Magic? || Years 5-7

Sectumsempra: Year 6

Apparently, Harry's spitfire decision of going to Hagrid's instead of Slughorn's office was a much better plan of action than any of them had been expecting.

If a tad unorthodox. Felix Felices was a very strange potion, indeed, if these results were anything to go by.

Slughorn had heard about Aragog after Harry had passed him by the greenhouses, and decided to join him at the funeral, collecting some venom in the process. Then they buried the spider—Ron had shuddered at this part—and Slughorn and Hagrid drank several toasts in honor of, well, everything. Harry, ever responsible, didn't have a sip of alcohol, and instead waited until both professors were well on their way to sleep. Thoroughly drunk, after serenading Harry with a lovely little wizard shanty, Harry guilt-tripped Slughorn with the memory of his mother into giving him the sought after memory.

Then, Dumbledore had returned sometime that night, and they were able to go through the memory right then. Harry explained everything about Horcruxes—awful things, truly, who would ever want to split their soul? Let alone seven times—and how Dumbledore would be taking Harry along if he found another one.

"Wow," Ron said, so thoroughly enchanted by Harry's story he hadn't noticed his wand drifting off to the side and sending a cascade of snow down from the ceiling. "Wow. You're actually going to go with Dumbledore. . . and try and destroy. . . wow."

"Ron, you're making it snow," Hermione said, patiently redirecting his wand away from the ceiling. Until she saw Lavender Brown glaring daggers with very red, very wet eyes, and Hermione let go as if she'd been burned.

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, pleasantly surprised by the snow. "Sorry. . . looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now. . ."

He brushed some of the snow off Hermione's shoulder, and Amisty winced as Lavender immediately burst into tears.

Yikes.

Ron's face fell and he turned his back to Lavender, running a hand through his hair as his ears tinged scarlet.

"We split up," Ron said to Harry in an undertone. "Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously she couldn't see you, so she thought it had just been the two of us. Amisty was behind me."

"Ah," Harry said, sounding more pleased than sympathetic. "Well—you don't mind it's over, do you?"

"No," Ron said, and Amisty pretended she didn't see Hermione smirk. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn't have to finish it."

"Coward," Hermione said fondly. "Well, it was a bad night for romance all around. Ginny and Dean split up too, Harry."

His face stayed impassive, his voice level, but there was a spark behind his eyes that was hard to ignore. "How come?"

"Oh, something really silly. . ." Hermione said, giving him a meaningful look that he studiously ignored. "She said he was always trying to help her through the portrait hole, like she couldn't climb in herself. . . but they've been a bit rocky for ages."

Unsubtly—as per usual when it came to Harry Potter—he glanced over at Dean. A pleased sort of quirk to his lips had to be smoothed out very quickly.

"Of course," Hermione said, "this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry said too quickly.

Amisty smothered the urge to cackle. Not only would it be rude, but he was trying so hard not to make it obvious, even when everyone could tell he was head-over-heels for a certain ginger.

"The Quidditch team," Hermione said slowly, her own spark in her eyes. "If Ginny and Dean aren't speaking. . ."

"Oh—oh yeah," Harry said, flushing.