. Deidre opened her eyes and smiled. "Now, just to be sure, I want you to close your eyes again, only this time just picture yourself doing what you just described." Deidre nodded, and closed her eyes for a few moments. Terri could see her moving her lips as she `said' the spell in her visualization. She let Deidre go through the visualization three times, then said, "I think you're ready, Deidre. Let 'er rip." She put an encouraging smile on her face as her friend opened her eyes and looked at her.

Deidre nodded, then raised her wand. Taking a deep breath, she moved the wand in a slow, slightly shaky swish while saying "Wingardium leviosa!" and flicked right at the feather. As if it had never intended to do anything else, the feather began to rise, floating on the air. "I did it! I did it!" Deidre cried, awkwardly clapping her hands while her right hand still held her wand. The latecomer's eyes remained focused on the feather...so she didn't see Terri's own jubilant expression. This was the first time Terri had tried to teach magic to anyone...and her own thoughts matched her student's exclamations. Wow. I really did it.

Within ten minutes or so, Deidre was able to reliably cast the levitation spell and control the floating feather for a full thirty seconds. Terri felt as delighted as her new student. "I'll teach you some more easy spells tomorrow," she said, grinning at Deidre.

Deidre's face was still screwed up in concentration, wand pointing at the floating feather -- but Terri could tell from the way the feather suddenly dipped and jerked that she had heard. "Really?" Deidre said, turning to face her friend. Concentration broken, Deidre's spell ended, and the feather began swirling downward.

Terri lazily pointed her right middle finger in the direction of the feather. "Accio," she said, and it zoomed right to her hand. She glanced quickly at the feather, then at her friend. "Really," she agreed. The look on Deidre's face startled her. Deidre's mouth had rounded into an "Oh" of surprise; she'd apparently forgotten about Terri's sans wand spells. But then her face fell. Why would she be...disappointed? Terri wondered. Then she remembered the first time she'd gotten a cool new spell -- then seen Gavin perform an even better one right after it, with almost no effort at all. "Oh, Deidre." She nodded at the feather, then looked back at her friend. "The Summoning charm I just did is something most students learn in their fourth year of magic. What I've explained to you about the principles behind the spells is somewhat more advanced than that. And with that knowledge," she grinned, "you'll master these spells a lot faster than your average student." Terri relaxed when she saw Deidre's good spirits return. "Oh, and I have some more good news," she continued, putting the feather aside.

"What else happened?" Deidre asked eagerly.

"Well, I can't promise, mind you," she said, "but I think I've worked out a way to get my Camry over here without having it cost an arm, a leg, and my firstborn. And it'll mean transportation to us back to the UK to boot."

"Oh?" Deidre asked. "Is there some sort of magical Autotrain that works between both ends of the pond?"

Terri laughed. "Better than that. Did you know that our tinkering host Arthur Weasley once had a flying car?"

Deidre's eyes goggled. "You're kidding!"

Terri shook her head. "Not in the least. Oh, it was illegal as anything," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "especially with him being head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Ministry and all that. Talk about misuse!" She rolled her eyes in amusement. "It could fly, go invisible, oh, and he'd added loads more space inside so the kids and their school trunks would all fit."

Deidre shifted her seat on the couch, nearly bouncing with excitement. "And he said he'd do the same thing for your Camry?" She asked eagerly.

"Well, no," Terri replied. "He can't risk that; even when I explained to him how the policy with the American Muggle Artifacts Department is totally different, he swore he couldn't actually alter it because Molly would kill him." Pity the Brits aren't quite so sensible about it as we are, Terri thought, then gave herself a mental kick for her Americentricity. But really, it was nearly impossible to separate an American from his or her car, and American wizards and witches were no exception. Likewise, customizing cars dated as far back as the first cars made...and wizarding folk in America were as fond of customizing their vehicles as American Muggles. So, the American Muggle Artifacts Department created a compromise: Muggle artifacts that had been altered -- especially vehicles -- needed to be registered with the department. So long as the owners complied with the rules they were given for their modifications, all was well. And if they didn't, the department knew who to blame and how to track them down.

"So you're saying it's not legal for him to own a magically modified car, but it's legal for you?" Deidre asked.

Terri nodded. "As long as I register it. It's because I'm bound by the American wizardry laws."

Deidre quirked her head at Terri, still not quite understanding. "Okay, so you can own a flying car -- but how does that help us if Arthur won't turn it into a flying car? Unless...did he say he'd teach you?"

Terri shook her head this time. "No, but he did refer me to someone who should be able to help. It'll mean a trip back to Diagon Alley tomorrow, though." Terri almost chuckled at Deidre's wide grin. "Gee, you look so broken up about it! Anyway...it's this shop we must have missed the first time through: `Fletcher's Fabulous Finds.' The proprieter's a guy named Mundungus Fletcher -- oh, and Arthur actually said not to mention his name. Apparently my cousin's department has had a bit of trouble with him."

Deidre giggled. "Sounds like a real nice character," she said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice.

"`Character' is certainly the right word, according to Arthur," Terri agreed. "But be that as it may, he should be able to help us get it over here -- and what's more, I twisted Arthur's arm into keeping it safe for me during the school term when I'm not using it." She winked. "They can use a car here, after all, and I don't like being so far away from my Camry that I can't Apparate to it."

"But you can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds anyway," Deidre pointed out.

Terri raised her eyebrows. "You have been reading Hogwarts, a History, haven't you?" At Deidre's satisfied nod, Terri added, "Well, it's not that hard to get outside of Hogwarts grounds. Hogsmeade isn't all that far, after all."

"And Arthur won't get in trouble for safekeeping your car?" Deidre asked.

"Of course not!" Terri again waved her hand dismissively. "I'm the owner, and I'm an American. It's the American law that applies in this case." At Deidre's raised eyebrow, Terri added, "Trust me, I know. I was considering a job with the American Muggle Artifacts Department, so I had to learn this stuff." She shook her head in disgust. "Too darn clerical for me." Ignoring Deidre's rolled eyes, Terri nudged her friend. "So, your turn. I told you all about what happened at the party...you had some excitement over here tonight, didn't you?"

"Oh!" Deidre looked into Terri's knowing eyes, worry lines forming at her brow. "More than you realize." Terri nodded at her friend to go on. "Well, I know Ginny mentioned that Percy turned in early when Arthur, eh, `called' here; she didn't mention why, though, did she?"

Terri shrugged. "I don't know if she did or not, but Arthur didn't."

"Just so." Deidre sighed. "Well, Percy'd gotten an unexpected owl. He seemed to recognize it, because his eyes got wide when he saw it, and he stared at the address. It flew off right away, and Percy tore the letter open like it was some sort of emergency. He started reading it really fast, then he cried out, `Oh, Penelope!' And ran upstairs to his room and locked the door."

"Who's Penelope?" Terri asked, confused.

"Ginny told me that she's his girlfriend," Deidre clarified. "They've been dating since they were both fifth years at Hogwarts. Fred and George think she broke up with him, but Ginny's afraid maybe something's happened to her. I don't know what to think." She frowned. "He took the letter with him, of course, and not even half an hour after he'd locked himself in his room, Ginny and I saw Hermes flying away with a letter attached to his leg."

"So that's why Ginny sent Errol instead of Hermes to check out the property," Terri mused.

Deidre nodded, then yawned. The two witches soon turned in. Despite, or perhaps because of, the eventful evening, Terri soon drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of hearts -- human, giant, half-giant, wolfish, doggy, American, British, French, young, and old. The heart of a god...and the heart of a demon reincarnate. Hearts of men, hearts of women. Hearts beating to their own rhythms. Hearts of friends, hearts of enemies, hearts of those she had never met and perhaps never would. The entire world of hearts...and would all the hearts in the world be enough for what was yet to be?